"Starting at two thousand."
The auctioneer stood beside the platform, one hand resting on the console as he looked over the listing. His tone was steady, measured, the kind that didn't waste effort on items that wouldn't spark a bidding war.
At the center, a gray skill stone sat inside a containment frame. Its surface was rough from extraction, edges uneven where it had been pried loose from dungeon rock. A faint line of light moved through it, slow and steady.
The display beside it read:
Skill: Steady Grip
Tier: F
Type: Utility
Riven stood a few steps back, close enough for the identification band on his wrist to stay linked. The band confirmed that the skill inside the stone belonged to him—for now. Once the sale completed, the connection would cut and the skill would transfer to the buyer.
He had found the stone himself three days ago in a low-grade rift, tucked into a narrow gap behind a collapsed section of rock. Most stones in that area were empty, useful only for resale. This one had carried a skill, which was the only reason it had made it onto this platform.
"Two thousand," the auctioneer repeated, scanning the room. "Clean extraction. Stable containment. Suitable for long-term use."
A bidder opened the listing on their panel, studied it briefly, then placed an offer.
"Two thousand one hundred."
The number updated.
Riven kept his posture relaxed, hands loose at his sides. The evaluation earlier in the week had already made things clear. The skill did exactly what it was meant to do—improve grip strength and stability in a controlled, predictable way. Useful for certain jobs, but nothing that would attract serious competition.
Across the hall, another platform pulled in most of the attention. A combat skill had just opened, and the bids there were climbing fast. The difference in interest made the outcome here obvious.
"Two thousand one hundred," the auctioneer said again. "Any higher?"
No one responded.
Riven let his gaze rest on the stone. The faint glow inside it hadn't changed. It looked just as plain as it had when he first pulled it out of the rubble.
"Going once."
The bidder who had placed the offer didn't move.
"Going twice."
Riven exhaled slowly, more to settle himself than anything else. He had already decided to sell. Holding onto it wouldn't change what it was.
The gavel came down.
"Sold."
The display shifted to confirm the transaction. A soft vibration ran through the band on his wrist as the transfer process began. The connection between him and the stone loosened, preparing to hand ownership over.
Riven watched it, waiting for the link to cut cleanly.
Instead, something else forced its way into his awareness.
A sharp, sudden shift—like his focus had been grabbed and dragged somewhere else without warning. He stiffened slightly, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of it.
Then the stone changed.
The light inside it wasn't smooth anymore.
It split into thin strands.
They ran through the stone in layered lines, weaving together to form the skill's structure. Each strand felt distinct, like it carried a small part of the whole. Together, they held the skill in place.
Riven stared at it, his attention locked in a way he couldn't pull back from.
[Skill structure detected]
[Deconstruction available]
His breath hitched.
The message didn't come from any screen in the room. Nothing around him had changed. The auctioneer had already moved on to the next listing, voice steady as he introduced another item.
Riven focused on one of the strands.
It shifted slightly.
He froze, unsure if he had imagined it.
He tried again, pushing his attention onto it more deliberately.
The strand loosened.
A flicker of unease ran through him. Skills weren't supposed to behave like this. Once they were stabilized inside a stone, their structure didn't just come apart.
He hesitated for a moment, then pushed further.
The strand slid free.
Riven's breath caught as it separated completely, leaving a small gap in the structure. The rest of the strands tightened slightly, still holding the skill together, but something about it felt off, like a piece had been taken out of a working mechanism.
[Strand extraction successful]
[Core integrity reduced]
The strand didn't vanish.
He could still feel it.
Not in his hand, not anywhere visible, but it was there, clear and distinct in a way that made no sense. A thin fragment carrying part of the skill, incomplete on its own.
Riven swallowed, forcing himself to stay still as he tried to understand what he was holding.
He focused on it, trying to use it.
Nothing happened.
The strand didn't respond. It didn't activate or change. It just stayed there, separate and useless by itself.
He looked back at the stone.
The skill was still inside, still being transferred, but it felt weaker now. Not broken, just missing something small.
No one else reacted.
The auction continued as if nothing had happened. No alarms, no interruptions, nothing to suggest the system had detected a problem.
Riven's pulse picked up despite himself. He forced his breathing to stay steady, keeping his posture neutral as the band on his wrist gave one last pulse and went still. The connection to the stone was gone. The skill had officially changed hands.
The strand remained with him.
He shifted his attention between the fragment he had taken and the rest of the structure he had just altered. The difference was obvious. The strand alone didn't do anything, but inside the skill it had clearly been part of something functional.
That meant it wasn't enough on its own.
If it came from a larger structure, then it needed one to matter. A base to attach to, something complete enough to hold it together. Without that, it was just a loose piece with no way to work.
The handler near the platform stepped closer and gestured toward the exit. "You're done here. Move."
Riven nodded and stepped away, following the indicated path without drawing attention to himself. His mind stayed fixed on what had just happened, replaying it in detail.
He had taken something out of a skill after it was already sold.
And it was still with him.
That alone was enough to make him slow his pace for a fraction of a second before forcing himself to keep moving. The corridor ahead was narrow, designed to move people through quickly, not give them space to stop and think.
He focused on the strand again.
It hadn't changed. It still sat there, incomplete, doing nothing on its own. When he tried to push it, shape it, or activate it, there was no response. It simply existed, waiting for something it clearly lacked.
A base.
The thought settled in with more weight this time. The strand had come from a complete skill. Inside that structure, it had meaning. Outside it, it didn't. If he wanted to use it, he would need another skill to attach it to—something stable enough to hold it in place.
Which meant he needed more than just this one piece.
More strands. More skills.
The realization didn't come with excitement. It came with a quiet, steady shift in how he looked at everything he had been doing until now.
He had spent the last year scraping through low-grade rifts, collecting empty stones and the occasional usable find, selling whatever he could just to keep moving. It had been slow, predictable work with equally predictable returns. Even when he got lucky, like with the stone he had just sold, the outcome never changed much.
The ceiling was always there.
Now he had something that didn't fit under it.
Riven reached the end of the corridor and slowed as the next door opened. The noise of the outer hall bled back in, distant voices, movement, the constant flow of transactions continuing without pause.
He stepped through without hesitation.
The strand was still there, unchanged, incomplete, and waiting.
So was everything else he had been ignoring until now.
If skills could be taken apart like that, then the ones being sold in that hall weren't just finished products. They were resources.
And he had just learned how to take a piece of them for himself.