In the open space in front of Auction House No. 1, thousands of people knelt respectfully, welcoming the arrival of the World Nobles.
Saint Rosward sat emotionlessly atop a slave, indifferent to the grand scene before him.
Lady Shalulia wore a cold smirk, her expression revealing no gratitude.
What surprised the CP guards, however, was that the usually boisterous Saint Charlos seemed unusually quiet today.
Perhaps he was still shaken by the earlier lightning strike.
This left the guards feeling a subtle sense of unease.
At that moment, Saint Charlos sat dazedly on the back of a slave, staring intently at a corner of the crowd to his right.
The CP leader, whose face was covered in bruises, quickly noticed this. Sharpening his focus, he followed Charlos' gaze.
There, in the corner, was a petite, raggedly dressed red-haired girl, her neck shackled with chains. A slave trader with a face full of fat held her leash like she was a dog.
The girl appeared to be no older than fifteen or sixteen.
Although her delicate neck was bound tightly by the chain, her eyes carried a faint trace of hatred.
Noticing this detail, the CP leader seemed to suddenly understand.
"So that's it. Saint Charlos has taken a fancy to that untamed little girl. Makes sense—Saint Charlos has always had that particular taste. Back in the Holy Land, he's already taken over a dozen wives, none of whom were older than sixteen."
Confident he had deciphered Charlos' intentions, the CP leader immediately approached the slave trader. Leaning close, he whispered a few words.
The trader's face quickly lit up with joy, and the surrounding slave traders cast envious, jealous glances his way.
"My lord! No problem! It's her honor to be chosen by the great World Noble. I'll bring her over right away to present her to the esteemed Saint Charlos."
Yorde's face was overtaken by uncontrollable excitement.
He couldn't believe it. His first time attending the arrival of the exalted Celestial Dragons, and he had already been chosen.
As a slave trader in Sabaody, every one of them dreamed of capturing a mermaid or an adult giant.
Only these rare and precious beings could attract the attention of the World Nobles and offer a path to escape the exhausting, lowly life of a common trader to become part of a Celestial Dragon's exclusive capture team.
From then on, life would be luxurious and carefree. Anywhere they went, no one would dare look down on them.
Even the dogs of the Celestial Dragons were more respected than kings and nobles.
But catching a mermaid or an adult giant? That was no easy feat.
Mermaids were easier.
Though Fish-Man Island was located 10,000 meters under the sea, mermaids sometimes ventured to the surface around Sabaody to enjoy the sky, moon, and islands.
With a bit of luck, one might just catch one.
But capturing an adult giant, especially a male, was practically impossible.
The Giant Village of Elbaf was in the New World, and giants were rarely seen in Paradise.
Even when one did appear, giants were formidable in battle, far beyond what ordinary capture teams could handle.
Earlier in the day, these slave traders had participated in the hunt for a giant pirate.
Yorde had personally witnessed at least 200 men being killed in that hunt by a single blow from what was said to be a juvenile giant.
When Berkeley had notified them that World Nobles would be arriving, all the slave traders were instructed to bring their best stock.
If lucky, they might catch the Celestial Dragons' eye and rise to fame instantly.
Yorde brought the prettiest red-haired girl he had captured recently.
Compared to the rare species others presented, the girl Yorde had wasn't particularly remarkable, aside from her unyielding defiance.
Yorde assumed he was just going through the motions.
But to his astonishment, fortune came so suddenly.
He tugged the chain, yanking the bowed girl to her feet. "Heh heh heh, you're lucky. You've been chosen by the great Celestial Dragons. From now on, you'll live in the Holy Land of Mariejois. Behave well, and you might even become the next wife of Saint Charlos."
Yorde's smug gaze swept over the envious crowd, his heart swelling with pride.
The red-haired girl, however, froze at his words.
The hatred and defiance that had always filled her eyes suddenly vanished, replaced by despair and emptiness.
Yorde dragged the lifeless girl, following the CP leader to Saint Charlos.
When Charlos saw the girl, his dazed expression cleared.
Now closer, he noticed the rust-covered chain around her neck had chafed her skin raw. Her collarbones were bruised and swollen.
She looked pitiful—emaciated and exhausted, as if she hadn't eaten in days.
Moved by pity, Charlos spoke. "Unchain her. Let her stay by my side, and bring her some food."
"Yes, I'll unlock her chain right away."
Yorde nodded repeatedly, his face unable to hide his delight.
It was real!
He wasn't dreaming!
The great Saint Charlos truly wanted his slave.
Yorde's hands trembled with excitement as he fumbled for the key.
"I've made it! Yorde is finally rising to power! From now on, I'll take over every capture team in Sabaody!"
As the chain was removed, Charlos dismounted his slave and approached the girl with concern.
The CP leader also smiled.
"As expected, Saint Charlos really favors her, to issue such careful orders."
Feeling he had read his master's intentions correctly, the CP leader was pleased, certain it would soften any lingering tensions.
Meanwhile, Shalulia frowned slightly as she observed Charlos, then subtly glanced at her father, Rosward.
Rosward spoke in a low, meaningful tone. "As the greatest of gods, we do whatever we want. Consequences are irrelevant. No matter how absurd our actions, they are always correct."
As soon as he finished speaking, a sudden change occurred near Charlos. Charlos took the food from the hands of his guards, crouched down, and, with his grotesque and snot-covered face, offered the food to the red-haired girl, who wore a look of utter despair.
"Are you hungry? Here, eat something," he said.
The girl slowly turned her head, staring blankly at the man in front of her, who wore a bubble-like headpiece and possessed a face so hideous it was nauseating. Suddenly, she let out a piercing scream, thrusting her hands towards Charlos's face.
"I'd rather die than become the wife of someone like you! Celestial Dragons! You are the cancer of this world! I..."
"Watch out, Charlos-sama!"
The CP leader was alarmed. In a flash, he moved in front of Charlos. Without hesitation, he struck out, aiming his finger at the girl's forehead.
"No!" Charlos shouted, stunned. Instinctively, he reached out, trying to stop him.
But he seemed to forget that he was nothing more than a pampered and overweight man. The CP leader's speed was beyond his ability to intercept.
With a sharp, crisp sound, the red-haired girl, who had lunged forward, was flung backward. Her head jerked high, and her eyes went blank, showing a faint expression of relief as her frail body landed heavily on the ground.
A deep, bloody hole appeared on her forehead, caused by the CP leader's merciless "Finger Pistol" strike.
Seeing the girl fall lifeless, the CP leader's face darkened further.
Coldly glaring at Yorde, who stood frozen in fear, he took a step forward.
With a heavy thud, Yorde fell to his knees. He tried to explain, but before he could, his vision went black. The enraged CP leader grabbed his hair and dragged him backward, snatching a spear from one of the guards. With a swift motion, he pinned Yorde to the ground, piercing his heart.
"Your slave dared to scare Charlos-sama! You worthless scum!"
After dealing with Yorde, the CP leader quickly knelt before Charlos, begging for his master's forgiveness.
At this moment, Charlos's eyes were fixed on the lifeless red-haired girl. He didn't seem to register the CP leader's words at all.
The girl's eyes, now dull and lifeless, still held that faint smile of relief on her face.
It was as though she found solace in escaping from the clutches of a devil.
Not far away, the other slave traders showed no pity for Yorde's death. Instead, they looked on with schadenfreude.
Yorde was dead, and the girl who had caught Charlos-sama's attention was also dead. This meant they still had a chance to win the favor of the Celestial Dragon.
Noticing Charlos's gaze still lingering on the girl's corpse, the slave traders' eyes lit up.
It seemed that the great Charlos-sama had a preference for this kind of girl, with such a defiant spirit.
They began to scan the surrounding crowd with sharp eyes, already plotting how to capture similar girls to present to Charlos-sama.
Meanwhile, Shalria's gaze grew even colder as she observed the scene unfold.
Rozwad stepped down from the back of his slave and approached a middle-aged man in a suit with slicked-back hair, who knelt at the forefront.
Seeing Rozwad approach, Berkley, the head of the auction house, plastered a fawning smile on his face.
Before he could speak, Rozwad pointed at his face and said coldly, "Slap yourself fifty times."
"L-Lord Rozwad-sama, what did you say?" Berkley looked at him in confusion, thinking he had misheard.
Before he could react, a gust of wind swept past, and a black-clad CP guard appeared, delivering a slap that spun him in place. His hat flew off.
This sudden change terrified everyone behind him, who immediately lowered their heads in fear.
"When the master gives an order, you obey immediately. Whether you have an explanation or not is irrelevant. Now, slap yourself fifty times, or die."
The guard drew his pistol and pressed it to Berkley's forehead.
Terror filled Berkley's eyes.
"I will! I'll slap myself right away!"
His trembling hand rose and struck his face.
"Harder. Did you not eat today?"
Rozwad's icy gaze made Berkley tremble as he swung his arm harder, slapping himself fiercely.
The sound of each slap echoed loudly. By the time he finished, Berkley's once-handsome face was swollen like a steamed bun. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, and his once-shiny slicked-back hair hung messily. His eyes were dazed, filled with unshed tears.
He was utterly humiliated but didn't dare cry.
"Do you know why you were punished?" Rozwad asked coldly.
Berkley's body trembled, and he prostrated himself on the ground, shaking his head.
"If you don't know, slap yourself fifty more times."
Ignoring Berkley's despair, Rozwad turned and walked to his son.
"Charlos! Snap out of it. She was just a lowly slave. Garbage like that is abundant."
Pointing at the massive crowd of people on the ground, Rozwad said indifferently, "If you like, choose from them. They're nothing but worthless trash who don't dare resist. Being our slaves is the greatest blessing of their miserable lives."
Charlos slowly lifted his head, meeting his father's icy gaze before turning to look at the crowd.
Wherever his eyes fell, everyone cowered, pressing their faces into the ground, terrified of being chosen as slaves.
No one resisted, no one fled, and no one dared show even a hint of anger or defiance.
All that remained was fear, submission, and reverence.
"If you can't find anyone you like, then come with me. Let's see what new goods the auction house has today," Rozwad said, pulling his dazed son towards the entrance of the auction house.
As they passed Berkley, who was still slapping himself, Rozwad said coldly, "I punished you because a mere lowly worm like you dared to make me wait for the auction to begin. Didn't that fool Doflamingo teach you how to treat gods? If something like this happens again, I'll have the World Government strip him of his Shichibukai title."
"Now, go host your auction. If you don't satisfy us today, you'll come with us to the Holy Land as a foot-pedal for the elevators."
Hearing the words "foot-pedal for the elevators," Berkley turned pale as a sheet, drained of all color.
(End of Chapter)
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