The tavern had gone tomb-quiet. Not just the Axe Pirates' captain—everyone was stunned.No one expected a young man to actually kill a Celestial Dragon's butler.
"Gil, you've kicked a hornet's nest!" Bastille hissed, hustling up beside him. "Anything tied to the Celestial Dragons is untouchable. You need to run—now!"
Gil shrugged. "Relax. It was a butler, not a god."
Bastille opened his mouth, then shut it. If Zephyr hadn't warned him personally not to provoke Gil, Bastille would already be dragging him back to base in cuffs. As it stood… he could only grit his teeth.
"Fine. I'll report to Teacher Zephyr and await orders. Please—be careful," he said, and hurried off.
"Finally," Gil exhaled, watching Bastille's back disappear into the crowd.
Time to move the merchandise.
He needed Beli to buy a Devil Fruit—Beli he'd just found in two very lovely, very incriminating chests. He headed straight for Sabaody's shadiest quarter where fences didn't ask questions.
A private room. Velvet curtains. An appraiser with spectacles leaned over the table, breath catching at each new trinket.
"This… is the emerald from the coronation crown of the first king of the Britannia Kingdom—seven hundred million Beli."
The assistant pointed at a glowing stone. "And that?"
"Icefire Kingdom, East Blue. An explorer pulled that core shard from the peak of Icefire Isle. It glows at night, keeps the wearer warm in winter and cool in summer… claims of longevity, immunity to poison—call it nine hundred million."
"And this armor?"
The old man actually trembled. "North Blue, Aishanier Kingdom. Third king's war cuirass—legend says a master smith forged it in a volcano from the purest steel, quenched in the blood of a hundred warriors. They call it the Blood-Red Aegis. Weakens incoming strikes. One point five billion."
They had more. A lot more. Gil finally waved a hand. "Skip the stories. Give me a number."
Before the appraiser could speak, the slick-haired assistant smiled too wide. "Sir, so many royal treasures at once—surely you didn't, ah, borrow them underhandedly…?"
Gil's look went flat. "You buying or not? If not, I walk."
"Buying! Of course." He snapped back to the appraiser. "Total."
Half an hour later, the tally was done.
"Sir," the assistant said, bowing, "seventeen items. Total value: 15.3 billion Beli. Cash or account?"
Even Gil's brows rose. That easy?He kept his cool. "Account."
Minutes later, a passbook and a gold VIP card slid across the table."Your balance: fifteen-point-three. With this card, our Sabaody Auction House offers twenty percent off any purchase."
Gil pocketed both. "One question."
"Anything, sir."
"Devil Fruits. Have any?"
"By chance, this afternoon's main auction in Grove No. 1 includes one. If you're interested—"
"I am." Gil stood, tucking his cloak close. If money doesn't win it, gravity will.
He spent the late morning in a hole-in-the-wall tavern, quiet as a shadow. No one dared make trouble. By afternoon, cloaked and hooded, he crossed into GR-1 and stepped into the grand hall: gilded rails, a bustling first floor of packed seats, and private boxes on the second.
A floor attendant approached. "Sir, do you have a VIP card? Without it, entry is 100,000 Beli."
Gil flashed the gold. The attendant's smile turned buttery-soft. "Right this way, sir—please enjoy a box upstairs."
He picked a spacious room and sat. The floor filled: merchants in brocade, pirates disguised as nobles, trophy wives on wealthy arms. Soon the boxes filled as well.
Then the air changed.
A grotesque figure strutted in from the entrance, hair styled to a ridiculous height, a transparent bubble helm framing his sneer. A leash dangled from his hand; at the end of it, a broken man crawled like a dog.
"Filthy humans," the newcomer said, looking down his nose at everyone.
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
"Saint… Charmarco?""A Celestial Dragon—here?"
Gil's smile thinned. "Well, look at that."
The nearest usher scurried forward, bowing so low his forehead brushed the floor. "My lord, please—this way—"
"Out of my sight." Charmarco kicked him like trash. The man flew backward, tumbled, and knelt trembling, begging forgiveness.
"Wrong? You dare speak to me at all?"Bang. Charmarco shot him through the chest, holstered the pistol, and stepped over the corpse without a glance.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
A manager sprinted out, red-faced and shaking. Celestial Dragons came to Sabaody often—but unannounced? That was a different kind of storm.
Gil leaned back in his chair, eyes cold behind the brim of his hood. "Showtime."