The dust settled, revealing Wilder in his black cloak. Momonga's face was etched with shock, his eyes narrowed with gravity, a bead of sweat on his temple. Watching the figure before him, his grip on his sword hilt tightened; he felt this was a troublesome situation. Apoo sat on the ground, rubbing his neck with one hand, staring blankly, utterly speechless and deeply wary.
"A sword strike like that, how many more times can you use it?" Wilder's voice suddenly cut in, calm and low. As he spoke, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps began, and he walked towards Momonga.
Momonga looked up at him, the bead of sweat finally trickling down his temple. Eyes half-lidded, he said, "A few dozen more times wouldn't be a problem." His voice was nonchalant, yet conveyed fearless determination.
"Is that so…" Wilder stopped, his eyelids lifting slightly, his gaze calm and unwavering as it fixed on Momonga. His plain words, however, made Momonga grit his teeth, his pupils involuntarily contracting. "And I can probably shatter a hundred more… of those strikes."
The words struck Momonga to the core. Of course, as a battle-hardened Marine HQ Vice Admiral, he regained his composure in the next instant. He looked up at Wilder with calm eyes. "That's just right then. That brat Apoo probably still has some tricks up his sleeve. Should be enough." As he spoke, he widened his stance slightly, drew his sword, holding it horizontally before him, his eyes sharp and composed, staring directly at Wilder.
The battle began without any warning! Both figures rushed towards each other. A collision, the air cracked, and both swiftly retreated. Then, another person joined the fray—it was Apoo, who had managed to straighten his neck. The two of them against Wilder alone. For a time, the fight was incredibly intense and evenly matched. The sounds of impact and the shockwaves from their attacks radiated outwards, the momentum terrifying and relentless. The three-way battle was dazzlingly fast—so fast it was impossible to clearly see who swung a sword or who threw a punch.
Half an hour later, the area was riddled with craters, sword gashes, fist imprints, depressions, and fissures everywhere. The sounds of battle gradually subsided, until finally, they ceased completely. All was still.
The sound of scattered footsteps approached from the dense forest. About a dozen men in Marine uniforms rushed over, led by an officer. When this group emerged from the dense forest into the wide, devastated area and saw the scene, they were stunned speechless. Especially the leading officer; when his gaze shifted and fell upon his direct superior, Momonga, kneeling on the ground with an expressionless face, cold sweat broke out on his palms, and his heart began to pound violently.
"Mr. Momonga!" The officer quickly ran over to support Momonga, his face somewhat pale.
"I'm fine." Momonga pulled his arm away and stood up. He gazed into the empty distance for a long moment, then sighed and retracted his gaze. "Played again." Turning to his adjutant beside him, he waved a hand, indicating this wasn't his concern.
"Vice Admiral Momonga..." Seeing Momonga's pale face and the trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, the officer hesitated, unsure what to say. He opened his mouth, his lips trembling, but no sound came out.
"A fearsome fellow showed up. Apoo got away." Momonga understood his thoughts. He paused, his gaze unsettled, and looked deeply in the direction the cloaked man had left before speaking. Encountering that unknown individual was purely accidental, something Momonga hadn't anticipated. This was the reason for this setback, why Apoo had seized the opportunity to escape.
"When we get back, I'll describe the man's general appearance to you. Although he was always hidden in a black cloak, his physique couldn't be completely concealed. Record this information; perhaps we'll encounter him again someday."
"Also, mobilize personnel and lock down the island."
"Yes, sir."
No one dared to ask about the battle. After all, one look at Momonga's condition was enough to guess that things hadn't gone perfectly. Only Momonga knew he had been defeated. Although being tricked by Apoo later was a factor, a loss was a loss. It wasn't an unjust defeat, even if he was reluctant to admit it in his heart. "That fellow..." The image of the black-cloaked figure flashed through Momonga's mind, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
…
Meanwhile, Wilder had already left five minutes before the battle concluded. He rejoined the main street, the excitement and thrill in his heart gradually subsiding. Next, the island would surely see a large influx of Marines searching for Apoo and himself. It was very likely they would implement an island lockdown. He'd have to be careful to stay hidden, Wilder thought, then looked up. A sign reeking of new money hung above, with five large, dazzlingly golden characters written on it—Koron Auction House.
He stepped inside. At the entrance, he was stopped by guards. After some questioning, and tossing out a handful of Beli, Wilder smoothly entered the auction house. As the saying goes, the most dangerous place is the safest place. Wilder hadn't had his fill of exploring yet; naturally, he wouldn't just leave. The auction house was crowded and bustling with all sorts of people, making it a good hiding spot. Besides, Wilder wanted to see what an auction in this world was like. Perhaps some good items would appear. If he found something interesting, Wilder wouldn't mind bidding for it.
He secretly left dozens of swamp creatures, smaller than a baby's fist, around the auction hall. After some experimentation, he reshaped them to look like rats. After giving them surveillance commands, Wilder went to the stands and sat down.
Wilder divided the surveillance swamp creatures into two groups. One part was responsible for fixed-point monitoring, mainly to see if any Marines entered. The other part was to move freely, infiltrating the hidden corners of the auction house, collecting any and all visual information, useful or not.
This was a newly developed use Wilder had found, a function he'd discovered unintentionally. There was a subtle connection between him and the swamp creatures, something he'd realized when he first gained the ability, though he hadn't paid much attention to it. Unexpectedly, this connection had given him a pleasant surprise. During another accidental experiment, Wilder had been amazed to discover he possessed the ability to share "vision" with his swamp creatures. This so-called vision wasn't true sight in the normal sense, though perhaps it could be called that. There were some differences; it was like an extension of Wilder's Observation Haki. If Wilder were a central computer, then the swamp creatures were terminals connected to him via a network. The swamp creatures had no eyes or ears, yet they could "see" and "hear." Not only that, but Wilder could also "turn off" the real-time shared perception. The swamp creatures would then only alert Wilder via a one-way signal, based on his prior instructions, if they detected what they deemed "significant activity."
"What kind of scene would it be if I could elevate this new ability to its ultimate use one day?" Wilder thought as he sat in the stands, an image of a swamp creature army appearing in his mind. "Or perhaps… scouts? Spies? An information-gathering unit?" Wilder thought of many possibilities. In his heart, these were not beyond realization. Not just this new ability of the swamp creatures; given time, Wilder believed all the ideas about his swamp powers that had ever occurred to him would be achieved one by one.
More and more people took their seats in the stands. Wilder glanced around; many were just entering. It seemed he had arrived relatively early. As more people sat down, the stands became crowded. Wilder, in his black cloak, was inconspicuous in the sea of people. Wilder had put on his mask long before entering the auction house. Even though he wore a cloak and was shrouded in shadow, the place was crowded, and it was inevitable that someone nearby might see his face. Wilder was always willing to take precautions.
Before long, the auction began. The auctioneer was a young man, well-dressed, with a professional smile. He first bowed slightly to the audience in the stands, then began his opening remarks for the auction.
"This time, our auction will feature an unprecedented treasure! We invite everyone to participate enthusiastically!" The auctioneer spoke from the stage below, piquing everyone's curiosity and exciting some. Everyone eagerly anticipated what kind of item the Koron Auction House would present today that dared to be called a "treasure." They remembered the last time, two years ago, when Koron Auction House had auctioned a Devil Fruit. The word "treasure" had been used then too, causing a sensation at the time. Anyone with a bit of knowledge had fought like mad for that Devil Fruit. It was said that a merchant from the North Blue had eventually obtained it.
Listening to the hushed discussions around him, Wilder, who had initially just planned to observe, found his interest piqued. A Devil Fruit. Anything that could be ranked alongside it surely wouldn't be much inferior. However, what made Wilder surprised and skeptical was: could this auction house truly produce such a fine item? It wasn't that Wilder looked down on this auction house's capabilities, but rather the general situation in the East Blue. There were reasons it was called the weakest sea. While undeniable that some hidden powerhouses existed, generally speaking, it was somewhat improbable for an East Blue auction house to auction something extraordinarily valuable and rare. If they truly could, if it were an individual, that might be one thing. But if it were a faction, they wouldn't be unknown; they would have long since become famous throughout the East Blue, or even the world. Just like the Germa Kingdom. Despite their utmost efforts to hide, weren't they still known to the world in certain respects? These things couldn't be concealed. Clearly, an auction house was also a type of faction. Since they could auction something like a Devil Fruit—even if it were a Zoan type—it meant this auction house was not simple. It required significant strength to guarantee security; at the very least, its backing was not simple.
Inconspicuously scanning his surroundings, Wilder activated the shared perception with his swamp creatures. He then silently sat up straight, turning his attention to the auction that was about to officially begin. The auction officially began. As per custom and routine, the initial items were mostly inconsequential things—at least, in the eyes of some, these items were purely filler. It wasn't until one particular item was presented that the atmosphere in the auction house livened up. It was a Ryo Wazamono grade sword, named Folding Echo. When Folding Echo was brought out, the discussions and bidding calls in the auction house paused for a moment. Then, some people's eyes lit up with fervor, staring intently at the Ryo Wazamono sword with its white hilt and red pattern.
"One of the fifty Ryo Wazamono, the famed sword Folding Echo. Starting bid: five million Beli," the young auctioneer said calmly, his smiling gaze sweeping over the audience.
"Six million!" As soon as he finished, someone immediately and eagerly shouted a bid!
"Eight million!" Another person followed up the next second.
"Ten million!"
"Twenty-five million!" This jump was quite large, causing many to frown and look towards the source of the bid. A pot-bellied man with large ears, wearing a purple-collared suit, lowered his paddle with an arrogant smile. His gaze shifted, sweeping over those looking at him, and he gave a disdainful sneer. "Hmph!" With a cold snort, the crowd retracted their gazes, saying nothing. Evidently, the large-eared, pot-bellied man had quite a reputation; no one wanted to offend him.
"Thirty million," a faint voice came from the stands, breaking the calm. Thirty million for a Ryo Wazamono grade sword—the price was neither too high nor too low. The market price wasn't this high, but at an auction, it wasn't incomprehensible for someone who fancied famed swords to bid thirty million. However, this voice made everyone in the stands turn to look. At the same time, the large-eared, pot-bellied man's face turned gloomy, his eyes, glinting dangerously, shot towards the direction of the voice. A figure in a black cloak sat quietly in the stands. The surrounding gazes seemed to have no effect on him. Clearly, this was the owner of the voice.
"Who is this guy?" Whispers spread among those looking. Even the auctioneer below looked towards the stands with some surprise, then retracted his gaze and smiled slightly. "Thirty million, going once."
"Forty million!" the large-eared, pot-bellied man immediately shouted, then turned to glare at Wilder with a fierce, warning look.
"Forty million, going once!"
"Forty million, going twice!"
"Forty million, going three times!"
The crowd's gaze once again fell on Wilder in the stands. For some reason, they felt a little disappointed, perhaps because he didn't continue to compete with "Fat Head."
"Sold!" The gavel fell, sealing the deal!
Wilder's fingers, hidden in his black cloak, twitched. The shadows concealed his face, making his expression unreadable. Forty million for a sword had far exceeded its value, even if… it was a famed sword, and even if… this was an auction house. Wilder wouldn't do that. Of course, he had bid thirty million simply because he felt it was appropriate; there was no intentional contention. Since the other party wanted it and was willing to pay a far exceeding price, there was no need for such a meaningless act as continuing to bid just for the sake of face.
The reason his fingers hidden under the black cloak twitched was because the swamp creatures distributed within the auction house had sent news.