The journey back to Magnolia was long but productive. Blake taught Gray the basics of controlling his core temperature and managing magical output, skills honed during his intense training. When they finally stepped into the lively chaos of the Fairy Tail guild hall, the noise hit them like a wall.
"I'm Back, guys!" Blake announced, stepping forward and pulling Gray along.
Blake immediately brought the new recruit over to the bar where Makarov was enjoying a tankard of ale.
"Master, this is Gray Fullbuster. He's an Ice-Make mage. And an apprentice of Ur. He's here to join the family."
Makarov beamed, leaping off his stool. "Another one! Excellent! Anyone trained by Ur is welcome here with open arms!" He thrust his tiny hand out. "Welcome to Fairy Tail, my boy!"
Gray, trying to appear respectable in the presence of the Guild Master, reached out to shake Makarov's hand. He was so focused on making a good first impression that he failed to notice a crucial habit resurfacing.
Suddenly, a loud, familiar voice cut through the background din.
"Woah, Gray! Where are your clothes?!"
Cana Alberona, sitting a few stools down, pointed at the new recruit.
Gray froze, mid-handshake, utterly bewildered. He looked down. Sure enough, his crisp white shirt, his coat, and his pants were gone. He stood there in his boxer briefs, completely exposed, his brain failing to register how or when they had disappeared.
A wave of booming laughter swept through the guild hall. Macao nearly fell off his chair, and even Laxus, perched in the corner, cracked a visible smile.
Gray's face flushed scarlet. "My clothes! Where—?!" He scrambled frantically, scooping up his neatly folded pile of fabric from the floor and holding it protectively to his chest.
Makarov chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, the famous stripping mage! A legend already! Welcome to Fairy Tail, my boy. Now go get your guild mark!"
Gray got his mark—a deep blue on his right pectoral—and after some deliberation, it was decided he would be staying in the men's quarters of Fairy Hills until he could sort out proper lodgings.
The days that followed established a new routine. In the evenings, Cana and Gray also joined Blake and Laxus's training sessions in the back clearing. Blake introduced them to the Marine Six Styles.
Gray, with his incredible body control for Ice-Make, took to Tekkai (Iron Body) and Soru (Shave) quickly, though he struggled with Geppo (Moonwalk).
Cana was surprisingly talented at Kami-e (Paper Arts), her body moving with a fluid grace that allowed her to dodge attacks with minimal movement.
After a week, his energy reserves were fully replenished, and his injuries had entirely healed. Blake returned to his profession, regularly setting out on A-Rank Quests.
For six months, the rhythm held steady. Blake grew stronger, Laxus pushed his lightning to new speeds, Gray mastered his stripping habit (mostly), and Cana split her time between Crush Magic and her new card-based fortunes.
Then, everything shattered.
The news was quiet at first, then loud, spreading through the guild with a familiar wave of shame and sorrow.
Ivan Dreyar—Makarov's son and Laxus's father—had returned to his wicked ways, attempting a dangerous magical intervention on his own child.
Ivan had implanted a Dragon Lacrima into Laxus as a child, attempting to harness his son's vast power for his own gain and perhaps turn him into a weapon. This betrayal led to Ivan's swift, formal excommunication from Fairy Tail for the final time.
The guild tried to rally around Laxus, but the damage was done.
Blake, recognizing the signs of an existential crisis, sought out Laxus. He found his friend brooding in the corner, his usual aloofness replaced by a toxic mix of aggression and self-loathing.
"Laxus," Blake began quietly, approaching him. "I know this is rough, but Ivan is gone. He can't hurt you here. We're your family."
Laxus snarled, turning his head sharply. "Family? What does that even mean to a guy like you, Blake? You just showed up one day. I have an old man who throws me away, a father who sees me as nothing but a tool for power. Maybe I am nothing more than that."
The insecurity was palpable, a corrosive acid eating away at his formidable strength. Laxus's new power, instead of granting him confidence, made him feel tainted and defined by his lineage.
"No," Laxus continued, standing up and towering over Blake, lightning crackling around his hands. "I will not be Makarov's grandson anymore. I will prove my own worth." His eyes blazed with a manic, dangerous light. "I will become the Guild Master, and I will make Fairy Tail the strongest guild in Fiore by removing the weaklings. Only power matters now."
Blake listened, his face impassive until Laxus finished. He understood the pain, the betrayal, and the deep wound of feeling worthless. He also understood that Laxus was about to destroy himself and the guild from the inside out. There was only one way to communicate with Laxus now.
The calm left Blake's eyes, replaced by a cold fire. He took a single, controlled step forward.
Blake didn't argue. He didn't preach. He simply hauled back his right arm, coated his fist in a thick layer of Armament Haki, and delivered a devastating punch right across Laxus's jaw.
The punch was a shockwave. Laxus was instantly sent flying out of the guild hall, crashing through the double wooden doors and skidding across the snow outside.
The entire guild fell silent.
Blake walked calmly to the shattered doorway, stepping over the debris. He looked down at the dazed Laxus, who was slowly pushing himself up, thunder magic already dancing across his skin.
"You are just frustrated, Laxus!" Blake roared, his voice cutting through the silent shock of the guild. "All you need is to vent that frustration!"
He adopted a classic combat stance, his body taut and ready.
"Come at me with all you've got! In this guild, every problem is solved with fists, not by sulking! Stop running from your pain and use it!"
Inside the hall, the guild members who had initially gasped at Blake's audacity did not try to stop them. They knew this wasn't a malicious attack; it was a necessary intervention.
Guild Master Makarov, seated at the bar, merely sighed, took a long pull of his ale, and started pretending not to notice the fight, trusting the outcome to the two powerful young men.
Laxus exploded upward, all his recent resentment, fear, and betrayal fueling his rage. He didn't see Blake; he saw Ivan, he saw the weaklings, and he saw the destiny he hated.
The fight began.
Laxus's lightning magic, augmented by the Dragon Lacrima, was overwhelming and chaotic. He lashed out with immense, raw power—blasts of yellow light that cratered the surrounding buildings.
He tried to unleash the true Dragon Slayer Magic of the lacrima, attempting complex roars and claw attacks, but he couldn't use all his moves. The power was foreign, raw, and mostly driven by his current rage.
Blake met the storm head-on. This wasn't a fight to win; it was a fight to absorb the pain and dish it back in equal measure.
He used Soru and Geppo to evade the most devastating, area-of-effect lightning attacks. But when Laxus finally managed to pin him down with a furious, close-range punch—coated in his own powerful lightning—Blake activated Tekkai and held his ground, taking the hit.
"Is that all you've got?!" Blake shouted, his voice tight with pain, but unbroken. He returned the favor, slamming his Armament-coated fist into Laxus's ribs. It was a punch for a punch.
Lightning Dragon's Iron Fist slammed into Blake's Armament Haki, the kinetic energy contained, but the concussive force rattling his bones. Blake absorbed it, then retaliated with a blinding Soru-boosted kick to Laxus's gut, using the full internal force of his new Advanced Armament Haki—not to destroy, but to sting, to remind Laxus he was facing a wall, not a victim.
Blake deliberately let Laxus hit him, allowing the raw, emotional energy to be expressed through violence. Laxus was venting his stored resentment and fear. Every blow was a scream; every lightning discharge was a confession.
The clearing became a blur of black Haki, golden lightning, and shattered ice. Gray and Cana watched from the doorway, mesmerized by the sheer intensity. They were fighting like brothers—fighting for each other, even as they tried to tear each other apart.
They continued to trade devastating blows. Laxus was forced to rely on his innate strength and the five Rokushiki techniques Blake had taught him, mixing the lightning speed of Soru with the defensive tenacity of Tekkai when Blake's punches connected.
After what felt like an eternity—the full hour—the frenzy began to subside. Laxus's lightning slowed to a trickle; his breathing was shallow, ragged, and wet. Blake's Haki was almost entirely depleted again, his body a map of bruises and burns.
They landed one final, weak exchange of blows—a sloppy thunder fist meeting a tired Haki forearm.
Both young men finally gave out. They collapsed, falling onto the ground side by side, panting heavily, staring up at the darkening sky. They were battered, bruised, and emotionally empty.
Laxus turned his head slightly, his eyes half-closed, his arrogance utterly washed away by exhaustion. He saw the genuine care and the equal, shared pain on Blake's face.
"Blake..." he managed, his voice weak and sincere. "Sorry for being mean to everyone."
"Don't worry about it," Blake rasped, trying to turn his head but failing. "It's what guilds are for."
The brawl was over.
The guild members came out immediately. Wakaba and Macao carefully lifted them both—two heavy, equally battered heroes. They took them inside and patched them up with equal care, carrying them side-by-side to rest in the infirmary.
Laxus's emotional wound hadn't vanished, but the pressure had been released. He still carried the lacrima, and he still carried the fear of being a tool, but for now, the bond of brotherhood had won.