"Hello? Anyone home?"
The doors of the auction house exploded into splinters.
A massive boot stepped through first. Then Roldy leaned in, craning his neck as he casually scanned the hall, muttering as if he'd just walked into a tavern.
"Well now… quite a crowd."
The auction house manager immediately broke into a cold sweat.
Of all possible moments—
The current lot on stage was a Giant.
The enormous figure was shackled from head to toe, forced to kneel in humiliation. He slowly lifted his head, and his dull, lifeless eyes met Roldi's.
The manager saw that exchange.
And in that instant, he knew.
So… what do you all think? Am I surviving this?
"He's here! He's really here! The 'Defected Marine Prodigy'! The 'Remnant of the Old Era'! The 'Emperor of the New World'! The 'Lord of Tyranny'—Fitt Roldi!!!"
"We're dead! We're all dead! Why did I have to visit Sabaody today?!"
"Calm down. If we're destined to die anyway… how about a bet? Let's wager whether those three Celestial Dragons make it out alive."
"At a time like this, you want to gamble? Are you insane? What's the stake?"
Roldi's arrival plunged most of the guests into utter despair.
But a handful of thrill-seekers felt something else.
If death was inevitable—
Why not witness a spectacle they would otherwise never be qualified to see?
Would the Emperor of the Sea—the man who considered human trafficking an unforgivable sin—spare the three Celestial Dragons?
Would "gods" die here?
Roldy lifted his head slightly, surprised, and looked toward the man who had proposed the wager. The latter noticed the gaze, calmly removed his hat, and offered a polite bow.
Even in the face of death, he did not lose his composure.
A noteworthy figure.
"Boss," Crocodile murmured at Roldi's side, "that man is the deputy of Big News Morgans."
"Oh? That explains it."
Over the years, Roldy had crossed paths indirectly with the self-proclaimed "President" of the World Economy News Paper. More often than not, Morgans had turned Roldi's actions into sensational headlines without permission.
A Devil Fruit user.
An undeniable ruler of the Underworld.
"Roldy-san," the newsman stepped forward respectfully. "Would I have the honor of broadcasting this live?"
Roldy tilted his head.
"Live? For someone who's about to die, what's the point?"
Everyone present was marked for death. That would not change.
Still—
A newsman deserved at least a somewhat dignified end.
"It has meaning," the man replied with burning excitement in his eyes. "If a Celestial Dragon dies here, it will shake the world! My life exists for news like this!"
He truly did not care about his own survival.
Roldy paused.
A plan formed in his mind.
"…Fine."
Those words enraged the three Celestial Dragons beyond measure.
Saint Charlos leapt to his feet, kicking over the chair before him—only to yelp when the sturdy material hurt his foot. His face twisted in embarrassment. Then he drew his golden pistol and aimed it at Roldi.
"You filthy commoner! Do you know who stands before you?! I am a World Noble! Saint Charlos of the Holy Land! If you dare, I'll summon a Marine Admiral and have you and your entire family slaughtered!"
"A Marine Admiral?" Roldy grinned wider. "Which one? Borsalino, that monkey? Or Sakazuki? Or perhaps that young fledgling? Friendly advice—if you plan to fight me, you'd better call all three."
His smile grew savage.
His nose twitched slightly.
The stench of blood on Charlos was so thick it felt tangible.
Disgusting.
"But it won't matter," Roldy continued, stepping forward. "Because I'll kill you before they arrive."
Crocodile casually blocked the exits.
The newsman activated the broadcast Den Den Mushi and contacted Morgans, explaining the situation.
On the other end—
Morgans panicked.
He was a madman for headlines, yes—but this? This was beyond madness. If such a broadcast aired, the World Government would never forgive him.
But his deputy didn't care.
He was already prepared to die.
If his final act could be a headline that shook the world—
What a glorious end.
After a brief internal struggle, Morgans' journalistic insanity won out.
He approved the broadcast.
And supported it.
Across the world—
Public Den Den Mushi.
Press Den Den Mushi.
Every transponder under the World Economy News Paper's control—
Activated simultaneously.
Light screens flickered into existence everywhere.
Citizens stared in confusion—
Until the image sharpened.
A towering man stood at the center of the frame.
Between two fingers, he held something that could barely be called human flesh.
The world erupted.
And then—
The title card appeared.
"The Swan Song of Journalist Bell — New World Emperor Roldy Executes a Celestial Dragon!!!"
The era itself seemed to hold its breath.
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