Jellal slowly regained consciousness, his mind a haze.
He opened his eyes and peered outward, but his field of vision was filled with nothing but oppressive darkness.
"Where am I?"
Searing agony racked his body. The pain, combined with the unfamiliar void, put Jellal on high alert.
His mind scrambled to retrieve his final memories: terrifying magic power ravaging his physical form, tearing him apart.
Glancing down, he confirmed his suspicions.
His body was swathed in bandages, with hardly an inch of skin left exposed. Even his face was wrapped tight. The slightest movement or change in expression triggered a pain so intense it was nearly unbearable.
"I failed..."
The realization hit him instantly.
He had been defeated by Marco—crushed utterly in a fair, head-on confrontation.
"How could this happen... I'm supposed to be..."
Jellal couldn't comprehend it.
He was the Chosen One selected by Zeref, a genius unique in this world. So why... why was Marco capable of being stronger than him?
"Zeref! Zeref?! What am I supposed to do now?!"
The more he thought, the less it made sense.
Jellal began to roar in a frenzy, screaming into the void.
But he received no response—nor was it possible for him to receive one.
"Quit your screaming. We know you're awake."
Marco's voice abruptly cut through the darkness, causing Jellal to freeze mid-shout.
He went rigid; this was certainly not the response he had been seeking!
Then, light suddenly flooded his world.
As Marco's face loomed into view, Jellal finally realized where he was: he had been imprisoned inside a card, just like Sho's Card Magic.
"..."
Jellal fell silent.
He knew the effects of Sho's magic were formidable; breaking the binding from the inside was nearly impossible. In his current battered state, there was no point in even attempting it.
"Since you're awake, let's have a chat—if you're capable of communicating, that is."
Marco held the card, which now displayed an image of a bandaged figure, and spoke casually.
He didn't seem particularly desperate to extract secrets, acting as if he merely wanted a casual conversation.
Marco and the group were currently on the train back to the guild, fast approaching Magnolia Station.
Jellal had indeed been severely injured, remaining unconscious until this very moment.
He had truly walked to the gates of hell and back, but unfortunately, it seemed the beating hadn't knocked any sense into him.
"I won't tell you a thing." Jellal stated flatly before clamping his mouth shut.
His hostility toward Marco was palpable.
"Is that so?" Marco's expression remained unchanged.
The others, however, crowded around, glaring furiously at Jellal.
Despite being a prisoner, he remained arrogant; to them, it felt like Marco had been too easy on him.
Erza sighed softly. Jellal remained unrepentant, and even she could find no way to make excuses for him in this state.
"It seems I have no choice but to take control of you."
Seeing Jellal's obstinate refusal to cooperate, Marco spoke decisively.
Even with his grievous injuries, Jellal showed no signs of yielding.
Extracting intelligence through torture was unlikely to work; the guy had been stubborn to the bone since childhood.
To make him submit, magic control was truly the only option.
And Marco possessed just the move for the occasion—his [Phantom Demon Emperor Fist] had been waiting for this very moment.
"Buzz!"
Marco donned the [Gemini Gold Cloth] and used [Another Dimension] to release Jellal from the card's space.
Without wasting a breath on the delusional man who had been controlled for eight years, he struck directly with the [Phantom Demon Emperor Fist].
"Let's see whose mind control is superior!"
As Marco unleashed the technique, the severely injured Jellal was naturally unable to dodge or resist.
He took the hit directly.
Magic power surged through Jellal's nerves, attempting to forcibly imprint Marco's will onto his brain.
"Buzz!"
Simultaneously, a force began to resist.
It wasn't Jellal's own power fighting back, but an external force—the very power that had controlled Jellal for the past eight years.
'Talk about the rebels guarding the palace gates,' Marco quipped internally.
But it was understandable.
It was like two parasites fighting for dominance: one had been controlling the host comfortably for years, and now another was forcing its way in to take full possession.
Naturally, the original occupant wasn't going to surrender without a fight.
They would have to battle it out to determine the victor; only the winner would hold authority.
As for the body itself... controlled from the age of twelve until now, the question of what constituted his true will—and whether that twelve-year-old boy still existed at all—was worth pondering.
In Marco's view, letting Jellal simply die might have been a true release for the man himself.
Unfortunately, Marco couldn't allow him such an easy escape.
After all, Jellal still had too many secrets left to excavate.
Ultear had fled decisively.
To dig deep into the truth behind the "Tower of Heaven," Marco had to keep a tight grip on Jellal.
The only fear was that this guy might be nothing more than a puppet pushed onto the stage.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Two alien forces engaged in a fierce struggle within Jellal's brain and central nervous system.
The agony of this battle was far more terrifying than any physical pain.
Jellal rolled on the floor, foaming at the mouth and thrashing his limbs wildly, as if his body were no longer under his own control.
"This..."
Witnessing the scene before them, everyone's expressions grew complicated.
If one really thought about it, the guy was actually quite innocent.
He was originally kind-hearted—a good person even—yet he had been controlled for so many years, forced to commit so many acts against his conscience.
"Death... perhaps that really would be a release for him." Makarov sighed.
The old man was naturally kind-hearted and couldn't bear to watch this.
He could only lament that the child, Jellal, had been dealt a terrible hand in life to be entangled in such matters.
In the eyes of the public, Jellal was undoubtedly guilty.
Even if the things he did while controlled weren't his true intentions, he was the one who carried them out.
He wasn't a knife or a cold tool; he was a living, breathing human being.
Those he had harmed couldn't view him as a blameless weapon; their hatred would inevitably fall upon the specific person.
Even if he acted under instigation, negligence, or coercion, that sin would inevitably stain him.
If the whole truth came to light, his sentence could naturally be lightened.
The one who was truly heinous, the one who deserved the ultimate punishment, was, of course, the person pulling the strings from the shadows.
Although what Marco and the others were doing looked like torture, in reality, it was an attempt to save Jellal.
It was a necessary step to find the mastermind—the "instigator"—to lighten Jellal's culpability and help him begin his atonement.