The stark, white halls of the Magic Council headquarters in Era were designed to project absolute authority. Tall pillars of marble stretched toward vaulted ceilings, and the air was always kept at a crisp, sterile temperature. It was a place of law, order, and judgment.
Today, however, the temperature in the main chamber felt colder than usual.
Chairman Gran Doma sat at the head of the crescent table, his fingers interlaced, his expression grim. The other councilors shifted in their high-backed chairs, the rustling of robes the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
"The Grand Magic Games are concluded," Gran Doma began, his voice echoing off the stone. "Fairy Tail has reclaimed their title. While their methods are... unorthodox, and their destructive tendencies remain a headache for our budget department, their victory has stabilized the public's faith in the guild system."
"Stabilized?" Councilor Org, the elderly mage with a hunched back, grunted. "They destroyed the King's castle courtyard. A man named Blake Corvus reportedly punched a dragon so hard it altered the local weather patterns. I wouldn't call that stability. I'd call it a terrifying deterrent."
"Regardless," Gran Doma cut in sharply. "Fairy Tail is not the agenda for today. We have a more pressing concern. A shadow that has been growing while we were distracted by the festivities."
He pressed a button on the console before him. A holographic map of Fiore materialized, dotted with red markers.
"Tartaros," Gran Doma said the name like a curse.
The room stiffened. Tartaros was the third pillar of the Balam Alliance, the dark guild triad that included Oración Seis and Grimoire Heart. But unlike the others, Tartaros remained a mystery. They were ghosts.
"In the last month," Gran Doma continued, gesturing to the map where the red markers began to blink out one by one, "fifty-four dark guilds have been annihilated. Completely wiped off the map. No survivors. No traces."
"It must be an independent guild," one councilor suggested nervously. "A vigilante group?"
Gran Doma said. "Our intelligence suggests that these guilds weren't just random. They were tributary guilds. Sub-guilds that funneled money and information to Tartaros."
"Why would they destroy their own supply lines?" asked Lahar, standing by the wall next to Doranbolt. The bespectacled head of the Custody Enforcement Unit adjusted his glasses, his face pale.
"Because they no longer need them," Org said softly. His eyes, usually clouded with age, were sharp with fear. "Tartaros is cleaning house. They are cutting loose the dead weight. Which means..."
"...They are preparing to move," Gran Doma finished. "The Nine Demon Gates are opening."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. "Impossible," a councilor scoffed. "They haven't made a public move in years. Why now?"
"Because the magical balance has shifted," Gran Doma declared, standing up. "Grimoire Heart is gone. Oración Seis is disbanded. The dragons have come and gone. The world is in flux. Tartaros believes the time is right to claim dominion."
He slammed his fist on the table. "We cannot wait for them to strike. We must mobilize the Rune Knights. We must contact the Holy Wizard Saints. We will strike them before they—"
BOOM.
The sentence was never finished.
The heavy oak doors of the chamber didn't just open; they disintegrated.
A shockwave of searing heat and kinetic force blasted into the room. It wasn't just an explosion; it was a wall of fire. The councilors closest to the door were vaporized instantly, their screams lost in the roar of the blast.
The marble pillars shattered. The vaulted ceiling collapsed.
The headquarters of the Magic Council, the symbol of order in Fiore, was reduced to a crumbling inferno in a single heartbeat.
Doranbolt coughed, his lungs burning with dust and smoke.
His ears were ringing. A high-pitched whine drowned out the world.
He pushed a slab of concrete off his legs and staggered to his feet. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and his white coat was torn and grey with ash.
"Chairman!" Doranbolt shouted, his voice raspy. "Lahar! Anyone!"
He stumbled through the smoke. The main chamber was gone. The table was splinters.
He saw a hand sticking out from under a fallen pillar. He recognized the sleeve of the uniform.
"Lahar!"
Doranbolt rushed over, falling to his knees. He grabbed his friend's hand.
It was cold.
He frantically tried to lift the pillar, his teleportation magic sputtering in his panic. He managed to shift the stone enough to see Lahar's face.
Lahar's glasses were broken. His eyes were open, staring at nothing. The life had fled him moments ago.
"No..." Doranbolt whispered. He gripped Lahar's hand tight. "No, no, no. You promised we'd fix the system. Lahar!"
There was no answer. Just the crackling of fires burning the tapestries on the walls.
Doranbolt let out a choked sob, but survival instinct forced him to keep moving. He couldn't stay here.
He stumbled further into the wreckage.
"Is anyone alive?!"
"Doran... bolt..."
The voice was weak. Doranbolt spun around.
Org was lying near the edge of what used to be the floor, now a cliff overlooking the crater below. The old councilor was pinned under debris, his legs crushed, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Councilor Org!" Doranbolt rushed to him. "Hold on! I'll get you out! I can teleport us—"
"My, my. A survivor? You roaches are harder to squash than I thought."
Doranbolt froze. The voice was casual, almost bored. It didn't belong to a victim.
He looked up.
Standing atop a piece of rubble, silhouetted against the flames, was a young man. He had blonde hair, cat-like ears, and a long, fluffy tail. He wore a strange, revealing outfit and a scarf with a leopard print.
He was smiling. A cruel, playful smile.
"Who are you?" Doranbolt demanded, stepping between the intruder and the dying Org.
The man hopped down, landing softly. He picked up an apple from a scattered fruit bowl that had miraculously survived the blast. He took a bite. Crunch.
"Me?" The man chewed loudly. "I'm Jackal. One of the Nine Demon Gates of Tartaros."
Jackal took another bite. "We decided the Council was getting a bit... noisy. So I came to turn the volume down."
"You killed them," Doranbolt's hands trembled with rage. "Lahar... Gran Doma... You killed them all!"
"I blew them up," Jackal corrected. "There's a difference. It's art."
Jackal's eyes shifted to Org. "Oh? The old man is still breathing?"
He moved faster than Doranbolt could track. One moment he was eating an apple; the next, he was standing over Org.
He placed a hand on Org's head.
"Don't touch him!" Doranbolt screamed, charging forward.
Jackal didn't look back. He simply waved his other hand. A small, concentrated explosion blasted Doranbolt backward, slamming him into a wall.
"Sit down, human. Adults are talking."
Jackal looked down at Org. "You know, old man, you possess something we need. Information. Codes. The locations of the other current and former council members."
Org coughed blood, spitting it onto Jackal's boots. "Go... to... hell."
Jackal sighed, wiping his boot. "Rude. Well, if you won't talk, maybe the others will. We have a list, you see. Face."
Org's eyes widened in horror at the word. "Face... you know about Face?"
"We know everything," Jackal grinned. He tapped Org's forehead. A glowing seal appeared on the old man's skin. "Now, become a firework for me."
"Doranbolt!" Org screamed, finding a final reserve of strength. "Run! You must warn them! Warn the guilds! Tartaros is after Face!"
"RUN!"
Jackal snapped his fingers.
"Explosion."
Org's body began to glow with a blinding, searing light.
Doranbolt watched in horror. He wanted to save him. He wanted to fight. But the magical pressure coming off Jackal was overwhelming. If he stayed, the warning died with him.
"Damn it!"
Doranbolt activated his magic. The world twisted.
Just as he vanished into the spatial void, Org detonated. The explosion consumed the rest of the council chamber, erasing the last of the leadership of the magical world.
Jackal stood in the center of the fire, basking in the heat.
"One down," the demon chuckled. "This is going to be fun."
---
Hundreds of miles away, the sun was shining over Magnolia. The birds were singing, blissfully unaware that the governing body of the continent had just been decapitated.
Inside the Fairy Tail guild hall, the atmosphere was, as usual, a riot.
The victory in the Grand Magic Games had turned the guild into a perpetual party zone. Barrels of ale were rolling, tables were flying, and laughter shook the rafters.
Blake sat at a table near the bar, nursing a drink. He was wearing fresh clothes—a simple black shirt and cargo pants—having finally scrubbed the dragon blood off. Celeste was sitting on his lap, drawing a picture of Atlas Flame with crayons, while Alphonse was arm-wrestling Elfman (and losing, but with spirit).
"Hey, Blake!" Natsu yelled from across the room, his mouth full of chicken. "Fight me!"
"Pass," Blake called back lazily. "I'm retired until after lunch."
"You're always retired!" Natsu complained.
In the ofice room Mavis was talking with Erza Scarlet. The Master looked content, watching his children celebrate, but there was a shadow in Erza's eyes.
"Master," Erza said quietly, so as not to disturb the mood. "I received a letter from Sting of Sabertooth."
Mavis asks. "Oh? Is he asking for a rematch?"
"No," Erza shook her head. "It's about Minerva Orland. After she fled the games... she didn't go into hiding. Sting has confirmed she joined a dark guild. Succubus Eye."
Mavis sighed, his small hand gripping her pen. "A dark guild... That girl is lost in darkness. Sabertooth has changed for the better, but she refuses to let go of her hatred."
"Should we inform the Council?" Erza asked.
"We must," Mavis nodded. "Even if Succubus Eye is a minor guild, a mage of Minerva's caliber joining them is dangerous. I'll draft a letter to Gran Doma later today."
If only they knew there was no one left to read it.
Meanwhile, near the center of the hall, a different kind of drama was unfolding.
Gray Fullbuster was sitting on a bench, shirtless as usual. He was staring at a glass of water, deep in thought.
"Gray-sama!"
Juvia Lockser appeared, holding a plate of intricately carved ice-buns that looked like Gray's face. Hearts were practically floating around her head.
"Juvia made Gray-sama buns! They are filled with cold cream because Gray-sama is cool!"
Usually, Gray would have groaned. He would have told her to back off, that it was annoying, that he needed space.
But today, he looked at the buns. Then he looked at Juvia.
He saw the bandages on her arm from the fight with the dragons. He remembered how she had protected him. How she had fought for him. How she had never, not once, wavered in her absolute adoration of him, even when he was at his worst.
Blake, watching from his table, nudged Cana. "Ten thousand jewels says he finally cracks."
Cana smirked. "You're on. Gray is denser than ice."
Gray stood up. The guild quieted down slightly, sensing a shift in the dynamic.
"Juvia," Gray said.
"Y-Yes, Gray-sama?" Juvia trembled, expecting a rejection.
Gray scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable but determined.
"You're... really loud. And you have no concept of personal space. And your imagination is terrifying."
Juvia wilted. "Juvia is sorry..."
"But," Gray interrupted. He took a step closer.
He reached out and took the plate from her hands, placing it on the table. Then, he took her hand in his.
Juvia froze. Her face turned the color of a ripe strawberry.
"You were there," Gray said, his voice dropping to a murmur that only she (and the eavesdropping Dragon Slayers) could hear. "When the dragons came. When I thought it was over. You were there. You're always there."
He squeezed her hand.
"I'm not good at this stuff. I'm cold. But... I don't want you to go anywhere. I want you to stay with me."
Juvia stopped breathing. "Gray... sama?"
"I'm saying," Gray looked her in the eye, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I accept. Your feelings... I accept them. So... yeah."
For a second, there was silence.
Then, Juvia fainted. She collapsed straight backward, a smile of pure euphoria on her face. Steam erupted from her ears.
"JUVIA!" Gray panicked, catching her.
"WHOOOOOO!"
The guild exploded. Natsu breathed a pillar of fire into the ceiling. Wakaba and Macao high-fived.
"ABOUT TIME, ICE PRINCESS!" Gajeel roared, laughing.
Blake held out his hand to Cana. "Pay up."
Cana grumbled, slapping a stack of jewels into Blake's hand. "Stupid character development."
---
An hour later, the excitement had settled into a comfortable hum. Gray was fanning a conscious-but-delirious Juvia, while the more scholarly members of the guild had gathered at a large table in the library section.
Levy McGarden had a thick, black-bound book open in front of her. Lucy, Wendy, Carla, and Panther Lily were looking over her shoulder. Natsu and Gajeel were leaning in, surprisingly interested in a book. Blake stood behind them, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"This book contains the legends of Zeref," Levy explained, adjusting her reading glasses. "It talks about his creations. The Etherious."
"Etherious?" Panther Lily asked. "I've heard the term. Demons born from books?"
"Correct," Carla nodded gravely. "Zeref didn't just summon demons; he created them from living magic. They are living curses."
"And look here," Levy pointed to a passage written in ancient script. "It mentions the strongest of his creations. The one demon that Zeref himself could not control."
"E.N.D." Lucy read the letters. "What does it stand for?"
Natsu's eyes narrowed. "E.N.D..."
He touched the scarf around his neck. For some reason, the name made his skin crawl, but it also sparked a strange familiarity.
"Igneel," Natsu muttered.
"Igneel?" Wendy looked at him. "What about him?"
"Before he disappeared on the 7th of July, 777," Natsu said, his voice low. "He tried to kill E.N.D. He couldn't do it. He said... he said E.N.D. was the only thing standing in the way of peace."
"Wait," Gajeel frowned. "Your dragon couldn't kill a demon? But dragons are the strongest creatures alive. Metalicana wouldn't lose to a book character."
"That's just it," Natsu slammed his hand on the table. "If E.N.D. is strong enough to fight Igneel, then finding E.N.D. means finding a clue to where Igneel went! Maybe E.N.D. sealed them away! Maybe it's guarding them!"
"If Tartaros is making moves," Blake continued, "they likely possess the book of E.N.D. It's their master, after all."
"Then we attack!" Natsu grinned, fire igniting on his fists. "We find Tartaros, we beat them up, we get the book, and we find Igneel!"
"Aye!" Happy cheered.
"It's not that simple, you idiot!" Lucy scolded. "We don't even know where their base is! And they are a part of the Balam Alliance. They aren't just street thugs!"
"I agree with the Salamander for once," Gajeel crossed his arms. "I'm tired of waiting. If these demons have answers about Metalicana, I'm going to rip those answers out of their throats."
"I... I want to know too," Wendy said softly, clutching her skirt. "About Grandeeney."
"It's settled then!" Natsu jumped onto the table. "We're going on a demon hunt! Blake, you coming?"
Blake looked at Natsu. "I'll watch your back. But you lead this one, Natsu. This is your story."
The guild began to rally behind Natsu's energy. The prospect of a new adventure, a new quest to find the missing dragons, was intoxicating.
BANG.
The double doors of the guild hall were thrown open with enough force to crack the hinges.
The laughter died instantly. The music stopped.
Everyone turned to the entrance.
Jet and Droy stood there. They were panting, sweat dripping down their faces. They looked terrified. Droy was clutching a communication lacrima that was cracking with static.
"Jet? Droy?" Levy stood up, sensing the panic. "What's wrong?"
Jet took a step forward, his legs shaking.
"We... we just got a transmission from the town guard..."
"Spit it out!" Makarov barked, stepping down from the bar.
Droy looked up, tears streaming down his face.
"The Magic Council Headquarters..." Droy swallowed hard. "It's gone."
"Gone?" Lucy whispered. "What do you mean, gone?"
"Destroyed!" Jet screamed, his voice breaking. "An explosion! There are no survivors! Gran Doma, Lahar, Org... everyone! They're all dead!"
A heavy, suffocating silence descended on the guild hall. The joy of the wedding-like atmosphere from moments ago evaporated, replaced by a cold dread. The Magic Council was the bedrock of their society. For it to be wiped out in an instant...
"Who..." Mavis whispered, his face losing all color. "Who did this?"
Jet held up the lacrima. A voice, distorted and static-filled, but undeniably cruel, echoed through the quiet hall.
"Hello, fairies... and humans... This is Jackal of Tartaros. Consider this our opening ceremony. The age of humans is over. The gates of Hell are open."
The transmission cut to static.
Natsu's fists clenched so hard his skin turned white. The fire around him didn't flare up; it turned a dark, concentrated crimson.
"Tartaros..."
Blake stood up slowly from the table. He picked up his drink, drained it in one go, and set the glass down with a sharp clink.
His eyes were no longer the eyes of a father or a teacher. They were the eyes of a soldier going back to war.
"Well," Blake said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "We wanted to find them. Looks like they found us first."
Mavis turned to the guild.
"LOCK THE DOORS!" Makarov roared. "RECALL ALL TEAMS! PREPARE FOR WAR! NO ONE ATTACKS OUR WORLD AND LIVES!"
"YEAH!" The guild roared back, but this time, there was no joy in it. Only rage.
The war against Tartaros had begun.