The most exciting lot was a legendary shield, which Horace had openly drooled over.
Lot #278 - Wall of Dawn
Rarity: Legendary
Durability: 861
Defense: 150
Block: 130
HP: 300
Effects:
[Darkest Before the Dawn] - Recovers durability at Dawn.
[Dazzling Dawn] - Blind all enemies in a 10-meter radius for 10 seconds.
[Will Wall] - Create a wall that lasts 2 minutes. It can be destroyed if damaged enough.
Requirements: Tank, lvl. 50
Horace had been so enchanted by the shield that he’d even asked for a loan from Jack. Thankfully, the shield had ended up going for half a million gold to the Phoenixes guild, thus saving Jack from having to turn him down. Even if he’d wanted to help Horace and give him everything he had, he would still have been short.
Coincidentally, the shield cost as much as his father’s treatment. The fact that a hunk of digital metal cost the same as his dad’s life brought a bitter taste to his mouth.
The second most expensive lot so far was Jack's vases, at 190,000 gold. From among the items they’d brought, that was, by far, the most successful sale. After that came the drinking horn, and in third place, the music boxes.
Surprisingly, the pot bots and bricks were a bust. They warranted some gasps and curious glances, but it had been sold for a lot less than Jack hoped.
Jack and the others watched as yet another bidding war unfolded for his music boxes.
“10k!”
“12,000 please,” an NPC merchant stepped in, raising the bid once again.
“13,000,” the player from the Griffins said.
“14,000.”
“Going once, going twice—sold for 14,000 to bidder 304!”
“Your stuff flew like hot cakes, Jack!” Horace said, bouncing slightly on his seat.
Amari gave Jack a hearty clap on the shoulder. "At this rate, we don’t even need to start the village to raise the money for your father’s treatment. One more auction like this, and you’ll have all the money you need."
"I never would've thought we'd get this much here," Jack murmured.
"Absolutely," Horace said. "And since you’ve got free trips here and free entries into the auction, it's all profit. Just submit a few more sets of vases in the next auction, and you’re good to go."
Jack wiped a tear from his eye. The auction had blown past his expectations. Just a few days ago, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to save his dad. Now he had so much money he couldn’t quite believe it. There was now 310,000 gold in his inventory. It all felt like a dream.
His dad had told him that if he put the house, the car, and the mortgage as collateral, the bank was willing to lend them 150,000 credits. That meant the price for the treatment was just within reach.
“Let’s move to lot #336,” the auctioneer announced as a limelight shone on a scroll neatly laid on a pedestal. “A survival-focused recipe designed for bushcrafters, which makes it possible to collect moisture from the air and is especially useful in arid environments.”
Jack’s ears perked up. So did Amari’s and Rob’s.
Lot #336 – Moisture Capturer
Rarity: Rare
Type: Recipe
Requirements: Bushcrafters, level 10
"You guys..." Jack said slowly. “That recipe’s a must-have for us, right?”
Amari leaned in. “Oh yeah. We’re totally bidding for this. How is it possible that I did not know about this item?”
“Starting bid: 5,000 gold. Who wants to go first?” the auctioneer asked, eyes sweeping the room.
Jack turned to Amari expectantly. “So? Should I?”
Amari chuckled. “Of course, man. Go for it!”
For the first time in the auction, Jack raised his paddle. “Five thousand to the gentleman up in the cabin!”
“Seven!” barked a heavyset warrior in iron-studded leather from one of the front rows.
“Eight!”
“Ten!”
The bid escalated in rapid-fire bursts. Paddles flew, voices overlapped. The energy in the room spiked.
“Fifteen!”
“Twenty thousand!” Jack said, raising the paddle again.
“Easy, cowboy,” Amari warned. “Don’t throw away our hard-earned gold.”
Jack gave a lopsided grin. “We’re swimming in it, aren’t we? And this? Feels indispensable for the desert.”
“Twenty-five!”
“Twenty-seven!” Jack snapped back.
“Thirty!” came the hesitant voice from a player from the Yetis.
Jack didn’t hesitate. “Thirty-two!”
The room fell into a brief hush.
The auctioneer gave it a moment and then called it. “Going once… going twice… sold to gentleman number seventy-seven!”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The scroll vanished from the pedestal and appeared into Jack’s inventory. The deduction barely made a dent in their balance.
Jack opened the item details:
Recipe for: [Moisture Capturer]
Ingredients:
-
3× [Tent Cloth]
-
24× [Stick]
-
1× [Rope]
-
1× [Basin]
Instructions:
-
Create a frame with the sticks.
-
Shape the cloth into a tulip-like funnel.
-
Position it to channel moisture into a collection basin.
Requirements:
-
Bushcraft, level 10
-
[Sticksmithing], level 2
“Oh yeah,” Jack said, satisfied. He even had the required skills to make this thing work. Sticksmithing had been sitting in his skill set for ages. The only time he used of it was when he made saddles. It was nice to see it used somewhere else.
“Is it hard to make?” Rob asked.
“It’ll take some work,” Jack admitted. “But this could go a long way toward solving our water problems in the desert.”
“Nicely done,” Amari said, nodding with approval. “32k. I think we paid a fair price.”
Jack had a sinking feeling in his stomach. The number echoed in his head. “Wait a minute… Did I just spend 30,000 credits like that?”
“Uh… yeah,” Horace said, exchanging a confused look with Amari. “You kinda did.”
Jack sank into his chair. “This is the single biggest purchase I’ve made in my entire life. I didn’t even think it through.”
The two of them laughed. “It’s fine, Jack. It’s an important item for us.”
Despite their assurances, Jack still felt a lingering sense that he’d done something wrong or wasteful. Just because he was almost at the amount needed didn’t mean that he could grow careless.
The rest of the auction drifted by in a blur of routine bids as Jack came to terms with his expenditure. A few rare items showed up, some sparks of competition here and there, but nothing that matched the earlier intensity.
At last, the final lot was called, and the auctioneer left the stage, yielding to the Auction Master.
“We want to thank you all for participating,” he said. “Special thanks to those who submitted items. The auction house looks forward to working with you again. The next auction will be at noon, the day after tomorrow.”
A polite round of applause came from the NPCs. The players, meanwhile, clapped absently, more focused on their inventories or grumbling over missed bids.
Down on the main floor, Jack saw players returning to networking mode, a few even arguing with those who had sniped their lot. The player from the Griffins, in particular, was shouting at the warrior from the Ghouls for stealing the recipe for the Tundra Trebuchet.
"Alright. That’s it, huh?" Jack said, stretching. Despite the fast pace, they’d been here for over five hours.
"Looks like it," Amari confirmed.
“Is it worth it to go try to talk to the princess, or to cozy up to the NPCs in the lounge?” Jack asked. “It feels wasteful to have exclusive access to the area and not use it.”
Amari scratched his chin. “It’s not a bad idea. But maybe we can leave it for another day. You’ll be back soon, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“Moreover, as the one with the title, you’re the one who can try to create a relationship with the NPCs. All we can do is stare as you do it.”
"Right… Shall we go back home then?" Jack asked, already standing.
"Sounds like a plan,” Rob said, stretching.
“And I’m guessing that we won’t be using the front door, correct?" Jack asked.
Everyone else shook their heads at once. No one wanted to see if the Slayer was really camping them outside.
Retreat!
Jack began to channel the skill. B-grade vases allowed teleportation for up to three allies, but the A-grade ones he’d crafted could carry four. That meant Rob could come along in a single [Retreat].
A minute later, in a flash of light and coded shimmer, they vanished from the auction house.
They were back at the patio of their base of operations. The sun was setting, painting the sky in streaks of red and orange. This was indeed a beautiful day. The auction was a huge success.
*
The sun hung heavy and low in the sky over the farm. José let down the hoe, striking the hard ground. It barely left a mark, but he lifted it and swung again.
This mission is harder than it looks, he thought.
When he’d been told to till the field, he’d figured a couple of hours would suffice. But he’d been at it all day and wasn’t even close to done. The soil was dry and rocky. Every hit of the hoe felt like swinging against a brick wall.
He got a call. He tapped the glowing button, still not used to these ghostly windows popping up around him.
"Hello, son," José said.
"Hey, Dad."
There was something cheeky about Jack’s smile. José knew that look. It was the same one he used to wear as a kid whenever he got an A on a test. His son was sitting on some good news.
"How are you, son?" he asked.
"Good. How is farming?"
José scratched his head, looking at all the work still ahead of him. “Difficult, but rewarding. So, are you coming now to get me?”
"Actually, no. But don’t worry. It’s because something good has happened."
"What?"
"I already came up with half the money for your treatment," Jack said with a beaming smile.
José stood there, speechless.
"A quarter of a million gold..." He trailed off. If he added up all the work he’d done over the years… how many would it take to make that much? More than a decade.
And his son, who just a few months ago was a couch potato who couldn’t hang on to a job, had come up with it in a week.
“Dad? Are you there? Did you freeze or something?”
"I-I’m here. That's wonderful!"
He still couldn’t quite believe it. It felt surreal. Was he dreaming? That would explain why he was farming in a game.
“Anyway, I just wanted to call and put your mind at ease,” Jack continued. “We’re on the right track, Dad. Don’t worry. We’re going to be able to pay for your treatment. You’re going to be OK."
“Thank you.”
"Anyway, I figured that since these sales made so much money, instead of leaving for the desert now, we’ll stay here a few more days. I’m going to craft more, hit a few more auctions, and I hope that toward the end of the week, we’ll have enough to get your treatment started. Does that sound good?"
"Of course, son. Of course. Have you told your mother?”
Jack smiled. “I thought you would like to tell her yourself.”
José nodded, too choked up to speak.
“Now you know why it’ll take me a little longer to come and get you. I mean... this is if you still want to stay in the game. With the treatment paid for, you can just go back to your usual routine," Jack said.
José bit his lip. He was right. There was no more need to stay in the game. Jack had things under control. Should he return to his routine, leave this make-believe place behind?
He glanced toward the porch. The lady was sitting there, smiling at him.
He’d insisted so many times, asking for information about how to farm in the desert. After completing several missions for her, she finally admitted she knew a technique that could bring life even to the poorest soils. But it wasn’t knowledge she was willing to give away lightly.
And now he was going to leave halfway through? After all that work? After he said he would clean this field for her?
He sighed. "I think I’ll play a little longer, Jack. I kind of promised this lady I’d finish something for her."
Jack blinked, caught off guard. "Lady? You mean an NPC, right?"
"A what?"
"An NPC. A non-player character? A computer program. Not a person."
"Yeah, right... Anyway, I promised her I’d clean the rocky field behind her house. And I’m not nearly done."
"Dad, you know you don’t have to keep your word to a computer."
José surprised himself, quoting his own father. "A man is bound by his word, Jack. I promised. Computer or no computer, I’m going to see it through."
Jack shook his head, laughing. "Okay. Suit yourself, Dad. Anyway, I’ll stay in touch."
"See you soon, Jack."
José went back to tilling the earth.
There was a massive rock. The hoe struck it and shattered. He pulled another one from his inventory and got back to work. He’d bought ten of them, cheap, at the supply shop.
"My son did the impossible," he muttered to himself as he kept tilling.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and maybe a tear from the corner of his eye.