Aslant, Western Continent.
In the Alvarez Empire, the Twelve Shields of Spriggan—or rather, Eleven Shields at this time (since the First of the Ten Wizard Saints had not yet betrayed them)—had gathered again.
All but the Winter General were seated around the round table, their eyes focused on the throne where Zeref sat.
He had only recently returned to Alvarez when word from the Ishgar continent reached him.
At this time, Alvarez was restrained by Face and by Pai Pai's shadow; they dared not yet launch a full-scale invasion of Ishgar. Zeref had not resolved himself to remake the world either.
"Natsu has already grown to such a height?" Zeref ignored Ishgar's exaggerated accounts, instead marveling at Natsu's rapid rise.
Counting the years, it had only been eight since Natsu arrived in this era—an astonishing speed, though admittedly due to that man's interference.
But still… it was enough.
Natsu… I look forward to the day we meet.
The thought stirred in his heart. Across the table, August, the Magic King, and Larcade frowned deeply, worry etching their faces.
"This storm will be immense… how delightful!" cried Ajeel, the Desert King, unable to hide his excitement, eager to storm Ishgar immediately.
"Ajeel, watch your tongue. You are before His Majesty." The Winter General, Invel, snapped coldly.
"It's fine, Invel," Zeref dismissed both the disrespect and the rebuke. His tone was calm, almost curious. "Tell me—what is your opinion on this matter?"
"Yes, my Emperor." Invel straightened at Zeref's back, his reply grave. "I believe this is an opportunity."
"Oh? Speak."
"First: Alvarez and Ishgar are enemies. For them to come begging aid of us—unless there was truly no other choice—they would never do so.
According to the Ishgar Magic Council's account, Natsu Dragneel seized the chance of Pai Pai's absence to steal his magic tools and stir chaos. I believe they have concealed—or even altered—critical details."
"That much is natural," Zeref nodded in agreement. "Even if they beg our aid, they are still enemies. They will not reveal everything. What kind of details, for example?"
"For example… the disappearance of Pai Pai, the Phantom Wizard." Invel adjusted his glasses, his face deadly serious.
The revelation seized everyone's attention. Pai Pai's disappearance—if true—was a relief, and one with a high chance of being real.
All at once, they recalled the council's reports. From beginning to end, Pai Pai's name had never been mentioned. By careful omission, his existence and vast influence had been erased, leaving no trace.
Four hundred years ago, Pai Pai had appeared suddenly—with no country, no past, no kin, no friends.
Why, then, could he not suddenly vanish today?
The Shields' hearts trembled at the thought.
But… this was only one possibility. Another remained: that Pai Pai was the mastermind behind everything, and the Council deliberately hid the truth to drag others into the mire.
Yajeel's grandfather, Yajeel the Elder, leaning on his cane, voiced this suspicion. All eyes turned back to Invel.
"Indeed," Invel admitted, "that cannot be ruled out. Hence, we must tread carefully and prepare multiple measures. For example, dispatching scouts to—"
"No," Zeref cut him off. "There's no need. Send Ishgar our reply: I accept. Invel, gather forces. Within five days, march for Ishgar. Whatever the truth… this must end."
Zeref turned and walked from the hall. In his heart, he whispered: No matter what, I will find release.
Vaguely, his thoughts drifted back to four centuries ago.
He had sought Pai Pai's trail, begging him for death—for freedom.
The blurred figure had merely replied, "Oh? You're already dead. And now alive again. You may go."
"When was I ever dead?!" Zeref exclaimed in shock.
"The moment you came to see me. I accidentally killed you… and then revived you," the figure answered with grave (or perhaps mocking) seriousness.
"Then kill me again. But do not revive me. My existence is a catastrophe for this world—I steal life wherever I go. Please… end me." Tears streamed down Zeref's face as he pleaded.
"Oh." Pai Pai remained cold, indifferent. "What has that to do with me? If you suffer, seek your own means to ease it. Seal yourself away in lifeless lands if you must. But I will never kill you."
The memory ended.
"…Strange for me to say so, but that man… he was colder, more terrifying than any demon."
Zeref paused in the corridor, staring out the window. Never had the sunlight seemed so dazzling.
The sky was azure, clouds drifting pale, golden light spilling into every corner.
Continent of Giltena.
Unlike Ishgar or the Western Continent, this was a new land—one where, on the foremost timeline, tales of the Five Dragon Gods, the Dragon Eaters Guild, and even Fairy Tail would unfold.
But in this era, only Gildarts of Fairy Tail had ever landed here. The rest knew nothing of it; common Ishgarians even less.
Even merchants would not risk intercontinental trade without immense profit.
And yet now, an emissary had arrived—from the Ishgar Magic Council.
Though both continents housed "Magic Councils," they were separate organizations. Different powers, different authority—the shared name is a mere coincidence of function.
The Ishgar delegation was received with courtesy, the Giltena Council treating them with full decorum. Yet their attitude toward Ishgar's reports was apathetic.
Here, Pai Pai's terror was a faded memory. They had no concept of Fairy Tail. No matter how Ishgar painted the threat, Giltena judged that Natsu was—at most—on par with a single Dragon God.
They themselves were already troubled enough by five such beings. Why should they rush to help against just one? Especially when Ishgar claimed to possess so many ancient magic weapons.
If they had such weapons, they would already have subdued the Five Dragon Gods and built a harmonious society.
Privately, they scorned Ishgar's competence. Outwardly, their hospitality was flawless—polite, smooth, unassailable.
And therein lay the greatest flaw. A proper diplomatic process would take weeks. By then, Ishgar's crisis would be long past saving.
"We should return," sighed Org, head of the emissary. "It seems we must find another way to make the world recognize us."
"You mean… resort to arms?!" gasped Gran Doma, holding his breath, eyes wide with excitement.
"Not arms," Org corrected, "but a demonstration of power."
On the moon, Makarov gathered Fairy Tail. Standing before them, he turned to Mirajane and Erza.
"How are preparations?"
"Master, everything is ready," Erza answered, drawing a deep breath.
Makarov nodded. He mounted the podium. The guild fell silent, all eyes upon him, waiting for words of inspiration.
But there was no fiery speech, no desperate rallying cry.
He raised his hand, solemn.
"Let's go. Stop Natsu from doing something foolish."
"Bring him back."
"I've been wanting to punch him for a while now."
"A fight between men."
Hands rose across the hall. Many forced smiles, exchanging words to hide the weight in their hearts.
But the voices soon faded, swallowed by silence.