The voices of people could be heard cheering in a building that seemed to exist outside the world's gaze. The interior was vast, with a capacity for over a thousand people, its tiers rising high above the main floor. Every seat, from the topmost balcony to the ground level, offered a clear view of the spectacle below. It was an auction house, but not the kind that dealt in ordinary treasures. Here, notorious billionaires from across the globe gathered to bid on slaves and artifacts that defied the laws of nature.
Seated in a private box on the upper floor was the owner of the auction, Leonardo Jordan. The man who had sent mercenaries after Damien after the young Montgomery raided his auction. A smug smile played on his lips as he watched the bids climb higher and higher. The artifacts on display—ethereal relics that seemed to hum with latent power—were fetching prices that would make even the wealthiest tycoons balk.
"My bank account is getting heavier yet again tonight," Jordan said, leaning back in his plush chair. He turned to the masked women surrounding him, their gowns shimmering under the chandelier's light. "Ladies, lay anything you want on me. Don't hold back. I can even buy you a special place in hell."
One of the women, her mask adorned with delicate silver filigree, leaned in closer. "Mmm, we've been waiting for you to ask," she purred, her fingers tracing the lapel of his suit.
Jordan chuckled, taking a sip from a wine glass filled with an expensive vintage. "I'm fully back in business now. Nothing is going to disturb the success of this one."
A voice from behind interrupted his moment of triumph. "That's so unfortunate, because depending on your answer, you might have to face the same loss you were met with that day, Leonardo Jordan."
Jordan glanced over his shoulder, unfazed, to see three masked men standing in the shadows of his private box. Two of his most formidable bodyguards lay unconscious at their feet. The masked men moved with a quiet confidence that sent a chill down Jordan's spine.
He waved the ladies away with a dismissive gesture, his expression hardening as he turned to face the intruders. Two more masked figures walked in. One of them wore a mask with a smiley face imprinted on it, its cheerful design starkly contrasting with the tension in the room.
The smiley-faced man took a seat close to Jordan and crossed his legs, his posture relaxed as if he were an old friend. Together, they watched the auction proceed below. "Those are expensive artifacts, aren't they?" the man said, his voice calm and conversational. "They're not something you can get from even the best craftsmen we have now. They look almost ethereal."
"Who are you guys?" Jordan asked, his face a mixture of rage and disdain.
"We're hunters," the masked man answered. "Don't get me wrong, we don't haunt people like you. That's supposed to be the work of the government. We haunt the creatures you work for. You know, the ones that set up the incident in your auction house a few weeks ago just so the kid could run off with the relic. Ring a bell?"
Jordan's jaw tightened. "I'm not telling you anything."
The smiley-faced man tilted his head, his mask's grin seeming to widen. "Those artifacts look really expensive. I wonder what will happen if we..." He paused, his gaze locking onto Jordan's. "...destroyed them?"
Jordan's expression flinched. These guys were no joke. They hunted skinwalkers?
The man raised his hand as if preparing to give an order. It turned out the person auctioning the goods for the guests was one of theirs, awaiting instructions.
"Wait!" Jordan said, his voice sharp with desperation.
The man paused, his hand still raised. "What do you want to know?" Jordan asked, his tone now laced with unease.
The smiley-faced man and his mask seemed to share the same grin at that moment.
After collecting enough information from Jordan, the masked men left the auction house, their mission complete.
As they stepped outside, one of the masked figures—a young woman, her voice soft but curious—asked, "Why can't we just hand him over to the authorities?"
The leader, the one with the smiley mask, turned to her. "Seems you're the newbie," he said, his tone patient but firm. "These guys don't have laws binding them. They're above the law because even government officials are affiliated with them. We don't have business with such people. A much deadlier force is at play."
"Jordan said their next destination is a family called the Silverwoods'," the leader continued, his voice low. "These creatures' movements are now organized. The skinwalkers and werewolves, to be precise. More werewolves are now seen forming packs. Elves, wraiths, demons... and that slippery long silver-haired vampire who doesn't belong to any noble family, even though he bears the noble pattern in his eyes was spotted around the Silverwood area too."
He paused, his expression growing serious as he pulled off his mask, revealing a face that seemed to have been carefully carved by beauty itself. "I have a bad feeling that the balance between the supernatural and humanity is about to topple. It doesn't bode well for us."