Gar's fur bristled the moment they entered the tavern. The place looked calm, but both of the people inside made his instincts scream danger especially the blonde man sitting with his back to them. That man's presence felt suffocating.
Peto, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed. This was her second time here, and she didn't seem particularly interested in anything. She found a quiet seat, pulled a small manga book from her pouch, and started reading with the innocent focus of a child.
Mostima's eyes, however, narrowed the instant he caught sight of the blonde man's profile. That familiar, composed face—there was no mistaking it. Silvers Rayleigh. The Dark King himself.
He'd read enough Marine intelligence reports to recognize him on sight. The right hand of the Pirate King, Roger—hiding here in the Sabaody Archipelago, practically under the Marines' nose. So this was what people meant when they said, "The darkest place is right beneath the lamp."
And the woman with him? If she was sitting comfortably beside Rayleigh, she wasn't an ordinary person either.
Teach approached the bar, resting one hand on the counter.
"Give me the list for the upcoming auction—two days from now," he said, his grin faint but steady.
Shakky smiled as she tapped her cigarette against the ashtray. "The big auction, huh? That information costs a little more this time—eight million Berries."
Teach didn't argue. He tilted his head slightly, signaling Mostima. Without a word, Mostima stepped forward, drew out eight million in cash, and placed it neatly on the counter before stepping back.
Shakky weighed the stack of Berries in her hand, nodded with satisfaction, and disappeared briefly into the back. When she returned, she set a small, leather-bound notebook on the counter.
Teach flipped through it. The pages were filled with clean handwriting and detailed notes. He gave a small nod. "That's all I needed."
He turned and headed for the door.
"Welcome back anytime, little Teach," Shakky called with a teasing smile as he and his crew walked out. The door swung shut behind them.
Watching the empty doorway, Shakky exhaled a trail of smoke and murmured, "Still hiding his full hand… just like when he was with Whitebeard. His power keeps growing. When he finally shows it, the world's going to shake."
Rayleigh chuckled, raising his glass. "Hah! Give it a few years, Shakky. The Marines will be in for quite a surprise."
Shakky glanced sideways. "You've got two apprentices yourself, don't you? One of them's about Teach's age. How do they compare?"
Rayleigh leaned back with a small grin. "Shanks is still behind Teach for now. Catching up won't be easy. But…" He smiled, eyes distant but sure. "He won't be worse than Teach, either."
After all, Roger himself had entrusted his straw hat to that boy.
Shakky laughed softly. "I'm really looking forward to seeing it. Watching the next generation grow… it's the best entertainment old timers like us have left."
Outside, Teach and his crew walked through the bustling streets of Sabaody. Mostima glanced sideways.
"Teach, who was that woman?"
Teach smirked. "A legend from the last era. She was part of the Rocks Pirates—handled their intelligence back in the day. Now she runs that bar and sells information. Pricey, but reliable. If you ever need intel, she's worth it."
He paused, grin widening slightly. "Don't underestimate her, either. Back in the day, she was chased by Marine Hero Garp—and she got away."
Mostima's eyes flickered with surprise. Someone who could escape Garp's pursuit? That wasn't someone to take lightly. And if she had ties with Rayleigh, that made her even more dangerous. He mentally noted her down.
He glanced at the list in Teach's hand. It was impressively detailed—proof of Shakky's network. Every auction item was listed except the top three grand prizes.
It was no wonder this auction was drawing such attention. The Sabaody Archipelago only hosted one or two events of this scale each year. Major auction houses relied on grand events like this to build their reputation, each item carefully guarded to prevent theft before the sale. Still, some leaks were inevitable, and powerful buyers always tried to get information ahead of time—like Teach just had.
Flipping through, Teach skimmed the list: ancient relics, rare treasures, high-grade swords, slaves, Devil Fruits—nearly a hundred items in total.
He stopped at a few entries: Zoan-type, Weasel Model… Zoan-type, Skunk Model… Unknown Paramecia-type Devil Fruit.
"The Weasel and Skunk fruits aren't worth much," Teach muttered, eyes narrowing as he studied the drawing of the last one. The Devil Fruit was illustrated beside its description—a swirling sphere with bubble-like motifs.
A grin spread slowly across his face. "The Bubble-Bubble Fruit… from the original timeline. Not bad at all. Plenty of potential."
He flipped further. Another caught his eye—Zoan-type, White Snake Model. A solid ability, but nothing special. The real prizes were still the final three mystery items. Even Shakky's intel didn't cover those.
For now, he could only wait for the auction itself.
Two days later, the grand auction hall buzzed with anticipation. It was massive—able to seat five hundred—and every table was occupied. Nobles, kings, pirates, and wealthy underworld figures filled the room. Teach and his crew took seats in the far back, keeping a low profile.
Mostima sat at the front of their group. He didn't bother concealing his face. There was no need. He would handle the bidding.
Meanwhile, at the port of Area 34, a luxury cruise ship slowly docked. The moment its hull touched the pier, Marines in pristine uniforms rushed into position, forming two perfect lines down a freshly rolled red carpet that stretched nearly a hundred meters.
At the far end stood Rear Admiral Lincoln, head of the local Marine branch. His palms were sweating. He'd hosted Celestial Dragons before, but that never made it easier. One wrong word, one wrong breath, and you could end up dead.
The Celestial Dragons—the self-proclaimed "descendants of the creators"—ruled over the Sabaody Archipelago. The Marines' primary duty here wasn't justice. It was service—to protect and pamper their celestial masters.
Crowds gathered around the port, but as soon as they realized who was arriving, they froze. Then, one by one, they fell to their knees.
Only a few newcomers remained standing.
"What's going on?" one asked in confusion.
A local grabbed his arm and hissed, "Idiot! Get down! It's a Celestial Dragon!"
At once, the man dropped to the ground, trembling. Even those who had never seen a Celestial Dragon in person knew of their cruelty.
The guards in black suits appeared first, descending the ramp with solemn expressions. Then came the Celestial Dragon himself—wearing his white bubble helmet and royal garments, standing proudly atop the back of a massive, kneeling slave.
The slave crawled forward on hands and knees, careful not to shake. He was enormous—five meters tall, his body scarred from countless beatings.
A whisper rippled through the crowd.
"Isn't that Jenkins? The pirate with a seventy-million-Berry bounty?"
"I heard he vanished two years ago…"
No one could have imagined that the man who once commanded his own ship now carried a Celestial Dragon on his back like a beast.
Rear Admiral Lincoln bowed deeply. "Saint Rosward, welcome! We will ensure your safety throughout your stay."
Saint Rosward barely spared him a glance. "Hmph. I'm in a foul mood."
Lincoln's heart skipped a beat. "O-of course, my lord. Please, if there's anything—"
Rosward cut him off. "I heard someone stole something meant for me. I was promised two Devil Fruits for my slaves' next fight in the arena. Now they're gone. If my fighters lose, who will answer for the shame to my name?"
The Rear Admiral clenched his fists, bowing even lower. The irony wasn't lost on him—Devil Fruits given to slaves, just for entertainment. Still, he forced a steady voice. "Rest assured, Saint Rosward. The Marines will find the culprit and retrieve your property."
Rosward sneered. "Hmph. Don't bother. By the time you find them, it'll be too late. I'll simply buy replacements."
The Marines around him stiffened, anger flashing in their eyes—but none dared move or speak. Their faces remained expressionless masks of obedience.
Rosward yawned, looking around. "Let's go to the auction house. I hear there's a mermaid up for sale this time."
At the mention of a mermaid, his tone lifted slightly. Excitement colored his words.
Every Celestial Dragon had their indulgence—some loved watching slaves fight, others collected rare beasts, and some, like Rosward, craved mermaids. Their beauty and rarity made them the ultimate trophy.
He could already imagine the scene: returning to Mariejois with a mermaid in chains, the envy in the eyes of his fellow Celestial Dragons burning hotter than the sun.
And so, the red carpet rolled forward once more—toward the auction hall, where the fate of slaves, treasures, and pirates would soon collide.