Laxus POV
Seven months.
That was how long it had been since Krampus Santa Grimgaros joined Fairy Tail. Since he crashed into my life like a divine sledgehammer wrapped in fur, muscle, and judgment. It was now July of X767, and the whole guild had gotten used to having the big guy around—though "used to" might not be the right word. You don't really "get used" to a living punishment spirit who takes down dark guilds like he's collecting stamps.
Krampus had made a name for himself outside of Magnolia. Or rather, an infamous one. In the past few months, he had started taking on higher-ranked quests—jobs that involved dangerous beast hordes terrorizing border villages, ancient revenants rising from cursed grounds, and rogue battalions of mages flying under illegal dark guild banners. He didn't hold back. He fought with divine authority, terrifying grace, and an executioner's ruthlessness. In every town he visited, there were stories of a lion-like warrior cloaked in red and gold who left smoldering ruins and chained villains in his wake.
I didn't get to go on those missions. Gramps said I wasn't ready. I didn't argue. Not really. I understood. I wasn't strong enough yet. But that didn't mean I was content. No way in hell. I doubled my training and then doubled that again.
Lightning-body runs until I puked. Meditation under waterfalls while channeling mana. Sparring with Krampus when I could convince him to slow down enough for me to keep up. He always praised me when I improved, but never let me get cocky. His standards were divine, literally.
Still, I missed being by his side. Not just because I looked up to him, though I did. Krampus had become something like... family. He was a monster to our enemies, but to me? He was a mentor. A friend. The kind of person I could imagine always having my back.
Gramps let me take some solo jobs in Magnolia—minor criminal suppression, magical repairs, pet retrieval, event security. Good for PR, he said. And yeah, it felt nice when the locals praised me. But it didn't compare to seeing Krampus fight. The sheer power, the precision, the intent behind every strike. That was the standard I was aiming for.
Meanwhile, my dad—Ivan—kept getting colder.
He didn't talk much with Gramps anymore. Barely looked me in the eye when we passed each other. And every time Krampus came up in conversation, he sneered. Called his training magic a circus act. Claimed it was shallow and flashy, just a scam for the weak-minded. But even as he talked down Krampus, I could see the way his hands clenched.
The rumor going around was that Dad had been associating with shady figures, mages who were on the wrong side of the Council's interest. And I started wondering—where did he get that Dragon Slayer lacrima? The one he implanted in me to save my life. It gave me everything, but... what if it came from something ugly? Something criminal?
I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe he was still my dad—the man who wanted me to grow strong. But those thoughts never left me.
One day, after a mission with Krampus—just a simple giant dire boar extermination job outside a canyon town—we returned to Magnolia laughing. He let me handle most of the battle myself. Even praised my spell layering. We grabbed some grilled skewers on the way back, and for the first time in months, I felt light again.
Then we stepped into the guild.
The atmosphere was heavier than stone, like the very air had thickened into syrup. No laughter. No chatter. Even the most rambunctious members of Fairy Tail were subdued, their expressions caught somewhere between anger, confusion, and mourning. Plates of untouched food cooled on tables. Mugs of ale remained half-raised, forgotten in hands that trembled or clenched.
Whispers flitted like ghostly drafts through the vast hall. Conversations died mid-sentence as eyes turned to us—Krampus and me—walking in like figures from a war report. But the true epicenter of the tension stood at the guild's heart.
Makarov. Stone-faced. Eyes darker than storm clouds. His hands were folded behind his back, but the grip was white-knuckled. The man who had always been a towering oak, even in his diminutive stature, now seemed bent by a burden everyone knew, but no one dared speak aloud.
Because they all knew.
They knew Ivan Dreyar had been expelled.
Makarov's face, usually so composed even in moments of chaos, looked deeply worn as he stepped down from the raised platform. His eyes scanned the guild—then landed on the two of us.
The weight of the guild hall was palpable. The tension wasn't just in the silence—it was in the stares, in the halted breath of every mage in the room. They all knew. Everyone knew.
Ivan Dreyar had been expelled.
No one said it outright, but it was written in their faces, etched into the silence, tucked into the stiffness of shoulders and half-drunk mugs.
Then Makarov stepped forward, looking grim and utterly exhausted. His eyes found me and Krampus, and his voice came down like a gavel.
"Laxus. Krampus. A word. Now."
His voice was firm. No room for delay. No space for evasion.
Krampus looked at him, then at me. I could see it in his expression—something between expectation and resignation. The big guy had seen this coming. Knew it was only a matter of time before the news dropped.
"Yup," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Here comes the family drama."
He put a steadying hand on my shoulder as we followed Makarov into a more private corner of the guild hall, already bracing for the storm we knew was coming.
Makarov closed the door behind us and sighed heavily, leaning against it for a moment before straightening up. He looked at Laxus directly, then at me, the corners of his eyes tight with fatigue and resignation.
"Laxus... Krampus... I need to tell you both something important," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but every syllable laced with weight. "I've expelled Ivan."
Laxus froze. His eyes widened in disbelief, mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.
"What...?" he finally choked out. "You—what do you mean you expelled him? He's your son!"
Makarov didn't flinch, but the pain was etched deep into the lines of his face. He looked away, then back, eyes filled with weariness.
"I had to," he said, voice rough and low. "I'm sorry, Laxus. It wasn't easy. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But... he left me no choice."
He didn't elaborate. Didn't list the crimes or whisper the forbidden truths. Just let the weight of his silence say what words never could.
I was about to explode in anger when Krampus stepped in to intervene with a resigned face.
Krampus POV
I knew this was coming.
The signs had been all too clear. Ivan's disdain had deepened every week. His soul left an acrid taste in the air—resentment, bitterness, envy. And something else… a hunger that didn't belong in Fairy Tail.
Makarov had been delaying the inevitable. I respected his struggle, but not his silence. It only made the blow harsher for Laxus.
The boy's shoulders were trembling beside me.
Poor cub.
I exhaled and summoned a chain from my palm. A Rule of Binding construct—not a weapon this time, but a tool. I snapped it gently onto Laxus's wrist.
"Sit," I said softly.
He looked like he was going to run, or explode. I needed neither.
I raised a hand and, before Makarov could retreat to his office, another golden chain coiled around his ankle with a divine clink.
"You too, old man."
"Krampus—"
"We're having a conversation. A full one," I interrupted, voice calm but immovable. "You don't get to be righteous and say he's not ready when you won't even tell him what he's supposed to be ready for."
Before either of them could protest further, I tugged on the chains and led them both into a private back room in the guild—soundproofed with runes and sealed for privacy. No interruptions. Just the three of us. I pushed them toward seats with a flick of my fingers, divine bindings adjusting to gently guide rather than restrain.
"We're having a damn family therapy session," I announced, tone crass and sass sharpened like a cleaver. "And I'm not putting up with years of bottled-up guilt, pride, and miscommunication spilling out like rotting jam. We're sorting this today."
Makarov sighed. Laxus scowled. Tough. I wasn't here to coddle either of them.
"Laxus, you first. Talk. And don't worry—" I flexed my hand and a binding glyph lit around Makarov's throat. "—the geezer can't interrupt."
Laxus hesitated, his lips twitching, fists clenched at his sides. Then the dam broke.
"You kept everything from me," he shouted, voice raw. "I didn't even get to ask questions, because every time I tried, you just changed the subject or told me to train harder. And Dad—he's been getting worse for months! You had to know! You had to! And you said nothing!"
His breathing was jagged, and I could see tears building behind the fury. "He laughed at Krampus's training, at the guild's strength. Said it was a joke. I thought he was just bitter or proud, but... then I started wondering where the lacrima came from. What if he got it through something shady? What if everything I am now was built on something rotten?!"
His voice cracked then. "You let me believe in him. Even when you stopped. And now he's gone. Just like that. No warning. Just—gone."
He glared at Makarov through the glowing glyph, chest heaving. "You didn't protect me. You just hid it."
I let him finish, then flicked my hand. The glyph faded from Makarov's throat, and a new one sealed Laxus's mouth—not harshly, just enough to keep the room silent.
Makarov's shoulders sagged. He looked older than I'd ever seen him. "I didn't want to lose both of you," he murmured. "Laxus, your father changed slowly. I kept hoping he'd come back from it. That I could pull him back. But the deeper he got into that darkness... the more I realized he'd chosen it. And I blamed myself. Because maybe I was too hard on him. Maybe I didn't guide him well enough. Maybe I turned him into what he became."
His voice dropped, weary and ashamed. "He started digging into things only a guild master should know. Secrets... dangerous ones. Hidden legacies. Forbidden spells sealed in the guild's foundation. Things left behind by the First. Things meant to stay buried. He wanted to use them for his own gain—twist Fairy Tail's legacy into something monstrous. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him endanger the guild. In a normal case... someone like that would be silenced permanently."
He closed his eyes. "But he was my son. I couldn't do it. So I expelled him. It was the hardest decision I've ever made. And I thought... maybe I could protect you by keeping it from you. If I just raised you right, strong, full of love for the guild... you wouldn't follow him. But I see now—I only made it worse. I robbed you of closure. I made you feel like a pawn."
I waited a beat, then let the magic dissolve.
They both sat still, like the silence was too heavy to break. But there was something else now. Not anger. Not guilt.
Grief. Shared.
"You both done?" I asked. "Good. Because if I have to deal with one more round of macho-man repression and secret guilt spirals, I'm chaining the two of you together for a week and making you do team yoga with Romeo."
That got a snort out of Laxus. Even Makarov smirked.
"Now hug or something. Or grunt like emotionally constipated bears. I don't care. Just stop letting this crap rot in your ribs."
They didn't hug. But they nodded.
Close enough.
I was happy. Crassly, loudly, and unrepentantly.
I rolled my shoulders, let my divine cloak relax, and slumped back in my seat like a beast released from tension. "Thank fuck that's over."
Laxus raised a brow, wiping his face with a sleeve. Makarov groaned and stretched his arms like someone waking from a century-long nap.
Outside the room, there was the unmistakable sound of people trying to scramble away from the door. I smirked.
I opened the door with a flourish, sauntering into the guildhall. Everyone inside froze. Eyes darted. Coughs were stifled. Someone quickly stuffed a cup against their ear like they hadn't been eavesdropping.
"Alright, drama vultures," I bellowed, hands on hips. "It's done. Everything's fine. No one died. No one got excommunicated. Feelings were aired, wounds were lanced, and yes, old men cried. Now, let's party before I chain all of you to the kegs."
The guild erupted into cheers. Drinks flew. Music blared. Someone hoisted Laxus onto a table while Makarov was dragged into a drinking contest by Wakaba and Macao.
I watched from the side, arms crossed, and let myself relax fully.
Because this? This was the real magic—chains that didn't bind the body, but finally started unchaining hearts.