After hearing their story, Erza's brows furrowed tightly. She thought for a moment before speaking with certainty:
"From what you've described, it doesn't sound like your sister is possessed by a demon. It's more like she's awakened some kind of magic tied to demons."
"Magic!?" Lisanna and Elfman gasped in unison, their faces full of disbelief.
"But Mirajane doesn't do stuff like in the stories—like making things appear out of thin air or shooting fireballs or ice!" Lisanna said, blinking in confusion.
Erza shook her head gently, her tone patient as she explained:
"There are tons of different kinds of magic out there, way beyond what you're thinking of. Some let you summon creatures, others make you insanely strong, and there are even types that can pull weird items from other worlds."
She paused, her gaze sharpening. "Now, someone truly possessed by a demon? Their personality changes completely. They'd get super angry, cruel even, lashing out and maybe even killing over the smallest things."
"But you said your sister was out walking, got pelted with stones and insults, and instead of losing it and hurting anyone, she just went home quietly, dealing with the pain on her own. That's not how a demon-possessed person acts at all."
"Plus, you mentioned that scream the demon let out before it vanished, and how she's still fully aware of herself…" Erza's voice grew even more confident. "I'm almost certain she awakened some kind of demon-related magic in a moment of crisis."
"It sounds a bit like Take-Over magic, but I'd need to see her myself to know exactly what kind it is."
Her words were like a warm ray of sunlight, instantly chasing away the fear and gloom that had weighed on Lisanna and Elfman's hearts. The emotional rollercoaster left them drenched in sweat, but their heavy, tired steps suddenly felt lighter, filled with new hope.
Soon, a rundown little house came into view.
The red paint on the roof was faded and peeling, and large patches of plaster had flaked off the walls, exposing rough brick underneath. Most striking were the windows, covered in countless dents and craters—obvious signs of being repeatedly pelted with stones.
"Looks like… those people haven't shown up yet!" Lisanna said, nervously scanning the area. Seeing no villagers, she let out a long sigh of relief.
A smile crept back onto her face as she hurried to the door, a mix of pride and shyness in her voice. "This is our home! Come on in, everyone!" She pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped inside.
"Mirajane! We're back!" Lisanna's cheerful voice echoed through the house.
Her small nose twitched as she sniffed the air, puzzled. "Huh? Something smells good… is that mushroom soup? But didn't we eat the last of the mushrooms yesterday morning?"
A figure slowly emerged from the back room, draped in a large black cloak with the hood pulled low, hiding most of her face. Only a sharp chin and a few strands of curly white hair peeking out from under the hood were visible.
She carefully carried a steaming iron pot in her left hand, a faint smile on her lips.
"I was cleaning up today and found some dried mushrooms in the corner of the back storeroom…" the girl under the cloak explained softly as she lifted her head.
Her eyes widened in shock. Two strangers stood behind her siblings, one of them in battle armor, slowly raising a hand.
Clang!
The iron pot crashed to the floor, hot mushroom soup splashing everywhere!
"Lisanna! Elfman! Behind you!!!" Mirajane's terrified scream pierced the air as she shot forward like a bolt of black lightning!
She was so fast that Lisanna barely had time to speak before Mirajane yanked her back with immense force, shoving both her and Elfman behind her.
Mirajane stood like a protective mother hen, her frail body shielding her siblings.
Her large eyes, half-hidden in the shadow of her hood, burned with vigilance, fear, and a near-desperate ferocity as she glared at the strangers. Her voice, sharp with emotion, demanded, "What do you want?!"
Noticing their eyes fixed on her dirty right hand, Mirajane's body trembled as if scalded. She quickly hid the arm—covered in strange purple patterns and hardened like keratin—deep within her cloak.
"I've said it a million times!" Her voice was thick with suppressed anger and a faint tremor. "The bad things happening in the village have nothing to do with us! Get out of here!!!"
"Mirajane, no! It's not like that!" Lisanna poked her head out from behind her sister, frantically explaining.
"They're good people! We brought them here to help! They're like the heroes from the storybooks!"
She hurriedly pulled out half a fried pork sandwich she'd saved, holding it up to Mirajane like a prized treasure, forcing a smile. "Look! Roger and Erza gave us this! It's super yummy! Try it!"
But Mirajane flinched as if stung, grabbing Lisanna's shoulders tightly. Her voice spiked with fear and hindsight.
"You ate something from strangers?! Lisanna, how many times have I told you?! Don't eat things random people give you!!"
"Don't you remember what happened three days ago?! Someone pretended to be Granny Lia and brought us drugged food! You and Elfman were out cold for a whole day and night!!!"
"No, it's not like that! They're different!" Lisanna's eyes welled with tears as she shook her head desperately. "Roger and Erza are really kind! I can feel it! They're not like the people in the village!"
"Kind?" Mirajane let out a bitter, icy laugh, as if she'd heard the biggest joke in the world.
Her gaze turned even fiercer, brimming with distrust and hostility as she stared at the two by the door. Her voice dripped with deep sorrow and sarcasm.
"What, like the other villagers weren't 'kind' to us before?! And what happened in the end? They all…" Her voice choked, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip.
Turned on us like we were demons.
She fought back the tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't let herself show weakness—not in front of strangers, and definitely not in front of her siblings.
"But… but what about Granny Lia?!" Lisanna countered, her voice breaking with a sob. "Hasn't she always been good to us?"
At the mention of Granny Lia, a flicker of complex emotion passed through Mirajane's eyes—the only warmth she'd felt in this dark time.
The villagers' cruelty clashed with Granny Lia's kindness in her heart, tearing her apart. Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, the overwhelming conflict making it hard to breathe.
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