The suffocating pressure of a giant poured out like a flood. With Makarov at the center, the world itself seemed to darken into blackness, dozens of shadowy tendrils stretching outward as if ready to strike at any moment.
Makarov's deep voice echoed with authority:
"Phantom Lord, what exactly do you think you're doing? The Council forbids guild wars."
It felt as if a mountain had been placed on her shoulders. Both body and mind screamed under the weight of that oppressive aura. Juvia found herself frozen in place, horror filling her thoughts:
So this is the power of one of the Ten Wizard Saints?! We're not even on the same level…
Despite the pain and cold sweat dripping from his forehead, Gajeel forced a mocking grin.
"What a naïve old man… Just doing whatever the Council tells you."
"You little brat—what was that?!" Makarov's eyes narrowed dangerously, and in an instant, Gajeel felt the same unbearable pressure Juvia had just endured. "Are you saying Phantom Lord wants to be branded as a Dark Guild?"
"Master Makarov," Juvia spoke up quickly, pale-faced, one hand holding her umbrella while the other pinched delicately at her skirt like a lady. "We're simply carrying out Master Jose's orders. If you have doubts, you may ask him directly."
"So what—you mean this has nothing to do with you?" The pressure intensified, as though it could crush them into meat paste.
"Of course not," Juvia replied, steadying her tone. "We are following our master's command. But if you demand accountability, we're even willing to remain here as hostages… though I wonder if Master Makarov would truly accept that."
Makarov fell silent for a long moment. His face was stern, torn between thought and hesitation.
Erza and Gray immediately stepped forward.
"Master, we can't just let them go! The guild was destroyed for nothing otherwise."
"Exactly, Master! At least make them pay for the damages!"
Makarov exhaled slowly, his giant form dissolving away as he made his decision.
"You may leave. But as compensation, deliver this to Jose: within one week, one hundred million Jewels are to be sent to Fairy Tail. He will also submit a written apology to the Council and issue a public apology to Fairy Tail.
"If not, then I will have a proper… conversation with him myself. Or perhaps the Council will be very interested in re-examining the matter."
The old master had his reasons. Fairy Tail had been growing far too quickly, drawing too much attention. Laxus, Mystogan, Erza, Gildarts, Natsu, Gray, Mirajane… the new generation's fame had spread like wildfire.
But fame invited hostility. With commissions and resources flowing toward Fairy Tail, rival guilds and even Council members had their profits cut, their egos bruised. Enemies within the Council were countless.
Phantom Lord was only one of many, and not even the most dangerous. If this matter truly reached the Council floor, no matter how right Fairy Tail might be, the waters would be muddied. Natsu might even be forced to apologize to the injured Gajeel, with opportunistic councilors twisting the incident to suppress Fairy Tail.
If not for Fairy Tail's strength and a few allies inside the Council, they might have been torn apart long ago.
But such truths were not for the guild to bear. The master's duty was to protect his children, to let them live happily and freely, not to be crushed by politics.
"Master, that's it?!" Gray's eyes were wide with disbelief. He wanted to argue more, but Erza lowered her head, silently thoughtful. Lucy and Happy could only stand by, bewildered, unsure of what to say.
Juvia lifted her skirt once again, bowing lightly.
"I will convey your message to Master Jose."
Before leaving, she cast one last deep look at Gray—her eyes filled with affection.
But to Gray, it was nothing of the sort. He shuddered under what he thought was a dead-fish stare, brimming with malice and killing intent.
"W-what did I do to tick her off?!"
The mist rose thick, then dispersed. The drizzle faded away. When the smoke cleared, Gajeel and Juvia were gone, leaving only wreckage behind.
"Master! Why did you just let them go? They destroyed the guild!" Natsu's exhausted body dragged itself upright, face filled with frustration.
"No one was seriously hurt, and they've already been made to apologize. That's enough. Besides, I haven't even scolded you yet for taking on an S-Class mission without permission." Makarov's hand waved dismissively, though his voice turned sharp when addressing Natsu.
"Now's not the time for that, old man!" Natsu shouted, burning through what little strength he had left.
But Makarov ignored him, delivering a swift chop to the heads of Natsu, Happy, and Lucy each. Finally, he looked over the ruined guild building. His wrinkled face was shadowed, unreadable.
"Master, this was given to us by the elder in the forest. He thought you might have use for it," Erza said, stepping forward quickly before he could leave. She handed him a sleek, black tablet—smooth and seamless, though completely void of magical reaction.
It had been discarded before for that very reason. Without magic power, it was just worthless junk.
Taking it in hand, Makarov's frown eased slightly, though he muttered under his breath:
"Another one of these strange trinkets… couldn't he at least give us proper lacrima communicators?"
"Enough. I understand. Go rest. In a few days, we'll rebuild the guild anyway. The building was getting old."
"Master…" Natsu tried to speak, but Erza's hand on his shoulder stopped him. She shook her head, and though he clenched his teeth in frustration, Natsu begrudgingly backed down.
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Makarov tapped the tablet. It lit up instantly, hovering in the air, standing upright. A distant point of light drew closer, the figure slowly becoming clearer, though the face remained hazy.
Makarov didn't bother focusing on the face. He already knew.
"Well, Makarov. Been what, six or seven years?" The voice chuckled. Papai examined him carefully. "Your body's grown frailer. No growth in your magic either."
"Not everyone is blessed with your… peculiarities. It has been exactly six years, seven months, and twenty-three days since our last meeting. In all that time, it's as if you ceased to exist. No one in Fiore remembers you. Not a single public record mentions your name. Has your power truly reached such a level?" Makarov sighed heavily, then straightened.
Fairy Tail's second anchor—aside from Fairy Heart itself—was this man.
A contemporary of the Black Mage Zeref, he had once blazed across the continent like a meteor, crushing everything before him, gathering countless Lost Magics. A walking library of arcane knowledge.
Yet he had never once used magic. His power was innate, beyond comprehension. Like a being closer to "god" than man.
"Has it been that long?" Papai murmured, unfazed. "My power hasn't changed, and it won't. You needn't worry. I'll be visiting the Council soon. Have them prepare the information I asked for."
"You're coming out?" Makarov asked cautiously.
"Mm. Every time I'm remembered, it feels like a brand-new world—so novel, so full of precious data. You understand, don't you? I don't enjoy being forgotten." Papai's voice carried a weary amusement.
"I understand. I'll inform them," Makarov said quietly.
Neither mentioned Fairy Tail's plight. Makarov refrained, bound by his memories and morals, unwilling to trouble his elder. Papai, on the other hand, already knew.