Bab 76: Chaos
Once the cell was empty, Jack turned his back on the now vacant enclosure. He walked away with the same casual indifference he had shown when he first arrived, as though he had simply been passing through, as though their liberation was just a byproduct of his personal agenda.
Vanishing into the Bead's space only to reappear in a flurry of more flamboyant attire, Jack casually materialized in the seating area of the auction house. He chose a shadowed corner, at the rear, and eased into the seat, his icy-blue eyes trained on the stage.
On the outside, his demeanor was casual, detached, as if he was just another spectator in this macabre show. But on the inside, a storm was brewing, his heart pounding with a singular purpose. He wasn't here to play the hero, rescuing slaves was just a by-product of his actual mission. He was here for personal business, and he intended to crush the auction house with the fury of the World Nobles themselves.
A hush fell over the auction house as the main event began. The auctioneer, a rotund man with a sycophantic grin plastered on his face, stepped onto the stage. His oily voice reverberated through the packed hall, making introductions and attempting to flatter the high society guests present - the World Nobles.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to today's grand event! As you are well aware, we have quite the lineup of exotic creatures and individuals. A splendid opportunity to expand your collection," he announced, his hands gesturing dramatically.
Jack listened to the auctioneer's insincere flattery and empty words, his gaze never straying from the stage. A glint of anticipation flickered in his icy-blue eyes. He knew what was coming and he was ready for it.
The auctioneer, in his attempt to amp up the atmosphere, declared with a theatrical flourish, "Let us proceed with the first lot, a rare specimen of Fishman from the depths of the sea..."
The audience leaned forward in anticipation, the excitement was palpable. But as the cage door swung open, it revealed an empty cell. The silence that ensued was deafening.
"What is this? Where is the slave?" The auctioneer stammered, his oily charm replaced by bewilderment and terror. A low murmur ran through the crowd, as they too began to realize that something was amiss.
Seizing this moment of confusion, Jack casually leaned back in his seat, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He watched as the auctioneer scrambled to regain control, but it was clear that the situation was spiraling out of control. Jack was merely a spectator now, watching the unfolding chaos with detached amusement.
The World Nobles were the first to react. One of them, a man draped in gaudy finery, rose to his feet, his face red with anger. "What is the meaning of this? Where are the slaves?"
Jack's grin widened at the outburst. He had anticipated their fury and had counted on it. Their arrogance and entitlement would be the downfall of the auction house, and he was just the spark that ignited the flame.
The World Noble, bloated and pompous, his head encased in a bubble as he ostentatiously refused to breathe the same air as the common people, stood up in a huff. His face, a mask of outrage, turned an unflattering shade of puce. His fat fingers clenched into fists, the ostentatious rings on them glittering under the harsh lighting.
"GIVE ME MY KUJA SLAVE!" he demanded, his voice echoed around the hall, causing the murmurs of confusion to swiftly turn into a cacophony of panic. The auction house, which moments ago was a hive of excitement and anticipation, was now teetering on the brink of chaos.
Jack, seated comfortably in his corner, smirked at the unfolding chaos. His icy-blue eyes were fixated on the World Noble, watching his every reaction with an almost predatory focus.
The auctioneer, a bead of sweat trickling down his chubby face, tried to placate the irate World Noble. His sycophantic tone was replaced by one of panic. "I-I assure you, Sir, we are doing our utmost to locate the slaves. There must be some misunderstanding."
The World Noble shouted, his voice booming through the auction house. "BRING THIS PLACE DOWN! HOW DARE THEY TOY WITH A GOD! FIND MY SLAVES!"
His guards, flanking him on either side, tried to placate him, but his rage was blinding, his sense of entitlement bristling like an enraged beast. In his fit of fury, he drew a gun, his fingers wrapped around the cold metal as he pointed it at one of his guards. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. A sharp bang resonated through the hall, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground.
The echo of the gunshot was like a clarion call. The World Noble's other guards, in an act of self-preservation, began attacking indiscriminately, tearing down the walls and causing a pandemonium. One of them took aim at the Auctioneer and fired, the man crumpling to the ground, a scream cut short.
"Secure the exits! No one leaves!" One of the World Noble's guards roared, their voice barely audible above the ensuing chaos. The crowd, which was moments ago an audience to a horrific spectacle, was now running, their screams bouncing off the walls.
From his perch in the shadowed corner, Jack watched the world descend into chaos with an air of detached indifference. The cries of the terrified and the dying, the sharp crack of gunfire, the futile pleas for mercy – all of it washed over him, a grotesque symphony of desperation and violence. His icy-blue eyes narrowed, a faint echo of contempt playing out in their depths. These were the same people who had come to partake in the depraved spectacle of slave trading, their pockets filled with gold and their hearts devoid of empathy.
Now, their wealth was worthless and their screams fell on deaf ears. The room was a frenzy of fear and confusion, a tableau of hellish pandemonium. It was poetic justice, Jack mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The mighty, brought low. The powerful, humbled by fear. The predators, now the prey.
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Power 
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