The auction hall was a cacophony of polished arrogance and desperate greed. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prisms of light over men in tailored suits and women dripping with jewelry that could feed an entire slum for years. I stood at the edge of it all, invisible as always, clutching my mop like it might shield me from their glares if they ever bothered to look my way—which they didn't.
No one notices the help. Not when there's money on the line.
I moved between rows of bidders, avoiding spilled wine and discarded cigar butts while trying not to breathe too deeply. The air smelled of sweat, smoke, and something faintly metallic—like blood or ambition. Probably both. This place wasn't legal; everyone knew it. But legality meant nothing when you had power—or connections. And tonight, power hummed through the room like electricity before a storm.
The item list flashed on the screen above the stage. Lot 47 caught my eye—not because it looked valuable, but because it *didn't*. A broken jade pendant rested on a velvet cushion. Its surface was cracked, its edges dull. It shouldn't have been here among priceless antiques and rare artifacts. Yet, as the auctioneer lifted it into the spotlight, something inside me twisted painfully tight.
My chest felt heavy. My fingers tingled.
"What is this?" someone muttered behind me.
"No idea," another whispered back. "Looks junk."
But it wasn't junk. At least, not to me.
I stepped closer, gripping my mop tighter than necessary. Just enough to see better. Just enough to feel… whatever this was.
The auctioneer cleared his throat. "Next up, ladies and gentlemen—a unique artifact of unknown origin. Estimated age: several centuries. Provenance unclear, though some believe it may hold historical significance." He paused dramatically, letting the crowd murmur among themselves. "Starting bid—ten thousand credits!"
Ten thousand? For *that*?
Still, no one laughed. No one scoffed. Instead, paddles started rising tentatively. Fifteen thousand. Twenty. Thirty-five.
My stomach churned. Why did this thing matter so much? Why couldn't I tear my eyes away?
Then it happened.
As the bids climbed higher, the pendant seemed to pulse faintly under the lights. Or maybe that was just my imagination. Either way, my hand twitched involuntarily. My feet shuffled forward without permission. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached out—and touched it.
White-hot pain seared through my palm.
Time froze.
A voice echoed in my skull, cold and mechanical yet oddly familiar.
> **"Heir of Heaven's Flame detected. Unlocking sequence starting…"**
I froze. My heart pounded wildly. Around me, people gasped, pointing at the pendant—or maybe at me. I couldn't tell anymore. The world spun, colors bleeding together until everything dissolved into blinding white light.
When I came to, I was lying on the floor, surrounded by chaos. Guards shouted orders. Bidders scrambled toward exits. Someone kicked me hard in the ribs.
"You idiot!" Mr. Zhao, my boss, loomed over me, his face red with fury. "What did you do?!"
"I—I don't know!" I stammered, clutching my throbbing hand.
The jade pendant was gone, but its mark remained burned into my skin—an intricate symbol resembling flames twisting into infinity.
And then the voice returned.
> **"Initialization complete. Welcome, Jin Hao, Last Heir of the Celestial Bloodline. Your journey begins now."**
Journey? What journey?
Before I could process any of it, a gunshot rang out.
Pain exploded in my shoulder.