Natsu leaned in curiously, pointing at the dark orb. "Roger, is that Joseph's magic power?"
"Not exactly," Roger said, storing the orb—brimming with immense dark energy and magical insights—into his system space. "It contains his magic source, his understanding of dark magic, and some of the combat experience and insights of a Wizard Saint."
Happy's cat eyes widened in amazement. "Attachment Magic can even pull out stuff like that? That's incredible!"
Roger shook his head. "It's not just Attachment Magic. It's a mix of Memory Magic and some Illusion Magic techniques."
Happy nodded, then tilted his head with a question. "So, Roger, aren't you gonna attach that power to yourself?"
Roger shook his head lightly. "Forcibly integrating someone else's magic source through Attachment Magic is like chaining yourself up. It locks your magical potential forever, stopping you from growing through your own training. It's a shortcut that burns out your future potential."
"His magic source is like chicken bones to me—absorbing it wouldn't boost me much, and it'd do more harm than good."
Happy tilted his head again. "What about giving it to someone contracted with you? Contract Magic lets you gain magic power by defeating enemies, right? Wouldn't that make up for the locked potential?"
Erza crossed her arms, frowning. "We're not sure. We've only tested Contract Magic with regular people. If it doesn't work, the person's magic is permanently capped."
She continued, "With Roger's contract, anyone can potentially reach or even surpass Joseph's level through their own hard work. Using Attachment Magic like this is just trading long-term potential for a quick boost."
Roger added, "Plus, forcibly attaching a foreign magic source replaces your own. It feels clunky, like wearing heavy, ill-fitting armor. Spells you could cast instantly before might take twice the time and effort."
Happy's eyes widened. "So… this thing's totally useless?"
"Not necessarily," Roger mused. "If you find someone whose attributes perfectly match the magic source, the awkwardness would be minimal. It could be a game-changer in the right situation."
While they talked, Joseph, lying unconscious on the ground, began to stir. The lingering effects of a mid-grade healing potion and the sharp pain coursing through him slowly brought him back.
His heavy eyelids cracked open, his vision blurry. An unprecedented sense of weakness and emptiness hit him first—his body felt hollowed out, every joint stiff, every breath a struggle. His heart felt empty, too, like something vital had been ripped away, filling him with indescribable panic.
"W-What… happened to me?" His voice came out raspy and broken, like a rusty bellows, startling him. He clutched his throat, eyes wide with terror as they locked onto the black-haired young man before him, a faint "6" hovering above his head. With all his remaining strength, he roared, "You! What did you do to me?!"
Roger's face broke into a faint smile. "I stripped you of your Wizard Saint magic power. Happy about it, Joseph?"
"Stripped… my magic?!" Joseph couldn't believe this kid had that kind of power. He frantically checked his body, expecting the exhaustion of depleted magic. Instead, he found nothing. A complete void, as if he'd never had magic at all.
He was an ordinary human now.
Terror swallowed him whole. His Wizard Saint status was the foundation of his pride, dignity, and power. And now, that foundation was shattered.
Am I… like Makarov now?
"Oh, by the way," Roger said, as if remembering something trivial. He waved his hand, and a clear magical screen appeared in the air, showing a live feed of Fairy Tail's underground storage.
There was Makarov, sitting comfortably in a chair, holding a mug of ale, chatting cheerfully with Wakaba. His face was rosy, his aura vibrant—no sign of lost magic.
"One more thing," Roger said. "Our guild master's magic is perfectly fine. He's still a Wizard Saint, happily drinking back at the guild."
"No… impossible!" Joseph looked like he'd been struck by lightning, his eyes trembling with shock and despair. His left hand clawed into the dirt, nails filling with soil as he stared at the screen. "Makarov's magic was drained! He's supposed to be a husk!"
"It's an illusion! It has to be your illusion magic, you wretched kid!" He staggered to his feet, stumbling toward the screen, his bloodshot eyes glued to the image of Makarov casually sipping his drink.
Makarov turned his head, his calm gaze seeming to pierce through the screen, locking onto the frenzied Joseph. Joseph's breathing grew ragged, his eyes bloodshot with disbelief. He couldn't accept it. After all his scheming, he was the one reduced to nothing, while his rival was untouched.
"Damn it! Damn it all!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage. "Fairy Tail! You all deserve to die! I'm not the one who should lose everything!"
His fury and humiliation pushed him past reason. He lunged at the screen, trembling hands outstretched to smash it. The screen floated upward just out of reach, dissolving at Roger's fingertips.
"Joseph, getting worked up isn't good for your health," Roger said calmly, almost kindly, but his words cut like a knife. "Anger hurts the body, you know. Why stress yourself out when no one else is? You're weaker than an ordinary old man now. What if you give yourself a stroke? That'd be such a shame."
His smile widened, bright and sunny like a friendly neighbor. "After all, you need to stay healthy to watch Fairy Tail rise as Fiore's undisputed strongest guild. Right, former Phantom Lord Guild Master, Mr. Joseph Porla?"
"You… you little brat!" Joseph's chest heaved, his trembling finger pointing at Roger as his vision blurred with rage. The overwhelming anger and shame felt like it would burst his skull. He stumbled back, nearly collapsing, but forced himself to stand, clinging to one last shred of defiance. "Don't get cocky! The Magic Council's already fed up with you! This massive guild clash and all the destruction? You're done for! They'll brand Fairy Tail a dark guild and strip you from the official roster!"
"Oh?" Roger grinned, pulling out a memory crystal ball. "Seems you forgot what you said earlier, Joseph. No worries—memory slips are normal at your age, especially in your condition."
He infused a bit of magic into the crystal, projecting a clear image of Joseph's earlier declaration from atop his mobile fortress: "I suggest you hand over Lucy Heartfilia now! Though, even if you do, I'll still crush Fairy Tail! Resist all you want—enjoy the despair and torment before you die! Hahaha!"
"See?" Roger said. "The facts are clear. Phantom Lord started this war with a destructive attack. Fairy Tail? We're just poor victims forced to defend ourselves."
He tucked the crystal away, his smile unchanged but his eyes cold. "As for the Magic Council, if those two councilors you bribed try to pin this on us without evidence, I'd welcome it. It'll only solidify Fairy Tail's image as the wronged party. A guild that just saved countless people from the Lullaby incident, only to be unfairly labeled a dark guild? Tell me, Joseph, whose side do you think the public, the media, and the other legal guilds will take?"
Roger leaned forward, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "I really can't thank you enough, Mr. Joseph. Without your 'selfless dedication' and 'full cooperation,' Fairy Tail wouldn't have climbed to the top so smoothly. Thanks to this battle, we've gained fame and fortune. To show our gratitude, we'll hang your black-and-white—no, your commemorative photo on our guild's honor wall."
"So every new member can remember your 'outstanding contributions' to our guild."
"Happy!" Roger called.
"Aye!" Happy zoomed over, pulling a fresh white chrysanthemum from his little sack and placing it solemnly on the ground before Joseph. He clasped his paws together, closed his eyes, and spoke in a dramatic, hymn-like tone: "Thank you, Mr. Joseph, for everything you've done for Fairy Tail's rise. Amen, hallelujah, thank you very much~"
"Pfft!" Joseph's eyes locked onto the glaring white flower, the mocking "thank you" ringing in his ears. A surge of blood rushed to his throat, and he couldn't hold it back. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his body shaking violently.
Happy darted away, watching as the blood splattered onto the white chrysanthemum, dyeing it a stark red.
Joseph glared at Roger, his bloodshot eyes filled with endless hatred and despair. His body gave out, and he collapsed backward with a heavy thud, kicking up a cloud of dust, motionless.
In the final moment before his consciousness faded, a faint purple glint flickered in his eyes.
Roger's smile faded, his expression returning to its usual calm. He turned to the group. "Alright, let's go. Joseph's defeat left him without magic, and his emotional outburst caused a stroke, turning him into a vegetable. That's the outcome of this battle."
Gray instinctively touched his back, realizing he was covered in cold sweat. That was terrifying. Roger's words didn't have a single curse, yet each one was like a poisoned dagger, striking Joseph's deepest wounds. Killing with words—nothing less.
Roger looked toward the horizon. "Next up is dealing with the Magic Council. Their planned move with Joseph is coming up fast. We need to prepare."
With that, he led the way out of the ruins. The others exchanged glances and followed, leaving behind the wreckage of Phantom Lord's mobile fortress and the fallen former Wizard Saint.
The other guild members, seeing Roger and the group emerge, sprang into action, swarming the half-sunken fortress. They efficiently scavenged anything of value—intact magical devices, stored magic materials. A group of sturdy members carefully carried the massive, slightly damaged Jupiter cannon back to Fairy Tail, placing it in a hastily dug underground storage area in the guild's backyard.
Roger turned to Lisanna and Kagura, who'd been coordinating the aftermath. "Everything ready?"
Lisanna flashed a bright smile and an "OK" hand sign. "Don't worry! Levy's got everything set on her end, and we've coordinated with our people at the hospital. Everyone's on the same page!"
Kagura nodded concisely. "The townsfolk willing to testify are ready too. They're nearby and will show up as soon as they hear the signal."
"Good," Roger said, pulling two jade necklaces from his system inventory and handing them to Erza and Mirajane.
He opened his mouth to explain their purpose, but Mirajane cut in with a teasing, sweet tone. "Oh my~" She held up one necklace, examining it with a playful glint in her eyes. "Is this a love token from you, Roger?" She dragged out the words, her gaze flitting mischievously between him and the necklace.
"It's not my favorite dark red," she sighed dramatically, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear with a dazzling smile. "But… since it's from you…" She clutched the necklace to her heart, her eyes soft enough to melt anyone. "I'll treasure it forever~"
"Love token?!" Erza's face turned crimson, the blush spreading from her neck to her ears as she stared at the sparkling jade in Roger's hand. Her trembling hands took the necklace, and she stood ramrod straight, her voice loud but stuttering from nerves. "I-I'll treasure it too!!"
Her mind was completely consumed by the words "love token," leaving no room for anything else.
Roger's explanation caught in his throat. With their wildly different but equally intense reactions, saying the necklaces were just magic-suppressing tools felt like it'd ruin the moment.
He sighed inwardly, then pulled two more items from his inventory: a deep, blood-red gemstone in his left hand and a pure, dazzling white gemstone in his right.
"Those necklaces," he said, clearing his throat and pointing to the jade ones, "are special magic tools to suppress your magic fluctuations to just above Wizard Saint level, so you don't reveal your full strength."
He handed the gemstones to the two women, his tone softening. "These are the gifts I meant to give you. I was going to wait until the Phantom Lord mess was over, but… since the moment's here, now's as good a time as any. I hope you like them."
Mirajane froze, her playful smile fading. She'd only been teasing about the "love token," expecting to fluster Roger and Erza. She hadn't expected him to actually have real, thoughtful gifts—and in her favorite dark red, no less!
The unexpected sincerity caught her off guard. A rare blush crept onto her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze, quietly taking the red gemstone. Her voice was softer than usual. "Thank you, Roger. I love it."
Roger smiled gently. "Glad you do. I remembered you often wear that dark red dress, so I picked this color. If you infuse a bit of magic, it'll turn into a necklace."
Mirajane carefully channeled a sliver of magic into the gem. It glowed softly, delicate silver chains extending from both sides, connecting with a faint click. The gem reshaped itself, shrinking and carving into a budding dark red rose, each petal vivid and shimmering under the light.
"It's beautiful!" Mirajane gasped, her eyes sparkling with delight. She unclasped her blue teardrop necklace and slipped on the rose one. The cool gem rested against her pale skin, accentuating its fairness. She lifted her skirt slightly, twirling like a girl with a new favorite toy, the red rose complementing her dress perfectly.
"How do I look?" she asked, beaming at Roger with genuine joy.
Roger nodded, his gaze sincere. "It looks great. Really suits you."
Mirajane's smile grew even brighter, but before she could say more—bam! Erza shoved her aside with a gust of wind, planting herself firmly in front of Roger, her movements so fast she left an afterimage.
"Ahem!" Erza cleared her throat, trying to calm her racing heart and burning cheeks. She held out her hands formally, as if receiving a medal, and took the white gemstone. "Thank you, Roger. I love it," she said, striving for her usual seriousness, but her trembling fingers and sparkling eyes betrayed her excitement.
"Uh, good. I'm glad," Roger said, startled by her sudden "attack." "The white gem can turn into earrings if you infuse magic. You can try—"
Before he could finish, a fist wreathed in dark purple magic swung through the air, slamming into Erza's cheek with a dull thud, knocking her aside.
Erza's face darkened like a storm cloud. She slowly turned, her eyes blazing with fury. "Mirajane! What! Are! You! Doing?!"
"That's my line!" Mirajane shot back, her aura menacing. "Ever heard of first come, first served, you idiot?!"
"Oh, really?" Erza tilted her chin up, glaring down at her. "I'm the one who should be saying that. Roger and I go way back—childhood friends!" She emphasized the words like a claim. "What's an outsider like you doing butting in?!"
"Tch, tch~" Mirajane covered her mouth with a hand, her signature smile sharp with hidden edges. "I'm no outsider~" She leaned in close, their foreheads nearly touching, and said, "I'm the fated one~"
Seeing Erza's stunned expression, Mirajane's smile grew smug. "Haven't you heard? Childhood friends never beat the fated one~" She pointed to a shadowy corner. "You should be over there, sulking and crying, 'Boo-hoo, I was here first!'" She mimicked a childish whine, then smirked. "Go on, red-haired loser!"
"What?!" Erza's forehead vein pulsed. She shoved Mirajane's head back, her voice rising with anger. "Nonsense! Childhood friends always win over fated ones! You're the one who should be crying, white-haired loser!"
Their glares clashed, sparks practically flying as their magic power flared, the tension escalating from a verbal spat to an imminent brawl.
Just then, heavy, synchronized footsteps echoed from the other end of the street, breaking the standoff. The guild members instinctively turned, on guard.
A group in blue-and-white armor, carrying specialized restraining magic rifles, marched toward them in perfect formation.
"The Rune Knights," Cana said, her brow furrowing as she recognized them. "They're from the Magic Council. They got here fast."
---