Even if it was only a verbal clash, the aura released by two mages bearing the title of "Wizard Saint" was no joke.
The unconscious pressure of their magic spilled into the air with a weight that felt almost tangible.
Several weaker guild masters from mid- and lower-tier guilds were already sweating at the forehead. Their backs were soaked through, and even breathing had become difficult.
"Calm down, both of you."
Just as the atmosphere grew sharp enough to cut and looked ready to explode, a figure stepped out from the crowd.
"Don't make such an ugly scene in front of everyone else, Makarov. And you too, Master Jose."
The one who stepped in to stop the spectacle was a tough-looking old man in sunglasses and a studded leather jacket, dressed like some biker gang boss.
Goldmine, master of Quatro Cerberus.
Shane recognized him. They had met once before in Magnolia as an old friend of Makarov's.
But right now, Goldmine had completely shed that cool, neighborly old-man vibe he had in private.
Behind the sunglasses, his gaze was calm and sharp, and the way he spoke carried all the force of a hardline guild master.
"Hmph."
Makarov glanced at his old friend and, in the end, chose to give him face.
He let out a cold snort, reined in his magic, ignored Jose completely, and turned away with Shane toward the other side of the hall.
"Come on, Shane. Don't let certain people's bad luck ruin the mood for drinking."
Being ignored was irritating, but Makarov stepping back gave Jose enough of his dignity back that the foul mood in his chest eased somewhat.
"Heh. A coward who only knows how to win with words."
He sneered, then slithered back to the far end of the long table and sat down to drink by himself.
Even so, the people around him parted almost instinctively, leaving a huge empty space around the badly reputed Wizard Saint. No one dared get close.
Everyone in this circle knew it well: Jose was powerful, but he had no limits.
As long as the money was good, he would take any job, no matter how dirty, and he didn't care what methods it required.
Under his rule, Phantom Lord was less a legitimate guild and more a violent organization wearing a legal disguise.
Its way of doing things wasn't much better than the dark guilds operating in the shadows.
…
"Goldmine, that was no fun at all."
On the other side of the banquet hall, a bald, plump man with outrageous blush painted across his face sashayed over.
He held a handkerchief in one hand and spoke in a coquettish tone.
"You should've let Makarov beat that snide little creep senseless. If he got beaten into submission once, maybe he'd stop picking fights all the time."
Those features were so distinctive that Shane could never forget him even if he tried.
Bob, master of Blue Pegasus.
Like Quatro Cerberus, Blue Pegasus was also one of Fiore's top-tier mage guilds.
Looking at the giant man fluttering his eyelashes at empty space, Shane couldn't help recalling the old photographs Councilman Yajima had once shown him.
It was honestly hard to imagine how that once-dashing man—someone who could genuinely be called handsome—had somehow transformed into… this.
"Don't get me wrong, I can't stand that guy either."
Goldmine adjusted his sunglasses and sighed helplessly.
"But if two Wizard Saints really started fighting in here, forget the building. The entire forest around this place would be flattened in an instant."
Then he turned to Makarov, who had planted himself cross-legged on top of the table, drinking with zero dignity.
"Makarov, you really ought to do something about your relationship with Phantom Lord. Pick a time and teach Jose a lesson he won't forget."
"Tch."
Makarov tipped back another drink and dismissively curled his lip.
From the sidelines, where he had silently been playing the role of "invisible kid," Shane looked between the two old men.
"Didn't expect Master Goldmine to be the type to stir up trouble behind the scenes too…"
He found it kind of funny.
Then again, considering all of them were originally shaped in Fairy Tail's giant dye vat back in their youth, it wasn't exactly surprising that they all had a bit of a "the world should burn" streak in them.
"No, no."
Makarov sat cross-legged on the table, one hand holding a chicken leg, and rejected the idea with righteous seriousness.
"I brought a junior from the guild with me this time. I have to show the younger generation the mature and steady side of adulthood. Going around picking fights would look ridiculous."
"…"
"At least get down off the table before saying that…"
Shane desperately wanted to say it.
But considering Makarov's height, if he sat in a chair, he probably wouldn't even reach the edge of the table, much less the dishes.
For the sake of preserving the last scraps of his master's dignity, Shane held back and simply passed him a napkin.
"Oh my, concern from the younger generation~"
The moment the topic shifted to "young people," both Bob and Goldmine naturally turned their attention to Shane.
Their eyes swept over him like spotlights.
"Just a few months since I last saw you, and you're already an S-Class mage?"
Goldmine took off his shades and gave Shane a serious look, his tone full of surprise.
In terms of potential, he had honestly always thought more highly of Erza—the one who had beaten his guild's ace, Bacchus, last time.
He hadn't expected this seemingly lazy boy to be the one who reached S-Class first.
And at such a young age, too.
"S-Class mage?"
Bob, another Fairy Tail alumnus, widened his eyes so much his blush seemed even more absurd.
He knew exactly how brutal Fairy Tail's S-Class exam was. It was basically hell mode.
"Makarov, I really envy you. Talented kids keep popping up in your guild one after another."
"Well, obviously!"
Makarov lifted his chin proudly and drained another cup.
"We're Fairy Tail—the best guild in Fiore!"
He didn't raise his voice on purpose, but he didn't lower it either.
And with a Wizard Saint's hearing, someone not too far away naturally heard every single word.
Jose narrowed his gloomy eyes and looked across the crowd at the black-haired, black-eyed boy standing beside the three guild masters.
"Using some milk-smelling brat as an S-Class example to brag…"
A sneer curled onto his lips, and he looked away with contempt.
"Fairy Tail really has fallen."
…
Over here, Shane responded to the praise from the two guild masters with a modest wave of his hand.
"It's really not as exaggerated as you make it sound. I just got lucky."
When you're out in the world, your identity is something you define yourself—especially in a room full of heavyweights like this. Keeping a low profile was never a bad idea.
"Oh my, what a humble good boy~"
Bob's giant face covered in blush suddenly leaned in and threw Shane a wink so horrifying it raised goosebumps.
"Little Shane, you must come visit Blue Pegasus sometime~ We've got lots of handsome men like me in our guild~ I'm sure you'd love it~"
"Uh… s-sure."
Shane stiffened all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He could only force himself to answer.
"I'll definitely visit if I get the chance."
"Alright, alright, Bob, stop tormenting the child."
Maybe because Shane had handled himself well and made him look good, Makarov surprisingly didn't just sit there enjoying the show.
He waved Bob off first.
"We old men will just keep drinking. Let him sit on the side."
Only then did Bob reluctantly tone down his terrifying enthusiasm and return his attention to the drinks and old war stories.
The moment Bob let him go, Shane nearly felt reborn. He quickly slipped off toward a corner.
He had never been particularly good at these kinds of tedious social situations.
The time and effort it took to force awkward small talk with strangers was, to him, infinitely less enjoyable than reading a few extra books or forging a few more weapons.
This so-called meeting really was exactly what Makarov said it was.
More banquet than conference.
The so-called "topics" were mostly decided in the middle of all the drinking, noise, and heated chatter.
"About the distribution of those long-term guild commissions…"
"Drink this first!"
"And that payout ratio…"
"Cheers!"
On Makarov's side, there was basically no serious contribution at all. He just kept dragging Goldmine and Bob into drinking contests and reminiscing, treating the whole thing like an old friends' reunion.
Jose, on the other hand, seemed deeply invested in displaying his "authority" in this setting.
At the opposite end of the table, he forcefully raised point after point, speaking like he was directing the world.
The guild masters from the smaller guilds all looked troubled, but none of them dared to object. They could only nod along obediently.
Shane sat in a corner with a glass of juice in hand, quietly watching it all.
"This is seriously boring…"
He yawned and looked away.
Meanwhile, after finishing one long speech about "standardizing guild procedures for taking commissions," Jose surveyed the fearful eyes around him and gave a satisfied nod.
He enjoyed being feared.
In his mind, power was supposed to bring authority and reverence.
Unlike that old fool Makarov, who was a Wizard Saint and yet still wasted his time joking around with a bunch of trash, disgracing the very idea of strength.
Jose, on the other hand, had become a Wizard Saint while still in his thirties.
A genius like him naturally belonged at the top, worshiped by all.
Just then, he noticed a gaze from the corner.
Unlike the others, it didn't contain fear or flattery. If anything, it held curiosity and… scrutiny?
In this hall full of reverence, that kind of look was glaringly obvious.
"Makarov's brat?"
Jose raised a brow. He remembered the earlier talk of "S-Class" and "the strongest guild," and a mocking smile slowly spread across his face.
"S-Class mage… heh."
He set down his glass, arranged his robe with cultivated elegance, and started walking straight toward the corner where Shane was seated.
~~~
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