How to Survive as a Mage Inside a Game-Chapter 48: Secret Auction (2)

Karl let out a breath of relief—internally, of course.

So far, so good. The old bastard hadn’t noticed him.

‘I can’t believe this... why would Aranhel be here?’

The question flashed through his mind, but quickly disappeared.

Aranhel. One of the continent’s most notorious evil organizations.

And a secret auction where everyone hides behind masks to indulge their filthiest desires.

There wasn’t a more fitting place for them. Of course they’d come if there was something they wanted to buy.

His mouth felt dry as sand. Karl instinctively licked his lips.

‘So she’s the heir, huh...’

No wonder she was so completely unhinged. That bastard he’d killed before was supposed to be some "heir" too, wasn’t he?

Whatever. He didn’t give a damn about her.

The problem was the monster sitting next to her.

If that old man realized who Karl was, it was over.

The auction, the crowd—it wouldn’t matter. He’d come straight for Karl’s throat.

Even now, stronger than he was back then, Karl wasn’t ready for a fight with someone over level 60. A chill crawled down his spine.

‘Stay calm. As long as I don’t screw up, he won’t notice anything.’

Right now, the old man didn’t care about him at all.

Hell, Karl hadn’t realized who he was until he saw his title. The same had to be true for the old man.

Showing any signs of recognizing him would only backfire.

"And with that, the slave auction is now complete!"

The final item, a beautiful dark-haired elf, had just been sold to a man in a bear mask for 20,000 gold.

Now, it was time for the goods auction—the part Karl had been waiting for.

"When do you think it’ll come up?" he asked Scarlett quietly.

"Early on," she replied right away. "It’s rare, but worthless. So it’ll be sold quickly."

The order of items was determined by value, naturally.

The cheap, less important stuff came first, and as the night went on, the real treasures—what people actually came for—would appear.

Blueleaf was in the first category, thankfully.

Karl leaned back, a little more relaxed now.

If nothing went wrong, he’d get the Blueleaf and head straight back to Keramic.

"Behold the radiant colors and elegance of this silk! Imported from the desert kingdom in the Eastern Continent, worn only by nobility! Starting at 50 gold!"

"A painting by Edang, the rising star of Multern! Why, it almost feels like the minotaur in this painting is about to leap out and smash my head in!"

"A knight statue made from pure Shtein ore! Light enough to lift with one hand, despite its size—see? Ha ha!"

The auctioneer kept his energy high, ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) hyping up each item.

The crowd responded lightly, tossing in bids here and there—but no one went high.

Everyone knew these were just warm-ups. The real treasures would come later.

Aside from the occasional pride-fueled bidding war, most things went for modest prices.

‘When the hell is it coming?’

But still, no sign of the Blueleaf.

The current item was an old, worn sword.

Its blade was rusted and dark, almost blackened with age.

Even the auctioneer seemed to lose some of his spark trying to sell it.

"Ah... A relic believed to be from the Age of Steel, before the Age of Light! Who knows? Maybe it’s one of the legendary swords wielded by the Sword King of a Thousand Blades..."

The auctioneer tried his best, but the crowd wasn’t buying it.

Anyone could slap a fancy name on a stick and call it a dragon-slayer.

Age of Steel, Sword King—it all sounded nice, but no one here was stupid enough to drop real money on that kind of nonsense.

If it were truly a legendary item, it wouldn’t be getting pawned off like this.

The auctioneer seemed to know it was a lost cause and clicked his tongue softly before moving on.

"Alright, let’s start at 30 gold. It might make for a nice decoration at least, ha ha."

And at that moment.

The old man, who had been silent until now, raised his bidding paddle.

Karl turned his head slightly, eyeing him.

‘Wait... was that what he came for?’

It was just a rusted piece of junk, wasn’t it?

Karl had expected him to bid on something big later on—not this.

"You sure about that, old man?" the woman whispered, clearly confused.

The old man nodded without a word, but Karl could feel it—some strange excitement, almost feverish, radiating from him.

That was when Karl realized the sword wasn’t just some piece of trash.

Still, he wasn’t planning to do anything about it.

He didn’t exactly want to let the old man have it, but drawing attention now would be suicide.

Whatever that sword really was, it was better for Karl if it ended up with the old man.

‘Right. Let’s just each get what we came for and leave quietly. No need for any of us to get curious about each other.’

No one else seemed too interested in the sword.

A few bidders raised it to 35, 50 gold, but once the old man raised his paddle again, they gave up quickly.

"70 gold! We’re at 70 gold! Anyone else?"

The auctioneer, surprised by the unexpected interest, practically beamed with joy.

The rusted sword seemed like it would easily go to the old man.

"100 gold."

A voice echoed softly from the front of the crowd.

A man in a crow mask suddenly raised his paddle.

"What the hell... who’s that guy?"

The woman next to Karl muttered under her breath.

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The old man raised his paddle again.

"130 gold."

But the crow mask raised his paddle just as quickly.

"200 gold."

"..."

The crowd fell into a strange silence.

"300 gold."

"500 gold."

"...1000 gold."

"2000 gold."

The crow mask matched the old man every time, bidding higher without hesitation.

3,000 gold. 5,000 gold. Even up to 10,000.

‘...You bastard, stop it already.’

Karl stared at the crow mask, eyes flickering.

He could feel the old man’s quiet rage now, simmering like a volcano ready to blow.

And that crow mask just kept poking it, over and over.

"What’s with those lunatics?"

"Is there something about that sword?"

The crowd buzzed with uneasy chatter.

It wasn’t uncommon for egos to drive prices up—but this? This was insane.

No one in their right mind would drop tens of thousands on a rusty blade.

"...10,000 gold! I can’t believe it! We’re at 10,000 gold!!"

The auctioneer sounded like he was about to lose it, shouting like a man possessed.

A worthless item starting at 30 gold, now at 10,000? He must’ve thought he was dreaming.

Karl glanced at the two beside him.

The woman was chuckling quietly, clearly amused. The old man, frozen still, was locked onto the crow mask.

"20,000 gold."

The old man raised his paddle again.

And to Karl, that felt like his last thread of patience.

The crow mask lifted his paddle.

"30,000 gold."

"..."

The auctioneer, stunned, finally came to and shouted,

"...THIRTY THOUSAND! 30,000 GOLD!! The gentleman in the crow mask bids 30,000!!!"

All eyes in the room turned to the old man.

The old man let out a short, incredulous laugh as he tossed his bidding paddle to the ground. One side had finally backed down.

The audience erupted into another wave of noise, and the auctioneer gave a deep bow toward the man in the crow mask.

"Well, that was fun to watch."

The woman beside the old man giggled, then leaned over to him and asked,

"So, right now? Or are you gonna follow him out quietly after the auction?"

The old man didn’t reply. He simply drew a dagger from his belt.

The woman burst into laughter again.

"Hah! Our gramps and that temper of his... no way he was leaving quietly."

Shlick!

In an instant, a razor-thin crimson line flashed through the air.

The bodyguards sitting on either side of the man in the crow mask dove to stop it—but too late. The dagger had already pierced his throat.

"...Kyaaaaah!!"

A beat later, the scream rang out.

As they stared in disbelief at their master’s crumpled body, the bodyguards flew at the old man, roaring with rage.

"You bastard! Do you even know who he—"

"Why would I care?" the old man chuckled.

Shraaak!

He cut them down effortlessly, then leapt forward without pause.

Panic erupted. Guests scattered, screaming as the auction hall turned into total chaos.

"W-What the hell?! That lunatic—!!"

The auction’s private guards rushed in to stop him, but they were no match. They dropped like autumn leaves.

An executive of Aranhel... to stop someone like him would require dozens of elite knights, at minimum.

"Hell yeah, I was starting to get bored anyway. Might as well kill every last one of these fuckers, hah!"

The woman jumped up as well, drawing her sword and joining the bloodbath.

Within moments, the auction house was soaked in blood and chunks of flesh.

"...Goddamn it."

Karl let out a deep sigh.

Of course it had to blow up.

Scarlett jumped to her feet next to him, urgency written all over her face.

"They're not average fighters. We need to get out of here—now!"

Karl shook his head.

"You go. Head to the rendezvous point. I have to get that Blueleaf."

"What? But—"

"You really think I’ll get taken down that easily? I’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry."

She knew better than to argue. Trusting his strength, Scarlett nodded and slipped out of the auction hall.

Had she known who the old man was, she would’ve dragged Karl out with her—no matter what.

Now alone, Karl used the chaos as cover and made his way around to the back of the stage.

‘This is where the auction items were coming from...’

Behind the stage, terrified slaves huddled together, trembling at the sounds of screams outside. Auction staff stumbled about, panicked.

The moment the guards saw Karl, they flinched.

"Don’t block my way. Get lost."

Karl blasted through them and moved on. Then he sighed, stopping in his tracks to glance back at the slaves.

Leaving them here was as good as a death sentence.

Clink! Clack!

He broke the chains and cuffs one by one. The slaves looked around in disbelief.

"I can’t help you beyond this. Don’t go through the main hall—find another way out and save yourselves."

With just that, Karl turned and headed deeper inside.

The old man and the woman were still wreaking havoc out front, so there wasn’t much resistance.

Just as he’d expected, the inner storeroom was filled with auction items.

He quickly began digging through them.

"Who the hell are you—urk!"

Several staff members and even the auctioneer tried to intervene, but Karl knocked them out without much effort and kept searching.

And then—he found it.

A small sack, packed with pale, narrow leaves.

‘...There it is.’

Blueleaf.

Karl grabbed the sack and turned to leave—only to stop dead as another presence approached.

"Huh? Didn’t expect company."

The woman entered, casually flicking blood off her sword.

She looked Karl up and down, then let out a soft ah of realization.

"You were sitting next to me earlier, weren’t you? Didn’t think you’d still be here. What are you doing—trying to steal something in the middle of all this mess?"

"......"

"Well, not that it matters now. Guess your dumb greed’s gonna get you killed."

Fwoooosh!

Her blade flared with bloody aura.

For a moment, Karl hesitated.

The woman herself wasn’t the problem—he could take her out and escape right after. The issue was the second presence approaching from behind her.

‘So he’s already finished cleaning up out there...’

He’d rushed as fast as he could, but it hadn’t been fast enough.

If only he hadn’t wasted time freeing the slaves... but it was too late for regret now.

"I’ll make it painless, since we had such a nice little moment together—"

Crackle!

A burst of light surged from a magic circle, wrapping around the woman in an instant.

Karl yanked her forward by the leg and slammed her into the floor.

At that exact moment—

A flash of red shot toward him, faster than lightning.

CRAAACK!!

His shield nearly shattered. It held—barely—but the impact knocked the breath out of him.

Karl clutched his chest, eyes wide.

A 5-circle shield... and it had almost not held?

That old man’s destructive power was still monstrous.

"...Huh."

The old man entered the room, looking from Karl to the woman now tightly bound and unconscious on the floor.

Karl couldn’t see his expression behind the mask, but the killing intent radiating off him was thick and suffocating.

Crack!

"Kuh...!!"

Karl tightened the magical binds around the woman’s throat and spoke coldly.

"Don’t take another step. Try anything, and she dies."

The old man was silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"You fool. That girl means nothing to—"

"Then you should’ve attacked already. Why are you wasting time talking?"

"......"

"Don’t try to bluff. Step back. Slowly."

The old man clicked his tongue—then paused.

His stance froze, like something had just clicked.

A familiar voice. An eerie sense of déjà vu.

He stared at Karl long and hard.

And then, in a voice filled with disbelief, he murmured,

"...No. It can’t be. You’re—"

Karl met his gaze.

"Familiar, isn’t it?"

"...!!"

"Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other again in this kind of place, either."

The old man’s eyes widened, the pupils shaking with shock.