After handing the captives to the Magic Council's troops, the noise of Hargeon Port faded behind them.
Night deepened. The sea breeze, damp and sharp with salt, brushed against their faces, washing away the scent of battle.
Gildarts trailed lazily behind, hands folded behind his head, a bit of grass between his teeth, as though he had just ended a long vacation. Erza moved with the same soldierly precision as always, every step measured and alert.
At the front walked Hoshino Arashi, the compass balanced in his palm. Its thin needle didn't point north or south but stubbornly glowed, fixed toward a stretch of darkness far from the harbor—
where reefs and roaring surf ruled.
The needle stopped trembling before a lonely beach strewn with jagged rock.
Under the moonlight, the boulders cast clawlike shadows. Waves battered the cliffs, breaking into white spray that boomed like thunder.
"The compass stops here."
Erza frowned at the vast, empty sea. "Their base… under the water?"
A reasonable guess—mages could build beneath the sea if they wished.
"No."
Arashi's tone was calm and certain. His gaze swept the cliffs like a ruler measuring the coast until it fixed beneath a group of massive rocks veiled in shadow.
"Wait. You'll see soon enough."
Something in his voice left no room for doubt. Erza and Gildarts exchanged a look and held their silence.
They hid behind a tall reef and waited.
Minutes passed. The only sound was the pounding surf.
After half an hour, the tide began to recede—slowly, steadily. Inch by inch, black stones glistened wet under the moonlight.
Then, at the spot Arashi had marked, as the water drew back to its lowest point, a dark hollow emerged from the cliff.
A cave mouth—wet seaweed dripping from its edges, glistening like the throat of some deep-sea beast.
"So that's it," Gildarts muttered, spitting the grass stem aside. "They hide the entrance with the tides. Only accessible at certain hours. Clever."
The three shared a glance and wordlessly moved. Magic signatures vanished. Their shadows slipped through the cave mouth without a sound.
Inside, another world awaited.
A rush of damp, briny air tinged faintly with sulfur greeted them. The tunnel was wide—enough for wagons to pass. The walls were smooth, set at intervals with faintly glowing green lacrima.
Light danced on the wet stone in mottled reflections.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air grew, and the faint tremor beneath their feet hinted at an underground river.
Finally, the passage opened into a vast cavern.
It blazed with light. Hundreds of lacrima lamps turned night into day. Dozens of men bearing the Black Sails mark hurried about, moving crates from boats moored on the dark river and stacking them in the center.
The gaps in those boxes shone with ominous color. The air throbbed with chaotic, unstable mana.
High-purity contraband magic crystals—banned by the Magic Council.
At the center, a tall woman in revealing leather armor cracked a whip that sparked with lightning.
"Move it! Faster!" she shouted. "Before the tide rises, everything goes to Warehouse Three!"
Maria the Thunder Lash. One of Black Sails' officers, infamous for lightning magic.
In the shadows, Erza's hand closed on her sword hilt. Battle light flared in her eyes. Beside her, Gildarts flexed his wrists, joints popping like tiny explosions.
"Plenty of them," he whispered. "This could take a while."
"No need."
Arashi raised a hand to stop them, his voice as calm as ever. He closed his eyes.
Then Kyōmei Mahō (Resonance Magic) awakened fully.
The world before him lost color. The cavern became a web of flowing mana threads.
Every lacrima shone as a flickering node, linked by invisible channels—streams of living energy.
He could hear them: each crystal's unique resonance—some steady, some frantic, some deep as thunder. Together they formed a dissonant, chaotic symphony.
And Arashi stood as its silent conductor.
His senses darted through the network, filtering, isolating, pinpointing.
"Found it."
A faint smile touched his lips.
Among the piles of crystals, one tiny shard pulsed sharply—its resonance shrill and unstable.
He raised his right hand and flicked his fingers once.
No sound. No light.
Just the faintest pulse of magic, as small as a pebble cast into still water, flying true to its mark.
Then—
Hummmm!
A high-frequency vibration burst from that single lacrima—too sharp for mortal ears.
The first domino fell.
In an instant, every contraband crystal answered the call. The cavern erupted in blinding light as arcs of electricity leapt outward, weaving a gigantic net of lightning that swallowed the chamber whole.
Zzzzzzzz—!
Bolts cracked like thunder.
A devastating wave of paralysis rolled through the cave.
Screams rose—and were cut short.
The Black Sails porters stiffened where they stood, white foam spilling from their mouths. Bodies dropped like sheaves of grain, twitching uncontrollably, utterly defeated.
In a heartbeat, all but a handful of the strongest officers—those who'd barely managed to raise shields—were down.
It was complete annihilation.
Erza and Gildarts could only stare, speechless.
(End of Chapter)
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