"What... what was going on?!!"
Saint Grim's clumsy face filled with terror as he watched himself raise his gun and shoot the completely unsuspecting Celestial Dragon beside him.
Though the special space suit meant a single shot was not fatal, and the Celestial Dragons were naturally tough besides,
he still fell.
"My body... is out of control!!!"
He began firing wildly at the slaves and Cipher Pol agents around him. The key was that they did not dare dodge; they could only obediently await death or use Iron Body to withstand the shots.
In the end,
he discovered in terror that the arm holding his pistol had begun to bend, until the barrel finally pointed at his own temple.
"No... don't... aaah!!!!"
A cloud of heat immediately rose inside the space suit, misting over the glass helmet. The sight made Austin sick to his stomach.
"This guy... didn't piss himself in there, did he?"
Austin instantly lost all interest in controlling him and withdrew his power. Saint Grim collapsed to the ground at once, liquid flooding back inside his clothes and flowing straight into the glass helmet, nearly drowning him.
"How boring..."
With a wave of his hand, the two pigs, the black-clothed men scattered across the ground, and the slaves vanished from the venue in an instant, tumbling out in a miserable heap at the auction house entrance.
Austin picked up the orange juice held by a maid and drained it in one gulp.
Against a brainless weakling like this, Austin had barely begun playing before he broke down.
"If we kill a Celestial Dragon, we'll completely fall out with the World Government, won't we?"
Mihawk watched coldly from the side, his sharp Hawk Eyes narrowing slightly.
They were Celestial Dragons, after all—the face the World Government valued most,