A blond teen burst into the room like a bolt of lightning, confusion written all over his face.
Laxus had clearly only just learned about Ivan the moment he returned to the guild.
Makarov's brows knitted tighter. He shot his grandson a quick, stern look. "Sorry, Laxus, I don't have time to explain right now! Shane, we're going!"
But Laxus wasn't listening. He strode fully into the office, blocking their path, voice rising with emotion. "Yeah, he did a lot of stupid things! But he's still your son! He's your family! How can you—"
Caught between the urgency of chasing Ivan down and his grandson's emotional outburst, Makarov hesitated.
Shane chose that moment to raise a hand.
"Master," he said, calm as ever, cutting across Laxus's protests. "You stay here and talk to Laxus. I'll handle tracking Ivan on my own."
"That's impossible!" Makarov protested immediately. "No matter how worthless that boy is, he's still an S-Class mage! Going alone is too dangerous!"
Once, Makarov wouldn't have worried this much. But now Ivan had gone completely off the rails—actually making a move that could hurt guildmates.
He couldn't let someone else go risk their life just because of his own family problem.
Shane shook his head. A quiet, slightly rebellious smile tugged at his lips. "If it were someone like Gildarts, I'd admit I'm not sure. But Ivan…"
He didn't finish. The look in his eyes said enough.
They stared at each other for two seconds. Then Shane stepped up and patted Makarov on the shoulder. "Master, sometimes you need to lean on us. Just stay here and sort things out with your grandson. Leave what's outside to me."
He didn't wait for an answer. He slipped past a still-fuming Laxus and headed downstairs.
He'd barely hit the first floor when someone stepped into his path in a rush.
Gray, still shirtless, stood there with a stormy look—a boy who'd just made up his mind about something.
"Shane!" Gray's voice was urgent, like he was afraid he'd chicken out if he waited. "I've… decided. I'm going to talk to Ultear properly."
Shane's head was full of Ivan and that pulsing karmic line. Time was tight; he had no patience for teenage emotional crises.
He rolled his eyes. Ultear had walked around free all day; if she'd really wanted a heart-to-heart, she'd have made a move. Clearly, she hadn't.
When Gray opened his mouth to say more, Shane didn't bother arguing. He just flicked his knuckle.
Thock—a clean, sharp forehead flick landed dead center.
"Ow!" Gray yelped, clutching his head.
"Don't come to me with that. Ultear's already gone," Shane said in a rush, sliding past him toward the doors.
"What? You let her go?!" Gray's eyes flew wide.
"You just wanted to know if she was Ur's daughter, right? You know now, so what's left to agonize over?"
Before Gray could respond, Shane was already out the door, leaving him frozen where he stood.
Erza walked over a moment later. Seeing his dazed expression, she patted his shoulder gently. "Don't worry, Gray. Ultear… probably isn't a bad person. You don't have to overthink it."
The way his face shifted told her enough.
He'd clearly spent all day wrestling with himself.
Worrying what he would do if she had gone too far. How he'd face his beloved master's bloodline.
Now, he'd just barely gathered the courage to face it—and she was already gone.
Meanwhile, Shane shot through Magnolia's streets like an arrow.
In his eyes, the flames of the Eyes of Karma burned bright. Reality blurred at the edges of his vision, colors washed out to grey.
Only one thing stood out: a twisted scarlet line, invisible to others, stretching into the distance.
Ivan Dreyar's karmic line.
Shane moved quickly, body flickering between alleyways, past the city edge, and into the woods. He left the noise behind in seconds, following the red path without pause.
Wind roared in his ears. Trees streamed past in a green-brown blur.
The line pointed more clearly with each step, its color deepening—the sure sign that he was closing in.
As he pushed through a dense patch of shrubs, the terrain ahead grew familiar.
This was the outskirts of Magnolia—near where he, Gray, and Erza had glimpsed Ivan from the train not long ago.
"Heh," Shane thought with a cold smile. "Didn't even bother moving that far? Or…"
He focused on a narrow nook where rocks rose to form a natural wall.
Signs of recent activity were etched faintly into the dirt. A faint, unpleasant magical residue lingered in the air.
So this was Ivan's hideout.
The moment Shane stepped into view in front of the rock face, a shadow slid out from behind it.
Ivan Dreyar.
He'd clearly sensed he was being followed. His face twisted with annoyance at being disturbed—and with shock and contempt when he saw who it was.
Squinting, he looked Shane over.
The truth was, he barely remembered the kid's name.
What stuck was a vague impression—some newbie who joined recently, caused a bit of noise by wiping a dark guild in some backwater. Nothing noteworthy since. Mediocre.
That thought only stoked his fury.
It was one thing to be cast out by that old man.
But this—sending only a brat like this after him?
Father. Is this how low you think of me? That I'm not even worth sending a real threat for?
Shane stopped and met Ivan's twisted glare, then shook his head.
"You've misunderstood, Ivan. This isn't about looking down on you."
A red coat snapped into existence around him, cloak falling into place, fluttering in wind that wasn't there.
"It's just a fact," he said, enunciating each word. "The fact is, to deal with you, the master doesn't need to come. Gildarts doesn't need to come."
His eyes locked onto Ivan, sharp and steady.
"I alone… am enough."
~~~
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