"Now! Go!"
Though Amamiya had also been hit by the powder, he forced down his discomfort, spotted an opening in the chaos, and charged toward the direction of Hikari's sniper cover, using his longsword to clear the way!
Gal followed closely behind, carrying Scarface on his back.
The three Fishman Boys also nimbly weaved through gaps between the confused guards, following close behind.
"Stop them! Cough, cough... Don't let them get away!"
The Vice Captain's eyes were red from the chili powder as he roared furiously, unable to stop himself from coughing violently.
Several fierce guards barely managed to open their eyes and swung their swords, trying to block the way.
But the sniper rifle across from them fired again!
Bang! Bang!
Two bullets struck the floor precisely in front of their feet, sending stone chips flying!
Though they did not hit anyone, their pinpoint threat made the guards instinctively freeze!
That moment of hesitation gave Amamiya and the others their chance to escape.
Amamiya was the first to smash through a side door and rush out of the Auction House, vanishing at once into the bustling, chaotic crowds of Sabaody Archipelago.
Seeing that Amamiya and the others had successfully withdrawn.
On a distant rooftop, Hikari swiftly put away her sniper rifle. Her figure flashed, and she too disappeared from the roof.
"Chase them! Chase them down! Search the entire city! Notify the Sheriff! Seal off the harbor!"
The Vice Captain roared, wiping chili powder and tears from his face as his entire body trembled with rage.
The Auction House was a complete mess. Smoke, powder, and blood were mixed together, while injured guards groaned without end.
The goods auctioned off at a high price had escaped, the captain was dead, and they had lost so many men.
This was simply the greatest humiliation the Donquixote Family had ever suffered on Sabaody!
"Ho ho ho~"
Saint Charlos suddenly began laughing in the Auction House.
His laughter was especially grating in the auction hall, which had gradually fallen silent.
His fat body swayed slightly in the specially made oversized chair, and beneath the glass helmet, his face bore a childlike, pure delight that was nevertheless terrifying to behold.
As if what he had just witnessed had not been a bloody fight and escape, but a carefully staged farce.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
Saint Charlos clapped his fleshy hands, his tiny eyes narrowing into slits beneath the glass helmet.
"They scurried around like rats, and in the end, they actually got away. These lowly people can occasionally be entertaining to watch."
His voice came through the glass helmet with a strange hum, his tone as relaxed as if he were reviewing a circus performance.
Yet the Auction House manager kneeling beside his chair, his forehead pressed tightly against the floor as he trembled, felt as though he had fallen into an icy abyss.
"S-Saint Charlos, sir."
The manager's voice shook, sweat already soaking through the back of his expensive formalwear.
"My deepest apologies for frightening you! Our guards failed in their duty and allowed those filthy pirates to disrupt your enjoyment! We will definitely capture every one of them and bring them before you for whatever punishment you desire!"
"Punishment? How should they be punished?"
Saint Charlos tilted his head, seeming quite interested in the word.
As if he had grasped a lifeline, the manager hurriedly said:
"Skin them alive! Tear out their tendons! Or throw them into the beast arena to feed the wild beasts! Any method you like will do!"
"Hmm~"
Saint Charlos rubbed his fleshy chin as though he were genuinely considering it.
Then, as if he had suddenly remembered something, his tone turned cold:
"But it seems that the things I bought also ran away."
He was referring to the three Fishman Boys.
Although pirates had rescued them at the last moment, Saint Charlos had already bid for them according to legal procedure. They were his property.
The manager's body stiffened abruptly, cold sweat pouring out like a waterfall.
"M-My lord... th-that was an accident... We..."
"An accident?"
Saint Charlos cut him off. The faint amusement in his voice vanished completely, leaving only icy indifference:
"The things I wanted to buy were snatched away by a group of rats right before my eyes. And then you tell me it was an accident?"
His gaze passed through the glass helmet and settled on the manager's trembling back.
There was no anger in that gaze, only the detached scrutiny of someone looking down on an insect.
"In other words, you useless trash failed to maintain order in the Auction House and let a group of lowly pirates cause trouble and kill people.
You also failed to protect my property and let it be taken away.
And in the end, you let that group of rats escape right in front of me!"
Saint Charlos summarized unhurriedly.
Every word was like an ice pick driven viciously into the manager's heart.
"No! That's not it! My lord! We can compensate you! Another group of fishmen will be arriving on the island soon!"
The manager lifted his head in terror, trying to explain himself.
But what he saw was Saint Charlos slowly raising his right hand.
That fat, pale hand held an ornate golden pistol encrusted with gemstones.
The barrel was aimed directly at his forehead.
"Trash."
Saint Charlos uttered the word softly, his tone as flat as if he were remarking that the weather was pleasant today.
Bang!
The crisp gunshot echoed through the silent Auction House.
A bloody hole instantly appeared in the manager's forehead.
The terror and pleading on his face froze forever. His body collapsed backward, blood gushing from the back of his head and soaking the lavish carpet.
The entire hall fell deathly silent.
Even the injured guards instinctively lowered their groans.
Everyone lowered their heads, not daring to look at the corpse, much less at the Celestial Dragon who had fired the shot.
Saint Charlos blew the smoke from the muzzle.
He casually tossed the priceless golden pistol to the black-clad bodyguard standing behind him.
As if he were merely throwing away a toy he had grown tired of.
"Boring."
He yawned and shifted his fat body in the chair.
"Let's return to the palace. Even the air here has been dirtied by the blood of lowly people."
"Yes, Saint Charlos."
The bodyguards bowed in response and skillfully lifted his specially made palanquin, which resembled a miniature palace.
The palanquin rose steadily and headed toward the exit of the Auction House, surrounded by Black-Clad Bodyguards.
When it passed the corpse, it did not pause in the slightest, as though it were nothing more than an inconspicuous stone in the road.
Only after the Celestial Dragon's entourage had completely disappeared through the doorway did the frozen air in the Auction House seem to flow again.
The Vice Captain stared grimly at the manager's corpse and forced out an order through clenched teeth:
"Clean up the scene and send all injured personnel for treatment. Contact the family headquarters immediately and report what happened, especially Saint Charlos's reaction."
He paused, a ruthless glint flashing through his eyes.
"As for those pirates, issue the highest-level manhunt order. Dead or alive, I want them found. Especially that swordsman and those three fishmen. They must be captured and brought back!"
"Yes!"
Inside the Auction House, the stench of blood mingled with powder and dust. Servants silently began clearing away corpses and bloodstains, repairing the damage.
Meanwhile, protected by their bodyguards, the nobles left one after another with satisfied expressions.
As though they had just watched another fine show.