Hearing Ivan's voice—shrill with terror—Hope and the orange-haired man under the tree both froze.
Hope understood; his guess had been right. The badly-battered drunkard in front of him was the only S-Class Mage among Fairy Tail's five he had never met.
—Gildarts Clive.
Though his low profile left him little known in the wider magical world, to every member of Fairy Tail he was unquestionably the guild's strongest Mage.
Hope had once heard Macao and Wakaba mention that Makarov had long wanted Gildarts to succeed him, but the man loved freedom and adventure and always found an excuse to slip away.
After the initial shock, the carefree look on Gildarts's face vanished in an instant.
His gaze swept across the guild mark on the young man's arm, then locked onto the magic card Hope held up.
He could only see the back, yet he was certain Ivan's voice had come from that card.
"Ivan…"
Gildarts's voice was low, betraying little emotion.
But those who knew him were aware he was always easy-going—except toward one person he loathed: the guild master's own son.
"You've caught him?"
Gildarts looked at Hope, swishing the half-empty bottle. "New face—never seen you before."
Hope sat down opposite him as if it were the most natural thing, lifting the card. "Name's Hope. Joined recently. The master asked me to bring Ivan back."
"So the old man's finally decided to deal with this headache…"
Gildarts took a gulp; the pull on his internal injuries made him cough, fresh red blooming across the bandages, but he ignored it. "Ivan knows too many guild secrets. Leaving him out there would be a disaster. What's the old man planning?"
"Not sure, but I'd guess partial Memory deletion. Counting me, we now have three Mages in the guild who can do it."
"Ho, impressive."
Gildarts studied Hope carefully; the newcomer had been entrusted with capturing Ivan—clearly a comrade Makarov trusted.
Inside the card, Ivan listened to their casual exchange—especially Hope's calm mention of deleting his Memory—and panicked, shouting:
"Wait! Gildarts! And Hope! Listen to me!"
"The old man—no, Father—has hidden a secret that doesn't just possess enormous power; it concerns the guild's—"
"Shut it, Ivan."
Gildarts cut him off coldly, revulsion bare in his eyes. "Not a single punctuation mark of yours is worth believing. The old man only threw you out—that was mercy already."
Hope knocked Ivan out again. Gildarts's wounds were shocking, especially where flesh met Magic-Powered Prosthetics.
"Let me treat you—stay still."
Gildarts scratched his head. "You know healing magic?"
"There's a cute little girl in the guild who does, so now I do too." Hope pressed his palm to Gildarts's blood-soaked abdomen, Wendy's healing Sky appearing in his hand.
As the spell began, he couldn't help asking, "Your injuries are severe; the old doctor said he fished you out of Silverbrook. What happened?"
Hailed as Fairy Tail's strongest, Gildarts's power unquestionably surpassed that of Makarov, a Ten Wizard Saint.
Even now, grievously wounded, Gildarts's mighty magic still eclipsed Makarov—and also Hyberion, the Second of the Ten Wizard Saints.
In Ishgar, the only publicly known Mage stronger than Hyberion was the legendary "First of the Ten," called "God Serena."
In other words, on this continent Gildarts was literally one of the top two.
Yet someone of his caliber had lost an arm and a leg, organs crushed. Had that old doctor not found him, he would have died.
Gildarts fell silent for a moment.
He up-ended the bottle, drained the last drop, tossed it aside, a flicker of defeat crossing his face.
"I was attempting the Hundred Year Quest. Near Mount Zonia… I ran into a Dragon."
He pointed at his left arm and leg. "One brief clash… and this was the result. Counting myself lucky to be alive."
Hope's brows knitted. "Don't tell me it was a Black Dragon?"
"You've seen it too?"
Hope shook his head at Gildarts's surprise, already certain the drunkard had bumped into the world's final boss.
Hope knew of the Black Dragon because, as a cloud-viewer, it was one of the few characters from Fairy Tail that had stuck in his mind.
In this magical world the Black Dragon not only nullified magic but also possessed racial stats that crushed humans—an utter cheat.
If the plot hadn't later pulled the "separate spirit from body" stunt, Hope couldn't imagine how Natsu and the others could ever win.
To run into such a final boss and only lose an arm and a leg—besides luck—spoke volumes about Gildarts's strength.
After twenty minutes of treatment and casual chatter, Hope had fully restored Gildarts's internal injuries.
"Thanks a ton, Hope."
Gildarts bounced on his feet, beaming.
He knew how bad it had been; a lost left arm and leg could be replaced with Magic-Powered Prosthetics, and with the continent's advanced magical industry there was little worry.
But ruined organs would hamper combat and make further growth nearly impossible.
Now that Hope had mended them, how could he not be delighted?
Watching Gildarts crack open two bottles to celebrate, Hope marveled that Wendy's Sky could heal such grave injuries—shame it couldn't regrow limbs.
Magnetic Field Power could… Hope rubbed his chin, but in the end gave up the idea of restoring Gildarts's limbs here and now.
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