Makarov had never once spoken to Su Yan about the Alvarez Empire on the Western Continent.
Even with Su Yan's immense strength, the old man always tried to shield his children from such burdens, hoping they could live in peace and happiness. The weight of protecting the entire continent—Makarov chose to bear it alone.
What he didn't know, however, was that Su Yan had already set his sights on the Western Continent… and that Zeref had already declared war.
Not a duel between two men—this would be a war between two continents.
Over the past year, the Magic Council had been steadily expanding its military. During guild master meetings, some sharp presidents began to voice their suspicions. None of them were fools. A Council led by so many powerful mages had no reason to expand its forces so aggressively—unless something was coming.
This was not the same Council of the past.
Now, the new Magic Council was made up of five councilors, all of whom were members of the Ten Wizard Saints. With these figures guiding it, the Council was no longer just a bureaucratic farce—it had real strength.
Under their watch, the three great dark guilds had been eliminated, and the remnants of the underworld had scurried into hiding like rats. None dared show themselves openly on the continent of Ishgar anymore.
So why expand further? Clearly, something greater loomed beyond Ishgar's shores.
Some turned to Su Yan for answers, knowing Makarov now sat among the Council. Su Yan only feigned ignorance. But the more perceptive guild masters were already beginning to suspect: with the Wizard Saints themselves at the helm, the only real threat left was not from Ishgar's dark guilds… but from beyond the sea.
Still, there was no proof. Only uneasy speculation.
The Alvarez Capital
"His Majesty the Emperor has returned!!"
"It's been a year since he last set foot here!"
"Long live Emperor Spriggan!!"
The streets of Alvarez's capital overflowed with people, lining the sides while leaving the central avenue clear. The cheers of countless citizens rose as one.
At the end of that road walked their emperor—Zeref. To the people of Alvarez, he was no mere ruler. He was their savior, their god. His face never aged, only further cementing their belief in him.
"Long live His Majesty!!"
The voices of the people shook the sky.
The Imperial Palace
"Welcome back, Your Majesty," came a calm voice as Zeref entered the grand hall.
A tall man in a trench coat and glasses, precise and meticulous in appearance, bowed deeply. This was Invel, the Winter General—one of the Twelve Shields of Alvarez. In Zeref's absence, he acted as steward of the empire.
"I'm back, Invel," Zeref said. "It may be sudden, but… can you assemble the Twelve within the hour?"
Invel hesitated. The Twelve Shields were scattered across the Western Continent, each guarding vital strongholds. To summon them all in such a short span… "Your Majesty, such a gathering is like an unpredictable storm. I could not have prepared them in advance—"
"Are you saying I'm fickle, like the wind?" Zeref's tone held a trace of amusement.
Before Invel could answer, a voice cut in with a laugh.
"No, not the spring wind. The wind of darkness—the wind that summons death."
It was Dimaria, the War Princess, another of the Twelve Shields.
"And I—" another voice bellowed, deep and booming—"I am the sandstorm that sweeps across the desert of death!!"
The speaker was bare-chested, with spiral brown hair, dark skin, a yellow turban, and golden bracelets. His presence radiated raw, violent power. This was Ajeel, the Desert King, also one of the Twelve.
"Dimaria. Ajeel." Zeref acknowledged them with a faint smile. "It's good to see you both."
Invel bristled at their casual demeanor. "You two! Show proper respect to His Majesty!"
"Enough, Invel," Zeref said lightly.
Just then, another figure entered—the strongest of the Twelve Shields. An elderly man with immense magical presence, the Sorcerer King, August.
"Your Majesty," August said, "your face looks brighter than before. It seems your heart has grown lighter."
"Perhaps," Zeref admitted with a smile.
"Then… you've decided, haven't you?" August asked quietly. "About the final war."
The Desert King let out a roar of laughter. "War!! At last!! Magnificent!!"
The other Shields began to smile as well.
The Alvarez Empire had long since unified the Western Continent. Its armies were unmatched. The only frontier left was Ishgar.
The demons of Tartaros—mere discarded creations—had been enough to wound Ishgar's Magic Council. What then of the Twelve Shields, Zeref's personally chosen and honed warriors?
For years, their invasion had been restrained only by Zeref's command. But now, the leash was gone.
At last, the war they had long awaited would begin.