Chapter 116: So What
Saint Charlos jolted at Issho's sudden appearance, stumbling backward in a clumsy panic before barely managing to regain his balance.
The host froze in place, microphone still in hand, his mouth hanging open with no sound coming out.
For a moment, the entire auction house went strangely still.
The audience stared at the stage in confusion.
Some thought this had to be some kind of special performance arranged by the auction house. After all, no sane person would step between a Celestial Dragon and his property.
No one dared believe someone had truly defied a World Noble.
Axel watched Issho vanish from his seat and appear on the stage, then gave a quiet sigh.
"That's Uncle Issho for you."
Beside him, Hawkins turned a straw doll between his fingers. His expression remained flat, but his tone carried that familiar, irritating air of mystery.
"The gears of fate have begun to turn."
Axel's fist twitched.
Lately, Hawkins had become more and more fond of saying only half of what he meant. Sometimes it was "fate has shifted," sometimes "fate has become useless," and sometimes it was just a vague sentence delivered with the confidence of a street prophet who had successfully scammed three aunties and a goat.
Axel even had a wicked suspicion.
Maybe Hawkins only spoke like that when his divination failed.
When he could not get a clear result, he simply tossed out something ambiguous, preserved his mysterious aura, and let everyone else do the mental gymnastics.
If Hawkins knew what Axel was thinking, he might have transformed into his straw-man form on the spot and hammered cursed nails into him.
Eli, meanwhile, stared at the stage with his jaw slack.
He had seen Issho destroy an entire island.
Because of that, he had some idea of how monstrous the man was. But knowing a monster was strong and watching that monster openly confront a Celestial Dragon were two entirely different things.
His mind had already begun calculating the disaster that would follow.
No.
Disaster was too gentle a word.
This was the kind of trouble that could drag the whole Sabaody Archipelago into the mud.
Saint Charlos glared at Issho, mucus trembling beneath his nose.
"You… lowly commoner! How did you get in front of me? What is going on?"
Issho ignored him.
Instead, he lowered himself beside Brenda, who had collapsed on the stage, and asked gently, "Are you hurt?"
Brenda had shut her eyes, waiting for Saint Charlos's kick. When the pain never came, she opened them slowly.
The face before her was not the ugly, foolish face of the Celestial Dragon.
It was a middle-aged man with scars across his eyes. His appearance should have looked frightening, yet somehow, there was a warmth to him that made her breath catch.
For one brief moment, she forgot where she was.
Forgot the auction.
Forgot the collar.
Forgot the monster who had bought her.
"Who… are you?" she whispered.
"I am…" Issho began.
"Didn't you hear me?!"
Saint Charlos's shrill roar cut across Issho's introduction, breaking the moment apart.
Brenda only caught part of his answer.
Ishho.
Was that his name?
She wanted to ask, but Charlos's voice dragged her back into reality. The auction house. The Celestial Dragons. The stage where she had been sold.
Her courage shriveled.
She lowered her head again.
Issho slowly turned toward Saint Charlos.
Charlos looked at his closed eyes and sneered. The scars on Issho's face meant nothing to him. Or rather, he simply did not care enough to notice.
"You bastard! Why are you looking at me with your eyes closed? You should know that seeing me is a blessing for lowly people like you!"
From the audience, Axel almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
It was hard to tell whether Charlos lacked common sense or was simply born so stupid that common sense had fled the delivery room in self-defense.
To provoke someone without knowing their strength was foolish.
To do so while standing before Issho was practically a low-level monster picking a fight with the final boss and demanding a cutscene.
"Forgive me," Issho said calmly. "I cannot see."
"Is that so?" Charlos's face twisted. "How infuriating! You can't even see someone as great as me? Then I'll kill you!"
Saint Rosward and Shalria watched from their seats.
A normal father, seeing his son behave like this at such an age, might have reprimanded him.
Saint Rosward only nodded in approval.
Charlos reached into his robe and drew a pistol plated in pure gold.
It was no ordinary gun. Even its craftsmanship reeked of privilege. Its bullets were specially made, fired at more than twice the speed of a common pistol round, and could pierce steel plate at close range.
Against an ordinary person, one shot meant death.
Charlos aimed at Issho and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
The bullet tore through the air with a sharp crack, crossing the stage like a flash of light.
Then it stopped.
Right in front of Issho.
It hung there, suspended in midair.
Charlos stared.
Then rage swallowed his disbelief.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He fired wildly, screaming as he emptied his pistol.
Every bullet stopped.
One after another, they hovered in front of Issho like tiny moons caught in an invisible sky.
Only then did Charlos realize that the man before him was not someone he could deal with.
Fear crawled onto his face.
He stumbled backward, still screeching, "You lowly commoners! Attack! Stop him! Stop him right now!"
Compared to Charlos, Saint Rosward reacted faster.
The old Celestial Dragon had already pulled out a Den Den Mushi, intending to contact the Marines.
Issho did not allow it.
The instant the Den Den Mushi appeared, Rosward was slammed to the ground.
His bubble helmet struck the floor with a dull thud.
"Father!"
"Father!"
Charlos and Shalria screamed at the same time.
The auction house exploded into chaos.
Dodging a Celestial Dragon's attack and attacking a Celestial Dragon were entirely different matters.
If one merely offended them, a squad of Marines might pursue the culprit. But laying a hand on one of the World Nobles was another matter entirely.
The Marines stationed across Sabaody would move.
Marine Headquarters would move.
An Admiral would be dispatched.
How long had it been since anyone had dared attack a Celestial Dragon?
Their arrogance existed because everyone had accepted one iron law: the World Nobles could do anything, and no one could touch them.
Today, that law had cracked.
"Hurry up and attack!" Charlos howled. "Beat this blind man! Beat him!"
"What are you all doing?!" Shalria shrieked. "Save my father!"
"Guards, move!"
Black-suited bodyguards and armed soldiers surged in from every corner of the venue. The auction house staff also sprang into action, rushing toward the stage in a frantic attempt to rescue Saint Rosward.
The audience collapsed into panic.
Nobles shoved one another aside. Merchants tripped over chairs. Some tried crawling beneath the seats. Others screamed for guards, Marines, gods—anything that might save them from being dragged into this disaster.
Issho did not let them flee.
A deep force spread through the auction hall.
The air grew heavy.
Then, in the space of a breath, everyone in the venue was pressed flat against the floor.
Nobles. Merchants. Guards. Auction staff. Bodyguards.
Even Saint Charlos and Shalria were forced down, their proud bodies pinned helplessly to the ground.
Only Axel, Hawkins, and Eli remained untouched.
Issho had no intention of allowing these people to scatter before the slaves were freed. If they escaped, they might create further chaos. Worse, they might harm the very people he had come to save.
Before liberation, the villains had to be suppressed.
Among the Celestial Dragons' bodyguards, there were several true elites. Under that terrifying pressure, they could not move freely, but they could still force words through clenched teeth.
"Do you know what you've done?!"
"You dared attack Saint Rosward, Saint Charlos, and Princess Shalria! Do you understand the gravity of this crime?!"
Issho stood on the stage, cane-sword in hand, his expression calm.
"Celestial Dragons?"
His voice was steady.
"So what?"
The hall trembled beneath the weight of his power.
"I stand only by what I believe is right."
.....
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