A Little Mayhem

Despite the chaos, his gaze was fixed on the World Noble, the main orchestrator of this fiasco. His obese form was flailing, his outrage, colored by the blood of his own guard, echoing in the cavernous hall. Jack remained still, his body poised in the comfortable, slouched position he had taken when the auction had begun.

A bullet whizzed past his face, but he simply tilted his head to the side, avoiding it without any discernible effort. Observation Haki allowed him to anticipate the trajectory, to react almost before the trigger was pulled. Another bullet came, and another, and each time, Jack swerved or tilted, with a graceful, almost lazy fluidity.

His eyes never left the World Noble. The man had lost all semblance of control, his arrogant composure replaced with raw, unbridled rage. His eyes bulged, his face was an unflattering shade of red, and his shouts filled the hall. Jack couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. The so-called god was in the throes of a tantrum.

As more bullets flew, more bodies fell. Men and women, all guilty of the same crime – that of seeing fellow beings as commodities, collapsed to the ground, their lifeblood seeping into the expensive rugs.

Jack's smirk never wavered, even as a bullet grazed his arm, drawing a thin trail of blood. The pain was negligible, merely a sting, an annoyance. He didn't move from his spot, his eyes still fixed on the World Noble.

The nobility, in their finery and pomp, were helpless. Their ostentatious rings and gaudy accessories offered them no protection. Jack watched as they fell one by one, cut down by the very institution they had supported. His expression remained impassive, a stark contrast to the terror reflected in their dying eyes. There was no sympathy in him for them. They were reaping what they had sown.

Seeing his opening, Jack moved. The shift was imperceptible, a ripple in reality that seemed to bend around him. He was there one second, seated languidly in the shadowed corner of the room, a predator concealed by the flickering darkness. And in the next, he had evaporated, his form vanishing from the scene like a ghost. The chaos continued to swell, but Jack was not a part of it, he was just the puppeteer pulling the strings.

His target, the corpulent World Noble, was still seething, his rage a palpable entity in the room. Jack appeared next to him, his movement so swift, it seemed as though he had been there all along. Before the Noble could react, before he could even comprehend the situation, Jack was upon him.

A flicker of surprise flashed across the Noble's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by fear, his arrogance crumbling in the face of his impending doom. Jack reached out, his hand making contact with the flabby skin. It passed through like a phantom, a shiver of power emanating from him. In the next instant, the World Noble was gone, replaced by empty air.

The disappearance of the World Noble brought a momentary lull in the chaos, a split-second of shocked silence. But Jack was already on the move, his form blurring as he dashed towards the entrance. The World Noble's guards, still reacting to their master's sudden disappearance, didn't have a chance. Jack was upon them in a flash, their necks snapping under his expert grip.

As he emerged from the carnage of the auction house, the pandemonium seemed to die down behind him, fading into the background as if he were leaving behind a different world altogether. He didn't glance back, his gaze focused on the path ahead. His advanced observation abilities allowed him to anticipate and evade anyone in his path with an uncanny accuracy, as if he was moving in sync with the rhythm of the world.

Walking down the cobblestone streets, Jack couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge of his success. The auction house was in shambles, the institution that he had despised for so long was crumbling. And to add a cherry on top, he had managed to abduct a World Noble, a feat that would undoubtedly send shockwaves through the highest echelons of power.

Reaching the edge of Island #1, Jack made a quick, practiced leap onto the deck of the Perfume Yuda. The galleon, painted in the soft hues of a pink mansion, floated placidly in the calm waters. Its sails, proudly boasting the Jolly Roger of the Kuja Pirates, flapped gently in the breeze. At the helm, Shakky, a woman with an iron spine and steel determination, turned to face Jack.

"Move now," he commanded, an impish grin splitting his face. "Hell is about to descend on this island."

Shakky's eyes widened in shock, taken aback by the abrupt order. But she didn't allow her surprise to slow her down. Instead, she quickly barked commands to her crew. Like a well-oiled machine, they began to execute orders, their movements practiced and precise.

Jack turned his back on the chaos, making his way towards the stern. The ship, which was installed with paddle-wheels instead of a traditional rudder, was a sight to behold. Tied to the front were two Yuda, ferocious and poisonous sea-serpents, who steered the ship with an uncanny sense of direction. This unconventional mode of steering made the ship uniquely suited to traverse the danger-laden Calm Belt.

While the crew hustled about, Jack settled down at the edge of the ship. From his position, he watched as the island grew smaller with each passing moment. His cold, icy-blue eyes reflected none of the chaos he had left behind, only a calm anticipation of what was to come.

With the island dwindling into a mere dot on the horizon, Shakky sauntered over to Jack, her eyes carrying an age-old disdain for men. However, with Jack, the venom was diluted. Respect, something no man had garnered from Shakky, had sprouted in her gaze.

"What happened in there?" she asked, curiosity peeking through her harsh exterior.

Jack merely smirked. "Caused a little mayhem, that is all."

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