Rakuya was done wasting breath. He slammed down a bid of five hundred million. If no one topped it, the Fruit was his.
"No more bids?"
Charlmaco Saint realized the room had fallen silent. He chuckled with disdain. "Six hundred million."
"What? Six hundred million?"
"Good grief. That's Logia money. Who's that rich?"
"Didn't you see? It's Charlmaco Saint."
"A Celestial Dragon? He's jumping in too?"
Whispers rippled through the hall, equal parts awe and dread. No one had expected the Celestial Dragon to bid on the Devil Fruit as well.
Seeing Charlmaco raise his paddle, Bukodi's fury morphed into gloating. He sneered at Rakuya. "Ant. A Celestial Dragon has spoken. You have no chance."
"Why are you yapping? Do I need you to tell me what chances I have?"
Rakuya tilted his head, voice light.
"Hmph."
Bukodi didn't bother arguing. As far as he was concerned, the Fruit now belonged to Charlmaco. However precious a Devil Fruit might be, no pirate would risk offending a Celestial Dragon for it.
In Bukodi's mind, Rakuya wouldn't dare compete.
Money versus power. The winner was obvious.
If Bukodi himself were bidding, a single raise from the Celestial Dragon would have ended it. Most of the onlookers thought the same.
"Sigh, the Fruit's going to the Celestial Dragon again."
"Yeah. Only a Celestial Dragon deserves it," a few sycophants chimed in, puffing up Charlmaco's arrogance even further.
Mondi, the auctioneer, winced. If the Celestial Dragon hadn't bid, the price would have climbed higher. Still, he forced a bright smile. "Any other offers?"
"Hahaha. This Fruit is already mine," Charlmaco crowed, swelling with triumph.
Before he could finish, a voice cut across the hall.
"Seven hundred million."
"What!"
"Seven hundred million!"
"Who's the idiot asking to die?"
"It's that kid. He offended Bukodi already, and now he's going to cross a Celestial Dragon?"
Every gaze swung toward the source. Bathed in the attention, Rakuya simply lifted his cup and sipped, as if he'd done nothing more than comment on the weather.
"Damn you."
Charlmaco's head snapped up, eyes bulging. Rage boiled over.
"Ant! I'll see you dead on this island today!" he roared for all to hear.
"Oh."
Rakuya didn't even look his way.
"Heh, the brat doesn't know what death is," Bukodi laughed from the shadows. "I don't have to lift a finger now. The Celestial Dragon will tear him apart."
Mondi sensibly kept his mouth shut and waited.
Charlmaco lurched to his feet, rolls of fat quivering. Swaying with each step, he stalked toward Rakuya's box, face dark as ink.
"Trash, I'll give you one chance," he said, voice carrying through the hall. "Kneel and beg, and I'll leave your corpse intact."
"Who were you calling trash?"
"You! Trash!"
Enraged, Charlmaco tripped straight into the trap. By the time he heard his own words, it was too late.
"Oh, so trash was calling me trash. Heh."
Snorts escaped the crowd.
"Pfft…"
"Sorry, Your Excellency," someone choked out between laughs.
"Gutsy kid. Insulting a Celestial Dragon to his face? He's a dead man."
"Dead or not, this is good theater. And suddenly I don't mind the kid."
Laughter rolled across the hall. Charlmaco's face turned a mottled purple, humiliation and fury boiling up like steam from a kettle.
"I'll kill you! Trash!"
Rakuya's reply was a mild, harmless smile, which only stoked the Celestial Dragon's rage.