Ultear's sharp, disdainful gaze swept over the formidable shadow construct that had so effortlessly blocked her attack.
The inky humanoid figure stood silent and immovable, a testament to a form of magic she found both alien and irritating.
She turned her head, a cold sneer twisting her perfectly sculpted lips.
"What is there to talk about?" she spat, her voice dripping with frost. "You lured me here with a threat. This is not a negotiation; it is blackmail."
Anselion responded with a placid wave of his hand.
In an instant, the massive shadow figure lost its cohesion, dissolving into a puddle of darkness that flowed seamlessly back into the floorboards, as if it had never been.
The room felt suddenly larger, yet the darkness remained, a palpable presence he commanded.
"The foundation of any deal is mutual need, not just threats," he corrected gently, though his eyes held a sharp, calculating light.
"I would like to inquire about some information concerning one of your... allied organizations. A Dark Guild."
Ultear's posture remained rigid, but the outright killing intent in her mesmerizing eyes receded, replaced by a cold, analytical scrutiny.
The initial shock of his revelation had passed, and her strategic mind was now fully engaged, weighing the risks and potential gains.
"Before we discuss any 'deals'," she said, her tone like chipped ice, "answer me this. How did you learn of my identity? My cover within the Council is flawless."
A faint, enigmatic smile played on Anselion's lips.
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"A magician never reveals his secrets, Miss Ultear. I naturally have my own intelligence channels, just as you have yours within Grimoire Heart."
It was a deliberately evasive answer, designed to keep her off-balance and suggest a network of informants far greater than he actually possessed.
Ultear's brow furrowed slightly.
She rapidly ran through the possibilities in her mind.
Could there be a traitor in Grimoire Heart? Was he bluffing? The fact that he knew her specific title, "of the Seven Kin of Purgatory," was deeply alarming.
Given the level of his Shadow Flow magic and the environment, eliminating him quickly and quietly was now impossible.
A full-scale battle would bring the entire Council garrison down upon them, exposing her completely.
For now, compromise was the only viable path.
She needed to know what he knew, and what he truly wanted.
With the grace of a panther reluctantly settling itself, Ultear moved forward and elegantly took the seat opposite Anselion.
She didn't relax into it; she perched on the edge, her back straight, her sharp gaze fixed on him like a hawk sighting its prey.
The pressure she exerted was immense, a silent promise of future retribution.
Anselion, however, seemed utterly unperturbed.
Instead of being cowed, he used the moment to study her properly.
Gone was the conservative, elegant councilor's robe.
The woman before him was clad in a form-fitting, dark outfit that accentuated every curve of her alluring figure, practical for combat and assassination.
This was the real Ultear, the mage of a dark guild, and the sight was strikingly different from her public persona.
Noticing his appraising gaze, Ultear's eyes narrowed in fresh disgust.
"Have you finished your inspection?" she snapped, her voice laced with impatience and venom.
"State your business. What kind of deal do you propose?"
Anselion withdrew his gaze, the faint smile never leaving his face.
He decided to lay his cards on the table.
"I want information. Specifically, everything you have on the Dark Guild Tartaros."
The name clearly took her by surprise.
Her sneer returned, more pronounced this time.
"Tartaros? What? Isn't your supposedly impressive intelligence network sufficient? Has it finally reached its limits?"
He remained calm in the face of her sarcasm.
"Tartaros operates on a level of secrecy and power that makes your Grimoire Heart seem like a rowdy tavern brawl in comparison," Anselion stated matter-of-factly. "Even I have my limitations, and their mystery is one of them."
It was a deliberate barb, meant to probe her pride and her guild's loyalty.
A fresh wave of cold anger washed over Ultear's face.
While her loyalty to Grimoire Heart and its master, Hades, was complex and not without its own selfish motives, hearing an outsider—a councilor, no less—dismiss her guild so casually ignited a fierce pride.
'You think you can match wits with me at this level?' Ankh thought inwardly, pleased to see he was getting under her skin.
An emotional opponent was a predictable one.
"As fellow core members of the Balam Alliance, your guild must have a significant dossier on them," Anselion pressed, his tone turning businesslike.
"Battle records, known members, suspected strongholds... I want it all."
Ultear crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant gesture, and leaned back in her chair with an air of supreme disdain.
"There is information, of that you can be sure. But have you considered what you are offering in return for such a valuable commodity? Blackmail only gets you so far."
This was the crux of the negotiation.
Anselion leaned forward slightly, the candlelight that had flickered back to life casting deep shadows across his face.
He curled his lips into a thin, knowing smile and stared directly into her eyes, his voice dropping to a low, deliberate whisper.
"The fact that I haven't already exposed your identity to the entire Council, resulting in your immediate arrest and execution, is the extent of my goodwill and my opening offer. It is a currency that, I assure you, retains its value only for as long as I am alive and silent."
The unspoken threat hung in the air between them: harm me, and your secret dies with me, unleashed to the world.
Ultear gritted her teeth, the sound audible in the quiet room.
She suddenly stood up, the chair scraping sharply against the floor.
"Fine," she bit out, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. "You'll get your information on Tartaros."
She turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her movements sharp with suppressed fury.
The matter was settled, for now.
Anselion allowed himself a small, private smile of victory.
He knew how these dark guild alliances worked—they were webs of convenience and mutual suspicion, not brotherhood.
Betraying Tartaros for her own survival would be an easy calculation for a woman like Ultear.
However, he was under no illusion that this was the end of it.
The killing intent in her eyes had only been banked, not extinguished.
She had compromised tonight because the Council's walls offered him protection.
Once he stepped outside, he would become a moving target.
Ultear seethed with every step.
'When have I ever been forced to capitulate so humiliatingly?' she thought, her mind already racing through plans for his eventual, and very painful, demise.
When the opportunity presented itself, she would make sure to scatter his ashes to the wind!
Her hand closed around the cold, brass doorknob...
Suddenly, she paused.
Her nose twitched almost imperceptibly.
A faint, lingering scent in the air, one she hadn't noticed in the heat of their confrontation.
It was a deep, green, enchantingly fragrant aroma, like an exotic perfume.
She looked back over her shoulder at Anselion, who sat with practiced composure, the picture of innocence.
Anselion's heart tightened.
'Had she discovered something?' Had the scent of the special "perfume" been too strong?
After a moment of tense silence, Ultear's face twisted into a mask of mockery and disgust.
"A grown man, wearing perfume?" she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "How utterly pathetic and vain."
'What the hell? Since when is wearing perfume any of your business?!' Ankh screamed internally, a wave of indignant relief washing over him.
Just as he was about to stand and offer a scathing retort, Ultear didn't give him the chance.
She wrenched the door open and swept out of the room, her dark cloak billowing behind her, leaving only the faint, enigmatic scent and her cutting words in her wake.
Only when the sound of her footsteps and the distinct ripple of her magical energy had completely faded from his senses did Anselion allow his shoulders to slump in relief.
He waited a full minute longer before cautiously reaching beneath the table, his fingers closing around a small, intricately carved vial containing a deep green, shimmering liquid.
He held it up to the candlelight, the liquid seeming to swirl with a life of its own.
"I wonder if this thing Seram taught me to brew actually works..." he muttered to himself, a note of apprehension in his voice.
"The ingredients were so fucking hard to find..."
He let out a long, slow sigh.
The method was underhanded, deceitful, and utterly without honor.
But then again, Anselion—or rather, Ankh—had never pretended to be a saint, especially when it came to enemies of his guild.
For the family he cherished in Fairy Tail, he would stain his hands without a second thought.
Placing the vial carefully back into a hidden pocket, Anselion slowly closed his eyes.
In the deep recesses of his mind, he willed the majority of his consciousness to shift, to travel across the distance along a mystical, pre-established connection.
At that very moment, under a vast canopy of twinkling stars, a sturdy carriage rolled leisurely through a desolate wilderness, its path lit by soft, magical orbs.
Its destination was the royal capital of Fiore.
...
Inside the comfortably appointed carriage, Ankh—his true self—stirred.
He had been feigning sleep, his head resting against the plush seatback.
On his left shoulder, Erza slumbered peacefully, her stern expression softened in repose.
Nestled against his right shoulder was Mirajane with a gentle smile gracing her lips even in her dreams.
The scene was one of perfect, cherished peace.
[Well? Did you succeed?] Seram's familiar, enigmatic voice echoed directly in his mind, a private channel only he could hear.
Ankh gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, careful not to disturb the two sleeping women.
"She agreed," he responded mentally. "The negotiation was tense, but she'll provide the information on Tartaros. And I managed to expose her to the potion. She mistook it for perfume."
[Excellent. With the nature of the Heart-Entwining Poison now seeded within her, you will soon have a powerful, if unwilling, subordinate. Her life will be yours to command when the toxin fully awakens.]
Ankh nodded again, but a wave of silent guilt washed over him.
It was a necessary step, a strategic move to neutralize a dangerous enemy and turn her into an asset.
Yet, scheming against a woman in such a underhanded way, using a weapon that attacked her very will, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He pushed the feeling down. Sentimentality was a luxury he couldn't afford in the game he was playing.
His thoughts then drifted to the other pieces on the board.
In the original timeline, the true, existential threats to his guild and friends had all stemmed from the Balam Alliance.
Now, the mysterious and powerful Tartaros was already making moves, and he was taking steps to subvert Grimoire Heart through Ultear.
As for Oración Seis, they were arguably the weakest of the three major dark guilds and could be dealt with in due time.
The only thing about them that truly captured his interest was the legendary weapon they sought—Nirvana.
An ancient power capable of inverting the very alignment of a person's heart, turning good to evil and evil to good.
It was a terrifying, unstable power.
If possible, before Oración Seis could claim it, Ankh wanted to secure it for himself.
Controlling such a weapon, or at the very least ensuring it never fell into the wrong hands, was now a paramount objective in his long-term strategy to protect the future.
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