The moment I stepped away from the center of the platform, the air around me cracked.
Not literally—but almost.
Mana surged. Whispers turned into shouting. Orders were being screamed through mana links and crystal comms. People on the lower floors pushed against one another to get to the exits. Nobles who had spent the last hour pretending to be composed were now falling apart like a cheap play act.
Guards tried to restore order. Some formed lines at the staircases. Others stood at attention, clearly unsure whether to protect the nobles or escape themselves.
The auctioneer lady behind me had gone pale. The poise she'd worn like a mask earlier was gone now. Her lips moved, probably whispering curses in her native tongue. Can't blame her.
I didn't look back at her. Instead, I stared down across the vast auction hall, my arms behind my back.
So much for elegance.
So much for order.
My words had ripped a hole through the pretty illusion they'd spent years building.
