"So that's how it is." Shane finally understood.
S-Class mage—the title that marks the strongest in a guild. Not just glory, but proof that your strength has truly been acknowledged.
Once you're S-Class, you're allowed up to the second floor to take on the jobs so dangerous regular members aren't even allowed to touch them.
No wonder Gray had rushed in yesterday yelling about "you've got mail" and bolted after two sentences.
Thinking back, Shane couldn't help but laugh. The guy still owed him a week's worth of meals and hadn't paid up a single plate.
Seriously. Ice mage, but when it comes to this stuff he's hotter than fire, he groused inwardly.
In his view, Gray still had a decent way to go before S-Class.
Just look at the S-Class in their own guild—that uncle's presence was so crushing that even with True Name released, Shane wasn't sure he'd win.
His only real shot would be Arash's Phantasm—and no matter the outcome, he wouldn't walk away from that.
The gap between S-Class and ordinary mages was a canyon. They might as well be different species.
"So, Shane, you don't have any thoughts? About S-Class?" Cana suddenly turned the topic on him. In her mind, despite being about her age, he was more than qualified to get picked.
Shane just shook his head. "Not really."
And even if he did, it was too late. He'd only just learned about the exam; his job count was nowhere near enough.
"Maybe someday. There'll be chances."
"I see…" Cana sounded almost disappointed for him.
For some reason, she had a lot of faith in him.
Shane let it pass and instead glanced at Erza.
Given her nature, he'd expected her to be fired up for anything that measured strength—she'd just been pestering him for a real fight, after all. So why was she sitting calmly here?
By now, Erza could read him like a book. Before he could ask, she answered, earning a puzzled look from Cana.
"I'm still far from S-Class. Gildarts… I don't stand a chance against him."
Her voice was level, as if she'd already done a clear-eyed audit of herself.
"You still wanna aim at Gildarts? He's a total outlier!" Cana yelped, more worked up than either of them expected.
Shane and Erza both gave her a questioning look.
Realizing she'd overreacted, Cana twirled a lock of hair, eyes darting. "Uh, I mean, Gildarts—that uncle's strength is on a whole other level. Way above a normal S-Class. Might even be stronger than the master. He's basically Ten Wizard Saints tier.
He just doesn't hold a title because he's too much of a pain. And… he drinks too much. And he's a pervert!" By the end her cheeks were puffed with irritation.
Watching her flare up, Shane couldn't help adding, "Didn't know you knew that much about him."
Cana snapped her head away, suddenly stiff. "W-well… same guild. You pick stuff up."
The conversation was starting to veer into odd territory.
With the master gone for the day and his study mood thoroughly disrupted, Shane's eyes drifted over the half-empty hall. A few unused tables gave him an idea.
"Sitting around's boring anyway," he said, dragging two sturdy tables together and thumping the surface. "How about some table tennis?"
This world was strange. Magic tech was outrageously skewed, but a lot else mirrored his old world—sports, dances, even Christmas. The first time he'd heard about that, he'd nearly choked.
So there's a Jesus here too? Guy couldn't swat a mosquito and still managed cross-world evangelism? Truly omnipotent…
"I'm in!" Erza answered first, crisp as ever.
If he wouldn't duel, she'd settle for beating him at something else.
Cana produced two slightly worn wooden paddles and a white ball from who knew where.
Game on.
It was clearly Erza's first time playing, but the rules were simple. With her reflexes and athletic sense, she picked up the basics in minutes—serve, return, even a decent drive.
But against Shane's angles and spin, she still struggled, dropping points again and again.
With a sharp smash and another point, Shane grinned at Cana. "How about you? Wanna try?"
"Hmph." Her hands had been itching anyway. She swapped in for the reluctant Erza.
Unfortunately, her skill wasn't much better. Shane didn't even have to push himself to take the game.
After beating both girls, paddle in hand and a little smug, he swept his gaze around the hall and blurted out one of his top ten must-say lines:
"Anyone else?"
"Oh? I'll play." A familiar voice answered.
He turned to see the blond kid with the headphones, eyes glinting with interest.
"Laxus?" Shane blinked. He'd honestly expected him to be off training for the S-Class exam, not hanging around here.
And from their first meeting, he'd pegged the guy as the antisocial type. Who knew he'd go for something like table tennis?
"Sure. I'd be honored," Shane said, tossing him the ball. "You serve?"
Laxus caught it without a word and walked to the far side of the table. His grip was surprisingly textbook—no rookie.
The match started. The easy, playful mood vanished; the sound of ball on paddle turned sharp and rapid.
Laxus's style was fierce. His shots were heavy, the angles mean. Shane had to focus, feet flying, paddle a blur.
The white ball became a streak between them, so fast that Erza and Cana found themselves holding their breath.
The two were evenly matched, trading points back and forth.
After a tight rally, Shane lunged, barely saving the ball and sneaking a point.
"Nice, Laxus," he said, wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow, genuinely impressed.
After that exchange, whatever sourness he'd felt from their first meeting had basically evaporated.
After all, how bad could a guy be if he played a mean game of ping-pong?
Laxus nodded slightly, about to say something—
"Brats! I'm back!"
The hall doors burst open and a booming voice cut through the noise—Makarov, home early.
The instant the words hit, Laxus's face shifted; the relaxed, competitive spark vanished, replaced by his usual stony mask.
Without another word, he turned and strode out.
~~~
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