Chapter 175: Plan Time

The dry sound of the gavel echoed one last time through the hall.

And, as if an invisible signal, the tension shifted.

Before, it was hungry anticipation. Now, it was possession.

Guards began to move discreetly around the stage. Nothing ostentatious—just enough to seem like protocol, not protection. The kind of security that only exists because someone very powerful has just acquired something they didn’t intend to lose.

Damon followed every movement.

Two guards to the left of the cage, light armor with secondary containment runes. One behind the presenter, hand too close to the runic holster. And, above, on the upper balconies, at least three hidden observers—not auction guards, but the buyer’s.

“He won’t touch her here,” Esther murmured, confirming what Damon already knew. “The transport must be underground. Probably straight to a mobile vault or sealed carriage.”

Aria tilted her head slightly, feigning disinterest as she memorized the guards’ movement pattern.

“Two possible paths,” she whispered. “Either the cargo tunnel… or the noble corridor.”

Damon watched the succubus.

She was still kneeling.

But now… her shoulders had stiffened.

She had felt the hammer fall. She had felt the bond officially severed with any possibility of legal intervention—even within illegality. And yet, her eyes searched the hall one last time.

Not in panic. But like someone choosing where to place their last bet. When her eyes met the black goat mask again, something changed.

It was subtle. But Damon noticed. Hope hadn’t died. She clung to it.

“She seems to be waiting for something,” Aria murmured. “Somehow… she knows it’s not over.”

Damon let out a slow sigh.

“Let’s watch,” he said. “We shouldn’t act recklessly.”

The presenter began to speak about the next lot, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. The audience slowly dispersed from that specific section, satisfied or frustrated, already refocusing on the next horrors for sale.

But the buyer didn’t get up.

Not yet.

His symbol—a triangular sigil with broken lines—remained floating in front of the upper right box.

“There,” Damon said, almost inaudibly. “That’s our man.”

Aria followed his gaze.

“Armored box. Exclusive entrance.” She smiled slightly. “Convinced.”

“Confident,” Ester corrected. “And trusts the contracts too much.”

Damon stood up slowly.

The movement was casual, almost lazy—like someone who had simply lost interest in the spectacle. Aria and Ester followed him, synchronized, without exchanging glances.

“Plan,” Damon said, as they walked towards the side exit of the arena. Ester spoke first.

“We follow the transport. We don’t attack inside the market—too much interference, too many witnesses.” She adjusted her hood. “We need to identify the point where the displacement seals are activated.”

Aria cracked her neck, too relaxed for someone about to commit a high-level heist.

“I’ll take care of the outer guards,” she said. “No fuss. No corpses… if possible.”

“No visible corpses,” Damon corrected.

She chuckled softly.

“You know me.”

They crossed the side corridor slowly, blending in with the other guests leaving the main auction hall. The air there was colder, heavy with the metallic smell of active runes and cheap incense—the kind used to mask heavy magic. The sounds of the hall faded into the distance, replaced by muffled echoes of footsteps and the ancient creaking of stone beneath their feet.

Damon deliberately kept a slow pace.

It wasn’t an escape. It was observation.

“Keep track of the times,” he murmured. “If the buyer is alone, he’ll want discretion. If not… he’ll want speed.”

Esther nodded, her eyes fixed on the walls, on the almost invisible inscriptions between the stone blocks.

“There are three different runic nets here,” she said. “One for the market. One for mobile containment. And one… private.” She paused. “That last one is recent. It was activated the exact moment the hammer fell.”

Aria frowned.

“So the transport is already underway.”

“Or about to be,” Damon replied.

They reached a lower level, where the corridor forked. To the left, a wide, reinforced passage with rails embedded in the floor—a cargo tunnel. To the right, an ornate arch, guarded by two motionless figures shrouded in dark cloaks—a noble corridor.

Aria leaned slightly to the left.

“My guess?” she said. “He wants to look too important to use the cargo tunnel.”

Ester disagreed with a slight shake of her head.

“And that’s exactly why he’ll use it. The noble corridor is too visible.” She pointed to the runes on the floor. “Besides… the cushioning seals are stronger there.”

Damon watched silently for a few seconds.

Then he smiled behind his mask.

“We split it up,” he decided. “Aria, you stay in the cargo tunnel. Don’t attack. Just observe and mark routes.” He turned to Ester. “You come with me down the main corridor.”

Aria raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to be alone?”

“I want you to be invisible,” Damon replied. “If something goes wrong… you’ll be our way out.”

She smiled slowly, sharply.

“I like that.”

Without another word, Aria walked away, disappearing among shadows and pillars as if the place itself had swallowed her.

Damon and Ester followed down the main corridor.

The two guards at the entrance didn’t move as they approached. Only when Damon passed did one of them slightly incline his head—automatic recognition of the still-active invitation. The letter wasn’t just a pass. It was a temporary circulation contract.

“The buyer trusts the system too much,” Ester murmured. “He believes no one would dare violate a contract of this level.”

“Classic mistake,” Damon replied. “Every system fails when someone decides not to play by the rules.”

The corridor opened into a smaller, circular hall with a low ceiling covered in observation crystals. In the center, a transfer circle was being prepared: market technicians adjusted runes on the floor while four additional guards took their positions.

And, in the background…

The cage.

The succubus was being slowly pushed onto a moving platform. The chains still fastened, the wings forcibly folded. She kept her head down, but her eyes lifted the instant Damon entered the hall.

She recognized him.

Not by the mask.

But by what he was.

Damon felt the same shiver as before—stronger now. The System remained silent, but the presence… that gentle, ancient pressure… was there.

“She’s being transferred to a secondary point,” Ester whispered. “After that, she disappears.”

“Not today,” Damon replied.

Above, the buyer’s triangular symbol gleamed again, more intensely, projected above a hidden box behind runic glass. A figure stood there, observing everything without descending, without exposing itself.

“He doesn’t intend to touch her personally,” Damon murmured. “Coward.”

Ester took a deep breath.

“Then this is the most vulnerable moment. Before the circle activates.”

Damon closed his eyes for a second.

He calculated.

Distance. Guards. Activation time. Escape routes.

Then he spoke, low and firm:

“When the circle starts, the runes will suck magical attention. It’s our break.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll take care of the box.”

Ester stared at him.

“Are you going up alone?”

“He’s the brains,” Damon replied. “And every brain panics when it realizes it’s lost control.”

She nodded slowly.

“Then I’ll take care of the cage.”

Damon took a step forward.

Before stepping back, he cast one last glance at the succubus.

She didn’t speak.

But, for the first time since being revealed to the public, her body relaxed slightly.

Like someone who senses that the worst… might not be inevitable.

Damon smiled, imperceptible beneath the mask.

The game had truly begun.

The transfer circle began to glow.

Runes on the floor lit up in sequence, one after another, forming a spiraling pattern that sucked mana from the environment like a silent whirlpool. The air grew heavy, vibrating against the skin. Technicians took a few steps back, too focused on maintaining the spell’s stability to notice anything out of protocol.

That was exactly what Damon expected.

He moved.

He didn’t run. He didn’t hastily hide. He simply walked, like someone who had every right to be there, slightly deviating from the growing magical focus. When he reached the side staircase leading to the upper box, an invisible pressure tried to stop him — a barrier of recognition.

Damon raised his hand.

The symbol of the invitation gleamed… and, for a moment, hesitated.

That was enough.

The barrier gave way like cracked glass.

“Interesting,” he murmured, climbing the steps. “So you’re using patches too.”

In the lower hall, Ester was already in position.

She moved like a shadow among the technicians, seizing the exact moment when everyone was facing the circle. A small artifact slid from her sleeve to her palm—a short-range runic nullifier, illegal even there.

She pressed the device against one of the cage’s chains.

The seal didn’t break.

It… weakened.

The succubus gasped slightly, her fingers twitching instinctively as she felt the drainage slow for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widened, fixed on Ester.

Ester brought a finger to her lips.

Not now.

In the cargo tunnel, Aria watched.

Three sealed carriages awaited, two empty, one active. Guards positioned in a defensive pattern, but relaxed—too confident. She memorized everything in seconds: routes, times, blind spots.

Then she smiled.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “You have no idea how screwed you are.”

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