The hall had fallen quiet.

Even the nobles in their private balconies weren't whispering anymore.

All eyes were locked on that one man in the black robe, his steps steady as he crossed the stage like he belonged there.

I froze.

It wasn't just his presence...it was the way the air bent around him.

It was like the hall itself was straining under his weight, yet no sound came from him.

No aura leaked out like the others who tried before. But that silence…it was worse.

It made my skin crawl.

Grandpa's words came rushing back to me.

"Most of them here are less than ants."

When he had said that earlier, I thought it was just his arrogance talking.

A king looking down on the weak.

But now, as I stared at this figure, I felt it in my chest. The gap. The difference.

If I was being honest… I wasn't sure if I was above the "ants" Grandpa had spoken of. I had thought I was confident even, but in front of this man?

No.

I was an ant too, I realised.

The nobles felt it as well.

A ripple spread through the third floor, through the balconies, as jeweled hands gripped wine glasses tighter, as fans stilled in mid-air, as breaths were sucked in sharp.

One noblewoman whispered, almost trembling,

"Who…who is that?"

Another man, pale, muttered under his breath,

"He doesn't belong to any house I know…"

But their fear wasn't loud, it was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that said every single one of them understood what it meant to be a prey.

I turned my head just slightly, enough to catch Grandpa Venus's smirk, his black robe trembling under the sudden aura he started admitting out.

Dario, Sera, Erza and I'm pretty sure even Sia felt it.

All these months I'd thought of myself to be invincible...but now looking at just the aura of grandpa...I realised how blind I was to all this.

Feeling a cold bucket wash over my over confidence, I almost felt happy, lest I step on the old man's tail one day and he slaps me to death—

My whole body under my black turtle neck shivered, sweat covering my body as I saw him leaning back in his chair, wine swirling in his cup like this was entertainment made only for him.

"Philip," he said lazily, "you feel it too, don't you?"

King Philip didn't answer right away. His sharp eyes were fixed on the man, studying him like a hawk does before it dives. Then, finally, he muttered,

"…He's not ordinary."

Grandpa chuckled.

"Not ordinary? Hah! That's your polite way of saying he's almost on our level, isn't it?" He nudged Philip with his elbow, smirk still tugging at his mouth.

"Come on, don't pretend you don't feel it. That pressure…it's close. Closer than I like."

Philip's jaw tightened. He didn't deny it.

Instead, he glanced toward the man again and said low, "If someone like that walks freely into an auction, either the world is shifting too fast, or we've been blind."

Their words hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

Almost their level?

This man—this stranger, faceless under the shadow of his hood—was nearly equal to the kings?

To Grandpa?

To King Philip?

Then what chance did the rest of us have?

I swallowed, my throat dry.

The man finally stopped in front of the Hollow weapon.

He didn't flinch at the pulsing aura. He didn't even twitch when the runes on the ground sparked red again, as though sensing his arrival.

The nobles were leaning forward now. Some covering their mouths while others gripped the railing so tightly their knuckles whitened.

The man covered in that weird smoke just stood there.

Almost as if he was a shadow made solid.

But in that silence, I felt danger. A danger I couldn't name, one that made my instincts scream at me to leave, now.

My fists clenched against my knees, trembling.

I couldn't even see his face, yet I couldn't look away.

Grandpa whispered then, voice just low enough for me to hear,

"…Now this…this is interesting."

The king of Jade didn't speak. His focus didn't unmoving.

And then, it happened.

The man raised his hand.

Slow and calm.

Not rushed, not afraid.

Every eye in the hall followed that hand as it reached for the Hollow weapon's hilt.

The black aura of the blade surged, coiling upward the smoke on the man's figure, lashing against the ceiling as though warning him back.

But he didn't hesitate.

His fingers wrapped around the hilt.

The runes on the stage flared as I could see almost everyone leaning in.

And for the first time…the sword didn't throw its challenger away.

There was no light.

No rejection.

And certainly no body crushed.

The weapon pulsed once.

The hall erupted in chaos but I couldn't even process it.

And all I could think was—

This isn't possible.

After all, the sword had never accepted anyone yet.

Countless thoughts continued running in my mind.

How strong did you have to be for you to be as strong as the old age kings themselves?

How could someone as strong as that man be someone unknown.

The sheer fact that no one realised who this person was just displayed the whole comedy of this scene unfolding in front of us.

I looked at his hand then, that porcelain hand which had come out from the folds of the black robe the unknown man was wearing.

It looked almost pale, as if the hand wasn't of a living person but a dead body instead.

Just then, I heard a rumble.

King Philip along with Grandpa threw their glasses of wine aside as weapons adorned their hands, battle armour instantly covered the duo's body as they looked at us gravely.

Grandpa instantly used a sign which was performed only during an emergency in the old age, when the kingdom was under a calamity level threat.

Everyone around me instantly summoned weapons from their space rings while I still stood there, confused.

Grandpa Venus pointed at the unknown man on the floating stage, his voice carrying a sence of disbelief I'd never seen in my life.

His lips trembled as few words blurred from his mouth.

"That man...he is not a human—"

***