Hyberion silently observed the table. Seeing everyone so absorbed in their meals, he allowed himself a satisfied smile. At least his taste was appreciated, unlike those Magicians who only knew how to swing their fists.
The only drawback was that Makarov and Warrod were far too noisy.
After only a few drinks, Makarov's face flushed red. Relying on his tiny frame, he clambered onto the table, wobbling his hips and blurting out,
"Hey, is today the release of the new issue of Sorcerer Weekly?"
Rhodes thought maybe, the Master was worried about the Guild's reputation after their recent interview. That thought vanished the instant Makarov's next words came out.
"This month's cover girl is incredible! Jenny is way sexier than six years ago! We should recruit her into Fairy Tail!"
Warrod chuckled, nodding as if drunk on water alone. "Excellent idea! What if we made body type part of the guild's recruitment standards? Hahaha, just kidding, just kidding!"
Makarov, tipsy and oblivious, slammed the table with approval. "That's a brilliant suggestion!"
Rhodes buried his face in his hands. Whenever the Master drifted into these kinds of topics, his expression was equal parts ridiculous and tragic.
Ulfheim finally lost patience. Having downed plenty of liquor himself, he slammed his bottle so hard onto the table it rattled the dishes.
"You two ought to be ashamed! Guild Masters, Wizard Saints, you should at least pretend to set an example for the younger generation!"
Warrod cackled. "Wahaha! The path of youth is theirs to choose."
Makarov, meanwhile, was selectively deaf. "Young? Of course younger girls are cuter. But not too young, no charm in that!"
"You disrespectful old man!" Ulfheim roared. In a flash, he vaulted onto the table, pressing his forehead hard against Makarov's.
In Fairy Tail, when two people locked foreheads, it meant fists would fly at any moment.
Makarov, through hazy, drunken eyes, saw an old man about his own height glaring back at him. His mind blurred, he instinctively thought of an old drinking buddy from decades past.
And so, his small body began to expand.
Not to be outdone, Ulfheim's body swelled as well, his muscles twisting as green fur bristled across his frame.
CRACK! The banquet table gave way, plates and glasses shattering across the floor.
In their place stood two giants, a squat, balding titan and a hulking green beastman, heads pressed together in a test of raw strength.
"Lord Ulfheim, Master Makarov!" Jura hurriedly raised his voice, flustered at the sight of the two old men swelling with power. "Please calm yourselves, this is a hotel! There are ordinary people here!"
Warrod, in stark contrast, looked completely unbothered. He held his watering can protectively and even smiled as he watched. To him, this sort of noisy clash was amusing. In fact, the moment he saw Ulfheim's hulking green form, he almost felt like watering it.
Rhodes, meanwhile, was quietly considering his options. Should he step in and help the Master if things got serious? Or maybe sabotage the old beastman on the other side when no one was looking? A little "biased intervention," perhaps?
But just as their hands locked together and they were about to unleash a contest of strength, both froze. Slowly, their eyes turned toward Hyberion.
The milk bottle in his hand was shattered, thankfully, it had already been emptied. He held half a glass of milk in his left hand, his right hand poised with two fingers hooked in a calm but threatening gesture. His expression was flat, his voice colder than steel.
"This gathering was initiated by me. If you two truly want to fight, do it after the meeting… or find another place."
Both men snorted through their noses, reluctantly shrinking back into their normal forms. Like sulking children, they turned their heads away from each other with huffs of irritation.
Rhodes thought to himself that this must have been exactly how Master Jose once got into trouble with Makarov. Their feud may have been real, but the spark that lit the fire was probably something as petty as this.
Ulfheim adjusted his glasses, narrowing his eyes at Hyberion. "Vampire- Indirect blood sucking magic, is it? Troublesome fellow."
His words were critical, but Rhodes noticed a flicker in Ulfheim's eyes, something that looked almost like the urge to test Hyberion in battle. Even at his age, the old beastman's combative spirit burned strong.
Makarov, by contrast, looked almost relieved. "Truly a formidable young man."
In his eyes, Hyberion, barely in his forties, was practically still in his youth.
Rhodes found himself curious. Indirect Blood-Sucking Magic? It sounded like something nearly impossible to defend against. What were its conditions? How did it work?
He almost asked, but caught himself and instead raised another question:
"Has anyone invited additional guests?"
With a rare shift in topic, Jura quickly replied, "That would be impossible. We agreed beforehand this gathering was exclusively for the Ten Wizard Saints. Rhodes, did you notice something unusual?"
"Quite a few people have crossed the mountain next to us," Rhodes said calmly. "They passed through the forest and are heading toward the back entrance."
As he spoke, a faint mist spread outward from his body, seeping through walls, drifting past the forest, and even piercing the mountain itself. It expanded into a wide, circular field of perception.
Images formed in Rhodes' mind, layer after layer, each lasting only a fleeting moment, yet clear enough for him to see the approaching figures.
"There are roughly three hundred of them," he continued. "I can make out four… no, five different crests among their ranks. And some of them are moving far too sneakily to be here as guests."
Unfortunately, the crests were unfamiliar to him. Rhodes silently reminded himself that catching up on the six years of information he had missed since his return was a priority. It wasn't the first time, ever since arriving in this world, he had been playing catch-up with knowledge. The feeling was almost routine by now.
He described the general shapes and symbols of the crests as best he could.
The others listened intently, though none could immediately identify the Guilds. Still, aside from Makarov, their expressions shifted toward approval. This young Wizard Saint clearly possessed an impressive detection ability and a sharp awareness.
Makarov, however, had a different look. His eyes carried a glimmer of hope as though he expected to recognize one of the names, but soon his shoulders sank in disappointment.
These people were so clueless. Didn't they know to praise Rhodes properly? At this rate, he couldn't even brag about how excellent his own Guild members were.
Of course, in everyone else's eyes, the fact that Rhodes had become a Wizard Saint before the age of twenty already spoke volumes. There was no need for him to show off.
Jura frowned. "Why would so many people come here all at once?"
"Hmph, they're definitely not here for a vacation." Ulfheim snorted, striding toward the back door. "We'll know once we go and ask them."
The others followed after him. None of them felt the slightest sense of crisis. Hyberion even had the composure to turn back and tell a waiter to clean up the shattered banquet table before leaving.
And why should they panic? With six Wizard Saints gathered together, unless Acnologia himself came swooping down, there was really nothing to worry about.
If the newcomers turned out to be friendly guests, all was well. If they were uninvited intruders… then they were about to experience firsthand the "warm hospitality" of the Ten Wizard Saints.
Besides, there were two old men here who had been itching for a fight earlier. If anything, this was the perfect excuse for them to stretch their muscles.
...
Stones Plzz
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