Chapter 47: The Subjugation of Iron Forest
For the dark guild Iron Forest, which had only recently gained notoriety, today was destined to become a turning point etched into history.
Guild Record, Entry:
"The dark guild Iron Forest was annihilated on February 25th, X778.
Eliminated by: Fairy Tail."
BOOM—KA-CRACK!
A golden bolt of lightning tore through the sky and struck a dark mage squarely on the chest.
The electricity surged across his body, frying him until he was blackened on the outside and crispy on the inside.
Laxus strode forward, lightning crackling around him, advancing like a god of thunder—completely unstoppable.
This "Thunder Dragon" was reaching frightening levels of power.
His earlier claim of having a 100% chance of passing the upcoming S-Class exam?
That wasn't just arrogance—it was confidence backed by terrifying skill.
Even without using his signature Lightning Dragon Slayer Magic, Laxus could still crush enemies with just Elemental Magic: Lightning—a level of strength already worthy of an S-Class wizard.
As he aged, Laxus's magical aptitude only grew more impressive.
His body, enhanced further by the Dragon Slayer lacrima fused within him, had become a vessel of raw might.
This man was on a steady march toward the peak of power.
The "elites" of Iron Forest were little more than cannon fodder in front of his overwhelming strength—more like rotting fish than real threats.
CRACKLE—ZAP!
Wild arcs of electricity shot out, and Laxus, leading the charge, electrocuted a dozen enemies without breaking a sweat.
The rest of Fairy Tail's mages weren't slacking either.
They each unleashed their own magical talents, joining battle with the Iron Forest dark mages.
And the battlefield was… one-sided, to say the least.
A complete steamroll.
Those seemingly lazy uncles who spent their time drinking, smoking, and reading racy magazines?
When they got serious, every one of them had real skills to back it up.
Macao, wielding his Purple Flame Magic, scorched his opponents until they were howling in pain.
He had just begun a break to care for his newborn son Romeo, but when the guild bell rang, he didn't hesitate—he came, and he fought.
Beside him, Wakaba, constantly puffing on his pipe, used his Smoke Magic to create enormous fists that pummeled enemies into the walls.
Nearby, a strange, pudgy young man with delicate limbs stood holding a paintbrush and palette.
He painted a group of wild boars onto his own body—
And then, to everyone's shock, those boars leapt out from the canvas of his skin, charging ferociously into the enemy ranks.
This was Reedus, master of Illustration Magic.
Others joined in:
Jet, with his blazing muscles and brutish strength.
Droy, whose Iron Dog transformation gave him a vicious melee edge.
Every one of them, in their own way, a force to be reckoned with.
Even Moen charged into the fray, his fist sending a dark mage flying across the guild's main hall.
This "Iron Forest" guild had hidden itself in some no-name, uncharted corner of the wilderness.
It had taken time just to find the place.
But once inside, they found the hall surprisingly spacious.
Probably because, in such a remote area, the guild could build however it liked.
WHOOOOOOOOSH!
Just as they breached the guild hall, a violent burst of magical wind howled toward the invading Fairy Tail mages.
From the back of the group, an older mage leapt forward—
With calm composure, he extended both hands and summoned a massive defensive magic circle to absorb the blast.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
The magical storm crashed into the barrier.
The older mage gritted his teeth, holding firm—but the look in his eyes was turning grim.
"Reinhardt! Can't handle one punk rookie?"
From behind him, Macao and Wakaba laughed loudly, heckling their struggling comrade.
Their postures relaxed, clearly unthreatened.
It wasn't arrogance—just the honest truth.
Iron Forest had failed to offer any real challenge.
Makarov hadn't even needed to step in.
Even Gildarts wasn't present—he'd left again shortly after Moen's birthday and missed the entire operation.
Although Fairy Tail hadn't even gone all out yet, the Iron Forest guild was already crumbling.
At this point, only their guild master was still putting up a fight.
BOOM!
Reinhardt's defensive magic circle shattered under the force of a magic wind blast.
The elder mage was blown back, sent flying through the air like a ragdoll.
In a flash, Moen leapt forward and caught him midair, steadying his balance.
"Leave this guy to me, Uncle."
Moen said firmly, locking his eyes upward.
Floating above the battlefield was Eisenwald's guild master, the infamous Erigor.
Magic wind swirled violently around Erigor as he hovered in the sky, balanced dramatically on a massive scythe beneath his feet—
A flamboyant spectacle, to say the least.
He looked no older than thirty, with jet-black tattoos under his eyes and a wild mane of silver-white hair.
Bandages were tightly wrapped around his arms, and his bare torso was covered in tribal ink.
He wore a skirt-like robe and a pair of flip-flops—
A look that screamed "I'm trying way too hard."
"Be careful, Moen. That guy's no slouch."
Reinhardt warned in a grave tone.
Though he hadn't suffered any serious injuries, he knew Erigor wasn't someone to be taken lightly.
But he made no move to stop Moen.
Despite being the youngest among them, Moen was no rookie in their eyes.
Over the past six months, Moen had tackled one monster subjugation mission after another, earning praise for both speed and precision.
His growth was undeniable.
Age didn't matter—strength spoke for itself.
"Why should you get to handle him?"
But before Moen could make his move, Laxus cut in—because of course he did.
CRACK!
A golden lightning bolt cracked through the air, striking at Erigor high above.
"I don't like the look of this guy either. I'll be the one to teach him a lesson."
Laxus declared, not even pretending to be fair.
He'd just pulled aggro on the boss without warning.
Classic kill-steal tactics.
Erigor, who had been posing midair in all his edgy glory, was forced to dodge with a furious swirl of wind magic.
He barely evaded Laxus's lightning strike.
Now his face was as dark as burnt coal, his eyes filled with vicious rage.
To him, Moen and Laxus—two teenage punks—weren't threats.
But the way they were talking, acting, completely disregarding him, had pushed him to the brink.
"These little brats... I'll tear them to pieces!"
He seethed silently, the storm around him growing fiercer.