Chapter 43: Undercurrents in the Council
Just as Noah was teaching Makarov the foundations of Armament Haki, the Magic Council headquarters was facing a far more serious issue.
An undercover operative within the dark magic underworld had sent back alarming intelligence.
The most powerful dark guild — **Grimoire Heart**.
The most secretive — **Tartaros**.
And the rapidly rising new force — **Oración Seis**, the "Six Demon Generals."
Three dark guilds that controlled the bulk of the underworld were allegedly preparing to form a **Dark Alliance**.
If true, the alliance would threaten the entire balance of the magical world.
The sixth councilor, **Yajima**, and the Captain of the Council's Enforcement Division, **Lahar**, jointly petitioned Speaker **Crawford** to treat the matter as a crisis.
However, despite his position, Speaker Crawford was a short-sighted man.
To him, the existence of the Ten Wizard Saints alone was enough of a deterrent. The idea that dark guilds could destabilize the continent seemed laughable.
"Even if those criminals unite," Crawford argued arrogantly, "one move from the Holy Ten would wipe them out."
In particular, the Speaker's confidence had ballooned after recently appointing the youngest Wizard Saint candidate in history — **Jellal Fernandes**, operating under his alias, **Siegrain**.
Although not yet officially recognized, his power easily rivaled the current members. The Council regarded him as their future pillar, a Holy Ten wizard belonging directly to them.
Thus, Crawford dismissed the dark guilds' activities as little more than background noise.
---
After the meeting adjourned, Lahar bid farewell to the storming Yajima and returned to the Enforcement Division's offices.
"Welcome back, Lahar," came a voice as he entered. "Judging by your face, those fools upstairs made another stupid decision."
Only one man in the building dared speak so brazenly about councilors — **Doranbolt**, Lahar's longtime friend and vice-captain.
Clever, mischievous, and not-so-secretly in friendly contact with Fairy Tail's master, Makarov. His attitude perfectly embodied the word *unorthodox*.
Lahar, too tired to lecture him, simply sighed. Doranbolt caught the hint and dropped the teasing, instead pulling a sealed envelope from his desk.
"Here. A first-class priority letter. It's from that wizard you mentioned before — code name *Nexus*."
"He prefers to keep his identity secret," Lahar explained quietly, taking the envelope. "Considering he took down a black priest, I can't blame him. You know how insane the Cult of Black Magic can be."
He unfolded the letter and read silently, brows furrowing as he absorbed the details.
Finally, he exhaled. "Doranbolt, send out an official notice."
"Ten days ago, with the cooperation of the mysterious wizard Nexus, the Council's action squad successfully eliminated five dark wizards plotting evil in the Mount Hakobe region."
The vice-captain nodded without surprise — the draft notice had already been prepared, anticipating his friend's decision.
When the paperwork was complete, Lahar slumped back into his seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"As for this alleged *Dark Guild Alliance*, the Speaker may turn a blind eye… but we can't. Not us."
Doranbolt frowned. "What are you planning?"
"We'll instruct our undercover operative to keep investigating the three guilds," Lahar replied grimly. "But tell him safety comes first — withdraw if necessary. No mission is worth a life."
Lahar cherished his subordinates. He knew that infiltrating a dark guild was a task bordering on suicide — all he hoped for was their safe return.
Silence hung heavy for a moment before Doranbolt's voice lowered. "Lahar… our operative's been off the grid."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
"I've already prepared the compensation paperwork," Doranbolt continued softly, sliding the report forward. "Triple indemnity for the family, pending your signature."
Lahar stared down at the paper. His hand trembled. Memories of his fallen comrade filled his mind — a friend who had volunteered to walk into darkness for the sake of the light.
He gritted his teeth and signed — but struck out "three times" and replaced it with "five."
"The Council has more than enough wealth," he murmured bitterly. "At least let their family live comfortably."
Then, regaining composure, he looked up. "Doranbolt, fulfill your duties as inspector."
"Yes, Captain."
---
Only Lahar remained in the office.
Behind the bookshelf, a faint glimmer flickered — the light of a **monitoring lacrima**.
A low laugh echoed through the feed.
"Lahar, Lahar… You're such a noble soul."
"But unfortunately, in this world, kindness is the same as weakness."
The speaker sat in a separate chamber — the handsome, dark-blue-haired councilor whose right cheek bore a tattoo-like mark: **Siegrain**.
He turned to the voluptuous black-haired woman leaning against his desk.
"Ultear," he murmured, "why was that Nexus wizard bothering with the Black Magic Cult?"
The woman smiled slyly. "Must you ask? Killing members of the Cult isn't strange — anyone would want to. Even you despise them, don't you?"
For a moment, rage flickered behind Siegrain's eyes. His expression tightened, voice cold and steel-edged.
"Don't test me, Ultear. I'll overlook that comment… this time. Now get out."
He waved curtly, dismissing her and her subordinates.
When the room was empty, Siegrain took out a blood-red lacrima. "Teacher… are you there?"
A deep, resonant voice answered from the other side. "What is it, Jellal? Don't risk exposure."
Siegrain chuckled darkly. "Relax. The higher-ups are idiots blinded by power. None of them dare approach me."
He leaned back casually, the contempt in his eyes icy.
"There's talk of someone interfering with the Cult — code name *Nexus*. Watch yourself. He seems to have a habit of killing dark mages."
The lacrima glowed faintly as the voice replied coolly, "My dealings with the Black Magic Cult are finished. I gave them… a little gift — a captured mouse, fresh from the Council's own action squad."
Siegrain's lips twisted into an eerie grin.
"Oh, how poetic. A Council officer, handed to the Cult like a toy. A shame… but convenient."
Ending the call, he reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph — a girl with long scarlet hair, clad in armor, eyes fierce and resolute.
He traced his fingers across the photo gently.
"Erza… you're living happily now, aren't you?"
A faint, trembling smile.
"…I'm jealous."
Setting the photo down, his aura darkened, the smile twisting into madness.
"In a year at most, the tower will be complete. When that day comes, we'll meet again. And you, Erza Scarlet… will be the perfect sacrifice to resurrect the Dark Mage."
His voice sank, low and venomous.
"Don't blame me. It's the world that's wrong."
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