Alistair found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the wonders still displayed on the screens, even as they disembarked onto Citar. To his surprise, the planet wasn’t entirely consumed by urban sprawl. Instead, vast stretches of beautiful teal and dark blue greenery dominated the landscape, with winding river systems weaving through it all.

  The natural beauty blended effortlessly with the Tok’eall’s curvy, sleek architecture, creating a harmonious balance between civilization and nature. Large swaths of the planet had been intentionally left to flourish, though it was clear they had been carefully tamed and cultivated.

  A subtle, slightly floral scent lingered in the air, likely a result of the expansive nature reserves that the Tok’eall meticulously maintained.

  A small procession of what looked to be attendants greeted them at the landing bay. Alistair was slightly disappointed that none of their friends were waiting to greet them but suspected they were otherwise occupied. A more richly decorated Tok'eall in royal blue robes stepped forth first.

  "Welcome, honored guests," the auburn-colored alien said, offering a polite bow, with the attendants behind him bowing even lower. "My name is Casrai, and I’ll be Lady Nessyra’s guide. If you would follow me, Governor Anarzeem has been anxiously awaiting your arrival. The other attendants will ensure your clan members know where to go."

  "Of course," Nessyra replied smoothly, offering the chief attendant a small smile.

  Alistair’s eyes lingered on Casrai’s cybernetic enhancements, noting the flicker of his optical implants as they scanned their group. He didn’t sense any active attempt to probe or identify them, but he was certain the cybernetics could extract much of the same information without needing to penetrate their auras.

  The mana density of the planet was impressively high, though Alistair noticed that few of the structures bore any obvious magical traces. However, his attention was drawn to the faint but intense magic emanating from innocuous-looking metal decorations scattered throughout the city. He presumed these to be some kind of defensive platforms, their energy subtly tracing underground.

  Beneath the surface, he sensed a much stronger, more distinct thrum of magical energy, reminiscent of dragon vines or ley lines. The intricate interplay between the concealed magic and the planet’s natural mana intrigued him, hinting at a sophisticated fusion of technology and arcane energy hidden underground.

  He idly watched as Barton and his crew were led away, the dock workers assisting with the unloading of a spital storage container. It held enough ingredients to supply their new establishment for at least half a year, a precaution in case deliveries fell through.

  While smaller storage devices could be created, they were far more labor-intensive. Most of the clan’s enchanters, array specialists, and space mages were already tied up with the constant stream of larger projects demanding their attention. Though he did know Barton had his own large storage ring filled to the brim with ingredients, magical tools and devices, and other treasures that he deemed useful for magical cooking.

  His attention was drawn to a set of vehicles resembling large metallic sleds outfitted with luxurious seating. Letting his magical senses sweep over one of the sleds, his Machine Slayer bloodline trait pinged the nanomachines embedded within. The detection revealed the vehicle’s ability to shift shape and create complex additions if necessary.

  While they didn’t truly need a vehicle to navigate the city, they had been asked to use this mode of transportation unless it was an emergency. It made sense—these cities likely weren’t designed to handle an army of flying individuals. Respecting local customs was an important part of maintaining good relations, and Alistair wasn't keen on upsetting the Tok'eall.

  "The craft has been programmed to bring you to your quarters," the attendant explained. "You may change the destination if something catches your interest using voice commands. Consider it a gift, though we ask that you use it or other Tok’eall-made crafts for the duration of your visit."

  Alistair thanked the attendant before turning to Nessyra and giving her a quick hug as she was whisked off to her meeting.

  He approached the vehicle, intending to open the door for Riseth and Denodia, only for the surface to liquefy and reshape itself, creating an elegant entryway. "Huh," Alistair muttered, stepping aside as Riseth entered first.

  Denodia, however, waited for him to board. With a small shrug, he climbed in, soon flanked by both women.

  “You’re making me look like a womanizer,” Alistair remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.

  Denodia let out a snicker. “Well, I have to try to divert attention away from me. And what better way than having you draw all the jealous looks?”

  Riseth leaned into him, unbothered by Denodia’s usual antics, as the sled took off toward their temporary quarters. “We really need to find you a partner,” Alistair teased, his tone light.

  Denodia smirked. “I’m quite picky, you know,” she replied with mock confidence. “Also, very patient.”

  “Not happening,” Alistair shot back confidently, his grin playful as he met her gaze.

  He felt somewhat relieved when Denodia didn’t push further, letting the conversation drop. Her gaze wandered over the cityscape as they left the more industrious areas, entering what appeared to be the commercial district at high speeds.

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  Alistair couldn’t help but marvel at the hovercraft’s speed. He was certain it was faster than many grade 8 individuals, at least at their average traveling pace.

  As they moved, holographic displays along the route seemed programmed to keep pace with the vehicles, projecting snippets of planetary news and advertisements.

  One particular advertisement caught his eye, making him blanch slightly. It announced the grand opening of the Glenhare Roadhouse. Barton's chain, mildly infamous from its trial days for being one of the most popular establishments, was now being actively promoted. Seeing it advertised with their clan banner subtly displayed in the corner was a strange and slightly surreal experience for him.

  Before he could dwell on it, the craft rose above the bustling streets, heading toward one of the many curved towers overlooking Savine, the capital city of the Tok'eall. The towers were spaced far apart but shared a similar sleek design and layout.

  What caught his attention more was the concentration of powerful auras emanating from each tower. At this distance, the only auras he could sense belonged to exceptionally strong individuals, reinforcing his suspicion that these towers housed many of the most influential guests.

  Their craft ascended to a luxurious balcony on a high floor before coming to a graceful stop. The doors and railings liquefied, seamlessly reshaping themselves to grant them access.

  As they disembarked, all three of them turned their attention to one particular tower in the distance. It radiated the unmistakable aura of a dragon at grade 7.

  “That’s gotta be one of the most powerful individuals in our universe,” Riseth mused aloud, her tone contemplative.

  Alistair blew out a quiet breath, his gaze lingering on the distant tower. From the strength he could sense, he estimated that it would take most of their clan’s elite working in perfect coordination to bring the dragon down without suffering heavy losses. Even then, he couldn’t be certain the dragon wouldn’t overpower them and take them down one by one.

  Simon had made tremendous strides in strength once they obtained and shared those insights into concepts and linked concepts. However, the gap between their clan and the universe’s absolute strongest—those who had dominated the Ascendant Tournament—remained significant. Alistair liked to think they had closed that gap somewhat, particularly against lone wolf Ascendants who refused to cooperate or work with others in their pursuit of power, but the difference was still daunting.

  “They did have a large head start,” he remarked. “I’m just glad they’re on the Coalition’s side.”

  He let his gaze shift to their new lodging. It was far more luxurious than what they had received on their last visit to the Tok’eall Empire, with ample space and a surplus of guest rooms—more than they would likely need.

  A ping alerted Alistair that another auction was about to begin, its lots now available for viewing. He wasn’t the only one browsing the list and exchanged a knowing look with Riseth.

  “Some of these are actually interesting,” Riseth remarked, her eyes scanning the display. “Should we go check it out? It’d give us a chance to see our clan’s bidding booth.”

  Denodia shrugged noncommittally. “In-person participation isn’t required for the majority of the lots, but checking it out might be worthwhile.”

  “It’s not required,” Riseth interjected, a predatory smile curving her lips, “but it’s a lot more fun than remote bidding.”

  Denodia let out a sigh as they made their way back to the sled-like hovercraft. “Just try not to upset the other bidders,” she cautioned. “Cultivators have started vendettas over much less.”

  It didn’t take them long to arrive at the auction house—an absolutely massive domed structure that stood out even among the sleek and artistic buildings of the capital. Its exterior was extravagant, but the interior was even more breathtaking. A blend of technological marvels, lush plant life, and flowing water features decorated the vast entrance chamber, creating a striking harmony of nature and innovation.

  An attendant approached, bowing low in greeting. “Greetings, Clan Ryser. If you would follow me, I will escort you to your bidding booth,” the teal-colored Tok’eall said, motioning casually with her cybernetic arm to indicate the way.

  While walking down one of the larger corridors, they encountered a diverse array of aliens, many of whom Alistair didn’t even recognize. The crowd was a tapestry of shapes, sizes, and colors, representing an impressive spectrum of species.

  As they passed, many exchanged curious glances, their eyes lingering on Alistair and Riseth, clearly measuring them up. The attention they garnered was palpable, a mix of intrigue and appraisal from those they encountered.

  Alistair and Riseth returned the scrutiny, their gazes sharp and assessing. Most of those present, Alistair noted, came up wanting. He was confident that if it came to a fight, few—if any—among them could put up much of a challenge against him or Riseth.

  It made sense, though, given his observations. Most of these individuals didn’t appear to be leaders of factions. If he had to guess, they were likely bounty hunters or mercenaries working for the larger, more established groups for hire.

  Interestingly, none of those present attempted to offer their services. Not that Alistair would have accepted anyone—such individuals would still pose a significant security risk until their planet was officially discovered.

  Until that point, they had decided to only allow visitors or hirelings from within their Alliance or through a thorough vetting process.

  Their attendant led them to a gate before bowing deeply. “You may step through this gate, and it will automatically redirect you to your booth. If you wish to visit an allied faction’s booth, you can request entry through the panel.” She gestured toward a sleek control panel beside the gate.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay,” she concluded with another bow before turning and departing gracefully.

  They stepped through the gate and were immediately teleported into a spacious booth. Alistair glanced back at the entrance, noting two banners bearing their clan’s sigil hanging on either side. The booth itself was elevated, providing an excellent vantage point over the auction floor below.

  Inside, the booth featured comfortable synthetic seats and couches arranged around central tables. A magical privacy screen enveloped the booth, masking their words. However, Alistair suspected it went beyond simply muting their voices; the screen likely obscured additional details, though he’d need more time to analyze it fully.

  Stepping forward, he leaned over the balcony and looked around. There were no booths directly above or below theirs, only adjacent ones. It was an intentional design choice, he realized—likely to avoid upsetting factions by placing one physically above another. On either side of their booth hung the banners of the Beshin Clan and the Rymtia Enclave, both allied factions within the New Light Alliance. Sadly, both booths were currently unoccupied.

  The arrangement wasn’t coincidental. The Tok’eall had clearly gone to great lengths to place allied factions next to one another. The space of the auction house itself was fascinating, subtly warped to allow for so many booths to be arranged in this equitable manner. Alistair found himself intrigued by the intricacy of the design.