Fire Dragon's Sword Dance!!
The night sky spread wide like a canvas, stars glittering above. Suddenly, golden flames burst into a dazzling explosion, scattering into countless blazing branches that cascaded downward. Reaching a certain height, they erupted once more, scattering sparks that seemed to illuminate the entire world.
A golden fire-tree took shape in the air. Every sway of its fiery branches sprinkled endless motes of light, shining like stardust across the night.
"So beautiful…"
"That damn firehead knows how to do something like this?!"
"Not bad at all!"
After Natsu's performance, everyone was left in awe. Such a breathtaking spectacle was the kind of thing one would normally only see during grand, state-level celebrations—put on by magi specializing in performance magic.
For Natsu, a brawler who usually only knew how to solve things with his fists, to pull this off was nothing short of a miracle.
Among the crowd, Doragon raised his thumb high in approval. Suspended in midair, Natsu never took his eyes off him and returned a wide, brilliant smile.
"Ahem, now, let's welcome our next performers to the stage—everyone, give them a round of applause!"
Makarov stepped up with a microphone in hand. Applause erupted like thunder. In the expectant gazes of the crowd, the two Mirajanes took the stage together, each carrying a guitar.
A clear, beautiful voice rang out, filling the air with melody and pulling everyone into a spell of blissful intoxication.
"I thought you weren't going to show up."
On the rooftop of a building not far from the Fairy Tail guild, Mystogan sat silently, his entire figure wrapped tightly in his cloak. His expression was heavy, eyes indifferent as he looked toward the outdoor stage. Standing beside him, Porlyusica snorted in derision.
"At first, I didn't intend to come," Mystogan admitted, his eyes scanning the crowd, "but… There are things I need to be sure of."
"If it's that man you're looking for, you won't find him here. He's either at the Council… or deep within the eastern forest."
Porlyusica's voice was flat, but her words struck true, instantly revealing what was on his mind. Mystogan froze, not denying it. Yet he didn't leave right away either.
"Hmph. Always so self-righteous. You care about those people down there, but you refuse to be with them. Humans—always saying one thing and doing another."
Her barbs drew no reaction. Mystogan sat motionless, savoring the rare peace, letting the music and laughter drift his heart farther away, until drowsiness overcame him.
Half-asleep, he felt himself pulled back into memories of childhood in Edolas. His father's single-minded pursuit of magic was desperate to prolong the dying world. The Exceeds' arrogance as they lorded over humanity.
And he—alone, walking outside all of it, lost in darkness.
Only one black-clad figure ever stood before his younger self, shielding him from the scorn and disdain, pulling him out like a father who never abandoned him.
"Prince… this world is already corrupt. We must find a way to drag everyone out of the mire."
Mystogan jolted awake. Not now. This wasn't the time for nostalgia.
Looking back down at the stage, the performance was already at its end, the crowd thinning. "How long was I asleep?"
"About an hour." Porlyusica was still there beside him. "Your mind is under too much strain. If you don't rest more, you'll collapse before you get anything done."
Her tone was sharp, but the concern behind it was unmistakable.
"I'll be careful," Mystogan replied, standing to leave. Midway down the stairs, he paused. "…Thank you."
"Hmph."
Two days later—
"They're still the same as ever."
Walking along Magnolia's streets, a Magic Council inspector frowned at a pile of uncollected trash, pushing up his glasses with an expressionless face.
"Normal, normal," Doranbolt said with a laugh beside him. "If Fairy Tail ever stopped causing trouble, now that would be suspicious. By the way, how are they reacting to all this?"
"What reaction could they have? Same as always. The rules they ignored before, they're still ignoring now. It's the smaller guilds that are stirring restlessly." Lahar sighed.
Large guilds all had representatives within the Council and generally understood the situation well. Even with the Council's prestige shaken, they had little movement—because they knew the Council still had the strength to suppress anything, especially with Mystogan backing them.
But the smaller guilds were another matter. Some behaved, but others began scheming, letting all sorts of unsavory figures crawl out of the shadows.
Not truly dangerous—but irritating to watch.
"Gentlemen, this way please."
As the two inspectors conversed, their Fairy Tail escort arrived and led them into a prepared room. Inside, Makarov sat waiting in his chair.
"Master Makarov," Lahar began, bowing alongside Doranbolt, "on behalf of the Magic Council, we wish to extend our deepest thanks to Fairy Tail for its outstanding contribution during the Tower of Heaven incident."
With Jellal successfully captured and Mystogan preserving what dignity the Council still had, this token of gratitude was more than deserved.
"This is the Council's list of gifts. If you approve, we'll arrange delivery immediately. Should there be any confusion, please consult me and I'll report back."
"There's no need to be so lavish. Resisting dark guilds is the duty of any light guild."
Makarov accepted the list without glancing at it. With Fairy Tail's current standing, he trusted the Council wouldn't be stingy. His words, though polite, carried weight.
"In truth," Lahar continued after a relieved breath, "there is another matter for which we ask Fairy Tail's assistance."
"Oh? What is it?"
"The Council plans to gather the major guilds soon, to launch a joint assault against the Balam Alliance's Oración Seis. We hope Fairy Tail will send members to join this operation."
He fixed his gaze firmly on Makarov.
After a brief pause, Makarov burst into hearty laughter. "Of course! Striking down dark guilds is everyone's duty. Fairy Tail will give its full support. When will this be? We'll need to prepare."
"Thank you, Master Makarov. Here are the details—participating guilds, meeting location, and intelligence on the Oración Seis. Once you've reviewed it, please send us the names of your chosen members. We'll create several strategy drafts accordingly."
Excited, Lahar pulled another document from his coat and handed it over.
"No problem at all."
"Then we won't trouble you further. Goodbye."
With everything going smoother than expected, both men bowed once more and left the guild.
Makarov sat back, flipping through the documents, a wry grin tugging at his lips. The Oración Seis had drawn the short straw this time. For the Council, desperate to regain its reputation, nothing would be held back.
…But that's fine too. The fewer dark guilds in this world, the better.