The Four Wizard Saints of Ishgar knew instantly—this was no time for pride.
Normally, they fought alone, each a legend who could overwhelm armies. But the man before them… this was no ordinary foe.
This was August, the Magic King.
Together, they unleashed their might.
Warrod pressed his hands into the soil. Great trees erupted like anaconda-sized vines, surging toward August.
"Plant magic… ah. The remnants of His Majesty's teachings in Ishgar," August murmured. His staff flicked, and the entire forest bent away, diverted as though the world itself obeyed him.
"What?!" Warrod gasped, his control stolen.
Jura followed up instantly, summoning stone and iron pillars that lunged at August like battering rams.
But the Sorcerer King only raised his hand. The same pillars rose beneath his feet, his own version of Jura's spell.
"This is—my magic?!" Jura's eyes went wide.
August's calm voice carried like a judge's verdict.
"Your earth magic is common… but refined. Against most of the Twelve Shields, you could be dangerous. That is precisely why I must erase you."
His words struck harder than the spells. August wasn't mocking—he was evaluating them like specimens.
Wolfheim snarled, his orc-form fists pounding against the golden barrier August conjured. The Shield didn't even glance at him, instead turning toward Hyberion.
"Blood magic. Subtle, indirect, yet perilous. The ability to drain without touch… yes, a truly dangerous art."
Hyberion's jaw tightened. "As expected of the Magic King… even my magic is already in your grasp."
The air shifted. August's staff tapped the ground.
"Boom!!!"
The earth erupted, Warrod's own tree magic bursting forth—only this time, it was August controlling it. The Saints were entangled and hurled skyward.
"Impossible…!" Warrod's voice cracked.
Then came Jura's rock pillars, smashing them midair.
"Ughhh!!!" The Saints cried out in pain.
And then—Hyberion's blood magic turned on them. Their veins burned, life-force draining.
"Our own magics… turned against us…!" Jura gasped, collapsing.
In an instant, August had wielded three of their magics at once, crushing them with their own power.
Fairy Tail Guild
Warren's eyes widened over the radar.
"No…! The eastern battlefield—! All four of Ishgar's top Wizard Saints have been defeated!!!"
"What?!"
The guild erupted in shock.
"Their power was unmatched across the continent!" one cried.
"How could they fall so fast?!" another whispered, pale.
Even Makarov faltered, disbelief on his face. He knew the Saints' strength firsthand. To see them erased so easily…
Mavis's expression hardened, though her voice stayed calm. "August… the Sorcerer King."
Back on the battlefield, the Saints lay broken, staring up at the staff now glowing with apocalyptic energy.
"You fought well," August intoned, not cruel, but merciless. "But this is war. And war spares no one."
A massive magic circle unfolded beneath them, blazing with runes of destruction.
"Boom!!!"
Pillars of fire roared upward, engulfing the Wizard Saints in a blinding inferno.
Their last thoughts flickered—
"Regret… I wanted to fight longer…"
"I wanted to see Fairy Tail win…"
"…Mavis… I wish I could've seen your smile one last time…"
The flames swallowed their voices.
And above the roaring blaze, August's calm words echoed:
"It is only natural. For I… am all magic."