Lucifer: The Swamp Fruit

The transaction was set for five days later. After exchanging contact methods with the three in the room, Wilder walked out. The three remaining in the room watched his retreating back. When they came to their senses, they exchanged glances, speechless, unsure what to say. The turn of events was somewhat beyond their expectations. The middle-aged man, the public face of Koron Auction House, just wanted some peace and quiet right now.

When Wilder had spoken those words, they had actually understood: refusal was not an option. The reason was simple. Refusal meant that the exposure of this place would become an absolute certainty; there was no longer any question of "maybe" or "maybe not." Compared to the series of changes that exposure would bring and the subsequent impact on their plans, cooperation was the only choice. In truth, it was because they had no choice.

After the decision was made, one of the two cloaked figures went to a corner, dialed a Den Den Mushi, and reported the situation upwards. Of course, Wilder had already left by this time.

"You've done well. If there's an opportunity, you can deepen the cooperation with him."

When this was the response from the Den Den Mushi, all three in the room were stunned. How could this be? Why would they want to deepen the cooperation?

"Staff Officer, that man... he's an unknown. We know nothing about him. Doing this, won't it be..." the cloaked figure stammered.

"Exactly. That's why you need to deepen the cooperation."

"Huh?" The three were completely baffled.

"Hahaha! Relax. As long as the arms he provides can satisfy us, cooperation is cooperation, no matter who it's with, right? As for not knowing him, won't we get to know him once we cooperate? To have a stable arms channel in the East Blue, isn't that what we've always wanted? What we do is noble, and it may seem contrary to these instruments of disaster, but at the same time, we also need these instruments of disaster to achieve greatness!"

Though the voice on the other end of the Den Den Mushi sounded young, it carried an incongruous maturity and dominance. Instantly, these words stunned the three of them.

"Yes, I understand!"

After hanging up the Den Den Mushi, the three still hadn't fully recovered. They were stunned for a long while before one of them spoke: "Do you think... he'll get caught? The Marines have surrounded the outside."

Exactly! The other two exchanged startled glances. How had they not thought of that? The man was all alone! How would he leave this place?! This… if he really got caught by the Marines, and they had just reported the matter upwards, then having to explain later that the cooperation fell through because he was captured—wouldn't that make them look like they were being played for fools?! At this thought, the three could no longer remain calm.

"Quick, quick! Don't we have external surveillance? And the internal feeds, turn them all on! All of them!" the middle-aged man frantically called out, then suddenly remembered he was the master of this room and only he could control the surveillance. He darted over to the console and furiously pressed a series of buttons. The three huddled together, anxiously watching the surveillance screens.

Outside, in the auction hall, the Marine search continued. The young auctioneer had called security personnel to calm the guests while also communicating with the Marines.

"Are you saying no one in a black cloak has been here?" Momonga's gaze was like a torch, fixed on the young auctioneer, his face expressionless.

"Yes, Vice Admiral," the young auctioneer replied calmly, maintaining his smile.

"I'll search a little longer." Momonga looked at him for a moment before saying this faintly. After all, he knew he was disrupting their business. They had cooperated as required. Putting himself in their shoes, their telling him the person he sought wasn't there was also to save time and resume normal operations. Momonga had at least that much magnanimity.

"Very well." The young auctioneer didn't say much more, just nodded and turned to walk away, though his heart was anxious about where that man had gone. He had also seen Wilder leave earlier. He'd assumed the man was just going to the restroom or something similar. Although he had signaled a nearby guard to follow him, he hadn't paid it too much mind. But thinking about it now, had the man not returned for so long because… could he be one of their own? Gone to see the "boss" on a mission? This was why he had just lied about not seeing the man. After all, if he were one of their own, speaking up would have endangered him.

The Marine search wasn't limited to the auction hall; it extended deep into the auction house's interior, but ultimately, they didn't find their target. As for that particular room, it wasn't a place ordinary people could find. Momonga frowned and waved his hand. The Marines, who had surged in like a tide, retreated like one as well.

"Phew!" Seeing the Marines withdraw from the auction hall, the three in the room collectively sighed in relief, their hearts easing. After all, if that man had truly been caught, it wouldn't have benefited them; on the contrary, it might have led to their exposure, which they didn't want to see. Fortunately, everything had passed without any real danger.

"But how did he leave?"

"Who knows? Maybe he hasn't left yet and is just hiding? Someone like that definitely has ways to evade a search. We worried for nothing," the middle-aged man said, reverting to his listless demeanor.

The other two rolled their eyes in unison. The matter was considered closed.

...

Meanwhile, Wilder had indeed already left. The Marine lockdown might have been a real problem for others of his combat level, but for him, it was practically a joke. As long as he wasn't targeted from the very beginning—like during the Summit War, where Kizaru had him pinned down so tightly he didn't even have a chance to show his face—in situations like the recent one, Wilder could very euphemistically say: one hundred percent useless. As long as he wasn't seen beforehand, he just needed to burrow into the ground to pass through the encirclement unimpeded, in a way no one would expect. Of course, for the sake of concealment and avoiding identity exposure, Wilder had specifically restored the swamp-ified underground passage to its original state before leaving. This way, it was done without anyone knowing, and no one could discover his identity.

"However, I can't stay on this island now. And with so many people around, it's not convenient to notify Claire and the others. Looks like I'll have to find a nearby island to hide out on, one not too far from here, so I can stay informed about the situation here." Wilder thought for a moment and decided against contacting the Black Serpent just yet. He planned to inform them about the arms deal after reaching a nearby island.

His journey was unimpeded. Whenever he encountered areas with Marine presence, Wilder would burrow underground and emerge where there were no Marines. Soon, he reached the port. Donning some clothes he'd casually acquired, Wilder hid his black cloak underneath, put on his mask, and boarded a merchant ship with his head held high. Some nearby Marines glanced at Wilder, hesitated, but ultimately didn't follow.

"Where to?" the merchant ship's captain asked as they left the pier. He wouldn't refuse to take on "passengers"; after all, who would turn down a chance to earn money?

"The closest island to here. What do you say?" Due to his taller-than-average stature and the mask, Wilder currently exuded a strong sense of pressure.

The crewman who had asked retreated a few steps, unconsciously swallowing. He averted his gaze from Wilder and, feigning nonchalance, whistled as he said, "Oh, I know that one. White Crow Island, right?" Saying this, the crewman gave Wilder a somewhat strange look. "What are you going there for? I heard things haven't been too good there lately."

"How so?" Wilder's low voice came from beneath his mask.

"Well… I don't know the specifics, just heard something seems to have happened," the crewman said, muttering to himself. He was undoubtedly a chatterbox.

"I see. Thanks." Wilder pulled out a not-too-thick, not-too-thin wad of Beli from his pocket and stuffed it into the stunned chatterbox crewman's hand.

"Gak... gak..." The talkative crewman's throat seemed to catch. He stared blankly at the wad of large-denomination Beli in his hands. After a long moment, he snapped out of it, overcome with excitement. "Thank you! Thank you, sir! I guarantee I'll serve only you for the entire journey!"

Heh… money. Beneath his mask, Wilder gave a scornful smile and shook his head. He turned to leave, but his voice reached the chatterbox crewman's ears: "We're going to White Crow Island. Also, arrange a room for me."

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" Accompanied by unwavering shouts, the sound of feet snapping to attention came from behind. Wilder didn't need to look back to know the man was undoubtedly in full sycophant mode.

The power of money held endless possibilities. Before long, Wilder was lying on a comfortable, spacious bed. He closed his eyes to rest. The journey passed without incident. Half a day later, White Crow Island was visible in the distance. From afar, White Crow Island lived up to its name; its shape resembled a white crow.

A white crow… "Truly contradictory."

After the ship docked, Wilder blended in with the disembarking crowd and got off. He found an inn to stay at. In his room, Wilder dialed the Den Den Mushi for the Black Serpent headquarters.

"Claire, inform the armaments factory to expedite the production of guns and artillery. Two days from now…" After informing Claire about the transaction, Wilder hung up.

Afterward, Wilder planned to go out for a stroll. After all, he had nothing particular to do here at the moment. He had come here mainly to evade the Marine search and also because it was relatively close to the previous island, allowing him to stay informed about the situation there. There was a town on the island, divided into an inner city and an outer city. Wilder was currently staying in the outer city. The style and culture were largely similar to other places, with minor differences.

However, as Wilder walked from the outer city towards the inner city, he frowned and stopped. The closer he got to the inner city, the fewer people there were around. By the time he neared the city gate, the surroundings were completely deserted, a scene of desolation. A piece of rolled-up paper on the ground was blown by the wind, spun a few times, and then settled a short distance away. An air of decay permeated the area outside the city gate.

"It's like two completely separate places: one prosperous, the other bleak. What exactly happened here?" He recalled what the crewman had said before their arrival.

As he was pondering, his gaze shifted, and Wilder looked towards a corner just outside the city gate. A small figure was huddled in the corner, curled up with its knees hugged to its chest. It was peeking out, its head half-hidden, two bright, dark round eyes looking towards Wilder. Its face was grimy, likely with snot and dirt. Its clothes were tattered and ill-fitting, probably a size too small. Torn trouser legs revealed two weather-beaten calves covered in white, flaky skin, with traces of dried blood—clearly signs of frostbite. If one ignored all that… perhaps it was a cute child, Wilder thought to himself.

But he didn't intend to do anything. If he were eating at that moment and had a few pieces of bread, Wilder wouldn't mind tossing one to her. But he didn't, and it wasn't mealtime. He wouldn't go out of his way to buy a bag of bread in town to give to her.

"Um..." a small, clear voice sounded faintly.

Wilder looked down at the tiny person standing before him, barely reaching his knees, his gaze calm and emotionless. It was a girl… probably only five or six years old.

"Hello, mister…" The girl lifted a small, still slightly chubby hand and vigorously wiped her face. Then she looked up, trying her best to make her smile appear more endearing. "Could you give me a little something to eat?" Her small hands clutched the hem of her clothes, trying hard to hide her nervousness.

"Sorry, I don't have any food," Wilder said, looking at her briefly before averting his gaze, his voice as calm as his eyes.

"Oh… that's okay." The little girl's face clearly showed disappointment, but she quickly shook her head and flashed a bright smile. "Then… goodbye, mister," she said faintly. The little girl clutched her sunken stomach, lowered her head, and turned away in disappointment. Her small, thin figure looked incredibly helpless.

"Mister, don't go in there, okay? There are bad people inside." As Wilder watched the little girl's back, her steps unsteadily toddling, not befitting her age, towards the corner, he saw her pause, turn around, her thin eyebrows furrowed with a comically adult expression, and she offered a warning.

The inner city gate wasn't locked; a gentle push would allow one to enter. As Wilder walked towards it, he glanced to the side and saw the little girl huddled in the corner again. Seeing Wilder about to push the gate open, she stealthily lifted half her head to look, her eyes worried. She wanted to say something but didn't dare. When Wilder looked her way, she quickly buried her head in her knees again.

Without saying anything, Wilder averted his gaze, pushed open the gate, and stepped inside. After Wilder went in, while the gate hadn't swung shut yet, the little girl in the corner stealthily peeked up, hesitated for a moment, and then slipped through the doorway. The two didn't meet. The moment Wilder stepped through the gate, he vanished from the spot.

"Something's not right about this place." Frowning slightly, Wilder stood on a rooftop, overlooking the empty street below.

Rustle, rustle… Just then, a sound came from around the corner of the street.