**Ishgar Magic Council.**
A special organization tasked with maintaining order in the magical world of Ishgar. It commands investigative units and armed enforcement teams to hunt down dark guilds and illegal mages, its branches spread across nations yet independent of their governments.
This vast behemoth is governed by a central decision-making body composed of a Chief Speaker and nine Councilors. They control the weapon known as "Etherion"—a super-destructive magical cannon capable of annihilating an entire nation in a single strike.
Hundreds of years had passed since the last activation of Etherion. Excessive destruction made the higher-ups decide to keep it sealed, using it as deterrence rather than a weapon.
The Councilors themselves only handled critical decisions. Minor incidents filtered down to the mid-level leaders.
One such leader was **Captain Lahar**, commander of the Council's Enforcement Corps—the violent task force charged with punishing illegal guilds and hunting dark ones.
He slept perhaps four hours a night. The rest belonged to his work.
That day, weary-eyed, he received a report from the Rubinas branch:
Joel, director of the **Black Bird Consortium**, had voluntarily surrendered. His testimony claimed he had been coerced by "Puppeteer Kula," a black-magic priest, forced to funnel massive sums and commit large-scale fraud on behalf of the Black Magic Cult.
A mere consortium was trivial, but involvement of a Black Priest was not. Kula, with countless bloodstains to his name, was notorious worldwide. That alone made the report critical.
Lahar forsook what little rest he had left, donned his cloak, and rode through the night personally for Rubinas.
By the time his unit arrived at the southern suburb headquarters of Black Bird, it was not yet 11 p.m. The local mayor and branch head were already waiting.
"Captain… I hadn't expected you to come in person." The branch chief was surprised, but quickly understood. Lahar's dedication and diligence were well known. His fairness and hard work made him respected across the mid and lower levels of the Council. With an empty Councilor's seat this term, many anticipated Lahar as a likely successor.
But tonight he had no patience for pleasantries. "Where is the puppeteer?"
At the word, the mayor blanched, recalling a nightmare scene, and ran off to retch in the snow. The branch chief's face paled as well.
Lahar narrowed his eyes. Experience told him: whenever a Black Priest appeared, blood sacrifice followed. Had there been a massacre here under the Cult's ritual?
Remembering Joel's surrender testimony, he suspected a trap.
The branch chief quickly corrected him. "Captain, no—you're mistaken. Puppeteer Kula did appear… but not in the way you imagine."
Face tightening, he gestured for the team to follow.
---
They marched deep into the darkened compound, stopping before the Oval tower.
What greeted them was horror.
Blood smeared walls. Shredded flesh clung to stone. Crimson gore painted every surface.
Even hardened Council enforcers gagged at the sight. Some staggered off to wretch vainly against the walls. The air reeked of blood.
The branch head did not flinch, but his face was gray. "Captain… what you see on the ground—this *was* Puppeteer Kula. According to the mage who fought him, while escaping in thread form, Kula's own magic collapsed. His body unraveled… shredded to pieces."
Lahar crouched, studying the remains. His experienced mind accepted the explanation.
The Council had once surrounded Kula before. When besieged, he transformed into strings and slipped past their net, ruining what should have been their best chance of capture.
Now, ironically, the very technique that had saved him countless times had killed him.
A shame—the chance of extracting intelligence on the Cult's headquarters died with him. But at least no further innocents had been taken.
"Bring me to the wizard who defeated him."
The chief hesitated, a complex look on his face, but complied.
---
Inside the Oval's top floor office, Lahar found two men.
One: a greasy middle-aged man, frantically rifling through documents.
The other: a handsome youth leaning on the sofa, calmly reading a book.
The moment Lahar entered, Joel lunged forward, clinging to his legs like a drowning man.
"Lord Lahar! I surrender myself! Please, arrest me quickly!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he babbled like a broken man.
Disgusted, the branch chief yanked Joel away, hissing, "Shameful—what a spectacle." Then he closed the door, leaving only Lahar and the youth.
Noah tossed the photo album he had been flipping through onto the table, smiling faintly. "What a racket. A grown man acting like that? Really, Mr. Lahar of the Council."
With only the two of them, Lahar's tone turned sharp. "Joel's claim of being 'coerced' is false. Black Bird was created as a vessel for the Cult's funds. You were the one who forced him to say otherwise. Why?"
Years of experience honed his instincts. From the first glance, he had read Joel—greedy, eager, willingly serving the Cult. His testimony rang false.
Noah did not deny it. Instead, he asked something else: "How long will Joel serve for his confessed crimes? What of the fraudulent wealth?"
"Funding a dark guild is felony. Joel will serve twenty years at minimum. If deeper involvement is uncovered, it becomes life imprisonment. As for the money—it won't fall back to the Cult. The Fiore Kingdom is just, and King Toma values his credibility. Compensation will return to the victims."
Lahar's expression softened. "Now then. Who are you?"
"…Today?" Noah grinned faintly. "Call me Nexus."
Naturally, he wouldn't reveal his true name. Who knew how airtight the Council's intelligence webs were? Best not to bring trouble home to Fairy Tail.
Lahar smiled wryly, letting it drop. "Very well. Then, on behalf of the Magic Council, thank you, Mr. Nexus, for your service in combating darkness."
Noah waved him off, uninterested. He had already secured Reina's two-million infiltration deposit for himself, and upon return would collect another three-million reward. Plenty of profit.
He rose, casually leaving the incriminating photo album behind. "I'll take my leave."
The door opened, then closed. Silence lingered.
"…Nexus." Lahar muttered under his breath. "You look similar to someone I once saw. What could your relation be?"
His eyes drifted back to the desk. Joel's compiled fraud reports. And there—atop the stack—lay the obscene photo collection Noah had casually discarded.
Glancing furtively around the empty room, Lahar snatched it up at lightning speed and tucked it into his robe.
"...No one saw."
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