"The ancient relic is at 6,000 zeni! 6,500 zeni!! Oh! 8,000 zeni!! Any higher bids? Anyone!?"
Damn, they're stubborn!
The opponent clearly knows the value of what I'm calling an "ancient relic"—a seemingly worthless, tattered item—and won't back down easily.
I managed to eliminate the decoy bidder by doubling the price from the minimum 1,000 to 2,000 zeni, consuming two bells in the process. But after that, the bidding turned into a back-and-forth battle, and now...
"10,000 zeni!! 12,000!!"
It’s finally crossed the tenfold threshold.
Financially, I still have plenty of room, and considering the prices from the game era, this still feels cheap.
Ingrid, holding up the bidding pte, gnces at me, asking what to do. Judging by the atmosphere, the opponent is holding back at a 20% increase.
In that case, I’ll...
"17,000 zeni! 18,000!! 23,000!! 24,000! 29,000!?"
I counter with a 50% surge.
The price skyrockets, and Nell looks at me worriedly while Amina stares excitedly at the stage.
"30,000 zeni—no, 35,000 zeni!!"
This feels like a game of chicken.
Normally, blindly pushing forward when you don’t know who’ll fold first isn’t a smart strategy. Frankly, this item might just be junk with useless skills, so is it worth spending this much?
In the game era, a single ancient relic traded for 30,000 zeni. For this five-piece set (sword, axe, bow, shield, and helmet), 150,000 zeni wouldn’t be unreasonable.
Which means...
"36,000 zeni! 41,000 zeni!?"
At this price, it’s still a bargain.
Faced with my unwavering determination, the opponent finally hesitates, realizing I won’t back down.
"41,000 zeni! Any higher? No? Then sold for 41,000 zeni!!"
I’ve just bought a set of battered weapons for 4.1 million yen.
Laughter tinged with ridicule echoes from the audience, but as far as I’m concerned, this was a steal—an absolute bargain.
---
"You were incredibly aggressive. What if the opponent had been a decoy? Wouldn’t you have overpaid?"
"Really? From my perspective, I got it for dirt cheap."
By my FBO-game-era financial standards, I paid less than a third of the market price.
A fantastic deal, if you ask me.
Nell might’ve suspected the opponent was a decoy based on their tactics. That’s pusible, but there’s no point worrying about it now.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, I was prepared to pay triple."
"Triple!?"
"That’d be around 120,000 zeni."
"That’s... way too much, no matter how you look at it."
"But for me, even at 120,000 zeni, this was a chance to obtain something irrepceable. This set has that potential."
As the girls stare in shock, I chuckle and proceed with the payment.
In the game, money would’ve been deducted automatically, and the item would’ve been delivered.
But in reality? No such convenience.
---
"This is your exchange voucher. Payment must be made within three days, or the transaction will be void. Additionally, repeated failure to pay will result in a permanent ban from this facility. Please be aware."
"Understood. I’ll pay now. Ingrid."
"Here, please verify the amount."
In this world, after winning a bid, an attendant comes to your room with an ornately decorated exchange voucher.
You hand over the voucher and the money, and ter, you exchange it for the item.
Fail to pay, and you’re barred from future auctions—considered a disruption.
This is the second time I’ve heard this spiel.
Some bidders might find it offensive, as if they’re being doubted. But others get carried away and bid beyond their means.
This warning exists to rein them in.
I’ve heard there’s a st-resort measure where you can forfeit the voucher, pay a penalty, and have the item relisted. But abuse that, and you’ll still get banned.
"Very well."
So, paying upfront is the safest move.
The room has a counting table for bids, designed for easy verification. Ingrid piles up the money we brought, and the attendant confirms it.
Once that’s done, the attendant’s demeanor softens.
Money talks.
After verifying the full 41,000 zeni, the attendant hands over a new, even more eborate voucher.
"Understood."
As the attendant leaves, I turn to Ingrid.
"How much do we have left?"
"About 108,000 zeni."
"Hmm, not enough for the Fire Dragon’s Horn, then."
"You’d need ten times—no, a hundred times that."
"Yeah. Doesn’t look like there are any more hidden gems today. We’ll just watch the bamboo spear and the Fire Dragon’s Horn, then call it a day. Since we’re all dressed up, let’s hit a fancy restaurant on the way back."
"Really!?"
"Yep. You’ve all been working hard. A little luxury won’t hurt."
"Any pces that allow beastfolk?"
"Leave that to me. I know just the spot."
And with that, my auction spree ends.
It’s too te to go hunting now, so we might as well stick around to see how the remaining items fare.
A nice meal on the way home will be a good way to unwind.
The girls excitedly discuss where to eat while the auction continues.
Dresses, swords, horses, books, jars, scrolls—all sorts of items come and go, stirring the crowd.
Then, finally, the main attraction arrives.
---
"Now!! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the star item! At first gnce, this may seem like a pin bamboo spear! But in truth, this is the legendary Dragon-Sying Spear, said to have felled the Crawling Dragon!!"
"They called it a bamboo spear."
"Yep."
"Sure did."
"Indeed."
The spear I used—reinforced, but still a Css 1 weapon—is presented with grandiose fir, the host hyping it up like some divine artifact.
"Proof over words! This steel sword is a Css 2, Level 83 weapon. In my hands, an ordinary bamboo spear would be sliced in half! But this Dragon-Sying Spear is different! Perhaps it’s the dragon’s blood infused into its bde—BEHOLD!!"
A man steps onto the stage, raises the spear, and the host swings the steel sword at it.
Normally, the bamboo spear would be cut clean through.
But...
"It won’t break."
"Even Dase’s dagger couldn’t scratch it."
"My wooden staff didn’t break either, even when I swung it full force."
"Same with my bamboo broom."
The spear effortlessly blocks the steel sword, drawing gasps from the crowd.
"Witness its indestructibility!! This is the miracle of the Dragon-Sying Spear!!"
"Uh, it’s literally just a bamboo spear with the Mark of the Weakling."
"Nobody’d believe you if you told them."
"True."
"But, Liberta, you did sy the Crawling Dragon with that spear. Doesn’t that mean it has the performance to kill dragons?"
"By that logic, any weapon that can pierce a dragon’s reverse scale would qualify as a dragon-sying weapon."
The reaction is almost comical.
To those who know its true nature, this spear has zero dragon-sying properties.
If someone asked me to kill any dragon other than the Crawling Dragon with it, I’d refuse outright.
It’s a lightweight, durable spear—good only for the weak.
It doesn’t make you stronger; if anything, it holds you back.
"Now! Starting at 100,000 zeni!!"
The idea of this weapon going for 10 million yen is ughable.
"150,000! 200,000!! 250,000! 300,000!!"
And the bids are climbing faster than anything else today.
"1 million! 1.5 million!! 2 million!!"
"To think it’d break a million in minutes... The seller must be ughing all the way to the bank."
"Money really flows where it wants, huh."
"Hey, do you think my wooden staff would fetch that much?"
"If it could sy a dragon, maybe... But in our case, it’d be too obvious. We’d be accused of fraud and arrested. Better not."
"Bummer."
Call it a ck of discernment or appraisal skills—without them, people can’t see the spear’s true worth, which is why they’re willing to throw absurd sums at it.
"If they knew its real stats, they’d never pay this much. Why are people dumping so much money into this?"
"Without using it, there’s no way to know a weapon’s true performance. So they won’t realize until after buying it, right?"
"Huh? What about Appraisal skills?"
"Appraisal skills? Those exist?"
"Wait, hold on—are you telling me Appraisal skills don’t exist here?"
"Not to my knowledge. Nell, Amina, have you heard of them?"
"Only in legends—stories about mythical merchants. Like fairy tales."
"I’ve never heard of them."
How absurd, I think—until it hits me.
Appraisal skills don’t exist.
At first, it sounds ridiculous. But looking back, have I ever seen anyone use them since arriving in this world?
No. Never.
I knew weapon stats from the game, so I never needed Appraisal skills.
But that’s my blind spot—I already knew the optimal synthesis paths and forms.
"Appraisal skills don’t just reveal equipment and item stats. They can also identify monster statuses and drops, depending on level disparity. Merchants can acquire them, but only after meeting specific conditions—like clearing a Css 5 dungeon."
And given how life-threatening adventuring is here, it makes sense why Appraisal skills aren’t widespread.
"A merchant strong enough to tackle a Css 5 dungeon? That’s practically unheard of. Merchants transport and trade goods. Fighting isn’t their trade."
Nell murmurs that no merchant-warrior hybrid exists.
That’s why merchants rely on knowledge and visual inspection instead of skills.
When Zink negotiated with Nell, he used a magnifying gss to appraise gems—no skill involved.
So that’s why.
"...Total blind spot."
It’s not that they don’t use skills—they don’t have them.
The "legendary merchant" Nell mentioned must’ve been a once-in-a-century anomaly.
In this world, the idea of a merchant who fights is unheard of.
Nell might be the first of her kind.
"No wonder things turned out like this."
The gap between game and reality.
Things taken for granted simply don’t exist here.
"4 million zeni! 4.3 million!!"
The bids for the bamboo spear are slowing but still climbing—proof of a world without Appraisal skills.
Whoever’s desperately bidding on this spear is in for a rude awakening.
At over 400 million yen, it’s an expensive lesson.
"RIP to whoever’s about to get scammed."
I can’t help but pray for them.
What’s worse is that this is stolen goods. The seller, emboldened by this success, might escate their schemes.
"4.8 million zeni! Any higher? 4.9 million!!"
The second bell rings, signaling the auction’s end.
"5 million! 5.1 million!!"
The bids taper off.
And then, the moment arrives.
"Sold for 5.4 million zeni!!!!"
"YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!"
The gavel falls, followed by a triumphant roar.
"Hey, does that voice sound familiar to anyone else?"
I gnce at Nell and Amina, who are desperately stifling ughter.
Ingrid, too, seems to recognize it and casually throws shade.
"Ah, what an... enthusiastic adventurer. Most would refrain from shouting in such a setting."
So it’s not just me.
An A-rank adventurer must’ve saved up a fortune to bid this high.
Which is why I’ll say it:
"Ares... my condolences."
The words slip out before I can stop them.
