Lahar's eyes widened in horror.
The Council Members had been holding a meeting inside.
"Rescue immediately! Enemy attack! Fall back inside, now!"
His orders came out tangled and frantic, but no one cared. Discipline vanished the instant reality hit.
The soldiers who had just exited the gate moments earlier sprinted back toward the ruins in panic.
Rhodes and Makarov arrived almost simultaneously from the opposite direction.
The once-majestic palace was now nothing more than a smoking skeleton of collapsed walls and shattered stone.
"Waaah—!"
"What happened?!"
"Enemy attack!"
"Pull yourselves together!"
Cries for help and panicked screams echoed from within the wreckage. One didn't even need to look inside to know how catastrophic the situation was.
A controlled whirlwind burst outward from Rhodes, sweeping away the thick smoke around them.
What was revealed beneath made the blood run cold.
Limbs jutted out from under collapsed stone, some attached, others not. In certain places, hands and feet lay separated entirely.
Lahar barked orders hoarsely, directing his subordinates to rescue anyone who showed signs of life. His own eyes darted everywhere at once, searching for both the enemy and the Council Members.
Makarov and Rhodes, however, shared the same unspoken concern.
Mest.
Void Vision spread out silently, unnoticed amid the chaos.
Rhodes found him almost immediately.
Mest had clearly been caught in the blast, blood streamed from his forehead, but he was still standing. He staggered toward an elderly man whose legs were trapped beneath a fallen wall.
"Mr. Org!"
As Mest reached him, he froze.
All nine Council Members, including the Chairman, were sprawled amid the rubble.
Several of them were unmistakably beyond saving.
"Doranbalt… is that you?"
The weak voice made Mest's chest tighten with relief.
"Mr. Org! I'll get help right away."
A figure suddenly dropped from above, landing beside Org with a heavy thud.
"Wahahaha! To think one's still alive!"
The intruder grinned viciously.
"No, no, can't have that. You need to die too."
Yellow hair. Canine ears atop his head.
A sharp, feral face.
Thick forearms wrapped in black, flame-like markings. And behind him, a fluffy yellow tail.
He crouched and reached for Org's head, intent on finishing the last survivor.
"Stop!"
Mest appeared behind him in an instant, driving a punch squarely into the back of his head.
"Space-type magic?"
The man staggered, but instead of anger, a playful grin spread across his face.
He uttered a single word.
"Boom."
Mest didn't understand.
Then his fist began to glow.
BOOM!
"AAAAH—!"
Mest had never imagined an attack like this.
Defying all physical logic, the explosion detonated from his own fist, blasting him backward into the ruins.
"Doranbalt!" Org shouted desperately.
"Patience," the man laughed.
"You're next."
He straightened slightly, smug and relaxed.
"Listen well. My name is Jackal, one of the Nine Demon Gates. Remember this na..."
He never finished the sentence.
A devastating blow smashed into his face.
His cheek caved inward. Teeth flew, bloody and shattered. Jackal himself was launched like a cannonball, tearing through a surviving outer wall and slamming hard into the ground outside.
Org struggled to lift his head.
"Rhodes?"
"Don't move."
Rhodes knelt immediately, casting Ocean's Healing over Org's body, then using earth magic to carefully lift the rubble pinning him down.
Makarov and Lahar rushed over.
"Mr. Org!"
"Go, check the others," Org said weakly. "Quickly…"
He wouldn't be walking again anytime soon.
Rhodes handed Org over to Lahar, then turned back and pulled Mest free from the rubble, healing him as well.
Makarov had already checked the remaining Council Members.
He shook his head grimly.
"The other eight… none of them made it."
Rhodes clenched his jaw.
"Krugs. Murk Wolves. Golems."
A group of jungle creeps emerged at his call.
"They'll assist with the rescue," he said calmly.
"I'm going after that one."
With that, Rhodes spread his wings and flew out of the shattered Council building.
Jackal crawled out of the massive crater, shaking his head violently as he clutched his mangled right cheek.
"Damn it… who the hell was that guy?"
A shadow fell over him.
Rhodes descended from the sky and slammed Jackal's head straight back into the ground with one hand.
BOOM.
"I was just about to ask you," Rhodes said calmly, pressing down harder, "why you attacked the Council."
"Bastard!"
Jackal dug his hands and knees into the earth, muscles bulging as he tried to push himself up, but Rhodes' grip was immovable, like a mountain pinning him in place.
"If you don't talk," Rhodes continued evenly, "you'll just have to suffer a little."
The pressure increased.
Jackal felt his skull creak under the force, a sharp pain spreading through his head, but instead of panic, he laughed.
"Idiot."
The instant the word left his mouth, Rhodes' right hand flared with red light, exactly like Mest's had earlier.
BOOOOM!
The explosion tore the ground apart.
Using the brief opening, Jackal kicked off the earth and leapt clear of the blast, landing several meters away.
Smoke billowed outward.
"Wahahaha!" Jackal cackled, pointing at the smoke.
"Moron! My Curse is the power to turn anything I touch into an explosive!"
Then, something felt wrong.
The smoke was moving.
Against the wind.
Jackal's pupils shrank.
He jumped instinctively.
Too late.
A familiar grip seized the back of his head again.
THUD.
His face was smashed into the ground once more.
Another crater blossomed outward like an artillery strike.
"That explosion," Rhodes said flatly, his voice completely unruffled, "won't work on me."
His right hand was now wrapped in deep crimson dragon scales, radiating terrifying pressure.
The grip tightened.
"So tell me," Rhodes continued, "what exactly is a Curse?"
"AAGH!!"
Jackal screamed.
This time, the pain was real, overwhelming. He heard it clearly: the sharp crack of his skull fracturing.
"Damn it!" Jackal thrashed, only making the agony worse.
"How can a mere human Mage be this strong?!"
He snarled, desperation seeping into his voice.
"Die! My Curse stands above magic! Explode, NOW!!"
Rhodes' scaled hand glowed red again.
So did the ground beneath Jackal's palms.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
A chain of explosions detonated simultaneously.
The earth convulsed.
A swath of ground dozens of meters wide was torn apart and flung skyward.
Fire and smoke swallowed everything.
In the distance, Lahar stared at the raging flames, sweat dripping down his face.
"Mr. Makarov," he asked anxiously, "after an attack like that, is Mr. Rhodes really okay?"
Makarov, currently in his giant form and hauling debris aside, didn't even look up.
"This level's fine," he said casually. "Didn't you watch the Grand Magic Games?"
"…"
Lahar fell silent.
Back then, he had only seen Rhodes beating people.
No one had ever landed an attack like this on him.
Even Jura's strikes had gone through layers of defense.
"You really won't behave, will you?"
Rhodes' voice drifted out of the smoke.
Protected by the scales of the Purgatory Dragon, he stood unscathed at the heart of the devastation.
His left hand flicked through the air, forming multiple binding magic circles that dropped onto Jackal in rapid succession.
They didn't last.
BOOM!
Jackal roared as another explosion ripped through the bindings.
The crater deepened again, its radius expanding violently.
Yet Rhodes' tone only grew more intrigued.
"This is getting interesting," he said thoughtfully.
"So this really is a power system completely separate from magic."
He stepped forward through the smoke.
"Is this ability unique to demons from the Book of Zeref?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Do you know someone named Tempester? Or Kyoka?"
"Do they use this power too?"
Jackal's eyes burned with fury.
To him, that question wasn't curiosity.
It was condescension.