"Make-Magic really is convenient," Makarov sighed, eyeing the frozen owl-statue.
Hope slid the frozen bird-man into a blank card. "Just a trick. Nowhere near your Giant-Magic, Master."
"Enough flattery."
Makarov chuckled, then glanced up. "Two more Trigonometric Wings left upstairs—Natsu's team can handle them."
"Should be fine."
Hope twirled the owl-card, recalling what they knew. "The strongest of the three is that swordswoman Madara, but this is still a world of magic; she won't turn the tide."
Makarov nodded. He'd heard of Skullion's Madara too, and it felt like a waste.
She was a swordswoman pure and simple, her blade-work so refined she could crush most ordinary Mages.
Yet, as Hope said, this was a world of spells; against a Mage with real power, even peerless swordsmanship looked pale.
Take Gajeel, a Dragon Slayer Mage who devoured metal and turned his skin to iron scales with Iron Dragon Slayer Magic.
A swordswoman?
He'd simply eat your weapon.
Against that, her edge meant nothing.
Just then, rousing music crashed from above.
Makarov looked toward the stairs; before he could speak, a screech of guitar like nails on slate set his teeth on edge.
Listening to the two clashing styles weave into pure noise, Hope finally slapped a "Silence Buffer" on himself and Makarov.
Peace returned.
They hurried up and stepped into the next hall to find Natsu, Lucy and Cana crouched in a corner, hands over ears.
The floor belonged to two guitarists.
One was the Trigonometric Wings' "Eagle," Udarudos, a mane of black hair, punk leathers, fingers flying over his axe.
Opposite him sat Gajeel—somehow in a white suit—on a boulder, strumming another guitar; every chord made the trio nearby twitch.
Udarudos' fierce rock was almost bearable.
Gajeel's "heavy metal," though, felt like bleeding from every orifice and dropping dead.
Most songs cost money—his cost lives. The man had zero talent.
Makarov flicked Hope a look; Hope sprang, delivered a righteous knight-kick that plastered Gajeel to the wall, ending the lethal duel.
Relieved, Natsu and Cana rushed in for follow-up, stomping the iron Mage into the floor.
"You lousy bastard!"
"Do you even know how bad that was?!"
"Play heavy metal near me again and I'll deafen Natsu for life!"
"…Why me?"
"Because deaf sounds like dragon, right?"
"I get it—now I'm fired up!"
Watching the deluded pair, Lucy's eye twitched; only Natsu could fall for a pun that awful.
The interruption infuriated Udarudos—he'd finally found someone who appreciated his rock.
"Hey, you!"
He glared at Hope. "Cutting a sacred jam is rude! Pay the price—be my prisoner!"
"Rock Nightmare!"
He slammed a chord; magic surged with the notes, the power to enslave whoever heard.
Yet when the riff ended, Hope stood unchanged.
"Impossible!"
Udarudos' eyes bulged; had he not poured enough soul into the strings?
Yes—he just needed more heart!
He launched into a new solo, wilder than before, black hair whipping with solid strands of mana.
So deep in the music, he remembered the best days—vowing with his band to rock forever.
But in the end… why had he fallen so far?
The rock turned mournful, tempo slowing; a tear slipped down his cheek.
"And—tah!"
Hope was already behind him; a chop to the neck dropped the rocker. "Save the sob-story, villain—it kills your image."
Villain means we're the heroes, right?
But heroes don't ambush—Lucy's thought died as Hope spoke.
"Lucy, call Cancer and shave this guy bald. A man shouldn't grow hair this long."
Ouch—adding insult to injury.
They remembered how proudly he'd shown off hair silkier than most women's.
Imagining those beloved tresses gone, Cana and Lucy shuddered at Hope's cruelty.
The gate opened; Cancer Kaisha's blades flashed, and soon Udarudos' head shone like a mirror.
Thanking Lucy and Kaisha, a satisfied Hope sealed the bald rocker into a card beside the owl.
Now only one Trigonometric Wing remained: Madara.
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