Chapter 117: Fighting Against the World
"So what?"
The bodyguard's face twisted in disbelief.
"So what?" he repeated, as if Issho had spoken a language no one in the world should understand. "The Celestial Dragons bear the bloodline of the Creators! To attack them is to stand against the entire world! If you understand even that much, release them at once and kneel to await their punishment!"
Issho only gave a quiet chuckle.
It was not amusement.
These people had served monsters for so long that even their fear had been reshaped into worship. Their arrogance was almost brainless. They had been pinned to the floor, stripped of every advantage, and yet they still spoke as if the name of the World Nobles could bend reality itself.
Issho loosened his control over the three Celestial Dragons.
Not enough to let them escape.
Only enough to let them speak.
He wanted to hear it.
The so-called punishment of the gods.
The moment the pressure eased, any normal person would have begged for mercy. Any criminal, no matter how vicious, would at least have understood the danger.
The Celestial Dragons did not.
Saint Charlos stared at his scraped palm, where blood had welled up from his fall. His pig-like face contorted.
"Ahhh! I'm bleeding!" he screamed. "You lowly commoner! You made me bleed! I'll never forgive you! I'll make you my slave! I'll train you until you die!"
Princess Shalria burst into tears, her delicate face twisting like a spoiled child whose toy had been taken.
"Waaah! Father and Brother Charlos have never hit me! How dare you bully me? I'll turn you into a specimen! I'll keep you forever as decoration!"
Saint Rosward's rage remained hidden behind his sunglasses, but his voice trembled with fury.
"What are you all doing lying there? Get up! Kill this filthy creature!"
At his command, the bodyguards strained desperately against the invisible pressure.
It was useless.
Issho did not even move his hand.
The men who had been trying to rise slammed back into the floor, bones creaking under a weight they had no hope of resisting.
Everything happened so easily it was almost absurd.
"So this is your punishment."
Issho's voice was low.
He had said it was laughable, yet there was no laughter in his face. His expression had settled into something deeper and heavier than anger.
"Truly… laughable."
The auction house fell into a suffocating silence.
The host stood frozen on the stage, his face drained of color. The nobles and merchants pressed to the floor could not move. Even those who could not see what was happening understood from the voices alone that something unimaginable was unfolding.
Was that blind man… talking about killing Celestial Dragons?
Did he understand what that meant?
A Celestial Dragon's death was not like the fall of a king.
It was not like the destruction of a nation.
It would shake the very structure of the world.
No one had ever dared to openly kill a World Noble.
Yet Issho stood there, unmoving, as if he had merely decided to cut down a bandit on the roadside.
"Since that is all," he said, "then you may die here."
A chill spread through the hall.
Saint Rosward did not believe him.
Even now, even pinned beneath gravity, even with death standing in front of him, he had no concept that a commoner might truly dare.
"You lowly fool," Rosward spat. "How dare you speak so arrogantly? Do you know what will happen if you kill us?"
"Consequences are matters for later."
Issho's hand settled on his cane-sword.
"What I must do now is clear."
Before he could act, a voice rang out from the audience.
"Stop! Mr. Issho!"
It was Eli.
He had risen from his seat without realizing it, his face pale and slick with sweat.
The instant he spoke, he regretted it.
The nobles had not died. They were merely pinned to the ground. Some could still see from the corners of their eyes. Some had surely seen him stand. In their minds, the conclusion would already be forming.
He was with the attackers.
He had thrown away the safest choice.
The proper move would have been to lie flat like everyone else, pretend to be another helpless victim, and pray to be ignored.
Instead, some mad impulse had pulled him to his feet.
Since he had already done something stupid, he might as well be stupid to the end.
Issho paused and turned slightly toward him.
Eli swallowed hard. His legs felt weak enough to fold under him, but he forced the words out.
"Attacking a Celestial Dragon is a terrible crime. It'll bring an Admiral here, yes, but if you escape Sabaody, the pursuit may stop. Marine Headquarters has many matters to handle. They won't send an Admiral chasing endlessly over a single incident."
His voice shook.
"But killing a Celestial Dragon is different!"
The hall seemed to grow even colder.
Eli clenched his fists.
"If you kill them, the World Government won't stop. They'll hunt you until you're dead. Celestial Dragons are useless, but they're symbols. They represent the World Government's authority. If one of them dies, you'll be placed on their kill list immediately!"
Saint Rosward seized on those words as if they were proof of divine law.
"At least one lowly creature here has some sense," he said. "To oppose us is to oppose the World Government. To oppose the World Government is to oppose the entire world."
Issho lowered his head.
A faint, bitter smile touched his face.
"If the World Government protects such evil…"
His voice did not rise.
It did not need to.
"Then what is wrong with opposing the World Government?"
The air turned heavy.
"What is wrong with opposing the entire world?"
The gravity around the stage deepened.
"I uphold only my own justice."
Then the pressure fell.
No scream came.
No final curse.
No divine miracle.
Saint Rosward, Saint Charlos, and Princess Shalria were crushed beneath the weight of Issho's judgment.
The descendants of the Creators died without ceremony.
Eli stared blankly at the stage.
"He… actually killed them…"
The words left his mouth like a soul escaping his body.
He had seen it with his own eyes, yet he still could not believe it.
A Celestial Dragon had been killed.
No.
Three Celestial Dragons had been killed.
Fortunately, most of the people pinned to the ground had not witnessed it clearly. Their faces were pressed against the floor, their view blocked by the rows of seats. Even those in front had been scrambling backward when the chaos began and had missed the decisive moment.
Issho had not even allowed the Celestial Dragons to scream.
To the nobles and merchants lying helplessly in the hall, the World Nobles were merely silent.
They did not know they were dead.
Not yet.
They could only lie there, trembling, praying the disaster would pass.
Axel and Hawkins rose from their seats.
"We should start moving," Axel said. "Someone will come soon."
The Celestial Dragons' presence would inevitably draw attention. Their deaths would be discovered sooner or later. Once that happened, the entire Sabaody Archipelago would be turned upside down.
They had to free the slaves before then.
Eli snapped out of his daze.
"Me?" he said, pointing at himself. "You want me to move?"
"You already exposed yourself, didn't you?" Axel replied. "Then move. After this, you're leaving the island with us."
Eli froze.
For a moment, he could not tell whether that was a death sentence or an invitation.
He looked from Axel to Hawkins, then back again.
Axel nodded.
It was approval.
Eli's throat tightened. He had spent his whole life surviving by lowering his head, reading the room, and slipping through cracks. Now, without warning, someone had opened a door in front of him.
A terrifying door, admittedly.
One that probably had Marines, Admirals, and the World Government waiting on the other side.
But still—a door.
Issho turned to Brenda.
"Brenda," he said gently, "can you lead us to the other slaves?"
Brenda was still kneeling on the stage, her shackles clinking faintly as she trembled.
"Yes…"
Her voice was hoarse.
She had not fully processed what had happened. The Celestial Dragon who had bought her was dead. The nightmare that should have swallowed the rest of her life had been crushed before her eyes.
If she had seen another person killed, perhaps she would have felt fear.
But not this time.
What rose in her chest was not terror.
It was joy.
A forbidden, trembling joy.
The kind of joy many slaves had dreamed of but never dared speak aloud.
A Celestial Dragon had died.
The scourge had been punished.
She looked at Issho, then at the others, and urgency returned to her eyes.
"This way," she said, forcing herself to stand.
"The others are kept behind the stage. Follow me."
.....
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