The second day of the Grand Magic Games dawned with a clear, azure sky, but the atmosphere inside the Domus Flau was anything but calm. The energy from the previous day's events had fermented into a potent mix of rivalry and anticipation. The crowd was louder, the cheers more aggressive, and the guilds were itching for blood.
"Welcome back to the Grand Magic Games!" Chapati Lola screamed into his microphone, his wig slightly askew from excitement. "Yesterday, Fairy Tail showed why it is called the No. 1 guild in Fiore! But can they keep the momentum going? Let's find out!"
Mato, the pumpkin mascot, bobbed in the air. "Today's first event is a race! But not just any race! It's an event called Chariot!"
He spun around. "But before I explain the rules, I need each team to select their representative! Choose wisely, kabo!"
In the Fairy Tail A waiting room, Erza was already analyzing the situation. "A race... If it's pure speed, I should go. Or maybe Gray with his ice slides."
"Hold on," Lucy said, tapping her chin. "If it's an obstacle course, Natsu might be better at breaking through things."
"I'M GOING!"
Before anyone could discuss strategy, Natsu Dragneel was already climbing over the balcony railing.
"Natsu, wait!" Erza commanded, her eyes narrowing. "We don't know the rules yet!"
"It's a race!" Natsu grinned, hopping down into the arena. "I'm the fastest! I'll leave 'em in the dust!"
"That idiot..." Gray face-palmed. "He never listens."
Over in the Team B waiting room, Gajeel Redfox was leaning against a wall, munching on an iron bolt. He saw the pink-haired Salamander hit the sand.
"Heh," Gajeel spat the bolt out. "If Salamander is going, I ain't sitting here."
"Gajeel, wait," Mira started, but the Iron Dragon Slayer was already jumping.
"I'm taking this one!" Gajeel shouted, landing next to Natsu. "You're going down, ash-breath."
"You wanna go, metal-face?!" Natsu butted heads with him.
Up in the Sabertooth box, Sting Eucliffe watched the two Fairy tail Dragon Slayers bickering. A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Perfect," Sting muttered. "I've been waiting to show them how outdated they are."
He leaped over the rail, landing gracefully. "I'll represent Sabertooth."
With the participants gathering, Blake sat in the stands with his family. He looked at the lineup: Natsu, Gajeel, Sting.
Then he looked at the name of the event: Chariot. He knew what was going to happen.
A slow, devious smile spread across Blake's face. It was the smile of a shark that had just smelled blood in the water.
"Hey!" Blake stood up, turning to the row of Fairy Tail members behind him—Macao, Wakaba, Romeo, Alzack, Bisca, and the others. "Who wants to make a quick money?"
"A bet?" Macao perked up.
"Natsu and Gajeel are down there," Blake said, gesturing to the arena. "They are powerhouses. Pure physical stats. Against guys like Ichiya? It's a guaranteed win."
"You're right!" Wakaba pulled out his wallet. "Natsu is fast as hell!"
"I'll bet on Gajeel!" Romeo shouted. "He's tough!"
"I'll put 5,000 jewels on Natsu!" Kinana chimed in.
Within seconds, a massive pot of money had been collected. Even Erza, from the balcony, threw down a bag of jewels. "I bet on Natsu. He is an idiot, but he is fast."
Blake collected the money, handing the heavy bag to Alphonse. "Hold this tight, buddy."
"Shiny!" Alphonse hugged the bag like a teddy bear.
"Alright!" Mato's voice boomed. "The participants are set! Now, let me explain the rules of Chariot! The goal is to reach the Domus Flau from the starting point in the city. However! You will not be running!"
Mato snapped his fingers.
A line of magical vehicles appeared behind the mages. They were open-topped wagons hooked up to magical engines that vibrated violently.
"You must race atop these moving wagons! They are in constant motion! Falling off means disqualification! The wagons will shake, rattle, and roll all the way to the finish line! BEGIN!"
The moment the words "moving wagons" left Mato's mouth, the color drained from the faces of three specific participants.
Natsu, Gajeel, and Sting froze. Their pupils dilated.
"W-wagons?" Natsu stammered, his hand going to his mouth. "Moving... things?"
"You gotta be kidding me," Gajeel turned green instantly.
In the stands, the realization hit the Fairy Tail guild like a physical slap.
Silence reigned for exactly three seconds.
Then, chaos.
"BLAKE!" Macao screamed, grabbing the railing. "YOU KNEW!"
"YOU SWINDLED US!" Wakaba yelled, shaking his fist. "THEY HAVE MOTION SICKNESS!"
"THAT'S CHEATING!" Happy cried out. "YOU TRICKED US!"
Blake sat calmly, sipping his drink. He didn't even look back.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blake said smoothly. "I simply facilitated a wager based on your confidence in our guildmates. I didn't force anyone to open their wallets. You saw 'Dragon Slayer' and thought 'Win'. You forgot the 'Chariot' part. That's on you."
"GIVE IT BACK!" The guild roared.
Suddenly, a small, trembling hand tugged at Blake's sleeve.
Master Makarov stood there. He looked smaller than usual, his eyes wide and watery, his lower lip quivering.
"Blake..." Makarov sniffled. "That was my retirement fund... That was my booze money for the month... Please... have mercy on an old man..."
It was a masterclass in emotional blackmail. The pitiable aura radiating from the Master was enough to make a stone statue cry.
Blake looked at the Previous Master. He looked at the crying face.
He sighed.
"Fine," Blake pointed to his toddler. "The bank is over there. Talk to the manager."
Makarov's face brightened. He turned to the two-year-old. "Oh, little Alphonse! Grandpa Makarov made a mistake. Can I have the bag back?"
Alphonse looked at the Master with big, black eyes. He looked at the heavy bag of gold in his lap.
He frowned.
"Mine," Alphonse stated firmly.
"No, no, it's Grandpa's!" Makarov reached out.
Alphonse slapped Makarov's hand away. "No touch! Mine!"
"He has spoken," Blake shrugged. "Sorry, Master. The boy drives a hard bargain."
Makarov collapsed to his knees, defeated by a toddler.
---
Down in the streets of Crocus, the race had begun.
Or rather, for most of the participants, it was a race. For three of them, it was a journey through the circles of hell.
"Yahoo!" Racer (Sawyer from Team New Dawn) was in his element.
Though his magic Slowing Magic worked by altering the perception of time for his opponents, his physical reflexes were top-tier. He surfed atop the shaking wagon with ease, leaning into the turns.
"This is too slow!" Racer laughed, accelerating his wagon. He was a blur of red and white, tearing through the cobblestone streets.
Behind him, Kurohebi of Raven Tail—a mage who mimicked the magic of others—was using a copied air-magic spell to stabilize his wagon, keeping a close second.
Ichiya of Blue Pegasus was in third, posing dramatically even as the wagon rattled his bones. "Men! The vibration is good for the pores!"
Yuka of Lamia Scale and Risley of Mermaid Heel followed in 4th and 5th.
And then... there was the rear guard.
At the starting line, three wagons were moving at a slow, agonizing crawl.
On the first wagon, Natsu Dragneel was draped over the side, his face a vibrant shade of chartreuse.
"Urrghhh..." Natsu groaned. "Stop... the world... is spinning..."
On the second wagon, Gajeel Redfox was face-down on the floorboards.
"Kill... me..." Gajeel rasped. "Just... end it..."
On the third wagon, Sting Eucliffe—the White Dragon Slayer of the 'strongest' guild—was on his knees, clutching his stomach.
"Why..." Sting gagged. "Why me too? I thought... I was... stronger..."
"LOOK AT THIS!" Chapati Lola shouted, half-amused, half-confused. "The three Dragon Slayers are completely incapacitated! It seems the rumors of their weakness to transportation are true! They are barely moving!"
The crowd laughed. It was a humiliating spectacle. The mighty dragon slayers, reduced to motion-sick invalids by a wooden cart.
Racer crossed the halfway point. He looked back and saw nothing but empty street.
"Too easy," he muttered.
---
Minutes ticked by.
Racer crossed the finish line at the Domus Flau to thunderous applause.
"FIRST PLACE! RACER FROM NEW DAWN!"
He hopped off his wagon, striking a pose. "Speed is life."
Shortly after, Kurohebi slithered across for 2nd.
Ichiya sparkled his way into 3rd.
Yuka took 4th.
Risley took 5th.
The race should have been over. The points for the top 5 were assigned.
But the event didn't end until all participants finished or forfeited.
The cameras cut back to the street.
The crowd's laughter died down.
Natsu Dragneel had fallen off his wagon.
The rules stated you had to be with the wagon, but not necessarily riding it if it was moving. Natsu was pushing it.
He was crawling.
His face was blue. Saliva dripped from his mouth. His legs were shaking like jelly.
But he was moving.
"I... ain't... losing..." Natsu wheezed.
He took a step. Then another. He stumbled, catching himself on the bumper of the wagon.
Behind him, Gajeel rolled off his cart. He slammed his iron hands into the cobblestones.
"Don't you... dare... look down on me... Salamander..."
Gajeel dragged himself forward, heaving the heavy wagon with him.
Sting watched them from his own wagon. He felt the bile rising in his throat. He wanted to quit. It was shameful. It was uncool. Sabertooth didn't do 'uncool'.
"Why?" Sting whispered, watching Natsu's trembling back. "The race is lost. You can't get points. Why are you doing this?"
Natsu didn't hear him. Or maybe he did, and he didn't care.
"For... the guild..." Natsu grunted, forcing one foot in front of the other. "Fairy Tail... doesn't... stop."
Something in that statement struck Sting.
He looked at the determination. It wasn't about logic. It wasn't about points. It was about pride.
Sting gritted his teeth. He forced his body to move. He crawled off his wagon.
"Damn it!" Sting yelled, tears of nausea in his eyes. "I'm a Dragon Slayer too!"
The crowd in the stadium watched in silence as the three mages entered the arena tunnel.
They weren't running. They were barely walking.
They were stumbling, heaving, looking like they were dying.
But they didn't stop.
"Come on, Natsu!" Lucy shouted from the field, tears in her eyes. "You can do it!"
"Gajeel! Be a man!" Elfman roared.
"Don't give up!" Wendy cheered.
Even Blake stood up. The humor of the bet was gone.
He held Alphonse and Celeste close.
"Watch this, kids," Blake said softly. "This is what makes them strong. Not the fire or the iron. This."
Natsu fell. He hit the dirt face-first.
The crowd gasped.
"Daddy, is Uncle Natsu okay?" Celeste asked, worried.
"He's fine," Blake said. "He's just refueling his stubbornness."
Natsu's hand clawed into the dirt. He pushed himself up.
"Not... yet..."
Gajeel was right beside him. "Move... over..."
Sting was a few feet back. "Wait... for me..."
They reached the final stretch. The finish line was ten meters away.
It felt like ten miles.
The crowd began to cheer. Not for a winner, but for the sheer grit on display.
"FAIRY TAIL! FAIRY TAIL! SABERTOOTH!"
Natsu let out a roar—which sounded more like a dry heave—and threw his body forward.
Gajeel lunged.
Sting dove.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
All three Dragon Slayers crossed the line simultaneously and collapsed into a heap of groaning, miserable limbs.
"IT'S A THREE-WAY TIE FOR 6TH PLACE!" Chapati announced, his voice cracking with emotion. "UNBELIEVABLE! DESPITE THE HANDICAP, THEY ALL FINISHED!"
Natsu rolled onto his back, staring at the sky.
"Did I... win?"
"No," Gajeel groaned, face in the dirt. "You lost... idiot."
"Shut up," Natsu whispered. "I need a bucket."
Sting lay there, panting. He looked at Natsu. He looked at the Fairy Tail guild cheering for their "loser."
For the first time, the White Dragon Slayer felt a crack in his guild's philosophy. They cheered for a loss? No... they cheered for the effort.
---
The medics (and cleaner crew) rushed the field.
Up in the stands, the tension in the Fairy Tail section had shifted from anger at Blake to pride in their fighters.
"Well," Macao wiped a tear. "That was beautiful. Natsu really tried."
"Yeah," Wakaba sniffed. "He's a good kid."
"So..." Romeo looked at Blake. "About the bet..."
Blake was already standing up, stretching. He had a very paternal, solemn look on his face.
"You know," Blake said loudly. "Watching that struggle... it really puts material wealth into perspective, doesn't it? Money comes and goes, but spirit is eternal."
"Give us the money, Blake," Erza said, her voice dropping an octave. She summoned a sword.
Blake froze. He looked at Erza. He looked at Alphonse.
Alphonse was currently stacking the coins into a little tower on the bench.
"Al," Blake said. "Auntie Erza wants the shiny."
Alphonse looked at Erza. He looked at the sword.
He narrowed his eyes.
He grabbed a handful of coins and threw them at her.
"Attack!" Alphonse yelled.
Erza caught the coins instinctively. She blinked.
"Did he just... try to bribe me? Or assault me?"
"Both," Blake grabbed the toddler and the remaining bag. "SCATTER!"
Blake vaulted over the back of the stadium seating, running away with the loot while carrying his son.
"GET HIM!" The entire guild chased after him, creating a cartoonish dust cloud.
Cana sat on the bench, sipping her drink, watching her husband and son flee from an angry mob of wizards.
"Boys," she sighed, shaking her head affectionately. Then she looked at the betting slip in her cleavage. She had bet on Racer.
She smirked.
"Mama's buying the expensive wine tonight."
Down in the arena, Natsu and Gajeel were being carried off on stretchers, still arguing weakly about who crossed the line a millimeter faster.
"I won..." Natsu mumbled.
"In your dreams..." Gajeel groaned.
The Games continued, the rivalries deepened, and somewhere in the corridors of the stadium, a father and son were counting their ill-gotten gains while hiding from an angry Guild Master.