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Chapter 55 Battle Cry of the Fairies
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 17:19:05 +0000 UTCOak Town, Phantom Lord Guild
Inside the towering walls of the Phantom Lord Guild, laughter echoed bouncing off walls. Dozens of members lounged around the hall, some at tables tossing dice, others polishing weapons, and a few reliving their previous quests and the news that they just received.
“Have you heard! I can’t believe Gajeel actually hung ‘em on a tree!” One snorted, nearly choking on his drink.
“Those damn Fairies must be crying like children.” Another jeered.
“Fairy Tail’s full of jokes. No wonder they can’t protect their own.”
The roars of laughter grew louder, nastier, crueler as they had their fun at the expense of others.
Until— Knock. Knock.
A pair of soft raps echoed from the front doors of the guild.
The noise of the room dulled slightly as a few members blinked, exchanging looks.
“…Did someone order food?” One muttered.
Then—
A muffled male voice, filled with curiosity, drifted through the doors. “Yashima, why did you knock on the door?”
Another voice followed in a soft gentle tone. “I simply thought it would be polite. We wouldn’t want them to think we were rude.”
That caused the room to stir—confusion blooming on a dozen faces.
“Wait, did they just—?”
A third voice, brash and loud, interrupted. “Screw that! We’re here to kick their asses! Who gives a damn about manners?!”
Several Phantom Lord members stood now, weapons in hand, edging toward the doors.
“What the hell is going on—?”
A fourth voice, smooth and amused, cut in—low, feminine, and dangerous. “Why not skip the foreplay and blow the door off its hinges?”
The room went completely still.
“...Are they serious?”
Then came the fifth voice, loud and clear—male, bold, and bursting with power. “MOVE.”
There was a tense second of silence.
“…Heh. Move for wha—”
BOOM!!!
The front doors exploded inward in a violent burst of fire and force, splinters of wood and twisted metal launching across the room like shrapnel. Half a dozen Phantom Lord members were blasted off their feet, crashing into walls, tables, and one another in a flurry of shocked screams.
A cloud of dust filled the air—accompanied by the rising tremble of magic.
Outside, framed in the smoke and golden daylight, stood the members of Fairy Tail.
At the center was Master Makarov, his tiny form radiating presence far beyond his size. His small frame crackled with energy, eyes narrowed beneath his brow.
“We are Fairy Tail! And we’re here to punish you bastards.” He said, his voice steady, booming through the ruined doorway.
Behind him stood Erza armor and sword at the ready. Natsu, fists aflame and eyes burning with fury. Gray, fully clothed and already forming frost over his hands. As well as various other members ready to fight.
Issei was also there with his jacket fluttering in the wind, his red gauntlet glowing with quiet, restrained power, his eyes blazing with the fury of a man whose family had been hurt.
Beside him: Yuuka, her new revolvers gleaming. Uzume, grinning with dangerous energy. Yashima, calm but intense, hammer in hand. Akitsu, silent but locked onto her target. And Karasuba, blade already drawn, the expression on her face promising nothing but pain.
From behind the wreckage, the Phantom Lord members scrambled to regroup, weapons rising as the tension thickened like storm clouds.
One of them stammered, blood on his lip. “Intruders!”
Makarov stepped forward. “Where is Jose Porla?”
But no one from Phantom Lord answered.
“Bring him out,” Issei said coldly, “Or we’ll bring down the whole damn building until we find him.”
—---------------------------------------
In another room a man could be seen watching the chaos unfold with a smirk while sitting on a throne. “They really are quite the dramatic bunch.”
Jose Porla, the Master of Phantom Lord. His thick purple lips curled into a cruel smile, delighted to see his plan all coming together. “Well then… Do entertain our guests?” He soon starts preparing for his meeting with Master Makarov.
—------------------------------------
Natsu launched himself forward like a cannonball, flames erupting from his mouth and fists as he blasted the nearest Phantom Lord mages off their feet. The air grew heavy with heat as he swung wildly, fists blazing, screaming in fury. “Take this, you bastards!”
Beside him, Issei’s Boosted Gear flared. His first punch sent a member of Phantom Lord flying, and into three other members that sent them further flying into a wall.
Boost! Ten seconds.
He moved like a bullet, fists flying, his gauntlet cleaving through shields and magical barriers like paper.
“You hurt my friends,” He growled, ducking a blast and uppercutting a mage into unconsciousness. “You’re lucky Master said not to kill.”
Behind them, Gray and Akitsu moved in synchronized form—ice trailing behind them, freezing enemies mid-motion. Gray snapped his fingers, forming spiked chains of ice that wrapped around three attackers at once, slamming them into the floor.
Akitsu’s calm, emotionless expression never changed as she summoned spears of frozen lances, impaling the ground around a cluster of mages, trapping them in a slowly encroaching prison.
“Stay down,” She whispered, before frost enveloped the entire floor beneath them.
Elfman let out a battle cry, his arm transforming into a monstrous lizard’s claw. “Real man’s left hook!!” He bellowed, slamming into a Phantom mage and sending him flying into a support beam.
Nab summoned an enormous leopard spirit that roared enveloping him, and then he pouncing across the battlefield and scattered the opposition. Beside him, Max extended his arms, summoning a storm of enchanted sand that whipped through enemy ranks, blinding and burying them in waves of force.
“Try not to inhale it!” Max shouted, smirking.
Yashima moved, her massive hammer swung in wide arcs, each strike crushing armor, shattering spells, and sending shockwaves that made the ground tremble.
“Stay away from my friends,” She said, driving her hammer into the gut of an advancing brute and sending him flying.
Cana pulled card after glowing card from her deck, each one activating in a flash of light—explosions, barriers, blasts of pure magic—while Loke watched her back, twin rings glowing on his fingers as he launched different attacks at anyone foolish enough to come close.
“Careful,” Loke warned, summoning a reflective shield just in time to deflect a bolt. “You keep showing off like this, and I’ll start charging for protection.”
“Please,” Cana smirked. “You’d beg to stay on my team.”
Wakaba’s smoke magic blanketed the battlefield in a swirling mist, confusing the Phantom members, while Macao used the cover to strike with deadly precision, his purple flare magic piercing through the haze like lightning.
Uzume danced through the fray like a wind spirit, her veil snapping through the air as she vaulted off one mage’s head, wrapped her sash around another, and slammed him into the ground like a sack of flour.
“C’mon! Is this all you’ve got?!” She grinned. “At least pretend to put up a fight!” Then she grabbed a flailing Phantom mage by the leg and used him to knock down three more.
Karasuba was slicing through her foes with ruthless precision, her expression sharp with irritation. Every slash of her katana was deliberate—fast enough to draw blood, but not fatal.
“This is a joke,” She muttered, cutting down another opponent. “Next time, I’m not holding back.”
Beside her, Erza, in full armor, met her eyes. “Focus,” She said coldly. “Hold your bloodlust.”
Alzack, Bisca, and Yuuka had formed a deadly firing line, bullets of enchanted magic tearing through enemy spells mid-cast.
Alzack shouted, “Twelve down!”
Yuuka replied, “Don’t let them get up!”
Bisca reloaded with a snap. “They’re not getting anywhere near our people.”
One Phantom mage tried to sneak around the side—only for all three to shoot at once. He dropped without a word.
Realizing they were getting overwhelmed, a group of Phantom Lord members broke off and charged straight toward Makarov, hoping to cut off the head of the snake.
The master didn’t even flinch. His body began to glow with radiant energy. “Fool!” He boomed.
In an instant, Makarov towered over the battlefield, his body massive, his shadow stretching across the entire hall. His enormous hand came down like a fist of divine judgment, smashing Phantom Lord mages into the ground.
“I said… BRING ME JOSE!!” The ceiling shook with the force of his voice.
From the far end of the chamber, Erza narrowed her eyes, her swords drawn and bloodied. “Something isn't right.” She muttered.
Issei, hearing Erza, turned toward her. “What?”
“The Element Four. Phantom Lord’s S-ranked mages. They’re not here.”
Issei’s expression darkened. “They must be planning something.”
High above the chaos, Gajeel Redfox crouched silently on one of the thick, support beams crisscrossing the upper ceiling of Phantom Lord’s massive guild hall. His red eyes flicked across the battlefield below, narrow and calculating. The sound of battle echoed all around him—magic crashing, steel clashing, and voices shouting in anger or pain—but Gajeel remained still as stone, watching.
"So... she came."
His gaze locked onto Erza Scarlet, the famed Titania, as she moved through the crowd like a storm, her blades flashing in perfect rhythm. She was everything the rumors claimed—imposing, relentless, and commanding the battlefield with the air of a queen. Even he had to admit she was impressive.
But as he kept scanning—
“Hmph.” A low grunt escaped him. “No Laxus. No Gildarts. And no Mystogan.” He smirked faintly. “Not sending their top dogs, huh?”
That smirk vanished as quickly as it came.
“…And that woman’s not here either.” His eyes narrowed, recalling the sting in his chest, the ache in his ribs, and the embarrassment of being blown back by a woman wielding nothing but a wooden sword. His hand clenched reflexively at the memory. She wasn’t here.
A part of him wanted a rematch, to prove he could take her down. But a bigger part—the part with a survival instinct—was glad she was absent.
His lips curled into a scowl as he sat back slightly on the beam, arms draped across his knees. “Still... Master Jose’s plan’s workin’. Let ‘em think they’re winning. Let ‘em burn out their anger. They’ve got no idea what’s coming.”
Then as if sensing or smelling something familiar, Gajeel’s gaze landed on Issei, who had just downed another Phantom mage with a crushing gauntlet punch. “Him too... That bastard’s trouble.” A faint snarl escaped him. But he stayed still.
This wasn’t his fight. Not yet.
He will just watch for now. Waiting until the time came to bite back.
—------------------------------------------
Magnolia
Back in the quiet streets of Magnolia, far from the raging battlefield and war cries echoing through Phantom Lord’s guild hall, a lone figure wandered the cobbled paths—shoulders hunched, head lowered.
Lucy Heartfilia walked aimlessly past shops and houses, not really seeing any of them. Her arms were folded across her chest, the usual bounce in her step gone.
Her thoughts were heavy.
‘They… they crucified Levy. Jet. Droy. Branded them like trophies.’ She clenched her fists, the image of her friends bleeding and bound to that old oak tree burned into her mind. ‘How could anyone do something like that?’
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.
“Phantom Lord... I’ll never forgive them.”
A sudden drip landed on her nose.
She blinked.
Then felt another drop fell, followed by another—soft, cold, and utterly out of place.
Lucy looked up.
The sun was still high in the sky, golden and warm—yet rain was falling.
“What…? That’s not possible.” Her heart skipped a beat, and for the first time since leaving the guild, her instincts kicked in.
Then—a shadow passed behind her.
She spun around—
Only to find herself surrounded.
A wired tall man with a monocle that moved his body in a weird manner and in an elaborate brown suit with spiking green hair stepped out from a nearby alley, his fingers spinning gracefully through the air. His expression was theatrical and smug.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle~,” He purred, bowing slightly. “The skies weep for your sadness, non?”
This man was Sol of the Earth.
Lucy tensed, her hand drifting toward her belt.
Before she could reach for her keys, a soft voice echoed beside her—melancholic and cold.
“She’s the one. Lucy Heartfilia.”
Juvia Lockser stood at Sol’s side, the rain thickening around her form like a protective veil. Her blue eyes locked onto Lucy with eerie calm.
“We’re here to bring you to Master Jose,” Juvia said.
Lucy, hearing the name of the guild master of Phantom Lord stepped back. “You’re part of the Phantom Lord!” Then her gaze hardened. “You’re the ones responsible for what happened to Levy!”
Sol tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Ah, non non! You misunderstand. That act of savagery was our dear Gajeel’s… masterpiece. We simply follow orders.”
“You—!” She reached to activate her keys—
But Juvia moved first. “Water Lock.”
A sphere of water burst from the air, slamming around Lucy’s body, encasing her in a watery prison.
Lucy’s eyes widened in panic as she tried to scream, but her voice was lost in bubbles.
She kicked, punched, tried to reach for her keys—but the water weighed her limbs down like chains. Her vision blurred, her lungs screamed, her magic tried to respond—
And then…
Darkness.
She floated, unconscious.
Juvia approached, her expression unreadable as she gently placed a hand on the orb. “She will be fine. Master said not to harm her.”
Sol nodded, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “She is quite the prized jewel. The Master will be pleased.”
As they prepared to leave, a pair of Celestial Spirit keys had fallen to the ground, scattered across the wet stones.
—-----------------------------------------------
Oak Town, Phantom Lord Guild
The battle raged on inside the battered ruins of the Phantom Lord guild hall, each clash of fists and blades echoing like thunder across steel and stone.
Fairy Tail had come for vengeance.
Natsu barreled through enemy ranks, fists ablaze, letting out a primal roar as he slammed one Phantom mage through a wooden column. Flames spiraled around his body like a serpent of wrath.
“Fire Dragon’s Iron Fist!!”
A searing uppercut lit the air in orange as another foe went flying into the ceiling.
Issei, right beside him, was no less furious. His Boosted Gear roared with each charged burst.
Boost!
He lunged forward, slamming his gauntleted fist into the chest of a Phantom mage trying to cast a spell—the impact cracked the ground, a small shockwave blowing nearby debris aside.
Around them, Elfman swung his monstrous arms, transformed into furry limbs of some forgotten beast. His strength was raw and wild, sending opponents careening like ragdolls.
“This is what it means to be a man!” He bellowed, as one opponent flew across the room and landed in a heap.
Across the battlefield, Karasuba and Erza carved their path through the chaos, their blades flashing like lightning.
Karasuba moved with precision and bloodlust just barely contained, her expression a mask of quiet disdain.
“Tch. Weaklings. I have to try not to kill you, and even then it’s barely a challenge.” She slashed in a wide arc, sending three mages sprawling at once, then ducked a counterattack and spun into a disabling strike.
Beside her, Erza struck down mage after mage with efficient grace, each swing of her sword glowing with crimson force.
Meanwhile, Uzume spun through the air like a dancer of war, her veil whipping like a serpent. She snagged three opponents mid-motion, slamming them into one another before yanking them toward Yashima.
“Delivery incoming!” She shouted with a grin.
Yashima, calm and composed, stepped forward and smashed all three in a single, brutal hammer swing that cracked the floor beneath them.
Even Happy had joined the fray—zipping through the air with a makeshift crowbar in his tiny paws.
“I’m helping!!” He shouted gleefully, whacking a Phantom mage on the head and flying off before retaliation. “Take that, you jerk!”
The battle stretched on, but still the Phantom Lord mages kept coming, wave after wave. For every enemy that fell, another emerged.
Then, through the haze, Master Makarov stepped forward, eyes locked on the distant upper floors.
“I’m going to handle Jose.” His voice cut through the noise like a commandment. He turned, cane in hand, magic crackling around his tiny frame. “I leave the rest to you, Erza.”
Erza turned immediately, her armored heels scraping the stone. “Understood, Master.” She placed a fist to her chest in salute. “We’ll hold the line.”
Makarov gave her a small nod. Then, in a blink, he moved across the battlefield and to the stairs. The upper floors of Phantom Lord awaited him, and so did Jose Porla.
As Makarov’s form disappeared above, the last echoes of his booming presence faded beneath the thunder of magic and metal. The battle continued to rage below—but something shifted.
A presence dropped into the battlefield.
Gajeel Redfox descended from the high beams with a heavy thud, landing in the middle of the chaos with all the subtlety of a crashing meteor. The air around him seemed to vibrate, the ground humming with the iron in his magic.
Without hesitation, he lunged forward—his iron-covered fists lashing out like warhammers.
Nab was the first to fall, caught mid-spell and sent tumbling across the floor like a ragdoll.
Warren barely had time to react before a fist full of iron slammed into his side, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him into a support column.
More Fairy Tail mages rushed in—but Gajeel, unfazed, batted them away with brutal swings of his transforming limbs.
“Hah! Is this all Fairy Tail’s got?” Gajeel roared, teeth bared in a savage grin. “I thought you were supposed to be strong! Come on! Bring me someone who can actually hit back!”
“You got it, metal-head!” Elfman charged, his right arm transforming in an instant—scales, claws, and raw power bursting out. “Beast Arm!”
His fist slammed toward Gajeel’s face—but was blocked mid-swing by a sudden transformation.
Clang!
Gajeel’s arm had turned into an iron pillar, thick and dense, stopping Elfman’s strike cold. Sparks flew from the contact.
“Oh-ho? Not bad,” Gajeel sneered, pushing back. “But I ain’t done yet!”
The two launched into a flurry of blows. The room quaked from the impact of their strikes, magic surging through each exchange.
Elfman grunted, ducking under a wild iron swing and retaliating with a left hook, only for Gajeel to twist and parry with his reinforced elbow.
Neither could land a clean hit.
But then Gajeel’s smirk widened. “Alright... warm-up’s over.”
He dug his feet into the floor, iron spikes forming across his arms as his punches grew heavier, faster, sharper. One swing knocked back a nearby Fairy Tail mage, another strike sent debris flying as he fought with no regard for his surroundings.
Elfman’s eyes widened.
Gajeel was picking up speed and power.
A feint to the left—then a solid punch to the stomach. It connected, hard.
“Guh—!” Elfman flew back, crashing into a stack of broken crates, the wind knocked clean out of him.
“ELFMAN!” someone shouted.
Before Gajeel could press the attack, something heavy landed on the ground with a fiery thud.
A fist glowing red. Flames licking at the air.
Natsu Dragneel stood between Gajeel and the fallen Elfman. “My turn.” He said.
Gajeel blinked, confused.
CRACK!
Natsu’s flaming fist slammed into Gajeel’s jaw with a roar of fire.
“I’m Natsu Dragneel of Fairy Tail!”
Gajeel staggered back, smoke curling off his face as he skidded across the ground, dragging deep gouges in the floor with his heels.
The air around them heated instantly as Natsu’s flames burned brighter, his eyes burning with fury.
“You want someone to fight?” Natsu growled. “You found him.”
Natsu stood between Gajeel and Elfman, fists still glowing, flames licking at his arms like serpents hungry for a fight.
But then he turned his head slightly, glancing back at his fallen friend.
“You good, Elfman?”
Elfman coughed and wiped the blood from his mouth, scowling. “You bastard… I had that fight!”
Natsu grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah, and you were about to get flattened. Let me handle the metal freak.”
Elfman tried to stand, pride clearly wounded, but his legs buckled under the strain. “Tch… fine. Just don’t lose.”
Behind him, Gajeel’s voice rang out like steel on stone. “Touching. Real touching.”
The Iron Dragon Slayer surged forward with a roar—his iron-covered fist already drawn back, spikes lining the knuckles.
Natsu turned just in time—but not fast enough.
The blow slammed into his gut.
“Guh—!”
But Gajeel’s victory grin shattered in an instant.
Because Natsu hadn’t been knocked back.
No. He was still standing—fist buried in his stomach, unmoved.
“Wha—?”
Natsu’s hands snapped up and grabbed Gajeel’s wrist, tightening with crushing force.
A vein throbbed along his temple.
“That wasn’t very dragon-like,” Natsu growled.
And then with a burst of power, Natsu spun and hurled Gajeel upward like a missile. The roof cracked from the force as Gajeel was launched into the upper beams.
“Gah—!”
But Gajeel was fast. His body twisted midair, his feet slamming into a rafter. With a metallic clang, iron cleats erupted from the soles of his boots, anchoring him upside down to the ceiling beams.
“Not bad,” he muttered, cracking his neck. “Got some bite, huh?”
Then his eyes widened.
Because Natsu was already in front of him.
“Surprise.” A flaming fist crashed down, slamming into Gajeel’s face with enough force to crack the beam beneath him.
“Fire Dragon’s Claw!!”
Gajeel was thrown back, but by twisting and controlling the momentum he was able to land on his feet landing in another support beam.
He spat to the side, a smear of blood on his lip. “Heh. If that’s all you got, Salamander, I’m gonna be real disappointed.”
But Natsu just crossed his arms, his eyes locked onto Gajeel with glowing intensity.
“That?” Natsu said, his mouth curling into a grin. “That was just a friendly greeting…”
He took a slow breath—flames pouring from his nostrils.
“…from one dragon to another.”
The tension exploded as the two dragon slayers measured each other's power.
—-------------------------
Down below, amid the chaos of battle, Issei Hyoudou stood near the wreckage of shattered pillars and unconscious mages, momentarily still—his crimson gauntlet crackling with lingering energy.
His golden-brown eyes weren’t on the Phantom Lord mages around him.
They were fixed above, on the ceiling beams where Natsu and Gajeel had begun their fiery clash. Sparks and embers rained from the ceiling as the two dragon slayers collided again and again like dueling meteors.
“Damn,” Issei muttered under his breath, eyebrows lifting slightly in genuine admiration. “He’s actually keeping up with that metal guy…”
A nearby Phantom mage saw the opportunity.
“Now! While he’s distracted!”
Three enemies lunged toward Issei, weapons raised—one with a conjured spear, another with enchanted knuckle dusters, and a third already mid-cast on a lightning spell.
Issei didn’t even look or acknowledge their presence.
CRACK!
With a swift pivot, his gauntlet smashed the spear clean in half, his elbow slammed into the second’s jaw, and his free hand caught the third’s wrist before the spell could finish.
His gaze never left the ceiling.
Then gently twisted the mage’s arm—pop—and the lightning spell fizzled in a burst of harmless sparks.
“I mean, it’s cool and all,” Issei murmured, “But I wonder if they are stronger than me.”
Then Ddraig’s voice echoed inside his mind, vibrating with pride and suppressed aggression.
(You’re just going to let that pink-haired brat show off like that? And that iron-biter? This is disgraceful, partner. Those two posing like that is pissing me off.)
“Let them have their fun.” Issei whispered under his breath, even as another Phantom mage tried to sneak up behind him—only to be backhanded across the hall by a lazy flick of Issei’s arm. “Besides, I don’t need the glory.”
(THE GLORY BELONGS ONLY TO US!) Ddraig roared. (We are the Red Dragon Emperor! The Dragon of Domination! Not some background extra while children squabble overhead! You should be up there right now and then beat them both down, and declare yourself their better!)
A flash of flame erupted from the ceiling, and a massive shockwave rocked the ground. The fight above was intensifying, lighting up the ruins with blazing arcs of magic and metal.
Nearby, Karasuba sliced down another mage with a flick of her blade, then glanced at Issei mid-fight.
“Are you going up there, or are you just going to gawk at the teenagers?”
Issei shrugged. “Was gonna let Natsu have this.”
Karasuba raised an eyebrow. “That’s sweet but boring.”
Issei grunted, then launched a low kick that swept three Phantom mages off their feet. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
(Tch. At least find someone worthier to fight. These grunts are beneath you.)
“I’ll make you a deal,” Issei muttered, grinning as he blocked another strike with the side of his gauntlet. “If Natsu loses, I’ll jump in and give Gajeel a punch to the face.”
(You’re lucky I’m sealed. I’d do it myself.)
He chuckled, flames and wind from the battle above casting shifting shadows across his face.
“Relax, Ddraig. We’ll have our turn.”
The ground then trembled.
A deep, rhythmic rumble pulsed through the floors of Phantom Lord’s guild like a drumbeat of judgment. Dust trickled from cracked ceilings. Glasses shattered. Pillars groaned beneath unseen pressure.
Phantom Lord mages froze mid-attack.
Fairy Tail members only smirked.
They knew that magic. That weight. That power.
“Master’s mad,” Gray muttered with a grim smile, fists still frozen mid-cast.
“Looks like things just got serious,” Erza said, her eyes narrowing as she continued cutting through the enemy ranks.
Even Natsu paused briefly mid-swing as he clashed with Gajeel, feeling the tremor beneath his boots. “Heh. Gramps is finally warming up.”
—------------------------------------------------------
High above, on one of the upper floors of the Phantom Lord guild.
The double doors of an elaborate chamber exploded inward, reduced to splinters.
Through the dust and smoke, a glowing figure stepped through the threshold, magic pulsing from his body like a miniature sun.
Makarov Dreyar, his cane cracking the ground beneath him with each step, stormed into the room with the fury of a god.
His tiny frame barely contained the immense magic radiating from within—enough to shake the entire building.
Sitting in the center of the chamber, on a throne forged of black steel, was Jose Porla, calm as ever.
The Phantom Lord Guild Master rested his chin on one hand, legs crossed, lips curled into a thin smirk.
“Well, well,” Jose drawled, as if greeting an old friend at a tea party. “Makarov. It’s been… what, ten years?”
“I’m not here to reminisce!” Makarov snapped, his voice like a whip. “You dared to hurt my children! You attacked my family and thought there wouldn’t be consequences?!”
Jose gave a lazy wave of his hand. “Oh come now. You’re overreacting.”
BOOM!
Without another word, Makarov’s magic surged. His body glowed, his right arm expanding in an instant—enlarging into a massive, glowing limb as he thrust it forward and smashed down toward Jose’s throne with godlike force.
The ground quaked.
Stone walls fractured.
The entire room erupted in light and dust.
But as the debris cleared, the throne lay in ruins.
And Jose?
He was sitting calmly in a different chair, across the room—untouched.
“Still hot-headed,” he mused.
Makarov’s eyes narrowed. “An illusion.”
“Of course,” Jose smiled. “You wouldn’t expect me to face you directly in this space, would you? A battle between two Wizard Saints would tear this entire building—and likely half the city—to pieces.”
“Come out and fight me like a man,” Makarov growled, his magic still blazing.
Jose’s eyes glinted. “Not yet. I prefer… tactical victory. Besides—my children are still playing with yours. Let’s see who cries first. Plus I have a surprise for you.”
Before Makarov could even react, a burst of light ignited in the center of the room—and Lucy Heartfilia appeared within it, her unconscious body collapsing onto the cold stone floor.
Makarov’s eyes widened in shock.
“Lucy?!”
He took an urgent step forward, confusion and panic racing through his thoughts. ‘Why is she here?! How did—’
“Ah,” Jose said, drawing a long, thin dagger from his cloak. He raised the blade slowly, theatrically, aiming it at the girl’s prone form. “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt much.”
“NO!” Makarov roared, lunging forward with magic already surging again through his limbs.
But—
It was a trap.
Just as he moved, a towering presence appeared behind him, cloaked in silence until the last second.
A massive figure in dark robes, eyes hidden beneath a blindfold, stepped from the shadows like a phantom. Tears streamed from his covered eyes, running down the sides of his gaunt cheeks, as if the very act of violence brought him sorrow.
Aria. Of the Element Four.
And with those silent tears—
He raised his arms.
“Metsu.”
A ripple in the air exploded outward in all directions, forming a twisting, translucent vortex of air that surrounded Makarov like a sphere of shimmering energy.
Makarov halted mid-lunge.
He gasped—
“Wha—?”
And then he collapsed to his knees.
His body jerked violently as the spell struck its full effect. The magical aura surrounding him vanished, completely snuffed out like a candle in a storm.
He clutched at his chest. His vision blurred. His limbs felt hollow. He couldn’t even feel his own energy.
‘My magic… was gone.’ Drained. In an instant. ‘What… what is this…?’
Jose stood tall now, beside Lucy’s motionless body, watching Makarov with a look of amused disdain.
“Ah, yes,” he said smoothly. “That’s Aria’s specialty. Metsu. An Airspace spell that removes magic from its victim as easily as breathing practically makes any mage’s magic void.”
“You… you planned this…” Makarov whispered, barely able to stay upright.
“Of course,” Jose said coldly. “Do you think I’d face another Wizard Saint head-on like a fool? No, no. Tactician, remember?”
Makarov’s muscles refused to obey. His limbs trembled as his eyes met Aria’s, the blindfolded man’s face still lined with tears.
“Why… cry…?” Makarov wheezed.
Aria whispered, “Because… your suffering… breaks my heart.”
Then Aria raised his hands again—and with another violent surge of magic, he launched Makarov’s weakened body across the room like a ragdoll.
CRASH!
The walls buckled as Makarov was sent hurtling through solid stone, crashing down through the floorboards and plummeting to the lower levels of the guild with bone-jarring force.
Dust and rubble rained in his wake.
Jose turned away from the edge, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. “Well. That was easier than I thought.”
—-----------------------------------------
The clash of steel and magic continued to echo through the Phantom Lord guild… until the sound of cracking stone above stilled the chaos.
Everyone—Fairy Tail and Phantom Lord alike—paused, eyes drawn upward.
A deep, reverberating rumble echoed down through the floors like a thunderclap. Cracks webbed across the ceiling—stone and dust falling like rain.
And then—
CRASH!!!
A small figure came plummeting down in a blur, smashing through layers of debris before slamming into the battlefield with a sickening thud.
Gasps filled the room as eyes widened.
And someone whispered, barely audible, “…No…”
It was Makarov. Their Master. Their guide, their father figure—lying in a heap, his cloak torn, his body scorched and battered. He didn’t move. His aura was completely gone.
“Master…” Erza breathed, her sword falling from her hand with a clatter.
Gray stepped back, visibly shaken. “No… It can’t be…”
Cana dropped to her knees. “No way… not Master…”
The spirit of the guild cracked, just like the ceiling above them.
Their strength, their confidence—it shattered.
Dozens of Fairy Tail mages surged toward Makarov, dropping to their knees beside him, calling his name, trying to shake him awake. They were vulnerable. Wide open.
The members of Phantom Lord saw their chance and began to close in, cruel smiles spreading across their faces.
“Now!” One barked. “Finish them!”
But they never got the chance.
BOOM!
A wall of force and light exploded in front of the retreating Fairy Tail mages, knocking back several Phantom members in a single wave.
Issei Hyoudou, his Boosted Gear glowing bright red, stood at the front, fist raised and eyes burning.
“You’re not touching them.”
Behind him, Yuuka, Misuki, Yashima, Uzume, and Akitsu flanked his sides, weapons drawn, faces fierce.
“You’ll have to get through us first,” Yuuka snarled, spinning her twin revolvers.
Uzume whipped her veil with a grin. “You chose the wrong moment to get cocky.”
The Phantom mages halted, confused, some hesitating as more of Issei’s group surged forward to defend their comrades.
Issei turned, quickly kneeling beside Erza, whose face was frozen between rage and heartbreak. “Erza,” He said firmly, “You guys have to get them out of here.”
“But—” She started, her voice cracking.
“I know it hurts,” He said, his expression softer. “But the faster we leave the faster we can take him somewhere safer to heal. Plus you all need to regroup. Leave this to us.”
“But…” She whispered, the words dying on her tongue.
Issei gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “He trusted you to lead. So lead.”
Her eyes shimmered. “…Right.”
She stood slowly, raising her voice through the thickening silence.
“Everyone! Retreat! That’s an order!”
“No way! We can still—!”
“Don’t be cowards!”
“Not after what they—!”
“LISTEN TO ME!” Erza shouted, her voice filled with desperate conviction. “We need to get the master to a healer, please…”
The hesitation finally broke. One by one, the battered and grieving Fairy Tail mages began to pull back, dragging their injured, shielding their unconscious. The spark of vengeance in their hearts still burned—but it was swallowed now by the storm of their leader’s fall.
And then—
A voice from above rang out, sneering and gloating.
“Looks like it worked, Gajeel. We’ve captured Lucy.”
The world seemed to stop.
Natsu, already standing over Gajeel, froze. “What… did you just say?”
Aria, his blindfold still soaked with tears, didn’t respond. He simply vanished into the mist along with Gajeel, their work complete.
But Natsu’s rage had just begun.
“LUCY?!” His voice echoed like a cannon blast.
Without another word, Natsu grabbed Happy by the back of the neck, then hoisted one of the downed Phantom Lord mages by the collar.
“You’re gonna show me where she is!”
“Wha—wait—!”
And then—whoosh—they were gone in a blast of flames, leaving behind only the swirl of burning wind and the stunned silence of those watching.
“Natsu! Wait!” Several voices cried.
But Issei stepped forward again, shielding the retreating line, his Boosted Gear glowing like a beacon of protection.
“Let him go,” He said. “If it’s about Lucy, he probably went to go rescue her.”
Then, turning back to the Phantom Lord horde, he cracked his knuckles.
“Now then… ready for round two?” Issei asked, his red gauntlet gleaming with power swirling in the air around him.
The Phantom Lord mages hesitated, taken aback by the sheer confidence radiating from him. Behind him, his girls stood like a wall—battle-worn but far from broken.
Yuuka spun her revolvers and smirked, smoke curling from the barrels.
Akitsu, cold and focused, raised a hand and conjured a hail of sharpened ice, ready to launch.
Yashima cracked her neck, resting her hammer on her shoulder.
Uzume twirled her veil and winked, energy dancing along the fabric.
Karasuba simply brought her sword forward.
Together, they surged forward.
Strike after strike, they carved a path through the chaos. Issei moved like a storm—a blur of red as his fists shattered barriers and continued to break their confidence. Every time a Phantom mage got close to a wounded Fairy Tail member, one of the girls was already there, intercepting with brutal efficiency.
No matter how many came, the small vanguard stood firm.
They held the line as they bought time for the others to escape.
And they sent dozens of Phantom Lord mages crashing to the floor in unconscious heaps.
By the time Erza gave the final signal to retreat, most of their enemies had been beaten back. Only then, when the last of Fairy Tail had escaped, did Issei and his team turn back.
Their mission was complete.
But the war was far from over.
Done, comment and tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.
Comments
Orengeflame
That sounds so awesome. That I might do it
a men moor
Throwing out the idea of a pseudo balance breaker with kuromaru
Orengeflame
Agree kind of the reason I don't want to bring out Tamamo or Miya yet
salv369
This chapter feel short because I just want more. Hopefully Issei doesn't get sideline or take to much of the action. Need to let Fairy Tail grow but also need to grow himself which is a hard line to fine.
