Once the tension in Laxus's heart completely eased, the severe mental trauma he had accumulated instantly erupted, causing his eyelids to flutter before he completely passed out.
Lorne looked expressionlessly at the unconscious Laxus on the ground, bent down, grabbed one of his legs with a single hand, turned around, and dragged him out of the Great Cathedral.
The heavy body scraped across the ground, which was covered in frost and rubble, letting out a series of grating sounds.
The atmosphere inside the Fairy Tail Guild Hall was currently oppressive and heavy.
The members who had exhausted their magic power trying to stop the raijinshiki had mostly recovered after simple treatment and rest.
They gathered in small groups, maintaining a tacit silence, with everyone's gaze intentionally or unintentionally drifting toward the direction of the infirmary at the back of the Guild.
Anxiety permeated the air.
Master Makarov's condition weighed heavily on everyone's hearts, but no one dared to disturb the infirmary at this time, only waiting anxiously for news here.
"Creak!"
The Guild doors were pushed open in response, breaking the silence and instantly drawing everyone's attention.
Lorne was seen walking in from outside, dragging a humanoid object. The object had scattered blond hair and a bare torso—it was none other than the previously arrogant Laxus.
"Thump, thump, thump."
Dragged by Lorne's ankle, his head and back scraped along the wooden floor, making dull thuds and leaving a distinct trail.
The Guild members stared at the miserable sight, first freezing in unison, then feeling a rush of complex emotions mixed with satisfaction, relief, and even a faint trace of pity.
Judging by Laxus's half-dead state, the beating he received this time must have been unusually brutal.
Lorne dragged him all the way to the center of the hall and released him casually. Laxus was dropped onto the floor like a sack of garbage, making a muffled impact sound.
He looked up, scanned the gathered Guild members, and asked directly:
"How is the old man doing now?"
At the mention of the Master, the slight relief that had just appeared on everyone's faces instantly vanished, replaced by deep worry.
Everyone exchanged glances, but in the end, they could only shake their heads helplessly, indicating that they did not know the specifics.
Just then, the door leading to the back infirmary opened, and Porlyusica and Erza walked out one after the other.
Everyone's hearts leaped into their throats.
"That old geezer won't die!"
Porlyusica tossed out the blunt remark and walked straight toward the Guild door, completely ignoring everyone, as if staying for another second was too annoying.
"Granny Porlyusica!"
"Thank you!"
Despite her somewhat harsh attitude, the Guild members felt genuine gratitude.
As her figure departed, the atmosphere in the entire Guild Hall instantly shifted from overcast to bright and sunny.
"That's great!"
"The Master is okay!"
The cheers that had been suppressed for so long finally erupted. Everyone cried tears of joy, hugging each other in celebration.
Seeing the Guild regain its vitality, a hint of softness appeared on Erza's serious face, but she quickly cleared her throat to quiet the cheering and reminded them:
"However, the Master is old after all, and his body cannot handle much strain. If anything else causes him worry or exhaustion, it will likely harm his health. Everyone must keep this in mind!"
"Understood!"
Everyone immediately stood at attention and responded in unison, their attitudes more serious than the last.
Lorne looked at these swearing individuals but didn't quite believe them. Getting this bunch of troublemakers to cause absolutely no trouble was probably harder than getting Natsu and Gray to coexist peacefully.
He turned his attention to Erza and asked:
"Is the old man awake now? Perfect, I'll drag that guy over so he can see him."
Erza nodded.
Having received a positive reply, Lorne turned around, preparing to grab Laxus from the floor again.
When he looked down, he saw Natsu had somehow crept closer. Natsu was squatting next to the unconscious Laxus, curiously poking his cheek with a finger, and then pinching the dragon-scale-like markings on his arm that hadn't completely faded.
"Hey, is this guy really still alive? Why isn't he reacting at all?"
Lorne felt speechless, too lazy to bother with this single-celled organism, and simply bent down and grabbed Laxus's ankle.
"Wait, wait! I haven't finished studying him yet!"
Lorne completely ignored Natsu's shouting and dragged Laxus toward the infirmary.
Watching Lorne and Laxus's figures disappear into the hall area, the crowd, suppressed for so long, finally couldn't help but start whispering.
"Do you think... Laxus wasn't beaten to death? He's not reacting even when being dragged like that!"
"He doesn't seem to have any wounds, though. Just unconscious?"
"Hiss... that's the scariest part! He beat someone up this badly without leaving any visible scars. What exactly did Lorne do?"
"Mental attack? Or Soul Strike?"
"How terrifying..."
These soft murmurs drifted into Lorne's ears, making his eyebrows twitch.
Couldn't these guys talk about people behind their backs a little more discreetly?
He muttered a complaint internally, pushed open the infirmary door, walked straight in, and then closed the door behind him to shut out the noise.
"Thud."
With a swing of his arm, he tossed Laxus onto an empty bed in the corner, regardless of the posture.
Only after completing this did he turn to the other side and look at the familiar little old man sitting up in the hospital bed.
Makarov was wearing a patient gown; his complexion still looked a bit pale, but his spirits seemed much better.
Lorne smiled, waved casually, and greeted him:
"Yo! Old man, looks like you're still hale and hearty!"
Makarov didn't respond to Lorne's greeting, his gaze fixed on the unconscious Laxus on the other hospital bed.
His cloudy eyes were filled with unspeakable sorrow and disappointment, and he seemed to have aged ten years in that instant.
"Lorne..."
After a long pause, Makarov finally spoke in a hoarse, dry voice.
"You brat, didn't you hit him a little too hard?"
Then his tone shifted, his voice carrying unconcealed exhaustion and a slight tremor.
"Thank you..."
"But..." Makarov's gaze finally moved away from his grandson and turned toward Lorne, his eyes extremely complex.
"Allowing Laxus to reach this point is my failure, my dereliction of duty as the Master, and my inadequacy as a grandfather!"
Seeing this old man, who had dedicated his life to the Guild, reveal such a vulnerable side, Lorne couldn't help but fall silent for a moment.
He spoke slowly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"This isn't your failure. His own stubbornness chose this path."
Makarov closed his eyes in pain, and two streams of cloudy tears slid down his wrinkled cheeks.
"But he is still my grandson... I failed... I failed to guide him onto the right path."
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