Celestial Dragons are the descendants of the 20 kings {Actually 19} who established the new World Government 800 years ago. These aristocrats often refer to themselves as the "Descendants of the Creator" and typically reside in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, situated atop the Red Line.
Despite legal restrictions, Celestial Dragons enjoy unbridled privileges. To them, the law is as disposable as a tissue paper!
Sabaody Archipelago, located near Mary Geoise and Marineford, frequently attracts Celestial Dragons seeking amusement in the "Lower World."
Adrian had never expected that he would encounter the world nobles that ordinary pirates would avoid as soon as he landed on Sabaody Archipelago!
However, this encounter wasn't Adrian's first with Celestial Dragons. In the North Blue, he had once confronted the fallen Don Quixote, demonstrating that reason could be enforced through physical might.
But Sabaody Archipelago is not the same as the North Blue.
Here, anyone daring to offend a Celestial Dragon faces swift retribution. They may be jointly attacked by Marine headquarters admirals and the CP0 department, with even the soldiers ready to lay down their lives.
The low level marines know full well how cursed they are to be stationed in this island.
Pirates, no matter how audacious, rarely risk provoking the wrath of the Celestial Dragons. The consequences are dire, and few dare to test their limits.
In the current moment, a Celestial Dragon sporting sunglasses grew impatient. "Hey, you there," he addressed the auctioneer, "if you can't speak, find someone else to come up!"
Without waiting for a response, the Celestial Dragon reached for a golden pistol on a nearby table and fired it without hesitation. The brass bullet struck the auctioneer's abdomen, causing him to stagger back. Blood flowed from the wound, staining his clothes crimson.
Thud!
The auctioneer, quick-witted, collapsed dramatically, feigning death. His massive body crashed onto the auction house stage, the impact echoing through the room.
The auctioneer originally thought that he could escape this way, but how could the Celestial Dragons' thought process be understood by ordinary people?
"Peasants! Peasants!"
The sunglasses-wearing Celestial Dragon pointed directly at the auctioneer on the stage, furious and cursing aloud.
"You were actually killed so easily?" he sneered.
"And you dare to fall to the ground so loudly, nearly giving me a heart attack!"
"You deserve to die! Die!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sunglasses-wearing Celestial Dragon fired several shots again, aiming at the body of the auctioneer pretending to be lying on the ground, directly killing him on the spot.
A thick pool of blood oozed from under the fat auctioneer's body, leaving a glaring crimson trail on the stage.
After emptying the bullets in the golden pistol, the sunglasses-wearing Celestial Dragon seemed unsatisfied, continuing to curse incessantly.
The Sophia Auction House fell into a dead silence, except for the insults from the Celestial Dragons. The rest of the people were quiet, as if they could hear their own heartbeats.
After a while, the staff of the Sophia Auction House came out. They removed the body of the fat auctioneer who hadn't had a chance to preside over the auction, replacing him with a small, pale man with trembling legs.
"S-Saint Ro-Rosward," the small man forced a terribly ugly smile on his face, bowing very humbly to the Celestial Dragons in the audience. He respectfully asked, "I wonder if you would like to directly see the final masterpiece, or if you would prefer the auction to continue?"
Perhaps because of killing someone displeasing just now, Saint Rosward's mood visibly improved. He waved his hand generously.
"Just do as usual!"
However, the damaged atmosphere in the auction house was not so easily restored.
The first few auction items received no attention and were directly passed over.
It wasn't until a moment later that some people slowly began to raise their auction paddles, but the number was pitifully low.
"The next item is a human slave."
The short presenter mechanically read the auction item information in a monotone voice. It was evident that he was just an unlucky fellow pushed onto the stage without a clue about engaging the audience or boosting enthusiasm.
After briefly describing the auction item, the short presenter gestured toward the backstage.
Moments later, several guards in steel helmets escorted a middle-aged man onto the stage. He was robust but had his limbs restrained, and around his neck, he wore a slave collar.
A subtle murmur arose from the audience below.
Adrian furrowed his brows slightly. This slave was not listed in the previous auction items, clearly an impromptu addition to cater to the preferences of Saint Rosward.
Adrian focused his attention on the sturdy slave on the stage. Despite retaining some strength, the middle-aged man's eyes were completely dull, devoid of any spark or vitality.
As soon as the guards approached him, his body would tremble uncontrollably. He would take a step back, as if trying to avoid them. This was a conditioned reflex, caused by years of abuse.
Adrian watched the slave with a mixture of pity and sadness. He had traveled the seas for many years now, and he had seen his fair share of slaves.
In the beginning, Adrian had tried to free any innocent slaves he could find. But over time, he had come to realize that not all slaves were worth saving.
This man, for example, had been a slave for so long that he had lost all hope. He didn't even have the courage to kill himself.
Even if Adrian were to free him, it would be pointless.
The auction had been going on for hours, and the crowd was starting to get restless. The appearance of this strong slave finally livened things up a bit.
"Eight million berries."
"Nine million six hundred thousand berries!"
As one wealthy man after another raised their paddles to bid, a lazy voice rang out from the front row. "One billion berries."
The room fell silent again.
What really discouraged everyone, besides the high price, was the identity of the bidder!
That's right, the one who called out the bid was Saint Rosward.
"Th-thank you very much, Lord Rosward, for your generosity!" the small, thin auctioneer stammered. "Now, we move on to the final round of bidding."
"This is a young girl from the Mokomo Dukedom in the New World, a very rare white fox fur tribe. The starting bid is 80 million berries."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Saint Rosward immediately bid, "Three billion!"
"Excuse me, I'll bid three billion eight hundred and one million berries." Adrian calmly raised his card.