Ivan never imagined he'd be caught so easily.
Hop hadn't expected it either—the instant the fight started, Ivan's first thought was to run; that cobweb-like spell had merely been a smokescreen for his escape.
Spreading his magic wings, Hop took off toward the nearest town.
After slicing through a few clouds, boredom set in and his inner troublemaker surfaced. He wagged the card in his hand, grinned at the dizzy Ivan inside, and said, "Are you really the Master's son? With a father like you, Laxus must be cursed."
Being told to his face that he took after neither his father nor his son, Ivan looked utterly aggrieved.
Yet the facts spoke for themselves.
If he'd possessed even half of Makarov's or Laxus's power, he wouldn't need to recruit a bunch of trash into the guild and then personally scrape together funds for it.
But a real man bends with the wind; Ivan's face changed in a flash. In a fawning voice he said, "Um… Master Hop, how about a deal? Let me go and I'll pay handsomely."
"A deal?"
Hop paused, flipped the card so Ivan could see the ground a good kilometer below. "Look, we're in the sky—can your offer be higher than the heavens?"
Ivan had no reply.
He knew he absolutely mustn't go back; he'd learned that secret. Back then, Makarov had expelled him from the guild—already an act of familial mercy.
Now, sending someone to capture him, the old man must have found a way to deal with him without letting the secret out.
No matter what, he couldn't be dragged back.
Ivan gritted his teeth, then plastered on a smile. "Master Hop, Master Hop, let's talk it over, huh?"
When Hop ignored him, Ivan could only press on: "Fairy Tail isn't as upright as you think. Behind its bright façade lurks a darkness that could shatter everything you believe about the guild."
"Let me go and I'll help you obtain that secret, and from then on I'll follow your lead…"
"What? You dare call me a horse-head?"
"I don't do solo lanes!"
Hop mischievously shook the card until Ivan passed out, then stopped. As for that so-called darkness, once he got back, Makarov would naturally explain.
Compared with Ivan, after all, Makarov's credibility was sky-high.
Hop flew straight to the nearest town.
Because a stream said to originate from the Spirit Peak Snow Mountain runs through it, the place is called Silver-Stream Town.
The residents weren't surprised to see an unfamiliar Mage descend from the sky; Silver-Stream is famous for producing magico-mechanical prosthetics.
After a casual stroll, Hop was heading for the station when a white-bearded old man in a lab coat called out, "Kid, here to pick up your partner?"
Hop looked around, finally pointed to himself. "Sir, were you talking to me?"
"Who else? Aren't you from Fairy Tail?"
The old man pointed to the guild mark on Hop's left forearm.
Before Hop could make sense of it, the man grabbed his hand and dragged him along. "Come on, we've got to find him—your guild's Mage is probably hiding somewhere sneaking drinks again."
"His internal organs are wrecked, and he's only just got new prosthetics. So irresponsible—an old geezer like me is about to retire, yet I end up saving a drunkard like him…"
The old man's words startled Hop.
A guildmate was injured—badly—missing limbs, and that made Hop anxious.
The old-timer described him: a man around forty, orange hair, scruffy, hopelessly addicted to booze.
Unfortunately, that profile didn't ring any bells in Hop's Memory, so he followed the old man around every tavern like headless chickens.
After a full round they still came up empty. Hop stared at the old man, speechless. "Doctor, didn't you even ask the patient's name?"
"As long as he pays, why ask?"
The old man's matter-of-fact reply left Hop floored, but before Hop could retort he added, "Your pal's magic power is enormous—even greater than Makarov's. Otherwise he couldn't have survived long enough for me to fish him out of the Silver Stream."
"You know our Master?"
"Of course—we go way back."
The old man reminisced, "Seven years ago Makarov came personally to buy a top-grade prosthetic eye, said it was for a tough kid."
So that's how Erza got the prosthetic eye; Hop had assumed Porlyusica handled everything herself.
Then again, given that granny's tsundere attitude of "I hate humans," she'd never run such errands herself, and since prosthetics are pricey, it fell to Makarov in the end.
Just then Hop sensed a surge of powerful magic and sprinted off in that direction, leaving the dumbstruck old man behind.
Outside the town, under a tree, Hop found the orange-haired middle-aged man.
His bandages were soaked crimson, and faint blood seeped where the prosthetic arm and leg joined his body.
Pain had him drenched in sweat, yet he chugged booze as if nothing mattered.
A real death-wishing drunk—next to him, even Cana looked like a teetotaler.
While Hop mentally face-palmed, the man spotted him, raised his bottle, and called, "Yo, kid—care for a swig?"
Hop didn't answer the invitation; he simply stepped forward and showed his guild mark.
"So you're guildmates too—what a coincidence. I've been out on a job three years; don't know any of the new faces. We've gotta drink to our meeting!"
"Hahahahaha—"
Watching someone laugh heartily while half-dead, Hop—who already suspected the man's identity—didn't know whether to admire him or call him an idiot.
In terms of wacky optimism, Natsu is a lot like him; after all, Natsu really looks up to this guy.
At that moment Hop felt the magic card in his pocket stir: Ivan, locked inside, had woken up. Before Hop could act, Ivan's terrified voice rang out.
"This familiar magic… Gildarts!"
"So the old geezer sent you to catch me?!"
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