Neon lights flowed across the dome like a honey-colored river, and Makarov's glass gently tapped the oak tabletop, making a sound like a dragonfly touching water.
He watched the ring on Jose's finger, rotating around the rim of his glass—a silver ring embedded with Phantom Lord's unique ghost emblem, glowing softly in the disco's blue light.
"Byrob, you old fox," Makarov's voice, mixed with the trumpet from the stage, dispersed in the swirling cigar smoke, "Suddenly gathering us in a place like this, and even specifically inviting Jose..."
As he drawled the last word, he caught sight of Jose's knuckles, gripping a cigar, turning white—the pale, corpse-like skin characteristic of Undead Magic practitioners. "I thought you were planning some kind of a trap."
Byrob dropped a cherry into the ice bucket, the metal tongs clinking a crisp rhythm: "Old man, don't think so badly of people."
He tilted his head back, downing a frothy cider, and as his Adam's apple bobbed, the Pegasus tattoo on his collarbone moved with it. "Jose said he wanted to have a magic-free drink with old friends before he retired."
"Magic-free?" Oba rotated the serpentine gold bracelet on her wrist, its jade eyes narrowing into thin lines under the lights. "The Master of Phantom Lord suddenly changed his ways to embrace scholarly elegance?"
Her gaze swept over Jose's newly dyed chestnut curly hair. "I remember you were still shouting 'Magic is power' at the Council last year."
Jose's pale, corpse-like face had been expressionless, but upon hearing this, he suddenly burst into laughter, shaking the cherry ornaments on the crystal chandelier until they fell.
He reached out and patted Makarov's shoulder, a gesture that made the old man's shoulders stiffen slightly: "Makarov, when you broke three of my ribs in the Moonlight Forest back then, did you think about elegance?"
He flicked his cigar ash, the sparks, whether intentionally or not, landed on Makarov's cuff. "Now I'm old, and I want to see how the flowers bloom in the forest. Is there anything wrong with that?"
In the center of the dance floor, Mages from Blue Pegasus were performing an improvised dance of fire and water magic, red and blue waves of light surging through the crowd.
Makarov watched the young Mages freely wielding their magic, recalling how twenty years ago, Jose led Phantom Lord members in a conflict with Fairy Tail, displaying the same unbridled sharpness.
"Where are you off to travel?" Byrob, smiling, refilled everyone's glasses, trying to smooth things over. "I hear cherry blossom season in the Eastern Continent is coming soon."
Jose swirled his glass, letting the ice cubes clink with a clear, resonant sound: "First, I'll go to the Western Continent to see the Magic Whale migration, then loop around to the Southern Lands to drink at every winery."
He suddenly showed a rare gentle expression. "My disciple, Aria, gave me a travel guide yesterday, and tucked inside was a drawing he made as a child titled 'Master's Retirement'—me riding on the back of a Magic Whale, holding a wine flask."
Makarov raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange unfamiliarity with this old rival—this was the first time he had heard such tender details from Jose.
As Fairy Tail's old rival, Phantom Lord had been in conflict with Fairy Tail since the two Guilds were founded.
So Makarov also had a general understanding of Phantom Lord's members.
All of Phantom Lord's Four Elements were S-Class Mages, and Aria represented the wind element, also being the leader of the Four Elements.
His strength was said to be close to Jose's, and for the past two years, he had been personally tutored by Jose. Jose himself had acknowledged Aria as his favored successor.
"Honestly," Oba put down her glass, her snake bracelet glowing with a gilded light under the lamps, "Are you really at ease leaving the Guild to Aria? Over the years, under your leadership, Phantom Lord has had quite a few troublemakers..."
"Troublemakers?" Jose scoffed, a wisp of dark blue wind blade condensing at his fingertips, tracing a graceful arc above his glass without harming a single cherry. "When Aria single-handedly wiped out the Black Crow Bandit Group last week, he already sent me the head of the most troublesome 'Poison Fang Faction' leader as a gift."
He suddenly turned to look directly at Makarov. "Just as you of Fairy Tail trust those troublemakers, I trust my disciple."
The music on stage suddenly shifted to a soothing folk song, and the Mage from Blue Pegasus sat on the bar with an acoustic guitar, softly humming "Mage's Twilight."
Makarov pulled out his pipe, but as he lit it, Jose reached out and pressed his hand down: "Try this."
The other man offered him an intricately carved cigar, the box embossed with the emblems of Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail—clearly a special souvenir.
"What's the meaning of this?" Makarov raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing," Jose lit one for himself, the smoke coiling into tiny clouds in the wrinkles around his eyes. "I just think perhaps we all need to let go of some things."
The lights in the dance floor suddenly turned warm orange, softening Jose's profile considerably.
He was arguing with Byrob about whether "Northern Ice Wine should be paired with roasted meat or dessert," his gestures as exaggerated as if he were casting a spell.
Makarov looked at his old rival, suddenly remembering their first confrontation at the Council, when Jose was still a spiky-haired, radical youth.
And he himself had just taken on the mantle of Master of Fairy Tail. The two had fought fiercely in the hallway, nearly tearing down the Council building.
Makarov fell silent, seeing his own white hair reflected in his wine glass. So much time had passed without him realizing it; perhaps the great power of time could dilute everything.
"To retirement." He suddenly raised his glass, his voice rising above the folk song's chords. "May the scenery on your journey be even more wonderful than your path of magic."
When Jose clinked glasses with him, the force was as light as touching a feather: "And may you of Fairy Tail always have fools shouting 'We are the strongest.'"
Oba watched this scene and suddenly chuckled softly: "If you two had been like this twenty years ago, Fiore's headlines would have been cut in half."
Byrob seized the opportunity to raise his bottle: "Come, to us old bones left—the old bones who can still sit here and drink!"
Amidst the crisp clinking of glasses, Makarov glimpsed Jose's Phantom Lord ring slipping off his ring finger, revealing a faint ring mark underneath.
It was the mark left by years of wearing the emblem, but now it seemed somewhat empty.
He suddenly realized that this old rival, who always wore a gloomy face, might truly be tired.
When the midnight chimes rang, the party drew to a close.
Jose staggered to his feet, a crumpled map falling out of his trench coat pocket.
Makarov bent down to pick it up, seeing a dozen locations circled with colored pens: "Magic Whale Bay," "Cherry Blossom Winery," "Rainbow Falls"... A small wine bottle was drawn next to each circled spot.
"Don't pry into other people's privacy," Jose said with a laugh, snatching back the map, but as he unfolded it, a photograph tucked inside was revealed—a young Jose standing at the entrance of the Phantom Lord Guild, with the Four Elements Mages lined up behind him, each with a youthful pride on their faces.
"Remember to drink a few extra for me," Makarov patted his shoulder, this time without any guard.
Jose shook the map: "If I find some good plum wine in the Southern Lands, I'll bring you back a barrel—but it'll cost you some of Fairy Tail's iced tea."
"Deal."
As the revolving door closed, the night wind swept a few pieces of neon confetti onto Makarov's face.
He watched Jose's back disappear around the street corner, the hem of his trench coat rising and falling like a hawk folding its wings.
Byrob, who had approached him at some point, offered him a menthol cigarette: "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," Makarov lit the cigarette, the minty taste mixing with the lingering cigar scent on his tongue. "I just feel that some grudges are quite laughable."
"People understand these things when they get old," Byrob looked in the direction Jose had disappeared, the neon lights shattering into colorful hues in his pupils. "But to live long enough to understand, that's already a blessing."
The roar of a Magic Train sounded in the distance. Makarov pulled out his pocket watch, which held a photo of the Second Master.
The old man in the photo smiled gently, with Fairy Tail Guild's original wooden sign in the background.
He closed the watch cover, the metal clasp making a soft click, like a silent reconciliation.
As the neon lights of Blue Pegasus gradually extinguished, Makarov walked alone through the streets of Oak Town. The night wind carried the scent of the distant sea, and he suddenly remembered "Magic Whale Bay" on Jose's map—perhaps he really should make time to see it, not for conflict, but simply to see the vast world that existed beyond magic.
Some stories may never have an ending, but at least on this night, two old rivals had put down their wands, clinked glasses like ordinary people, and chatted about the weather, wine, and distant scenery.
And that was precious enough.
I've been really busy lately, with no stored drafts, so everything is written on the spot. The previous review issues messed up my daily update schedule. Otherwise, I would always write the next day's chapter a day in advance and publish it at 7 AM. Now, I can only rush to write.
Updating two chapters daily, coming up with the plot is really exhausting. As you may have noticed, I'm trying my best to describe both the literary and action scenes in this book, and I'm also working hard to break away from clichés, to jump out of the framework of fanfiction that simply copies the original plot, and to extend and enrich the relatively short plot of the original Fairy Tail.
I hope everyone can be more tolerant of my original plot. Without original content, the small amount of original Fairy Tail story wouldn't even fill two million words of plot.
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