""Good evening, esteemed guests," the auction anchor exclaimed with fervor, his voice resonating through the grand hall. "Tonight, we are gathered for a splendid auction, a tapestry woven with herbs, jewels, antiques, and even souls intertwined within the trade of slaves."
As the words escaped his lips, the audience was immediately captivated, their attention firmly fixed on the forthcoming spectacle. I, too, found myself immersed in the allure of this vibrant affair, ready to witness the unveiling of coveted treasures.
Our journey began with an exceptional herb, rumored to possess the power to cure all lung diseases. Its true worth was deemed to be thirty gold coins. Anticipation hung thick in the air as the auctioneer declared, "Let the bidding commence!"
Eager participants wasted no time, fervently vying for the treasures presented. One by one, the herbs were displayed, each bearing unique properties and medicinal values. But my eyes were set on a particular herb, its reputation preceding it.
"Presenting before you, a rare herb of unparalleled potency, renowned for its ability to detoxify thirty types of poisons," the auctioneer's voice resonated with reverence. "The bidding shall commence at a minimum of seventy gold coins."
In the midst of hushed murmurs, a confident voice pierced through the veil of anticipation. "Seventy-five gold coins!" it rang out, assertive and resolute.
Without skipping a beat, another bidder chimed in, raising the stakes to eighty gold coins. The bids danced like flickering flames, ascending higher and higher, until they reached ninety-five gold coins.
But it was I who would emerge victorious in this fierce contest of determination. Summoning my resolve, I boldly declared, "I shall acquire this extraordinary herb for the sum of one hundred and twenty gold coins." Raising my numbered card with unwavering confidence, I established my bid as the zenith, deterring any further attempts to surpass it.
With that, the prized herb was secured within my possession, a testament to my unyielding pursuit of its extraordinary properties. The auction continued to unfold, revealing a mesmerizing array of jewels that sparkled like constellations and finely crafted swords that exuded an air of mystique.
"And now, behold the Blood Sword!" the auctioneer's voice resonated with reverence, as if unveiling a relic of legendary proportions. "Bidding shall commence at a minimum of five hundred gold coins."
As the shimmering blade was displayed, the crowd erupted in a chorus of calls and fervent bids. The stakes escalated rapidly, soaring to six hundred, then seven hundred gold coins, and beyond. Yet, amidst this fierce competition, one figure stood out—a masked man with flowing black hair, emanating an aura of regal grandeur. He, a gold ticket VIP, offered an awe-inspiring two thousand gold coins, decisively claiming victory and the coveted blade as his own.
The auction, however, transitioned to a realm shrouded in darkness—a trade in human lives. Young men and women, stripped of their dignity, were paraded onto the stage like chattel. Their worth, determined by their elemental powers, ranged from a modest two hundred to an exorbitant eight hundred gold coins.
Among these unfortunate souls, my gaze fixated upon a young boy with a crown of golden locks. Despite his malnourished frame, an ethereal quality enveloped him, an enigma amid the turmoil of this dehumanizing commerce.
"That boy," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "seems young and fragile, yet there is an indomitable spirit hidden beneath his weakened exterior."
The auctioneer's voice resonated through the room, its tone carrying a calculated blend of commerce and indifference. "This young lad, available for a mere 150 gold coins, may not possess the elusive gift of elemental powers. However, his visage, adorned with a handsomeness that cannot be denied, undoubtedly makes him an appealing choice."
I found myself transfixed, standing amidst the somber assembly of potential buyers. Their eyes flickered with avarice, their lips curving into predatory smiles. The air was thick with the bitter scent of desperation, as fortunes were wagered on the lives of these unfortunate souls.