"Even if it's not particularly powerful, it still helps with class advancement. Might as well bid for it."
"Six silver coins!"
As the auctioneer's voice rang out, a bid quickly followed.
Anything even remotely related to Awakeners would always attract attention—and bidders.
"Eight silver coins," a soft female voice called out, "final offer. If anyone bids higher, I won't continue."
It came from a female Awakener. The Crimson Shard wasn't especially useful on its own. Had it not also served as a decorative gem, she wouldn't have offered such a high price.
Awakeners generally had more ways to earn silver coins than ordinary folk. On average, they could make about ten silver coins per month—ten times what a regular citizen earned. But class advancements cost huge amounts of silver, so they couldn't afford to splurge recklessly.
Soon enough, the Crimson Shard was sold for eight silver coins.
John showed no interest in the item. He simply sat in silence, observing the scene unfold.
"Next up, the Ice Dragon Fruit! Boosts mental power. Starting bid: ten silver coins!"
The auctioneer wasted no time and kept the pace swift. Another item was presented and placed on the platform.
The auction had only just begun, so the early items were relatively modest. But it was common knowledge that the farther into the auction it went, the better—and more expensive—the items would become.
As a result, fewer and fewer people dared to place bids.
Winterhold wasn't a large city. Most Awakeners had less than a hundred silver coins to their name. Anyone with a thousand coins could be considered a proper tycoon, the sort people whispered about in envy.
After all, even the most luxurious villas in the city only cost around a hundred silver coins.
Half an hour passed, and the first half of the auction came to a close. The crowd was growing increasingly excited.
Everyone knew the real treasures were always saved for the second half of the event.
Items in the latter portion of the auction often started at a minimum of thirty silver coins!
"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer declared, "what comes next is truly extraordinary. I will now hand over the stage to a special guest who will personally oversee the bidding!"
After a brief intermission, the second half of the auction commenced. But instead of the lovely female auctioneer from before, a gray-haired elder stepped onto the stage.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere in the room shifted—gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd.
"Master Appraiser Robert?! He's hosting this part of the auction personally?"
"That's rare! Could it be the legendary Crimson Flame Flower that brought him out here?"
"No way—it's rare, sure, but not rare enough to warrant Robert himself appearing!"
Every guest in the room perked up, eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. What kind of item could be so special that Robert, an appraiser renowned throughout Winterhold, would personally oversee its sale?
Even John was intrigued. From his VIP box, he peered through the translucent screen, focusing intently on Robert.
And then he froze.
Because Robert had just placed something familiar—very familiar—onto the tray in front of him.
A bundle of glowing green bandages.
It was the very same item John had brought in for appraisal and consignment.
He was auctioning that?
"Am I seeing things? Is Robert really about to auction off… a bundle of bandages? Seriously?"
"Has he lost his mind? What's going on here? Does he think we came all this way to waste our time on bandages?"
"I had high hopes when Robert walked out, but if this is his grand opening… he's got to be joking."
"Maybe they're enchanted or something. I mean, look at that glow… actually, no. I can't even pretend. They're just stupid bandages! This is how they start the second half?!"
"Is the auction house out of stock or something? This is robbery! I want my money back!"
A chorus of complaints erupted across the hall. People shook their heads, rolled their eyes, and raised their voices in disbelief.
Robert, however, remained perfectly calm. His eyes scanned the crowd with unwavering steadiness.
Then he spoke, voice firm and commanding.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the item up for auction is a newly arrived recovery artifact: Green Bandages. They possess astonishing healing capabilities. Starting bid—500 silver coins."
The words struck the audience like thunder.
Silence swept through the entire hall.
Even the noisiest detractors were left speechless. One could almost hear the collective blinking.
Bandages.
Five hundred silver coins.
What kind of madness was this?
Even gold wouldn't fetch such a price per weight!
How in the world had Robert—the Master Appraiser Robert—connected a simple medical supply with such an outrageous valuation?
You could fill an entire room with premium bandages for a single silver coin. These ones glowed green—sure—but 500?
"Has Robert lost it? He's the senior appraiser at Aurora Auction! How could he make such a blatant misjudgment?"
"He must be messing with us. Either that, or the auction house is trying to scam us blind. This is ridiculous!"
"If we don't get an explanation, this whole event's a sham!"
The room turned into a storm of protest. The fury of the crowd rose like a tidal wave, echoing loudly within the auction hall.
Still unfazed, Robert clapped his hands lightly.
Moments later, a few workers wheeled out a cage containing a red-haired baboon.
A red baboon, a Bronze-rank magical beast.
What was Robert trying to do now?
Confusion deepened as the beast was brought beside him.
Then, without warning, a flash of cold steel gleamed at Robert's side. A sword sliced cleanly through the air and struck the cage—cutting the red baboon in half with brutal efficiency.
Splat!
A fountain of crimson sprayed across the iron bars. Blood soaked the floor as the baboon's internal organs spilled out in a grotesque cascade.
"AHHHHH!"
The beast's anguished shriek pierced through the hall like a dagger to the eardrums. People flinched at the sound, some covering their ears instinctively.
The pungent stench of blood filled the air.
Just moments ago, the room was a storm of laughter and protest. Now, all attention had locked onto the scene of carnage. Everyone stared at the bisected beast, mouths agape.
Despite magical beasts being known for their durability, a clean horizontal cut like that was fatal. The baboon was rapidly fading, its breaths shallow, its life draining away before their very eyes.
And then—Robert lifted the green-glowing bandages.
Without a word, he began wrapping the baboon's mutilated torso with them.
"…What is he doing? Trying to heal it with bandages? That's absurd!"
Shocked silence fell over the hall again. A ridiculous thought took hold of every mind present, though none dared speak it aloud.
"This can't be real," one man muttered, dressed in a white robe with a red cross stitched onto the chest—clearly a healer. "That thing's a Bronze-rank magical beast. With wounds like that… even I, a near Gold-rank physician, couldn't save it!"
But before he could finish his sentence, something astonishing happened.
The green glow on the bandages pulsed.
A surge of life erupted from the baboon's shredded body.
Its eyes snapped open.
The beast roared—not in pain, but in vigor—and leapt up inside the cage like it had just escaped a nightmare.
It was alive. Not just breathing, but energized.
People rubbed their eyes, jaws practically hitting the floor.
"Holy… it's really alive?!"
"Look at that vitality! It recovered from a fatal wound in seconds!"
"This bandage… it's not just magical—it's a miracle. An ultimate healing artifact!"