The air inside Phantom Lord's fortress had grown heavy—thick with tension, magic crackling like a storm ready to burst.
Erza, Mirajane, Gray, and Natsu stood side by side, faces grim, muscles tensed, their breaths shallow but steady.
Opposite them loomed Jose Porla—the man who had orchestrated this war, the cruel master who had shattered their peace. His eyes, dark pools of ruthless ambition, gleamed with the power of a **Ten Wizard Saint**, a title spoken in whispers across Fiore.
His magic radiated an aura of shadows that seemed to consume the very light around him.
"You all fought well to get here," Jose's voice was a low growl, echoing across the cavernous throne chamber. "But now… you face true despair."
---
Erza drew her sword, flames erupting from its blade as she stepped forward with unyielding resolve.
"Fairy Tail never backs down!" she shouted, launching herself like a crimson comet.
Jose smirked but made no move to parry immediately. Instead, he allowed her blade to slice the air inches from his face.
The first clash was a shockwave—magic against magic, steel against phantom dark energy.
Erza pressed the attack, switching armors fluidly: Heaven's Wheel spinning with blinding speed, Flame Empress scorching the air.
Yet, Jose barely raised a hand, summoning ethereal phantom chains that wrapped Erza's sword, dragging it from her grasp.
---
Mirajane's eyes burned with fury.
"Satan Soul: Phenex Form," she whispered.
Her body transformed again—fiery wings spread wide as her magic flared like a sun.
She charged, claws slashing through shadows, fire surging with every step.
Jose raised a spectral shield—dark and shimmering.
Their battle tore through the hall, pillars crumbling, walls cracking.
But Jose's phantom magic bent and twisted Mirajane's flames, smothering them with tendrils of shadow.
Despite her rage, she was forced to retreat, panting but unbroken.
---
Gray stepped in, frost crystallizing beneath his feet.
"I won't lose to you," he said coldly.
His ice spread rapidly—blades forming, ice storms swirling.
Jose countered by summoning phantom duplicates—shadowy clones that attacked Gray from every side.
Gray shattered them with precise strikes but soon found himself overwhelmed.
One clone stabbed him through the side with a spectral dagger, pain flaring.
Gray gasped but steadied himself.
"Not yet."
---
Natsu roared, flames igniting in his eyes.
He charged like a wildfire, fists blazing with dragon's fire.
Jose laughed, flicking a hand, and the shadows swallowed Natsu's flames.
But Natsu's spirit blazed brighter.
He hit with a Dragon Roar, breaking through shadows and striking Jose's defenses.
For a moment, the Jose's calm cracked.
---
Then Jose's eyes burned red.
He whispered a dark incantation.
Phantom shadows surged—an overwhelming wave that engulfed the chamber.
Erza, Mira, Gray, and Natsu were thrown back, crashing into broken stone.
Their breath came ragged.
Jose rose, stepping through the darkness like a god among mortals.
"You are pathetic," he snarled. "I am the death itself."
He struck with a wave of dark phantom energy that shattered the ground beneath them.
One by one, the core fighters struggled to rise—but their strength faltered.
---
Just as Jose prepared to deliver the final blow—a dark lance of pure malice—time seemed to slow.
A figure appeared in a burst of light and shadow.
Shinra.
His cursed technique flared—the **Infinity Flux** wrapping around him like a celestial armor.
With a calm voice, he said, "Not today."
In an instant, he blinked forward—blades of invisible energy slicing through the phantom lance.
Jose's surprise flickered, but he recovered quickly, glaring at Shinra.
The battle wasn't over.
---
As Shinra and Jose locked eyes, the chamber trembled with the promise of cataclysm.