Chapter 21: Blood Moon Auction
"Let's begin the auction.
Welcome guests from far and wide, specially to the Blood Moon Auction. We bring you the finest treasures from the corners of our realm, as well as peak entertainment to keep you thrilled till the end.
For custom, we will begin this auction in three stages. I'm sure you're well-informed: the first stage is the Item stage, where you buy items your heart desires and your wallet can afford. The second stage will sell companions, pets, partners, or—as you nobles love to call them—mortals. We have a wide variety, so make sure not to get swept away," he chuckled.
"The last stage is the gladiator event, also called 'Last Man Breathing.' So make sure to stay tuned and don't blink because if you do, you might miss it. I'll give you guests time to settle in. You can also go through the list of items being auctioned and place anonymous bids before the auction. Tata."
With a bow, the black-haired man left the platform for the backstage area and adjusted his one-eyed glass. Though it looked ordinary, it wasn't; a rare-grade item, also known as the Appraising Glass, which lets him see the actual value of an item.
"Greetings, Zavil de Dercil."
A lady with platinum hair and red eyes chirped from behind. She wore a gold wolf mask with an idly held silver bat mask, dressed elegantly in a red gown that matched her eyes. 'Zavilumem den Dercil,' which the lady had shortened to Zavil.
Not giving her what she craved, he continued his work. Sighing, he moved backstage, making sure the goods were up to par and preparing for unforeseen contingencies. By the time he was done checking everything out, there was chatter in the hall.
"Sigh, here they go again, ruining the auction."
Stepping out, he ran a hand through his black hair; his red eyes glinted in the darkness.
"Sigh, as expected, those two can't live under the same roof."
He went up, dismissing the servants. The scene that greeted him was expected: the so-called noble races were arguing while the lower races were composed, looking more like nobles. He noticed a familiar figure in the darkness amidst the chaos smirking with glee—he understood the situation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive my arrogance, but may I know what's going on here?"
Although he was angry, he had to maintain the image. Shining a professional smile, he lent a listening ear.
The first person stepped forward and began explaining that a lady with a silver wolf mask had been seen bidding for Phoenix blood, and another group claimed that another similar lady wearing a silver bat mask was also seen bidding on the Shadow Fangs.
But the mob didn't want to agree to let it go, saying that each party was holding a spy and demanding answers, which caused the ruckus.
Zavilumen sighed, running his hand through his black hair, thinking of ways to settle the mob down. He knew it was a case of pride and ego and couldn't take a side, so he stayed neutral.
"Alright, ladies, gentlemen, let's settle this civilly, alright?" Clearing his throat, he started.
"All anonymous bids placed on the Shadow Fang and Phoenix Blood are invalid." He smiled and continued,
"So let's drop the matter for peace's sake."
The mob nodded and went their separate ways, while he approached the platinum blonde lady still giggling in the corner.
"You handled that quite perfectly—95/100 points."
Stepping out of the darkness, her eyes shone with mischief.
"Stop playing. If you have nothing to do, you can just leave," Zavilumen spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Why would I leave when it's fun teasing you, Zavil?" She held his hand, but he pulled away.
"Don't touch me. If you have nothing else, I'll be leaving."
Walking off, she continued to pout as he headed to the podium and signaled the other workers to begin.
Clearing his throat, he began as two very gorgeous women stepped on stage: one dressed in a cute bunny suit, the other in a male suit.
"Ahem, let us begin. But firstly, I'd like to sincerely apologize for the earlier incident. Please forgive my incompetence."
Bowing slightly, he moved to the cart that was wheeled in.
"Hopefully there is no bad blood among us." Removing the cover cloth, he announced,
"The first item on our list was obtained north of Mount Akuma, in the territory of the Huskwolf clan. Legend has it that all beasts that succumbed to corruption roam there."
An epic-grade treasure with countless uses. "For this treasure, the starting bid is 5,000 ş Yan!" Paddles began raising fast—before he could even say a thing, the price reached 8,000 Yan!
"You damn vampire, why the heck are you even bidding for it?" a guest growled in displeasure.
"If you really want it, you must have the money to take it. Don't be a klutz," came another voice. Two sentences from two people, and the once silent auction turned into a marketplace with insults and crackles flying everywhere.
"1 Yin." A voice broke through the chaos. Everyone looked around for a second, murmurs about the person's whereabouts filling the air until—
"I bid one Yin."
Using his sharp vision, Zavilumen immediately spotted the speaker on the top floor. The hall fell silent, and everyone took their seats. Clearing his throat to regain composure, he called out,
"1 Yin, going once… twice…"
"1.5 Yin!" another voice called. Contempt and pride were in the tone. Bidding higher than someone ranked above you was unheard of, and to spend so much—Justin looking at the crowd's atmosphere—no one could afford to raise the price.
"1.5 Yin, going… going… gone!" Hitting the hammer on the table, he declared the item sold to number 0074!
"Next on our list is an item recovered from a mountain known for its ever-burning flames—flames that turned a once-flourishing forest into a desert of quick-sinking sand.
It possesses the ability to raise levels, purify bloodlines, and prevent corruption.
This wine-tasting medicine was brewed from the blood of a thousand-year-old Phoenix.
A very cheap starting bid of five million yan."
"Fifty point five!"
A girl clad in a black hood and nose mask shyly raised her paddle.
She sat in the front row—marking her as human.
"Tsk. A mere human dares to bid. And at such a pathetic price."
The silver-masked werewolf raised his paddle, doubling the amount—not to buy, but to prove a point.
"Ten million yan," Zavilumen announced smoothly. "Do I hear eleven?"
I should just let them compete amongst themselves, he thought, his professional smile never wavering. That way, I earn more.
The bidding moved quickly.
Paddles rose and fell.
Soon, most competitors gave up.
"One hundred and forty-nine yin," Zavilumen called out.
By then, only one bidder remained. The man grinned foolishly, like someone who believed he had struck gold.
Then——
A man in the upper stands raised his hand. He wore a white mask.
Laughter rippled through the hall as despair spread across the chubby man's face.
"One second he was grinning like a drunk, now look at him,"said the lady in the red dress, lazily twirling the two masks in her hand—wolf and bat.
Zavilumen raised his hammer.
"Sold to Guest Number Nine for fifteen million yan."
The co-hostess in a fitted suit nodded and headed backstage, where the black cloth covering the item was removed.
On the cart lay vials of blood sparking with inner flame.
The light reflected across the hall as if it were burning everything in sight.
Even the air began to dry, faint sparks crackling within it.
Wearing three layers of gloves, the hostess lifted a vial using the black cloth.
She placed it inside a box crafted from thousand-year-old dark ember wood infused with ki.
Red velvet embraced the vial as the box was sealed and transferred onto another tray.
Beside it lay the white fang, releasing an eerie pressure.
The first stage of the auction soon came to an end.
Compared to earlier, it passed smoothly.
The lesser races knew that a single wrong move would invite the Demon King's gaze.
Though lesser nobles occasionally inflated prices to suppress inferior races, no major incident occurred.
The item auction concluded without bloodshed.
———
This marked the break.
Guests exited the underground opera hall and moved into the ballroom—for refreshments, mingling, and silent negotiations.
During that time, many guests returned to retrieve their items. Zavilumen was already busy overseeing the process—yet unwanted visitors still found ways to bother him.
"It must be hard," a voice said lightly, "being a fifth-generation vampire… and a hybrid, no less."
One of the Platinum VIPs stepped into the basement, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Staff members moved around her, transporting sealed boxes and crates. The moment her words settled, the entire space froze—as if everyone were walking on thin ice. The woman's casual remark had struck a nerve.
—
Hybrids were beings born with two or more bloodlines: a vampire and a human, a werewolf and a ghoul, and so on. Though they were often stronger than those of pure blood, they were far more prone to corruption.
All beings living in the Underworld—some called it Hell—were already corrupted to some degree. But once that corruption reached its peak, the infected would lose themselves, go berserk… and eventually die.
Everyone working under Zavilumen was a hybrid in one form or another.
That was why the Blood Moon Auction House had another name—Outclassed. Every race had a class and a limit, but for hybrids, those limits were impossible to detect. Their tainted blood blurred all boundaries.
—
After a second of absorbing the insult and the stray bullets hidden within it, the staff resumed their work with renewed fury.
As for Zavilumen, he forced a breath through clenched teeth and stepped forward with practiced composure. He personally poured a cup of Earl Grey tea, adding three precise drops of O-positive blood before offering it to the woman.
"Madam, your drink. I hope it suits your taste."
He presented it with utmost respect—not merely because she was a Platinum member, nor because she was the next heiress of the Dercilla Clan, but because without her… this place would not be running at all.
"It's Miss Zavelya bon Dercilla," she corrected, whined softly, then took a sip while dabbing at her eyes with feigned tears.
"I still don't understand why you keep treating me like a stranger."
"I'm sorry…" Zavilumen said quietly. He adjusted the ring on his finger and finally looked up.
"Mom. Things have been hectic lately—and you're not helping matters." He sighed. "You keep giving me these random items and forcing me to hype them beyond their actual value. What exactly is your plan?"
"Nothing much," she replied lazily. "Just keeping you on guard. Helping you learn." She poked at a donut, then pulled her hand back, her pink fingers stained with strawberry jam as she brought them to her rose-tinted lips.
"After all, surviving in this world requires more than just self-control. Anyway—how's your training coming along?"
"It's fine, ma'am. Just the usual." He handed her a fresh donut. "Though I'm planning to leave soon."
"For what reason?"
"The bait has arrived," he answered calmly. "I can begin proceeding with my plans."
"As expected of someone chosen by me."
She finished the donut, then reached up and removed her blonde wig, revealing jet-black hair beneath—and a resemblance that could no longer be denied.
"You don't have to go to such lengths, Miss," Zavilumen said, taking the wig and handing it to a passing servant.
"Oh? But why shouldn't I help my own son?" Zavelya smiled. "Even a lioness must teach her cub how to hunt."
Leaning back in her chair, she spun a fruit knife between her fingers.
"Prey helping prey, huh…"
The blade slammed down between her fingers, pinning a blank note to the table. She stood abruptly, spilling tea across the surface. As the liquid soaked in, letters slowly appeared.
"Make sure you don't end up like Mommy Kay," she said sweetly. "Don't torture them too~ much."
Laughing, she licked the blood from her fingers and turned to leave. As she passed through the light, her hair shifted—black fading into a deep, ominous red.
Zavilumen exhaled slowly, took the note, and tucked it away before checking his list.
• Shadow Fang — one sold, one remaining
• Phoenix Blood — sold out (kept three vials)
• Witch's Candle — sold
• Despairing Pill — sold
• Necklace of the Undead — sold
• Hell's Blade — sold, not yet retrieved
Techniques:
• Shadow Manipulation — sold to the same buyer, not yet retrieved
• Authority (I Am Your Father) — sold
• Courting Death — sold
"Alright," he said, straightening. "Let's wrap things up."
—————-—
"Kumi, how's the ball?" Zavilumen asked.
He no longer wore the white suit from earlier. Instead, he was dressed in red—embroidered with intricate designs—and a black demon mask. Anyone who saw him now would mistake him for the Prince of Hell himself.
"They're almost finished with Turkish March," the co-hostess replied. She had once worn a tailored male suit, but now donned a matching red dress and veil, making the two of them look eerily like a couple.
"Should they play Ode to Joy next?"
"No need." He turned away. "Send them to the fourth floor. Maintain tight security—and locate Guest Number 63 from the Gold members."
"Understood, boss."
The blonde hurried off. Reports were handed in, items sorted, and without another word, Zavilumen headed toward the fourth floor.
The next stage of the auction was about to begin.
——————
"Ahem. I hope you've all had time to rest. The second stage will begin shortly. But first—please accept these gifts. Consider it our treat."
Five young men and women dressed as butlers stepped forward in unison.
The first, wearing a white dove mask marked with a red heart, pushed in a cart laden with wine—blood. Behind him followed a green-haired lady carrying plates of thinly sliced raw steak and bowls of spices. The rest entered one after another, each holding a different item.
A hushed voice whispered from the crowd.
"Um… can someone explain what's going on? I'm kinda new here."
The surrounding guests turned to stare.
"Tch. Thought you'd never ask."
A broad-shouldered man chuckled, patting his chest proudly. "Name's Jackie Bull, from the Husky Clan. And what you're seeing right now?" He grinned. "One of the Blood Moon Auction's favorites—beloved by both nobles and lesser races alike."
He gestured forward. "Just watch."
Staff members wearing suits and masks marked with the Ace symbol moved at the same time. They tossed their items into the air—
—and in the next breath, trays landed neatly on each guest's lap.
A perfectly arranged plate of steak. Polished cutlery. A folded napkin. Beside it, a goblet of deep red wine.
Not a single drop spilled.
Every tray was identical, yet tailored.
Werewolves received raw cuts, still warm from the blade. Vampires preferred the outside lightly seared. Ghosts, zombies, and franklings favored meat charred at the edges. Humans were served fully cooked portions.
Steam rose from every plate—except the werewolves'.
Clearing his throat, the host continued, voice calm yet commanding.
Four doors opened.
Each bore the symbol of an Ace.
From them emerged two lines of slaves.
As they walked, the guests' gazes sharpened. Appraisals were made in silence—eyes tracing bodies, posture, potential. This first procession wasn't for bidding, but selection. Desire before competition.
By the time the slaves reached the podium, most buyers already knew who they wanted.
They were lined up by number.
Yunxia stood second from last.
Her name had been stripped away, replaced with Bai—Snow—a label chosen for the pale sheen of her hair.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the host announced smoothly, "please restrain your excitement. It seems many of you have already made your choices."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"In that case—let us begin."
He lifted his hand.
The first slave was brought forward
He was dark-skinned, with green eyes that stood out sharply against his white hair, now dulled by dust and sand. His body was toned, built for survival rather than display.
Zavilumen brushed the grime from the slave's shoulder, not to clean him, but to make him look marginally less offensive to noble eyes.
"Ahem," he said smoothly. "Pet Number 2001AD."
A faint murmur rippled through the hall.
The number burned into the man's collar was proof enough — a certified product of the Crimson Moon Auction House, Dercilla Branch. Authentic. Owned by no one yet.
There was no need to say more.
The hall itself was overflowing. This Blood Moon auction drew far more guests than a single chamber could hold, forcing the house to divide its patrons by rank.
Bronze masks filled the lower seats — lesser races and low-status buyers, each species marked by its own distinct mask design.
Silver masks sat above them — hybrids, minor elites, those with strength but no true backing.
And higher still, gold.
The real bidders watched in silence.
——————-