Absolute Cheater

Until now, Asher's aura had been sealed.

Hidden.

For all the Spiremaster's awareness, Asher had been just another powerful outsider.

But the moment he offered that drop of blood…

The aura of Volarisa bloomed.

It was faint, but ancient. Familiar.

And unmistakably pure.

The Spiremaster narrowed his eyes slightly.

'So, you're from her… the one my sister was asking about.'

His lips didn't move. No one in the crowd saw a flicker of change. But a thought settled into place.

'Perhaps… I could help him return home.'

He said nothing aloud.

Not yet.

But the path had shifted.

And Asher's return to Volarisa—the world that once gave him a second life, the world he had been searching for all this time—was now finally within reach.

Unknown to him, a way home had quietly revealed itself.

'Let's speak to him later,' the Spiremaster—no, the Will of the World—thought.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, a ripple of space shimmered in the air. A pedestal of white crystal formed mid-air, and a glowing object slowly appeared above it.

"Now," the Spiremaster announced clearly, "for the final item of today's auction."

A book floated in the air—bound in living green and golden vine-like threads, with ancient law seals glowing faintly on its surface. The presence it gave off was gentle, yet deep, like standing under a living world tree.

"The Legacy of a peak World Rank powerhouse," the Spiremaster declared. "The Fallen Sovereign of Life, Grisha Medaline's Legacy."

A soft wave of aura passed through the room.

It wasn't violent, nor sharp—but those who had lived long and seen much felt the depth behind it. The legacy carried the knowledge, laws, and spirit essence of a woman who once commanded the powers of life itself.

The Spiremaster continued, "This legacy was sealed at the moment of her death. It is complete—her understanding of life laws, healing, regeneration, nature control, and rebirth."

Though most present were already World Rankers and had chosen their own paths, this kind of legacy had powerful value.

"With this," the Spiremaster said, "you could gift the path to your kin, your fallen lovers, your trusted disciples. Any one of them could use this to step onto the World Rank stage."

The room stirred. The weight of the legacy was not something that could be ignored.

"Just like the previous item," the Spiremaster added, "this one also requires treasure in exchange."

Asher, for once, did not move.

He didn't raise his hand. He didn't offer a bid.

After all, he didn't need it.

He already had infinite legacies available to him through his hidden Hall of Legacies cheat granted by his system—an inner-space treasure that let him collect and explore countless sovereign paths. Grisha's legacy was already there, copied from another realm long ago.

He leaned back in his seat and watched silently.

The bidding began.

Powerful figures submitted precious treasures—world seeds, river branches from time-locked realms, and preserved cores of divine trees. But there was one faction that made their intent clear from the start:

The Eleven Kings—a united royal bloodline of nature and life-element cultivators—stood together. This legacy was part of their race's past, and they were determined to reclaim it.

Their bid?

A soul-tempered Treeheart, taken from the last surviving Sovereign Tree of the Withered Planes—a treasure said to hold enough life essence to revive entire forests, or even restore dying realms.

The Spiremaster evaluated it, then slowly nodded.

"Accepted."

"The legacy returns… to its descendants."

The vine-wrapped book floated toward the Eleven Kings' platform, resting gently in a golden orb of light. The kings bowed slightly in respect—not to the auction house, but to the fallen Sovereign whose knowledge had returned home.

The crowd fell silent.

The Spiremaster raised both hands, and his voice echoed across the hall with calm authority:

"With this, we mark the end of both the Auction and the Banquet."

He paused as the hall began to dim slightly.

"For the next twenty-four segments, this venue will remain open as a neutral ground. You may socialize, discuss deals, and converse freely—but no fighting is allowed within these walls."

He made a final hand gesture, and golden seals formed over the entire venue, reinforcing the peace contract. The crowd began to shift—some leaving, some gathering into groups to discuss offers or potential alliances.

Suddenly, Asher felt a sharp pulse in his mind.

A voice—not loud, but firm—spoke directly to him:

"Come to the upper tier, third room on the right. You will know it by the silver wind glyph. I have something important to tell you."

Asher blinked once, then turned his head slightly.

Valeris and Veyra were beside him. They noticed the shift in his expression.

"You alright?" Valeris asked.

"I just got a message," Asher replied.

"Enemy?" Veyra asked, immediately alert.

He shook his head. "No... Not a threat. But possibly a lead. It came directly into my thoughts. Silent, clean. Only someone extremely powerful—or connected to this place—could've done it."

He turned toward them and gave a faint smile.

"I'll go see what it is."

Veyra frowned, but stepped aside. "Will you be alright alone?"

Asher nodded. "Yes. I will."

It was intuition—and for someone at his level, intuition was rarely wrong. When power reached a certain height, the line between instinct and foresight blurred. He trusted it.

He moved without hesitation, climbing to the upper floor, weaving through drifting nobles and silent warriors. Soon, he stood before a door marked by a faintly glowing silver wind glyph.

Without knocking, Asher pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was quiet. Dimly lit. At the far end, sitting calmly on a low platform surrounded by floating scrolls and invisible formations, was the Spiremaster.

Or rather, what he truly was.

The Will of the World.

"You're here," the Spiremaster said, his voice softer now—no longer that of a host or auctioneer, but something older. Deeper.

Asher narrowed his eyes. He didn't sit yet. "Why did you call me?"

The Spiremaster gestured to the seat across from him. "No titles. No pretense. Just sit. We have something important to discuss."

Asher didn't sense any hostility—only a strange calmness, and the hum of vast power hidden beneath the words.

He stepped forward, slow but steady, and took a seat opposite the Spiremaster.

"…Talk," Asher said.