After setting sail, Rhett decided it was time to assemble his crew. He'd somehow recruited Moriah by sheer coincidence, of all things.
During yesterday's Den Den Mushi call, Moriah had mentioned his Observation Haki was nearing its limit and needed time to settle.
So, no rush to go back. Even if he did, he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.
Speaking of crewmates, Rhett's second thought immediately went to "Golden Emperor" Gild Tesoro—the man who wore nine rings, leaving only his left ring finger bare.
Money could solve most problems... if you had the strength to protect it.
---
Arriving at Sabaody, Rhett confirmed the place was a paradise for crime. Neon lights and searchlights from slave auction houses intertwined into a decadent tapestry.
Perched atop a clocktower opposite the auction house, Rhett's crimson cloak billowed in the night wind. His gaze pierced the clamor, locking onto the back entrance where Gild Tesoro staggered forward with an armful of goods. Sweat soaked his tattered shirt, but his eyes were fixed on a second-floor window.
Inside, Stella performed for the audience.
Clad in a thin dance dress, barefoot on icy marble, her ankles shackled—yet her movements remained as light as a butterfly's wings.
That's the freedom Tesoro was desperate to buy back.
Rhett wasn't planning to intervene yet. He could wait—wait until the Celestial Dragons purchased Stella, wait until Tesoro's spirit shattered, then become the sole light in his despair.
Heh heh heh...
This wasn't about taking advantage. That wasn't what this was.
Rhett's approach was simply another form of honey trap. Like the ancient kings, his "honey trap" wasn't about offering beauty—it was about extending a hand when all hope was lost.
A Shichibukai... and I'm thinking like this?
******
"Kill a Celestial Dragon? So what? I'm a pirate. The Shichibukai title means nothing to me."
Days passed.
Until Gild Tesoro finally saved enough money.
Trembling, he hid the bag of Berries against his chest and rushed into the auction house's backstage—only to be kicked to the ground by guards.
"Scram, filth!"
"Please... I-I'm here to redeem Stella!" Forehead pressed against the grimy floor, he raised the money bag. "Three million Berries! The contract price!"
The guard sneered and kicked the bag away. Coins scattered like rain.
"Too late."
Tesoro's head jerked up.
The guard grinned, gold-capped teeth glinting. "A Celestial Dragon just bought her—as a 'birthday gift' for his son. How lucky, to become a slave for the Celestial Dragons."
Tesoro's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
A scream echoed from the distance.
Tesoro charged into the auction hall like a madman—
Behind him, guards collapsed soundlessly. The scene froze his blood:
Stella, chained to the display platform. A snot-nosed Celestial Dragon child in a bubble helmet giggled as he pressed a branding iron against her arm. "Slaves need marks!"
Nobles in the audience knelt—but their eyes burned with excitement and madness.
The auctioneer groveled. "Honorable Rosward-sama, will you take her now?"
"No." The Celestial Dragon sipped wine leisurely. "Let the 'tamer' teach her manners first... I heard this woman can sing?"
Stella's lips trembled. Suddenly, she looked toward the entrance—locking eyes with Tesoro.
Her gaze screamed: Run.
Tesoro's sanity snapped.
"LET HER GO!!!"
He lunged bare-handed, only to be slammed face-first into a pool of blood by CP0 agents.
"Filth daring to offend a Celestial Dragon?" The agent sneered.
Stella struggled forward. "No! Please, he didn't mean—"
BANG!
The Celestial Dragon shot through her knee.
"Annoying slaves should shut up."
Tesoro's face was ground deeper into blood. His nostrils flooded with iron-scented muck.
The CP0 agent's shoe crushed his neck, vertebrae creaking under pressure.
"Just another slave for the Celestial Dragons." The agent raised his gun to Tesoro's temple. "Next life, remember—"
Tesoro stared up with pure despair. He hated his own powerlessness.
"REAL GODS, PLEASE HELP ME!"
Silence.
Only the CP0's gunshot—
At the gun's roar—
—Tesoro braced for death. Yet no pain came.
Warm liquid splattered his face.
Trembling, he opened his eyes. The CP0 agent stood frozen, his head already airborne.
Thud. The corpse collapsed.
"Were you... praying just now?"
A figure stepped through moonlight—long-haired, smirking, cloak billowing.
With each step, blood-red cracks spiderwebbed across the floor. Guards clutched their throats, collapsing as scarlet mist dissolved their flesh.
Tesoro's pupils reflected the man's looming face.
"Pity." Rhett crushed the agent's skull underfoot. "Your gods... aren't working today."
He yanked Tesoro up by the hair, forcing him to watch—Stella being dragged toward the CP0's gilded ship in chains.
"But I am."
Suddenly, all of Sabaody darkened.
People screamed, pointing at the blood-red moon—where Rhett's silhouette now stood at its center. His massive blade, Black Tide, emanated crimson mist that engulfed every Celestial Dragon vessel.
"ENEMY ATTACK! PROTECT LORD ASTOREE!"
Marines drew swords—only for their throats to split mid-motion. They never saw the slash.
Rhett was already among them.
"Fufufufu... So strong, Rhett." Hidden in shadows, Doflamingo's glasses glinted. He'd come to Sabaody to build his own forces—never expecting this spectacle. His grin stretched ear to ear. "Fufufu... Roger's remnants grow more interesting by the day."
Rhett hauled Tesoro up by the neck and tossed him down like trash.
"Watch—"
Black Tide rested on his shoulder.
*"Mist God Style: Heaven's Sunder."*