"That would be you, wouldn't it, Mr. Rhodes?" Hyberion confirmed with a slight nod. "Yes. There are only six of us today, and that ties directly into what we're here to discuss."
At those words, everyone settled into their seats.
Warrod sat across from Wolfheim, Makarov took a place just below Warrod, and Jura positioned himself opposite Makarov.
Rhodes ended up next to Makarov, realizing with a wry smile that he was seated at the end. It felt almost like a ranking system, and in truth, it was fitting. He was the youngest of them, the newest, and he'd been absent for six long years.
Wolfheim folded his arms, looking unsurprised. "So 'God Serena' is still out of reach?"
God Serena was ranked first among the Ten Wizard Saints. To Rhodes, however, he was still a mystery. He had seen only the occasional photograph, and rumors in the papers were wildly inconsistent. Some claimed Serena wielded fire, others wind, still others water. Without concrete information, Rhodes could only imagine him as a genius versed in multiple forms of magic.
And for someone to bear the title of "God"? That either meant his power was truly overwhelming… or his ego was.
Hyberion nodded gravely. "Yes. And it is no longer simply a matter of being unreachable. There are credible reports that he has recently appeared in the Alvarez Empire."
Wolfheim's eyes narrowed. "Alvarez Empire? On the Western Continent?"
Jura frowned. "Why would he appear there? Could it be part of some special mission?"
Warrod, ever cheerful, tilted his head. "Is this supposed to be a joke?"
But Makarov's eyes widened. He was likely the one most shaken by this news. For years he had been quietly gathering scraps of information about the Western Continent. To hear the very first confirmed news after their six-year absence, and that it involved Alvarez and a Wizard Saint, was nothing short of alarming.
Hyberion ignored Warrod's remark. "If it were merely a mission, that would be the best case. But I fear it may not be that simple." His tone grew heavier, though he withheld his darkest suspicions. "At present, the information is limited. All I can say is this: keep a close watch on developments across the sea. After all..."
His voice dropped. "They once had clear intent to invade Ishgar. And now, their military buildup appears to be accelerating. We cannot predict when that intent might resurface."
Everyone around the table nodded silently, everyone except Rhodes, who was quietly digesting what he'd just heard. Wars between nations were bad enough… but war between continents? The very thought was overwhelming.
Rhodes' impression of the West had been shaped mostly by stories: it was where Alzack and Bisca hailed from. Unlike Ishgar, with its patchwork of kingdoms, Alvarez was a single, unified empire, highly centralized and formidable. A superpower of that scale going to war would be nothing short of catastrophic.
Hyberion let the group sit with that thought, calmly draining his glass of milk. When it was empty, he refilled it and continued, "Before we move to today's main matter, I have urgent news that must first be shared with Master Makarov and Mr. Rhodes."
Both of them turned toward him, expressions tense. If Hyberion was being this deliberate, it had to be vital.
"During the six years of your disappearance," Hyberion said, his tone steady, "two of the Ten Wizard Saints passed away in succession."
"What?!" Makarov and Rhodes both froze, shocked to their cores. Neither of them had heard even a whisper of this until now.
Ulfheim lowered his gaze to the table, Warrod's laughter finally faded, and Jura quietly folded his hands inside his sleeves, eyes closed.
They had, of course, known this news for some time.
Makarov leaned forward quickly. "What happened to those two?"
Hyberion's expression grew solemn as he explained, "Madam Plouce Jewel, originally ranked fifth among the Ten Wizard Saints, passed away peacefully at the age of ninety-seven. According to her great-granddaughter, she slipped away in her sleep.
"The day before she passed, she was still revising the final draft of her book on Magic formations. Around July of last year, that work was finally printed and published, just as she wished."
Rhodes recalled the stories he had once heard. The sealing formations the Magic Council often deployed to capture dangerous criminals, those intricate circles cast by multiple Magicians at once, had been designed and refined by one of the Wizard Saints.
It was said that after countless revisions, even less gifted Magicians were able to wield complex and devastating formations thanks to her efforts.
Thinking about it now, that Saint could only have been Madam Plouce.
Known by rumor as the strongest female Magician in all of Ishgar, her contributions weren't in battles or duels, but in shaping the foundation of the continent's magical stability.
Makarov let out a quiet sigh, regret clear in his eyes for the passing of such a formidable figure.
"The other," Hyberion continued, his brows furrowing, "was Lent, originally ranked seventh."
"Lent was still so young, wasn't he?" Makarov pressed, his voice filled with disbelief. He remembered clearly, six years ago, Lent had only been fifty-nine. For a Magician, that age was far from old.
"Mm." Hyberion nodded gravely. "Strictly speaking, Mr. Lent's sacrifice should perhaps be considered an accident."
Rhodes caught the nuance in his words. "Perhaps? Should? You mean the truth isn't clear?"
Hyberion confirmed with a nod. "That's right. The details are still uncertain. What we do know is that the incident was one of the many tragedies born from the rise of these so-called new-school-mages, and among them, it was one of the most heartbreaking. Two years ago, a four-person team from the Belrum Kingdom, mages who relied heavily on newly developed magic items, accepted an S-Class request. Their mission was to subjugate a 'sea monster' that had been terrorizing fishermen."
The irritable old man Wolfheim slammed the table with his fist. "Idiots!"
"Wait," Rhodes interjected at once. "You mean new-school mages are already considered capable of handling S-Class beasts? With just magic items?"
"Theoretically, yes," Hyberion explained patiently. "Not only now, even six years ago, there were magic items powerful enough for such feats. In fact, Mr. Lent himself became a member of the Ten Wizard Saints as a Holder-type mage."
Hyberion's gaze lingered on Rhodes with some confusion. To him, this newly promoted Saint also seemed to be a Holder-type, so why was he asking such a question?
"..."
Rhodes stayed silent. He knew his own circumstances well, he had never been a true Holder-type mage. But considering Mystogan's example, it was natural for powerful magical items to exist. With the right wielder, even an item-dependent mage could be strong enough to clear S-Class missions. He simply nodded, signaling that he understood, and motioned for Hyberion to continue.
"We don't know what that team was thinking, but they clearly believed themselves capable of bringing down the 'sea monster.' In the end, things went wrong. They sent out a distress signal mid-battle. More than twenty members of their guild rushed to help, but they too were overwhelmed and driven all the way back to shore. Then..."
Hyberion's voice faltered. He couldn't bring himself to say more.
Rhodes quietly filled in the silence. "Could it be that Mr. Lent happened to be nearby and got caught up in the chaos?"