"Impossible! I don't believe it! I don't believe a brat like you can do this kind of thing!"
Ivan roared hysterically, his voice almost cracking.
If it were a Mage in another field, perhaps they wouldn't have lost composure so much.
But he, he was a master who had studied illusions all his life.
The wilderness intertwined with swords and fire before his eyes completely overturned his cognition. The more he understood illusions, the more he could experience the reality and horror of this space.
"No, impossible—" Ivan's lips trembled, muttering constantly, as if arguing with an invisible opponent.
Gradually, he abandoned the illusion knowledge he was proud of, roaring desperately like a gambler who had lost everything. "Fake! This must be fake! It's a more brilliant illusion!"
"Sigh—"
Watching him fall into madness and become unable to communicate, Shane sighed heavily.
As this sigh fell, the aura around his body suddenly became incredibly solemn and magnificent.
The black blade in his hand disappeared at some point.
Immediately after, a low and clear chant, like a bell announcing the beginning of the world, echoed in this burning sword mound: "—Essence, Unravel."
Buzz—!
Countless swords covering the entire fire plain, gathering the concept of all "swords" in this world, vibrated in unison with this declaration, emitting a clear and long humming sound.
"Completion of concept, Converge."
In the next moment, all the swords, whether complete or broken, began to shatter simultaneously!
They turned into billions of light particles, along with the surrounding blazing flames, rushing toward Shane's virtually grasping right hand.
At this moment, on the wilderness, there was no firelight; the only light existed only in Shane's right hand.
Ivan's heart tightened inexplicably. Huge and invisible pressure squeezed his body, making him retreat repeatedly unconsciously.
"Forging technique, Critical Point." Shane's voice sounded again.
In his virtually grasping palm, firelight condensed rapidly, gradually forging into the rudiment of a longsword.
On the pitch-black blade body, dark red intertwined flames burned grandly, as if compressing unimaginably huge energy to the extreme.
The surrounding space began to distort and blur, emitting an overwhelmed wail.
That terrifying heat, like a red-hot branding iron pressed against the throat, finally woke Ivan from chaos.
He clenched his teeth tightly, gums even oozing blood.
"For—for obtaining Lumen Histoire—I absolutely cannot—give up!"
Amidst the roar, he squeezed out the last trace of Magic Power in his body, waving his hands frantically.
Instantly, countless pale paper shikigami swarmed out from his robe sleeves, like moths flying to fire, sweeping toward the longsword in Shane's hand that gathered all the firelight of the world!
Facing this dying counterattack, Shane's eyes showed no fluctuation.
Only at the moment the paper tide was about to touch his body, he cursed, feeling resentment for Ivan's failure to live up to expectations on behalf of the old man: "Bastard! It doesn't matter if you die! But to what extent do you want to break the old man's heart!!"
Before his voice fell, his virtually grasping right hand tightened abruptly!
That black blade intertwined with dark red flames solidified completely, then slashed down.
There was no earth-shattering loud noise, only a dark red intertwined thin line seemingly cutting open the world, gently sweeping past from top to bottom.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
The swarming white torrent annihilated even before touching this red light.
The crazy and desperate expression on Ivan's face froze.
Facing this slash that could sever time, space, and karma together.
All his perception, all the common sense of magic he studied all his life, were screaming the same message to him—incomprehensible, unable to resist, absolute—horror.
After a brief, suffocating silence.
Thud.
Ivan Dreyar's eyes rolled back, his body falling straight backward, hitting heavily on the scorched earth, completely losing consciousness.
He—was scared into fainting.
Almost simultaneously as Ivan fell to the ground, the flame longsword in Shane's hand that caused heaven and earth to change color dissipated quietly, turning into specks of sparks merging into the surrounding air.
Immediately after, this burning wilderness of swords began to fluctuate violently, like a reflection in water being disturbed.
The dark red sky, the boundless scorched earth, the dense broken swords—all scenes were fading, blurring, and dissipating rapidly.
The hot wind subsided, the thick smoke dispersed.
Cold air poured into the lungs again, and the clear whistle of a train came from the distance.
The world returned to its original state.
It was still that snowfield, near that rock cave, even the accumulated snow under Shane's feet showed no sign of melting, white as before, as if nothing had happened.
Shane looked down at Ivan, who was unconscious on the ground like a puddle of mud, couldn't help walking over, raising his leg, and kicking him heavily twice.
"Hey, wake up."
No reaction.
Shane curled his lips, feeling a bit angry in his heart.
Spent so much effort, even used the "Noble Phantasm," yet this guy fainted neatly and crisply before the sword even slashed out completely.
"Don't even have Laxus's backbone, bastard."
He complained in a low voice and kicked twice more as if venting anger. Ivan remained motionless like a dead pig.
Thinking of the purpose of chasing him, Shane sighed.
Couldn't really leave him in this icy and snowy land. Although this bastard deserved to die, he promised the old man to bring him back.
Anyway, the other party was an S-Class Mage, with thick skin and flesh.
Shane was too lazy to carry him on his back, simply bending down, grabbing one of Ivan's ankles, and dragging him back along the way he came, stumbling like dragging a bag of trash.
Fortunately, unlike his pitiful Magic Power, Shane's physical strength was quite sufficient.
Soon, he saw the familiar building outline of Fairy Tail.
From a distance, Shane saw a figure with black spiky hair standing anxiously at the guild gate, constantly looking out.
It was Gray.
Shane's eyes rolled, suddenly getting a prank idea.
He let go of his hand, throwing the still unconscious Ivan casually at the street corner, while he jumped out from the other side abruptly, patting Gray's shoulder nonchalantly. "Yo, Gray, what are you looking at?"
"Whoa!" Gray was startled by this sudden voice, turned around abruptly, and breathed a sigh of relief seeing it was Shane.
He then complained grumpily, "You guy! I thought you really recklessly went to chase Ivan!
Was just thinking whether to call Erza to find you together! You actually came back yourself—but luckily you weren't that reckless."
Shane was a bit baffled by his words, blinked, and pointed in the direction he just came from. "I knew where he went, and now I'm back; of course I brought him back."
Gray looked in the direction he pointed.
Only then did he notice a figure covered in mud and snow, in deep coma, lying in the snow not far away, having been dragged all the way.