Pernatia Howzer is the leader of the most widespread religion in the continent. For centuries, she has devoted her life to sheltering those in need. The church has only grown in power, and is not controlled by any kingdoms. It has lent its support to all those who are willing to pay. Pernatia holds the greatest population of clerics and priests, offering a class and race change to those who are willing to pay the premium. Even those in poverty who reach financial stability are under obligation to pay a tribute for the aid, and otherwise risk being blacklisted. Although a huge portion of the funds go towards distributing resources and supplies to the less fortunate, they are open about the luxuries that is forwarded to the Pope and other high-ranking authorities. Due to its long existence and extremely profitable business model, Pernatia Howzer is likely the wealthiest being alive if their estimated yearly tributes are correct. They would have more wealth than all of the major kingdoms combined.

'Those who do good shall be rewarded. And we do more good than anybody else. It makes sense for us to profit the most, correct?'

~ The Holy Business of Being a God by Emmanuel Perez

Armored boots clattered on the cobblestone floor. Civilians hurried to get out of their way. The knights didn’t show any expression, escorting their liege with the proper vigilance and discipline of a soldier.

Samuel Warner was shorter than average. His greasy, long black hair fell and covered his eyes. His hooked nose and sharp eyes made him intimidating despite his small physique. The breastplate was marked with the insignia of the Idil Empire, along with the rest of comrades; a white griffin with wings spread proudly on the center of their breastplates.

“Duke Warner, I have received a message from the first Prince.” A effeminate voice whispered behind him. The soldier leaned in to address him due to the height difference.

His steps didn’t falter, continuing towards the Lanes Auction House in a slow, deliberate manner. But his voice was tinged with annoyance.

“What does he want from me?”

The female knight looked down at the notebook. The message began to write itself despite no quill or pen in sight. It was the Idil Empire’s most reliable way of communication between important individuals.

“He says that the Emperor has approved a fifty-thousand gold budget for the upcoming auction. The Prince also says to buy some training equipment along with the Attainium.”

Samuel groaned quietly before nodding. “Tell him that it will be done.”

As one of the highest authorities in the Empire, he possessed a lot of power. Born to nobility and blessed with great talent, he despised the fact that he was being used as an errand boy.

‘Spoiled brat…I came here for myself and here he is, with additional work for me to do during my vacation.’

He had no interest in the auction, as his equipment and accessories were already top-notch. Samuel was here to rest and recuperate in Elway’s famous spa, de-stressing after the hectic workload that came with being a Duke of the Empire.

‘Well, I cannot disobey. The Emperor would be unhappy to hear that I ignored his son’s request.’

An elven woman was at the front of the marbled building, walking towards him and bowing deeply.

“Duke Warner, we have prepared accommodations for your visit. Please, follow me.”

With an imperceptible nod, he followed her to the most luxurious inn that Elway could offer; Hotel Jekyll.

Many eyes were pointed at the powerful group who possessed a quality beyond anything that they have seen before.

The subordinates possessed complete sets of enchanted adamantine armor. Mana crystals were installed into the plates, showcasing the wealth of the Empire, which allowed them to arm their most powerful soldiers with high-grade armor. Without their helmets, the knights' faces could be seen. Four men and one woman, all wearing the same expensive gear with minute differences.

But theirs couldn’t even begin to compare with the Duke’s own personal set. It seemed to absorb all light, and if one were to touch it, would feel a chill wrap around their body. The veteran soldiers had developed all sorts of resistances, but could still feel the armor’s chilly effect despite the distance.

‘I do not know how Duke Warner does not freeze to death wearing armor entirely made of cold iron.’ One of them thought quietly.

They were all experienced combatants, and they have faced off against enemies wielding cold iron weapons. Not only was it lightweight, it possessed a hardiness similar that of mithril. However, its greatest quality was how it amplified dark magic.

Every one of them knew that it had the greatest synergy with the Duke’s abilities, despite the drawback of being deathly cold to wear and wield.

The citizens could feel the passive effect, as even those two meters away could feel the temperature drop by a few degrees. The group continued to walk on, staying in strict formation as they did so.

It was situated in the noble residential area, far from the ruckus of daily life. Many nobles and wealthy people were milling about, but even they seemed a class below the star-studded group. As they entered Hotel Jekyll, many began to whisper about the Duke's entourage.

"It's her! Mars Magesse! I can't believe she's real..." A man whispered to his companion, watching as the tall, female knight waited alongside her group. Her fierce eyes and serious face would make a hardened warrior nervous. "I heard she stopped the Cascadian Rebellion all by herself!"

Many of the knights suffered from similar gossip. They were all decorated warriors with many accolades and achievements. But with the discipline of a trained soldier, they ignored them with ease as they watched the elven woman strut up towards the receptionist and whisper in her ear, politely reminding them of the reservation. They went out of their desk to directly hand the golden keys to one of Samuel's knights.

“The event will begin in seven hours. Please, enjoy yourselves without holding back.”

Dismissing the elf, the group made their way upstairs, landing at the fourth floor. The hall was made with lush red carpets, and golden walls.

Despite the luxury, the Duke didn’t miss a beat. He wanted his alone time, despite the seriousness at which the knights took their duties. Samuel Warner was a person who liked to separate his leisure and work whenever possible.

“You are all free until the auction begins. Till then, do whatever you want. I will be in my room.”

Samuel went to his private room, which came with its own personal bathing chamber installed. It was the VVIP treatment; one which all the soldiers received. Paid for by the Lanes Auction House, they inevitably knew that the Duke would spend far more during the auction than the amenities they provided.

He undressed himself, taking off his sleek, black-plated armor. The only thing that remained were the accessories around his neck and fingers. His body was lean and perfect. Sculpted and defined, without a single scar that indicated anything about the Duke’s impressive performance in battle.

Samuel stepped into the pool, submerging himself completely. He came out and flipped his hair to remove it from his forehead, staring at the mirror.

Pale, white skin. Dull, dark purple eyes. Black piercings along the outside of his ears. He inspected his features, splashing some water to rinse off any dirt and oils. Although he wasn't conventionally attractive, he didn't think himself as ugly.

'When was the last time I felt insecure about my appearance? Honestly. I'm not like that annoying warden.'

The steam billowed comfortably, and he enjoyed the spa with a small, simple smile on his face. With no thoughts about spoiled nobility, political strife, or tiresome meetings. Samuel melted into the bath, letting the warmth wash over his entire being.

“This makes it all worth it.”

Far from the Auction House, several uniformed men were carrying a multitude of items. All packed into crates and boxes, many helped each other lift the boxes together.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

A worker noticed a man coming up towards him. Although he didn’t particularly remember his coworker’s face, he shook his head. The worker was confident in his ability to handle the box, knowing that packages this size were usually manageable by one person.

“No, no, I should be alr-Woah!”

As soon as he said that, the shipment in his hands began to feel thrice as heavy. Fearing that it would fall and become damaged by falling from the wagon, he rescinded his previous words. Unable to see the other side, he wasn't able to notice his coworker's finger pressing down on the other side of the box.

“On second thought…Yeah, get the other side.”

His coworker began to heave from the opposite end, and the man could feel his load lessen remarkably. Working together, they carried it inside the warehouse.

The guards, a group of adventurers, sat by at a nearby table playing cards and enjoying themselves without a care in the world. They were quite lax, paying little attention to the two workers as they worked in tandem to carry the box. For a moment, they were stopped by the mage closest to them. He turned his seat and called out to the workers who began to unload the shipments.

"Hey, we need to confirm your identity." The magic-wielder drawled out, showing off a magic orb. The two set down the package and walked closer towards him. The crystal ball glowed and scanned both workers, but he quickly raised his brow upon seeing some peculiar information. He looked the plain man in the eye, who didn't seem especially attractive. Although he waved them in, the worker could hear the mage gossip about them to his party.

"-slept with 100 women. Didn't even know that was a thing..."

He looked at his coworker curiously, wondering what they saw when viewing their status. The man merely shrugged, lifting the box and continuing further into the warehouse.

A manager directed them to where things needed to be, towards the righter-most part of the building.

Upon placing the box down, the worker turned to shake his coworker’s hand for the help, only to see that he was gone.

“Huh. Weird.”

The missing coworker in question had ran off to explore the location. He walked past other employees and occasionally went to go help them out in order to avoid blowing his cover.

Chester observed the shelves with a critical eye. The crates were all numbered, and he recalled the four digit number related to his prize. Every shelf was over two meters tall, separated into two sections.

‘1032, 1032…’

Following the direction of the boxes, he guessed that the ones labeled at the one-thousand mark were situated near the center of the warehouse.

“What are you doing?! Stop dicking around and get back to work!”

A manager chastised him, and he hurriedly went back outside to where the other workers were unloading boxes. His hair was tied into a small bun, and he used a pair of glasses to make him look completely different compared to his usual style. Nonetheless, his features remained exactly the same.

He lifted a small box by himself, passing by the guards who were more focused on their card game to pay attention to the diligent worker. It seemed that identifying the workers was a one-time occurence.

Cautiously, Chester wandered around the massive warehouse, occasionally pretending to help with lifting the packages onto higher shelving. He arrived at the center of the building, where people worked frantically with a massive teleporter in the middle.

Workers came in and carried the boxes, where it was opened and placed on the teleporter. Several people were communicating, seemingly receiving live updates on the ongoing auction judging by the conversations he eavesdropped on.

“Someone in the crowd got drunk and there’s a delay- hold off on the next shipment. We’ll need to wait a couple-”

He spotted the crate from several meters away. It was identical to the rest, but it was situated nearly right behind the most important-looking workers there, who looked over notes and yelled at the others to get in line.

Carefully, he strained his ears, listening to their conversation and watching the movement of their eyes.

And in a moment, he slipped by the workers unnoticed. With the box in his hands, he subtly placed his hand over the numbered marking so that they wouldn't be able to tell him off for placing the box in the wrong shelf.

Nothing stood out. He walked right past them, before turning left onto the shelf where the Attainium sat. Chester placed the crate he was carrying on the nearby shelf with an empty spot.

The boxes didn’t move, except for an imperceptible shimmer that encased the bottom half of the shelf. Chester knelt down to fit under the shelf, making sure that both sides properly displayed an identical image of the boxes using Minor Illusion.

‘From what I’m hearing they’re about to present these in the next hour. I should have enough time.’

With precise movements, he carefully took out the nails from the crate. Not wanting to attract the closest worker’s attention who sat no more than two feet away from the illusion that he created, he did it slowly.

Inside were soft, red velvet pillows. An ornate glass the size of Chester’s thigh filled with liquid metal.

‘Jackpot.’

He untwisted the bottle, letting the liquid spill onto his hands. Iridescent material flowed on his skin freely. It was dense, and Chester’s arm did their best to remain still while integrating the metal as his own.

Unbonded Attainium acquired. Would you like to bond?

Affirming his choice, it melded with his body. It stuck to his skin, the entire mass escaping its container and into his clothes like a lustrous symbiote.

It was easily quarter a liter, and that his entire body supported an additional five kilograms of weight. His speed and strength allowed him to move normally, but Chester noted that it required a bit of effort to walk naturally while hiding it under his clothes.

Using the liquid metal, he refined it into a sharp point and began to quietly carve out letters onto the top of the box.

THE OMEN WAS HERE

‘This should throw off any investigations if they decided to chase me. Those fuckers can handle the fallout from this.’

Carefully placing the box back into place, he casted an Invisibility spell on himself, dispelling the illusion over the section of the shelf that contained the empty box of Attainium.

To an observer, it would have looked like the box’s changed position ever so slightly; barely a few centimeters from its original position.

‘Well, mission complete. I can get out of here with like thirty minutes before they realize it’s missing.’

Still invisible, he eyed the other crates. He distinctly remembered the list of treasures that were available, and seeing them just as vulnerable made him rethink playing it safe.

‘Let’s see if I can get away with more…’

He repeated the process, clambering on top of the shelf that held two other boxes. His mind was overloaded with tasks; listening in for potential movement, keeping the shape of the illusion consistent, and opening the boxes as quietly as possible.

After several minutes of careful movement, he had gotten a large vial of blue liquid, which he presumed was Kraken Blood. The second shelf contained a small, metallic cylinder.

Without his extra-dimensional bag, he was forced to make a case that held the items with the Attainium, keeping them securely fastened to his thigh. He was thankful that the employee he had robbed was a size larger than he was.

As much as he wanted to look at the other crates, Chester was aware of his limitations. He stepped out, dispelling his Invisibility when nobody was looking. He made sure to make gait as natural as possible, which was difficult as the items stuffed under his pants would bulge out when walking.

His posture was similar to that of a man with a purpose; eyes straight forward, but not stiff enough to arouse suspicion. He walked at a calm pace, his heart pounding in his ears as he inched closer towards the exit.

Using his peripheral vision, he observed the adventurers a few meters away from his position. For a moment, he could see someone’s head jerk upwards, staring directly at him.

The thudding in his ears grew louder, and he did his best to keep his pace steady, but getting ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Nothing happened as the person returned their attention back towards the game.

Chester turned the corner, and took a small glance at the one who had stared at him.

Joseph Devon was making eye-contact, before giving him a sly wink and covering the lower half of his face with cards.

He took no chances. As he went deeper into the alley, a wall lamp sat innocently. Despite being five meters in the air, he reached it with ease, snatching his bag that had been invisible for the past hour. He was thankful that Invisibility could be cast multiple times unlike Minor Illusion.

Chester went further into the alleyways, placing his loot inside while taking out his robe. He got rid of all his disguises, and the Attainium had shifted into plate armor along his forearms and elbows.

He gulped down a mana potion. His reserves had been cut down to nearly half while holding together several spells at once. Chester was mentally fatigued, but he knew he couldn’t afford to rest. At a brisk pace, he made for the rendezvous point with Damien. He couldn’t even care enough to think about why Joseph had let him go. The illusionist was glad that he didn’t interfere.

Chester headed for the eastern exit. The warehouse was located in the adventuring district, closer to Sadie’s Casino and the gang leader’s office. He kept a disguise activated; gray hair, hooked nose, and an aging face.

After arriving in one of the main streets, he began to search for Damien. The district was crowded with people, and he had trouble spotting the pale-faced boy.

He saw the boy waiting by a building with his arms crossed. The vampire was tapping his foot on the ground, and his face showed signs of restlessness.

“Hey, I’m here. You got everything done?”

The boy nodded upon recognizing the man. Although his face was completely different, his height and stature remained consistent. Damien was beginning to learn how to recognize the man through his gait and his smaller habits.

“Yeah, the carriage is leaving in thirty minutes. Here’s your ticket. Can't believe that this is the only one going that way. Apparently most transports avoid that place like the plague.”

The boy handed him a slip of paper, an admission sign for their next destination; a village called Stillwater.

“Okay. Do me a favor. High-five.”

He put his palm up, and the boy tilted his head. “What the hell are you doing?”

“High-five? When you slap your hands together to celebrate a successful mission?”

Bemused, Damien imitated him. Chester slapped it with enough force to injure an average human, causing a great stinging sensation in the child’s hand.

“Let’s fucking go, man! I can’t believe I pulled it off without a-”

An ink-like substance appeared on the floor, causing great alarm to everyone in the streets. Tendrils acted like appendages, inhibiting many people’s movements. From their point of view, the effect had spanned kilometers. The two watched as dozens of people were tangled up in the dark magic.

“-hitch.”

Damien glared at the man as he sliced away at the tendrils tying up his legs.