The antique store was immersed in a heavy atmosphere, as if time itself had stagnated within its walls. Dust floated in the air, catching the faint rays of light filtering through the dirty windows. The walls were lined with display cases, each containing forgotten relics from a distant past, each with its own secret story. In the center of the room, atop a worn marble pedestal, rested the reliquary. Surrounded by a dim light, its metallic gleam highlighted the intricate inscriptions on its surface: an enigma of high technology and power.

Among the attendees, Ylva stood out. Her face, marked by the scars of war and the streets, reflected a mix of desperation and determination. Her right arm, a polished metal prosthetic, was a masterpiece of engineering. Though it appeared to be a functional tool, it contained stories of pain and sacrifice. Her gaze was fixed on the reliquary. To her, it was more than just an object of value; it was a key, a hope for redemption and a chance to change the course of her life.

This reliquary is my last chance, she thought, clenching her fists. If I get it, maybe I can erase everything I’ve done… everything I’ve lost.

The store owner, a small man with graying hair and sharp eyes, stepped up to the pedestal. His smile revealed that he enjoyed the contained chaos in the room. With a slow, authoritative voice, he declared:

—Ladies and gentlemen, the auction begins. The starting price is 50,000 credits.

A burly man raised his hand almost immediately. His cybernetic implants gleamed under the light, and his time-worn face left no doubt about his dangerous nature.

—Fifty thousand —he said in a deep voice that echoed through the room.

Ylva took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision she was about to make. Without hesitation, she responded:

—Seventy-five thousand.

The owner smiled in satisfaction as the gazes of the attendees turned toward her. Murmurs began to fill the air, creating an electric tension.

I can’t lose it, Ylva thought, feeling cold sweat trickling down her back. No matter the cost.

Suddenly, the back door of the store creaked open with a sound that cut through the air like a knife. A well-dressed man entered with calculated calm. His impeccable black suit and lofty demeanor dominated the space. His presence commanded silence. With a nonchalant gesture, he raised his hand and said:

—Five hundred thousand credits.

The room went into shock. The store owner stifled a satisfied laugh, knowing the auction had reached a level he never expected.

The burly man, clearly irritated, quickly countered:

—One million credits.

The whispers intensified. Now, the tension was not only palpable but suffocating. It was a war of egos. But before anyone else could react, Ylva made a desperate decision. She stood up, raising her prosthetic arm, and declared in a firm voice:

—Seven hundred fifty thousand credits… and my arm.

An absolute silence flooded the room. Incredulous eyes focused on her. No one spoke, not even the owner, who seemed stunned by the unexpected offer.

—Sold! —the owner finally exclaimed in a breathless voice.

The tension briefly broke, but only to give way to a more tangible danger. The burly man, visibly frustrated by his defeat, moved toward the pedestal. His arm transformed with a mechanical snap into an energy cannon. He aimed it directly at the store owner, his face hardening with fury.

—Losing the reliquary is something I can’t afford —he growled, his voice booming like thunder.

The owner recoiled in fear, his hands trembling. Meanwhile, Ylva tried to activate her powers to defend herself. But something was wrong. Cold sweat ran down her back as she realized she couldn’t feel her energy. It was as if something in the atmosphere was blocking her abilities.

The burly man looked at her with a cruel smile.

—Did you really think you had hope? —he said, approaching slowly—. Ylva UNYQUE, Class 10, with the power to defy gravity itself. Don’t you remember who I am? Your face… I’ve seen it in my nightmares for years. And I came to collect the debt you left pending. Do you remember that place? The stench of burning wood, the crying of the trees… all because of you. You were our hope, but you rebelled. You thought you had the right to decide our group's fate.

The revelation hit Ylva like a hammer. Steel not only knew her name; he knew her past and the crimes she had tried to bury. The advantage was completely on his side.

Just when all seemed lost, the well-dressed man intervened. With a firm, authoritative voice, he said:

—Stop, Steel, or your crimes will reach the ears of the special division.

Steel looked at him with disdain, but something in the man’s words stopped him.

—And who are you to give me orders? —Steel growled.

The man smiled calmly, adjusting the collar of his immaculate suit with a precise gesture. His eyes, cold and inscrutable, gleamed with a determination that left no room for rebuttal.

—Allow me to formally introduce myself —he said in a soft but firm voice—. Special Agent Elias Vance, from Ascent’s Special Operations Division. We’re here to ensure the power of the tree doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

The mention of Ascent resonated like thunder in the air. Even in the underworld of the Grey Zone, the name of that powerful military and research organization was synonymous with power and influence. The silence that followed the introduction thickened, charged with palpable tension. Ylva watched "Vance," trying to decipher his intentions. Something in his gaze, a cold and inscrutable gleam, unsettled her deeply.

Steel narrowed his eyes, lowering the cannon slightly.

—Ascent? What do you want with her?

Vance maintained his unshakable composure.

—Miss Ylva is of utmost importance for a classified research project. Her… unique ability is crucial to our studies. We’ve been given strict orders to bring her alive to our facilities.

Vance looked Steel directly in the eyes, his penetrating gaze conveying an indisputable authority.

—I understand you are an… independent contractor. And you have your own motivations. Perhaps you’re looking to make a name for yourself by capturing a high-profile fugitive, or maybe… you just want to obtain that box —he said, subtly gesturing toward the auctioned item—. Whatever your reason, let me offer you some professional advice. Getting involved with Ascent is not a good idea. We have resources… let’s say… unlimited. And a long memory.

He paused briefly, letting his words sink in.

—If you harm Miss Ylva or interfere with our mission, I assure you there will be no place on this planet where you can hide. Not only will we pursue you, but we will also inform the authorities in Vexlar about your activities in the Grey Zone. Your reputation, and your lucrative business, will go to waste.

Vance stepped forward, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, as if sharing a secret between gentlemen.

—But… we are also businessmen. And we are willing to negotiate. Instead of a monetary compensation, which I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, we offer you something much more valuable. You can keep that reliquary —he emphasized, glaring at Steel—, without paying a single credit. Ascent will cover all expenses. Additionally, we will erase any record of this encounter. It will be as if nothing happened. We’ll forget the incident, and you can go on with your… activities, without worrying about us.

Steel hesitated. The offer was tempting. Getting the coveted item and the guarantee that Ascent would erase any trace of his involvement was an opportunity too good to pass up. Moreover, the threat of exposing his operations in the Grey Zone had put him in a very vulnerable position. Steel needed that item for an important client, a client who didn’t tolerate failure. The prospect of handing it over without any cost was a benefit that far outweighed the reward for Ylva.

—What if I refuse? —Steel asked, trying to maintain a façade of toughness, though his voice betrayed subtle hesitation.

Vance smiled coldly, revealing an unyielding determination beneath his polite exterior.

—Then you’ll have to deal with the consequences. And believe me, you won’t want to. Not only will you have to face us, but you will also become a top priority target for Vexlar. Remember, Miss Ylva is a wanted fugitive. If you kill her, you won’t just be challenging us; you’ll also be preventing Vexlar from capturing and judging her. In that case, we’ll take care of handing you over to the Vexlar authorities for obstruction of justice, and of course, for murder.

Steel, trapped between a rock and a hard place, took a moment to process the implications of the offer. Finally, he relented, though his face showed an expression of bitterness.

—Fine —he growled—. But this isn’t over.

Vance nodded with a cold smile.

—Of course not. But for now, we’ve reached an agreement.

Steel took the reliquary from the pedestal, his fingers tracing the metallic inscriptions. For a moment, he seemed satisfied, but then he cast a suspicious glance at Vance.

—If this is a scam, you’ll regret it —he grunted.

Vance kept his impassive smile, adjusting his suit collar with a casual gesture.

—I have no reason to deceive you, Steel. We always get what we want.

With a final, long glance at Ylva, Steel retreated. The tension in the room gradually started to dissolve.

Ylva felt herself trembling, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had narrowly escaped death, but her life was still not her own. Ascent’s agents were already one step ahead.