The Justice of Fairy Law
Far across the ruined battlefield, Gray, Elfman, and Mirajane stirred amidst the rubble, groggy and disoriented. But when they looked up and saw their Master standing in defiance of Jose, their eyes went wide with awe and gratitude.
"Master…!" Mirajane breathed.
"You three," Makarov commanded, not even turning his gaze. "Leave this place. Leave the Phantom Lord Guild."
Gray staggered upright. "Master, we can still—"
"No."
Erza's voice, soft and strained, but steely, cut through the clamor. She raised her head from the dirt, locking eyes with them.
"Do as he says. You'll only get in his way. Go."
---
The three looked toward the source and saw Erza, battered and bloodied, kneeling over Yume's unconscious body.
He lay motionless, his usually sharp features slack with exhaustion. The earlier blow from Jose had struck him squarely, and without his full defenses, he'd collapsed. His Shikigami—Rika and Enma—hovered protectively over him, their spectral forms flickering weakly, disconnected from his fading magic.
Erza clutched Yume tighter. Her voice trembled. "You did it… You really did it."
Her mind flashed back to every reckless choice he'd made in the name of protecting others. She hated it. Admired it. Feared it.
My blade couldn't stop Jose. But your heart could.
She looked up at Makarov, who now knelt beside her. His hand rested on Yume's chest, checking him.
"He's alive," the Master said, quietly. "Barely. He pushed himself beyond his limits."
Erza nodded, blinking back tears.
"Yume…" Mirajane whispered in disbelief.
Around them, Rika and Enma lingered, transparent and fading. They bowed their heads to their unconscious master
Without waiting, Erza slipped her arms beneath him, cradling him against her chest. Despite her own injuries, she stood tall, her eyes fierce with determination.
"I'll carry him," she said.
Gray hesitated. "You sure you can—?"
"Yes." Her voice was iron. "He fought for all of us. I won't leave him behind."
She turned her back to the escalating confrontation, where Makarov now faced Jose, the air alive with divine tension.
"Let's go," she said.
The four of them—Erza carrying Yume, Gray supporting a limping Mirajane, and Elfman bringing up the rear—began their retreat through the wreckage of the Phantom Lord base. As they left, the ground quaked behind them with the force of two Wizard Saints unleashing their full might.
And behind them, Rika and Enma followed quietly, their flames dim but ever-loyal, orbiting their fallen master.
They didn't look back.
---
Clash of Wizard Saints
As Erza and the others disappeared into the distance, Makarov remained, standing alone atop the shattered floor of the Phantom Lord guild hall. The sun had begun to rise behind him, casting a halo around his towering form. Across from him, Jose Porla, still cloaked in his shadowy aura, sneered with growing fury.
Jose's grin returned. "So the lion finally roars. Come to witness your guild's fall?"
"No." Makarov stepped forward. "I came because someone made my children cry."He raised his hand, still glowing faintly with residual light.
"This war ends here"
"Hmph. So the mighty Makarov returns," Jose said with a voice thick with venom. "It has been six years, hasn't it? Since two Guild Masters stood face to face like this."
He gestured mockingly toward the distant horizon where Fairy Tail's building had once stood.
"It's a pile of rubble now. I hope you've enjoyed your sentimental reunion, because soon, you'll be joining it."
Makarov's expression didn't shift. His gaze, serene yet powerful, remained fixed on Jose.
"A guild is not a building, Jose," he said, his voice deep and solemn. "It's the people who carry its name. That's the heart of Fairy Tail."
Jose's face twisted with malice. "Then let me rip out that heart!"
With that, he surged forward, a storm of dark tendrils erupting from his body. They coiled like serpents, shooting straight toward Makarov.
Makarov raised one massive hand, light blooming around his palm. He brought his fingers together in a triangular shape and unleashed a beam of radiant Light Magic, clashing with Jose's dark tide in a violent explosion that shook the very earth.
Boom!
Energy surged outward, shattering walls and vaporizing debris. The force of the clash split the ground beneath them.
Jose flew into the air, summoning a swirling vortex of shadows above his head. "Dead Wave!" he roared.
A massive, corrosive tsunami of black magic thundered down toward Makarov.
But Makarov didn't flinch. His giant form remained rooted like a mountain.
He raised both hands and formed a massive, hexagonal shield of sacred light that shone like a sun. The wave hit, but the shield held, scattering the attack into harmless motes of darkness.
Makarov exhaled, a note of weariness laced with disappointment in his voice.
"You always had talent, Jose. Power. Enough to be a Wizard Saint. But all you ever sought was destruction."
Jose spat. "Are you preaching to me now?!"
"No," Makarov said, his eyes sharpening. "I'm passing judgment."
Then, his magic began to shift. Light gathered around him, brighter and brighter, until it seemed like the very air bent around his colossal form. His body began to glow, expanding again through his Titan Magic, until he loomed high above the Phantom Lord guild like a god from legend.
He raised one glowing hand into the sky.
"I will give you until a count of three to kneel."
The world seemed to go silent.
"One."
Jose stood defiant, trembling with rage. "You think I'll submit?!"
"Two."
Makarov's magic surged, a colossal celestial magic seal forming in the heavens, humming with divine judgment.
Jose screamed, shadows lashing wildly. "We're equals! I could kill you now—!"
"Three."
Makarov brought his massive hands together, clapping with the force of thunder.
"Fairy Law!"
The seal above burst into radiance, and an explosion of pure, golden light surged down like a cleansing storm. It blanketed everything in its path—every stone, every brick, every lingering Shade Trooper—and obliterated the darkness.
Light exploded. Not just brilliance—but truth.
Jose screamed—not in pain, but in terror—as the magic pierced not his body, but his mind.
He saw himself.
A child.
Beaten. Powerless.
He saw the moment he chose vengeance over healing. When he turned friends into tools. When he stopped caring who got trampled.
He had built an empire of shadows.
And in the light, he saw it all crumble.
He reached for his magic, for his pride, for anything—but only the void remained. "Please," he whispered, a plea of utter desperation, "don't look at me like this…"
He reached out—not in defiance—but desperation.
"No… not like this…"
And then, silence.
Fairy Law's Judgment
A wave of unrelenting light crashed down from the sky. It washed across the battlefield like a divine tide.
Outside the giant, the Phantom Shade Troopers shrieked as they were struck. Their shadowy forms withered into nothingness, completely disintegrated by the spell.
And yet, the members of Fairy Tail stood unharmed, bathed in the warmth of the spell's glow. Some wept. Some knelt. All understood what it meant.
Erza whispered through trembling lips:
"That light… it's Fairy Law. A magic that only harms those the caster deems enemies. A righteous light that punishes evil."
Inside, Jose screamed. His monstrous form unraveled, shadows fleeing from his flesh as if rejecting him. His hair turned stark white. His limbs trembled. He shrank—becoming not a guild master, not a Wizard Saint, but a terrified, withered old man, broken in body and spirit.
Makarov's giant form receded slowly. His eyes remained fixed on his defeated rival.
"Jose," he said, quietly but with finality, "the Magic Council will punish your crimes. This war ends here."
The shadows around him peeled away. His monstrous form cracked and collapsed, his body reverting to its frail human state. His hair bleached to white, and his expression contorted in horror.
He dropped to his knees.
Completely powerless.
The Aftermath
Suddenly, a movement behind Makarov—a final betrayal.
Aria, Phantom's Wind-user, appeared behind him with a twisted grin and bloodied face. His magic surged, ready to strike the distracted master.
But Makarov didn't even glance back. With a single fluid motion, he punched Aria clean across the battlefield. The sound of the impact echoed like thunder.
Makarov turned, eyes blazing.
"Know when to cut your losses, boy. The battle is over."
Aria didn't rise again.
Jose slumped to the ground, defeated, broken, and stripped of power. The Phantom Guild members fled in shame and fear. Their war was lost.
The sun broke through the clouds at last, its golden light touching every wounded Fairy Tail mage. A silent hymn of victory.
Fairy Tail had won.
End of chapter.