"Oh my, how frightening," Borsalino drawled, his voice dripping with mock concern as his glowing foot dissolved back into light. "The Dragon King is angry, huh? But I am a Vice Admiral of the Navy, you know. I can't just stand by and watch someone threaten a Celestial Dragon right in front of me. Just doing my duty, that's all."
He dusted his gloved hands off lazily, that same sleazy smile tugging at his lips. "All I wanted was to teach him a little lesson—show him that not everyone can be threatened. Until he's strong enough to back up that arrogance of his, he'd better rein it in."
Rosinante gave a quiet, amused laugh. "You're really not the one to lecture anyone about arrogance."
Borsalino shrugged. "A shame, really. If that last kick hadn't been blocked, we might've had one less future enemy to worry about. A Thunder-Thunder Fruit user, once he matures, is such a headache to deal with."
"I can hear you, you know," came Enel's irritated voice.
Borsalino tilted his head innocently. "Eh? Did I say something just now?"
Rosinante ignored him. He had no intention of clashing with the Navy today—especially not now, when Gray Country had much more important business to handle.
He turned toward the trembling Celestial Dragon, Rozwald, and his tone dropped to icy calm. "I'll overlook your little tantrum today—for the Celestial Dragons' sake. Don't mistake my patience for fear. Just because the Celestial Dragons are terrifying doesn't mean you are. If you ever provoke me again…" His eyes hardened, his presence exploding outward like a crashing wave. "...I guarantee your head will be gone before the Admirals even have time to react."
A thick, invisible pressure washed over the area. It was Conqueror's Haki—powerful and precise.
Rosinante controlled it perfectly, enough to crush Roswald's pride without knocking him unconscious.
But under that oppressive force, Roswald felt as if a massive beast stood before him—a blood-drenched monster with crimson eyes and fangs ready to bite off his head at any moment.
His face drained of color. Sweat poured down his back. His whole body trembled like a man stricken with fever.
And then—
"Hahaha! What's this? Seems lively over here. Did I miss something interesting?"
The crowd parted once again as a new group approached. At their lead was another Celestial Dragon, wearing the same ornate, ridiculous outfit reserved for the World Nobles.
"Rosinante! You bastard! So this is where you've been hiding—I've been looking for you everywhere!" the newcomer shouted loudly, his tone full of childish arrogance.
Enel's eyes narrowed dangerously, lightning beginning to spark around him. He looked one step away from frying the pompous noble where he stood.
Around them, the crowd blanched in terror. Just when they thought the storm had passed, another had arrived.
"Zashika, you sure took your time," Rosinante said calmly, patting Enel's shoulder to keep him from moving. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
"Hmph! I came as fast as I could," Zashika snapped, puffing out his chest. "But if there's nothing interesting here today, I'll never forgive you!"
"Oh? Isn't that Saint Roswald over there?" Zashika turned his gaze and grinned. "Why are you sitting on the floor? That's hardly befitting a Celestial Dragon of your stature... or do you simply like sitting on the ground?"
"Humph!" Roswald shot him a venomous glare and forced himself to his feet, his pride barely holding together.
"We're leaving," he spat coldly, glaring once more at Rosinante and Zashika before turning on his heel. He'd had enough humiliation for one day.
"Leaving so soon? Don't you want to stay for the auction?" Zashika called after him with a smirk. "I just got word from the auction house—they've got some rather interesting merchandise today."
Roswald ignored him completely and stormed off with his entourage.
As the air cleared, Zashika tilted his head. "What was that about?"
"Who knows," Rosinante said with a faint smile. "Come on. I'm curious myself to see what this so-called 'human auction' looks like."
"You promised me something fun, remember?" Zashika asked.
"You'll see soon enough," Rosinante replied, walking leisurely toward the No. 1 Auction Hall.
Zashika followed, dragging his attendants behind him, still grinning.
Borsalino watched the two nobles stroll away, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. Then, with a sigh, he decided against entering the auction house.
"Ugh… too much trouble," he muttered. "I'll just let Garp and Tsuru handle this mess when they arrive."
Besides, a "righteous" Marine Vice Admiral couldn't exactly stroll into a slave auction without raising a few eyebrows.
Still, there was one matter that needed reporting before he left.
The Thunder-Thunder Fruit user.
That kid could become a serious problem someday.
The Thunder-Thunder Fruit's reputation as the most destructive of the Logia class wasn't exaggeration—it was fact.
Lightning strikes faster than almost anything alive; few could even hope to dodge it. And it wasn't just speed—it was the conductivity. If the voltage was strong enough, even Armament Haki couldn't completely shield a person from its effects.
But that wasn't the scariest part.
What made the Thunder-Thunder Fruit truly terrifying was that its power wasn't limited to the user's own energy—it could draw directly from nature itself. From the thunderclouds in the sky.
Once that ability was mastered, the scope and scale of its power dwarfed every other Logia Fruit.
Meanwhile, inside the auction hall, excitement buzzed through the crowd. Word of the commotion outside had reached everyone, and curious whispers spread through the seats.
But when Rosinante and Zashika entered, silence fell instantly.
No one dared speak.
It wasn't Rosinante they feared—it was the Celestial Dragon beside him.
Zashika walked straight to the highest VIP dais reserved for the World Nobles and sat down with an air of lazy entitlement.
"Well? Where's the person in charge of this place? Let's get this thing started already," he said, waving a hand impatiently.
"Yes, yes! At once, Saint Zashika!" a trembling staff member stammered, bowing deeply before scurrying off.
Moments later, a richly dressed middle-aged man strutted onto the stage with a polished smile.
"Good afternoon, esteemed guests! The No. 1 Auction House is honored to begin today's event. As always, your host is none other than I!"
"Your Majesty, that's the one," Enel said beside Rosinante, grinning wickedly.
Kela spread his arms wide, his voice smooth and oily. "I trust you've all been waiting eagerly. Then without further delay, let's begin today's auction!"
With a gesture, a group of attendants dragged the first "item" onto the stage—a disheveled man, his hands, feet, and neck bound in chains. Around his neck gleamed a metal collar fitted with a small, deadly explosive.
But despite his condition, the man's expression was calm. Almost carefree.
A faint, roguish smile curved his lips. In one hand, he held a small flask, from which he took a casual sip as if none of this had anything to do with him.
Rosinante's eyes lit up, amusement flickering in their depths. "Interesting… very interesting indeed," he murmured, his lips curving into an intrigued smile.
For even in chains—this man exuded freedom.