In no time at all, only Erigor was still standing.
"Bastard!" His baboon-like face twisted with rage and fear, eyes locked on Erza.
He knew something was wrong, but he'd never imagined the girl would really dare come alone as bait.
Now he didn't have the luxury of being angry.
The hidden archer was terrifying—everyone else had gone down in an instant. His only chance was to grab the one responsible right in front of him!
With a roar, Erigor's muscles bulged; he charged like a cornered boar straight at Erza.
He was already counting the distance—just a few more steps and he'd be in range to use his magic…
But Shane's next arrow was faster than he'd guessed.
Ffft—!
A razor flash ripped the air, perfectly predicting his path and screaming straight for him.
"Out of my way!" Veins bulged; Erigor exploded his magic and slammed into the arrow with brute force, knocking it aside.
It ripped his shoulder and sprayed blood, but he'd survived.
The rush of relief and a savage thrill surged into his head.
A vicious grin broke across his face as he barreled the last few steps. His magic-loaded hand snapped up, fingers spread.
The panicked expression he expected never came.
Erza stood exactly where she'd been—sword sheathed.
There was no fear in her eyes. If anything… pity?
"What… what's with that look?!" His chest tightened under it.
She didn't answer. She only tipped her chin ever so slightly—upward.
He followed the gesture on reflex—
And saw despair.
The streak he'd barely blocked moments before was no longer alone.
One, two, three… ten…
Countless lights traced across the sky, dancing shadows over the ground—beautiful, and filled with absolute death.
…
A few seconds later Shane dropped lightly from his tree, dusting off his clothes.
He walked to Erigor's still body and nudged it with his toe.
"Watching your people go down one by one and still running forward instead of turning to flee… that's some dark-guild grit," he said, tone impossible to read between praise and mockery.
Pity that, against overwhelming power, "grit" meant nothing.
Arash's basic attacks were closing in on "noble phantasm-level."
Once he was sure the target was really done—no chance of a last-ditch trick—Shane smiled, satisfied, and called out, "Cleanup time, Erza!"
No sense coming all this way just to tick a box. Inside Eisenwald's base, all those untouched magitech tools, explosive lacrima… real, tangible money.
Couldn't be wasted.
Erza was still standing where she'd stopped, breathing a little hard, cheeks flushed a bright wine-red—the glow of a fight, bright as a tipsy blush.
Her hand kept tightening and loosening on the hilt as she replayed, step by step, the way she'd broken in, taunted, and baited them.
Shane's shout pulled her back.
"Got it!" she answered crisply.
He sent her to ransack Eisenwald's storeroom while he, holding his breath against the reek of blood, went through the bodies one by one.
His movements were quick, if not exactly expert.
Before long, he'd piled up roughly a dozen assorted magitech weapons taken from the corpses.
He tore a reasonably intact cloak off one stiff body and bundled the haul into it.
He had no idea of the exact going rates, but dark guilds fought often. Anything they carried as life-or-death gear was bound to be worth something.
The only disappointment was cash. Maybe the "live fast" dark-guild lifestyle had something to do with it, but together they had barely 700,000 J.
"Twenty-something guys and this is all? Really letting the 'dark guild' brand down…" he muttered.
Just then, Erza came out of the building and waved him over.
Shane's mood flipped at once. He dumped the minor annoyance and jogged toward her. "Well? Anything good?"
She flashed a grin and stepped aside, revealing a massive wooden tub behind her, half as tall as she was.
It was heaped with lacrima the size of pigeon eggs, in all colors, along with a few other oddments.
"Tsk, tsk. That's a dark guild, alright. This stock… you could probably blow up two streets with it," Shane whistled, face breaking into pure joy. Any regret over cash vanished.
He hurried over and started picking through the tub for anything personally useful.
"Huh? What's this?" he murmured, fishing out three utterly plain pairs of glasses from beside the lacrima.
Curious, he slipped one on and glanced around.
Sensitive as he was to anything eye-related, he noticed it right away.
His vision sharpened—more stable, more precise. When he swept his gaze over a faded label on the tub's side, the tiny, smudged text leapt out. He could feel his reading speed jump; his thoughts flowed faster processing written information.
"Now that's nice," Shane said, delighted. He handed one pair to Erza. "Try it—seems to boost reading."
She put them on, blinked, and her eyes widened. "With these, learning Requip should go a lot faster," she said, rare excitement coloring her voice.
Shane carefully pocketed the remaining two pairs. One for himself—and one to take back for Levy.
She'd looked like she lived in books; this would be perfect.
After that, they sorted the loot.
Shane hefted the big basket of explosive lacrima onto his back—careful—and couldn't help grumbling, "These guys are so unprofessional. Not a single cart in the storeroom. We have to carry all this disaster waiting to happen."
Erza's hands were full too—a bundle of magitech in one, miscellaneous scraps in the other.
Loaded down, they marched back to Everlue's mansion.
When the servants reported their quick return, the duke first looked surprised—then suspicious.
But seeing the basket of lacrima on Shane's back, even knowing they wouldn't explode without mana, the sight alone was enough to bleach his face. He jolted upright and stumbled back.
"G-get that away from me! What are you doing?!" he shrieked.
"Just spoils," Shane said evenly. "I'm not going to do anything unreasonable. No need to panic, Your Grace."
He couldn't stand the man and made no effort to hide it.
You've already done unreasonable things, that's why I'm panicking, Everlue thought, speechless.
But when he heard "spoils," the subtext sank in. He still looked doubtful. "You… really dealt with them?"
"Of course," Shane shrugged. The basket thumped lightly with the motion, making Everlue flinch again. "If you're not sure, send people to check. Just be quick—we need to catch the last train back to Magnolia."
Still wavering, Everlue sent a trusted man off at speed.
They weren't gone long. The man came back shaken, whispering in the duke's ear.
Everlue went chalk-white, edging back further. "You… you killed them all?!"
"It's a dark guild. Holding back gets you killed," Shane said, unconcerned.
By the book, they should have taken prisoners for the Council to try.
Too much hassle. Those men all had more than enough blood on their hands. Putting them down was simpler.
And if procedure wasn't perfect? Well—that was Makarov's problem.
"There should be one left," Erza said suddenly, not yet fully acclimated to "guild style." She remembered the first man she'd launched and added, "The one I knocked out at the start."