"T-This is...!"

  Today was the long-awaited auction day. The venue was packed with nobles and merchants who had earned the organizer's trust, along with their attendants. I wore what passed as formal attire for this occasion—though really, it was just that recruit-style suit I'd bought earlier—but as the only child participant, I stuck out quite a bit.

  Nell and Amina were dressed in gowns prepared by Ingrid, though their fidgeting betrayed their unfamiliarity with such attire. Ingrid, on the other hand, blended right in with her usual cssical maid outfit.

  The auction venue had dispy areas on either side of the grand hall leading to the auction booths, where today's items were exhibited. Many attendees rushed in as soon as the doors opened to inspect the offerings before the auction began.

  Particurly eye-catching was the special exhibition area, heavily guarded by soldiers, where a massive crowd had gathered.

  "Liberta, aren’t you going to check that out?" "Huh? Oh, nah. It’s not as impressive as I expected. More importantly, all three of you—look at this instead."

  What y beyond the crowd was a *Fire Dragon's Horn*. Mounted on a raised ptform, its ruby-like, translucent red surface shimmered from afar, with fmes flickering inside as if alive—a mesmerizing dispy of nature’s mystical brilliance.

  As a Css 6 monster, one tier above the *Swamp Dragon*, the Fire Dragon’s horn was not only a stunning exhibit but also an exceptional material for crafting powerful fire-attribute weapons. In the right hands, such gear would be a game-changer.

  Nell, puzzled by my ck of interest, asked, "You’re really not curious about that?" It wasn’t that I *wasn’t* interested—it’s just that I didn’t see the need to pay well above market price for something we could potentially obtain ourselves. Fire Dragons rarely spawn in dungeons accessed with *Wyvern Keys* (where the usual boss is a *Wind Dragon*), but with a 5% chance, it wasn’t impossible. Still, acquiring the keys required preparation, and since we currently had no urgent need for fire-based weapons, I could comfortably pass.

  What *did* catch my eye, however, was something shoved into a corner, deliberately pced away from the crowds.

  "What’s this?" "Ugh, it’s all rusted." "What *is* it? It looks like equipment, but it’s terribly corroded..."

  This might just be the hidden gem I’d been hoping for—worth going all-in on. I’d initially avoided the crowded exhibits, never expecting to find *this* among the neglected items.

  According to the dubious description: *"Weapons excavated from ancient ruins. Their slumbering power, once awakened, may grant immense strength..."* Nell frowned. "Liberta, are you *sure* about this? It looks like it’ll crumble if you touch it."

  The dispy consisted of five rusted, barely recognizable pieces: a sword-like object, an axe-like object, a bow-like object, a shield-like object, and a helmet-like object. To most, they were junk.

  "These have *zero* value as weapons."

  But if they truly were ancient relics, they might function as *loot boxes*.

  "Then why is Liberta-sama interested?" "Even if they’re useless as gear, the *skills* enchanted on them could be valuable."

  Loot boxes—items with a gambling mechanic where you might pull trash or treasure. Most of the time, they’re duds, but there’s always that slim chance of striking gold.

  "Skills? But they’re so deteriorated..."

  Ancient equipment is a variant of loot boxes. Weapons can randomly bear skills, some of which are incredibly potent. Extracting them is straightforward—no special items needed—designed to lean into the thrill of chance.

  "Over time, the bond between the skill and the weapon weakens, making extraction easier. Ancient gear is *perfect* for this." "Ooh! So there’s some amazing skill hidden inside? What kind?" "No idea."

  Just like loot boxes, you won’t know until you try. There’s no guarantee it’ll be useful—it might even be *literal* garbage.

  "If these *are* genuine relics, they *definitely* have skills. But *which* skills? No clue." "Well, that one’s shaped like a sword, so surely it’s a sword-reted skill, right?" "Once, I pulled a *Laundry* skill from an ancient sword. Apparently, ancient people washed clothes with swords." "Wha—? You’re joking!" "Dead serious."

  Assuming weapon-shaped relics grant weapon skills is a rookie mistake.

  "A staff once gave me a *Grass-Cutting* skill." "How do you cut grass with a *staff*?" "Maybe they just... swung it really hard?"

  Everyday-life skills are common.

  "Another time, armor had a *Swimming* skill." "Did they... swim *in* armor?"

  The skills are *completely* random.

  "I’ve even heard of an *Explosion* skill coming from a *pendant*." "...So it’s *totally* unpredictable." "But there’s always that tiny chance of pulling something *incredible*—something we can’t obtain otherwise."

  Truthfully, the odds are abysmal. Back in the game, I’d farmed *endless* extra dungeons hunting these rusted relics, hoping for the ultra-rare scrolls they sometimes contained. Some pyers even built *entire characters* around relic farming and made fortunes.

  Statistically? You’ll *almost always* lose. Most would call this a waste of money.

  But in our current situation—where skill scrolls are scarce and the avaible ones are mediocre—this gamble might be worth it. We *will* hit a wall with skills eventually.

  "Fine. If Liberta wants it, it can’t be *that* bad." "Gacha is a scourge, or so the bankrupt always say." "Gacha?" "Never mind. Forget I said that."

  It’s like a drug—the fleeting high of a jackpot masking the inevitable losses. But thanks to their trust, Nell loosened the purse strings.

  "Let’s bid on this. Did any of you spot anything else? I’ll check the rest ter."

  Finding a target this quickly was a win. With our budget, we could afford to indulge if the others found something.

  Nell, ever the merchant-in-training, had her eye on a painting. "This one’s good. If we hold onto it for a few years, it’ll sell for a fortune." Amin and Ingrid had no picks yet, so we moved to the crowded exhibits—where the *real* valuables should be.

  One dispy in particur drew murmurs:

  "Is this the famed *Dragon-Sying Spear*?" "Indeed. They say it pierced a dragon’s throat and felled it."

  A *Dragon-Syer*? Did this spear take down the Fire Dragon?

  In *FBO*, dragon-sying gear (*Dragon Syers*) was *priceless* against the game’s draconic super-bosses. Even the lowest-tier variant would be a treasure for us now.

  If this was the real deal, I might *dump* our entire budget on it. A spear would synergize perfectly with my build, letting us hunt *Swamp Dragons*, *Land Dragons*, even *Wyverns*...

  But when I finally got a look at it, I froze.

  "...*What*?"

  The legendary *Dragon-Sying Spear* was...

  "A *bamboo spear*?" "Yep. A bamboo spear." "Indeed. A bamboo spear."

  ...the *exact same bamboo spear* that Lady Esmeralda’s attendant had confiscated from me.

  *Wait, what?*

  Did they *confiscate* it because they thought it was some legendary weapon to sell?

  *No way.* The Duke and Lady Esmeralda wouldn’t do that...

  And yet, there it was—my (possibly?) stolen bamboo spear, now enshrined as a *Dragon-Sying Relic* at the auction.