The moment the preliminary battle royale ended, the stadium entered a short intermission period.
The magical barriers surrounding the battlefield dissolved into streams of light, signaling the end of the first event. Almost immediately, the atmosphere throughout the entire venue shifted.
Outside, hundreds of thousands of spectators were still buzzing from the chaotic match.
The battle royale had exceeded every expectation.
People stood in the aisles arguing over rankings.
Families excitedly discussed their favorite contestants.
Groups of young mages reenacted particularly memorable moments using exaggerated gestures and wildly inaccurate sound effects.
Everywhere one looked, conversations overlapped into a constant roar.
"Did you see Erza's last charge?"
"No, forget that! Did you see Erik poison half the mountain?"
"How was that even legal?"
"I don't think anyone knows!"
Food vendors were doing brisk business as hungry spectators rushed to grab snacks before the next event began.
Lines stretched across entire sections of the stadium.
The smell of grilled meat, fresh bread, and sweet pastries drifted through the air.
Meanwhile, betting pools were being updated at record speed.
The odds for the remaining finalists fluctuated almost by the minute as analysts desperately tried to predict who would emerge victorious.
Several bookmakers looked like they were on the verge of nervous breakdowns.
The preliminary round had destroyed nearly every prediction they had made.
Inside the exclusive Fairy Tail booth reserved for guild members, however, the atmosphere was surprisingly cheerful.
One might have expected disappointment.
After all, the overwhelming majority of participants had already been eliminated.
Instead, the room sounded more like a celebration than a gathering of losers.
Most of the eliminated contestants had already gone through the healing pods.
The advanced magical devices lined one side of the stadium's medical wing and had been working nonstop since the battle royale ended.
Bruises were gone.
Cuts had vanished.
Broken bones were fixed.
Sprains had disappeared.
Exhaustion had faded away as though it had never existed.
Several members who had entered the pods barely able to walk emerged looking ready for another round.
As a result, nobody looked particularly upset despite having lost.
In fact, the room was louder than ever.
Tables were crowded with food and drinks.
People moved freely between groups.
Stories were already being exaggerated beyond recognition.
The battle royale had ended less than an hour ago, yet some accounts sounded like legends passed down for generations.
"Hahaha! Did you see that tackle!?" Wakaba laughed while slapping the table hard enough to rattle several mugs. "I swear that idiot flew twenty meters!"
"He flew because you blasted him with fire afterward!"
"That's not important."
"It's very important!"
"He was already airborne!"
"You launched him!"
The older members immediately burst into laughter.
For most Fairy Tail members, getting beaten up in a fight wasn't exactly a rare occurrence.
The guild's underground training arena saw more violence in a normal week than most guilds experienced in an entire year.
Broken furniture.
Collapsed walls.
Accidental explosions.
Those were practically routine.
The only real difference this time was that the audience numbered in the hundreds of thousands.
"It's actually pretty fun fighting in front of a crowd."
"I know, right?"
"The cheering gets your blood pumping."
"I should've shown off more."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I should've used my finishing move before getting punched through a tree!"
"That's your own fault!"
"No, the timing was wrong."
"The timing was wrong because you got punched through a tree."
The table erupted into laughter again.
Nearby, another group was busy comparing elimination stories.
Or more accurately, complaining.
"I got sneak attacked!"
"Skill issue."
"It wasn't a skill issue!"
"It was definitely a skill issue."
"I'm serious!"
The mage pointed dramatically at everyone present.
"I was minding my own business when someone dropped from a cliff and kicked me in the back of the head!"
"Who?"
"...I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I got knocked unconscious before I could see."
The room exploded with laughter.
Several people nearly choked on their drinks.
One member actually slid out of his chair.
"That's incredible."
"How is that incredible?"
"You got eliminated by a mystery foot."
"Shut up."
Even some of the contestants still didn't understand how they had been eliminated.
The battle royale had been so chaotic that many people simply vanished from the competition without ever learning who defeated them.
"I woke up in the healing pod."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"You don't remember anything?"
"No."
"What happened before that?"
"I was running."
"And?"
"Then I wasn't."
The room erupted again.
"How are you even alive?"
"I've been asking myself that."
Another member raised his hand.
"I think I know what happened."
"You do?"
"No."
"Then why did you raise your hand?"
"I wanted attention."
The veterans meanwhile were enjoying themselves far more casually.
Unlike the younger generation, most of them had long since moved beyond caring about rankings or prestige.
For people like Wakaba, Macao, and several of the older members who were approaching retirement age, the Fairy Games were simply an opportunity to have fun.
A chance to stretch their legs.
A chance to fight alongside old friends.
A chance to prove they still had some life left in them.
Winning was nice.
Losing was fine.
Participating was enough.
Several of them were already reminiscing about previous guild events.
Others were discussing how much stronger the younger generation had become.
A few were simply enjoying the chance to relax without worrying about paperwork, jobs, or guild responsibilities.
"We're too old to care about rankings."
"Speak for yourself."
"You got eliminated in ten minutes."
"I said we're too old to care."
"You're still salty."
"I'm not salty."
"You are."
The entire table nodded.
Without hesitation.
Without mercy.
Without even pretending to consider alternatives.
"I'm absolutely salty."
More laughter followed.
The confession somehow made everyone laugh even harder.
"See? Honesty is healthy."
"Honesty is overrated."
"You spent the entire walk back complaining."
"I was providing constructive criticism."
"You called the battlefield unfair."
"It was unfair."
"You got punched into a lake."
"The lake shouldn't have been there."
At that point even Macao had to wipe tears from his eyes.
The atmosphere throughout the booth remained warm and lively.
Nobody seemed particularly bothered by defeat.
If anything, most of them looked happier than they had before the event started.
Because for Fairy Tail, competition had never really been about winning.
It was about fighting.
Laughing.
Making memories.
And having stories to tell afterward.
Judging by the noise filling the room, everyone had plenty of stories already.
However, not everyone shared the relaxed atmosphere.
One corner of the booth was noticeably gloomier than the rest.
The children's section.
Most of the younger generation had participated simply because they finally possessed enough magic to join the fun.
For many of them, just standing in the same arena as Fairy Tail's strongest members had been exciting.
The boys were mostly treating the experience like an adventure.
The girls...
Not so much.
"I still can't believe it."
"I know."
"We lost."
The group collectively sighed.
The girls had been happy when Erza secured a position in the Top 8.
Honestly, Fairy Tail had become so overwhelmingly full of macho men that seeing a girl reach the finals felt like a victory for womanhood itself.
But there was still one problem.
They wanted it to be them.
Especially two particular girls.
Cana and Ultear sat silently.
The atmosphere around them was practically visible.
The others wisely maintained a safe distance.
Their pride had suffered catastrophic damage.
Getting beaten by Erza felt like being run over by a roadroller.
Repeatedly.
Then backed over again for good measure.
The worst part wasn't even losing.
It was how they lost.
Neither of them could honestly point to a moment where Erza had overwhelmed them with raw power.
She hadn't crushed them beneath some impossible amount of magic.
She hadn't unveiled a secret technique.
She hadn't suddenly awakened some legendary bloodline ability in the middle of the fight.
She had simply...
Outplayed them.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Cana stared blankly at the ceiling.
Ultear stared blankly at the wall.
Neither looked willing to acknowledge reality.
Around them, the other girls exchanged nervous glances.
Nobody wanted to be the first person to poke the depressed duo.
Not after what happened ten minutes ago.
"What happened ten minutes ago?" Kagura had asked.
One of the girls had pointed toward Cana.
"Someone told her Erza only started learning magic six months ago."
"...And?"
"She's been like this ever since."
Kagura had wisely decided not to ask further questions.
Finally, Cana spoke.
"...Six months."
Nobody answered.
"...She got magic six months ago."
Still nobody answered.
"...Six."
The room remained silent.
"...Months."
The girls collectively winced.
Cana slowly sat up.
Her expression was completely blank.
Which was somehow more alarming than if she had been screaming.
"I've been training since I was little."
Silence.
"My father is Gildarts."
More silence.
"I inherited one of the strongest magics in the guild."
Nobody dared interrupt.
"I've spent years learning how to use it."
Her eye twitched.
"Then a girl who learned magic six months ago beat me."
Silence.
"...I don't know how to process that."
Nearby, Ultear looked like her soul had left her body.
"My mother is Ur."
Silence.
"My Time Magic is supposed to be special."
More silence.
"I've been training for years."
Even more silence.
"Then I got eliminated by a girl who learned magic six months ago."
Her voice sounded strangely calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
"My grandfather is one of the greatest wizards alive."
Nobody spoke.
"My mother is a prodigy."
Still nobody spoke.
"I was raised by Fairy Tail."
The room remained silent.
Ultear slowly lowered her head.
"How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?"
The girls collectively looked away.
That was a terrifying question.
Ur was kind.
Ur was gentle.
Ur was loving.
Ur was also the sort of person who could accidentally destroy someone's self-esteem while trying to encourage them.
Nearby, Kagura awkwardly patted her shoulder.
"There, there."
"It doesn't help."
"I know."
"It really doesn't help."
Kagura hesitated.
Then she offered what she thought was a reasonable consolation.
"At least you lost to the eventual champion."
"We don't know if she's going to win."
"She's going to win."
The response came from six different girls simultaneously.
Kagura blinked.
"...That certain?"
The girls nodded.
Very slowly.
Very solemnly.
Truthfully, neither Cana nor Ultear was angry at Erza.
That somehow made everything worse.
Because everyone had seen it happen.
Erza's magic power wasn't particularly high.
Compared to Cana and Ultear, it was actually lower.
Yet she still won.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The girls had spent the entire battle royale witnessing something deeply disturbing.
Erza's combat intuition.
It was monstrous.
Absolutely monstrous.
The red-haired girl seemed to possess some kind of supernatural ability to always appear exactly where she needed to be.
She could read battlefields instinctively.
Predict movements.
Notice opportunities.
Exploit weaknesses.
Even when her magic power wasn't the highest, she somehow kept overtaking stronger opponents through sheer combat sense.
One girl shuddered.
"I watched her fight three people at once."
Another immediately nodded.
"I saw that."
"She shouldn't have won."
"She really shouldn't have."
The first girl pointed dramatically.
"One of them attacked from behind."
"And?"
"She dodged without looking."
The room fell silent.
"...Without looking?"
"Without looking."
Another girl joined in.
"I tried sneaking up on her."
Everyone turned toward her.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
The girl stared into the distance.
"She threw a sword at me."
"...Before she saw you?"
"Before she saw me."
The room collectively groaned.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't even fair.
It felt less like fighting a person and more like fighting a natural disaster that happened to be carrying swords.
"She's scary."
"Very."
"I don't think she even thinks about it."
"That's the scary part."
The more they discussed it, the worse it sounded.
Erza didn't seem to consciously analyze situations.
She simply acted.
And somehow those actions were almost always correct.
When someone attacked from the left, she was already moving.
When an opening appeared, she was already exploiting it.
When danger approached, she was already avoiding it.
It was as though her body understood combat on a level her mind didn't need to process.
The realization was deeply unsettling.
Especially for people who had spent years studying magic theory and battle tactics.
Cana buried her face in her hands.
"How do you even train against that?"
Nobody had an answer.
Because nobody knew.
Nobody knew that Erza happened to be the daughter of Irene Belserion.
One of the two Door Gods of the Alvarez Empire.
A woman whose instincts in battle bordered on the supernatural.
If they had known that particular detail, they might have felt slightly better.
Slightly.
Only slightly.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room, the boys were discussing the battle royale enthusiastically.
"Dude, that was awesome."
"I know!"
"I got thrown off a cliff!"
"That doesn't sound awesome."
"It was awesome!"
Most of the newcomers were simply happy they had participated.
However, three boys sat together looking noticeably disappointed.
Jellal.
Gray.
And Lyon.
The three shared the same problem.
None of them had reached the Top 8.
Jellal sighed.
"I wanted to stand on that stage with Erza."
Gray nodded.
"I wanted to represent Ur's side."
"So did I," Lyon added.
The three immediately fell silent.
Because they had all lost to the same person.
Erik.
The booth's collective mood shifted slightly whenever that name came up.
"Seriously."
Gray rubbed his face.
"How did he even beat that many people?"
"I still don't know how I lost," Lyon admitted.
Jellal nodded.
"Same."
The answer was actually fairly simple.
Erik was terrifying.
His poison had become increasingly eerie over the past five months.
At some point, it had stopped behaving like normal poison altogether.
Laxus had practically adopted Erik as his younger brother and spent the past several months personally teaching him Dragon Slayer Magic.
Krampus had done the same, though for different reasons.
Where Laxus treated Erik like a younger brother, Krampus was fascinated by the potential of his magic.
Most people viewed poison as nothing more than harmful toxins.
Krampus disagreed.
To him, poison was any substance or effect that disrupted the normal function of a living organism.
That simple idea became the foundation for years of increasingly bizarre lessons, and because Krampus was Krampus, those lessons quickly spiraled into something absurd.
Rather than focusing on conventional toxins, he pushed Erik to broaden the very definition of poison.
Anything that interfered with the body's internal processes could qualify.
And if it could be considered poison...
Erik could create it.
The result was horrifying.
Colorless poison.
Odorless poison.
Invisible poison.
Conceptual poison.
Things that technically weren't poison at all.
Jellal rubbed his forehead.
"I didn't even see him."
"Neither did I," Gray muttered.
"I just started feeling strange."
Lyon nodded immediately.
"My body got slower."
"Mine too."
"Then my vision blurred."
"Same."
The three looked at each other.
Then realization slowly dawned.
"...Wait."
"...Wait."
"...Wait."
The room collectively groaned.
"You idiots got poisoned before the fight even started."
Jellal buried his face in his hands.
Gray looked offended.
Lyon looked horrified.
Elsewhere, Macbeth looked noticeably dissatisfied as he adjusted his glasses.
"I've been reviewing it repeatedly, and I still dislike the conclusion."
Sorano sighed softly.
"As have I."
"You literally have purification magic."
"I know."
"So how did Erik beat you?"
Sorano closed her eyes briefly, looking more disappointed in herself than anything else.
"He induced oxygen toxicity."
The room fell silent.
"...What?"
"Oxygen poisoning."
"...That's a thing?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Macbeth pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Theoretically, I should have been able to counter it."
"You didn't."
"I didn't."
"You have Vector Magic."
"I know."
"You manipulate direction itself."
"I know."
Macbeth let out a long sigh.
"The issue is precision. I can redirect airflow, alter trajectories, and control vectors on a large scale, but isolating and regulating the exact concentration of oxygen entering my body in real time is a far more delicate process."
He looked distinctly annoyed.
"By the time I identified the problem, the excess oxygen had already begun affecting my system."
Sorano nodded in understanding.
"My situation was similarly embarrassing."
The others turned toward her.
"My purification magic recognizes toxins, curses, corruption, and harmful influences upon the body and soul."
She folded her hands neatly in her lap.
"But oxygen is one of the Creator's natural blessings. My magic does not classify it as poison."
"...Even when there's too much of it?"
"Even then."
Her expression became slightly strained.
"My spells continued treating it as something pure and necessary while my body was suffering from its excess."
Macbeth groaned.
"So we both lost because our magic accepted oxygen as normal."
"In essence."
The two exchanged a look.
Neither seemed particularly pleased with that realization.
"That's... frustrating."
"Profoundly so."
Both silently added Erik's name to the list of people they needed to prepare for more carefully in the future.
Meanwhile another contestant was receiving praise.
Adam.
The earth mage had worked together with Carlo during the battle royale.
The pair had split up shortly after entering the arena.
Carlo headed for the forest.
Adam headed for the mountains.
And somehow both regions became nightmares.
Everyone had already heard stories about Carlo's performance.
Using his magic, he had transformed large sections of the forest into a personalized death trap. Paths shifted unexpectedly. Trees became obstacles. Ambush points appeared everywhere. Contestants who entered his territory often found themselves trapped, isolated, and eliminated before they even understood what had happened.
Adam had apparently looked at his boyfriend's strategy and decided to do the same thing.
Except with mountains.
The moment he reached the rocky region, Adam began using his magic.
"The Constructor."
A magic specifically designed for creating structures.
Walls.
Tunnels.
Stairways.
Rooms.
Passages.
Entire buildings if given enough time.
And unlike most earth mages who simply manipulated existing terrain, Adam specialized in construction itself.
So while other contestants were busy fighting each other, Adam was busy committing architecture.
By the time people discovered what he was doing, it was already too late.
An enormous labyrinth had appeared throughout the mountain range.
Stone corridors twisted through cliffs.
Dead ends branched into more dead ends.
Hidden chambers connected to winding tunnels.
Entire sections shifted vertically across different elevations, forcing contestants to climb, descend, and navigate confusing pathways that seemed designed specifically to destroy any sense of direction.
The worst part was that it actually looked natural.
Many contestants entered believing they were simply exploring mountain caves.
Then they realized they had been walking in circles for twenty minutes.
Then thirty.
Then an hour.
Some never even found another person.
Others stumbled directly into ambushes.
A few eventually escaped only to discover they had somehow emerged on the opposite side of the mountain range.
Contestants wandered inside.
Got lost.
Then mysteriously vanished.
One by one.
Until eventually people became more afraid of entering the mountains than fighting other competitors.
"It was genius."
"It was evil."
"It was both."
Adam looked proud.
Carlo looked even prouder.
Their fingers were interlocked openly on top of the table.
Several nearby guild members immediately groaned at the blatant display of affection.
As discussions continued, one interesting detail gradually became apparent.
At first, nobody consciously noticed it.
The battle royale had been far too chaotic.
Hundreds of contestants had been scattered across forests, mountains, rivers, ruins, and open plains. Explosions had gone off every few seconds. Entire sections of terrain had been destroyed. People had been ambushed, chased, trapped, poisoned, frozen, buried, launched into the sky, and occasionally all of the above.
Yet when everyone started comparing stories, a pattern emerged.
A very obvious pattern.
Throughout the entire battle royale, there had been an unspoken agreement.
The older generation rarely attacked the children.
The children rarely attacked the older generation.
Nobody had discussed it beforehand.
Nobody had established rules.
Nobody had even suggested it.
Yet somehow everyone had naturally arrived at the same conclusion.
The veterans wanted the younger generation to grow.
The younger generation wanted to prove themselves against their peers.
Thinking back on it, the logic was almost inevitable.
For the older members, there wasn't much satisfaction in crushing a teenager who had only recently learned magic.
Sure, they could do it.
Most of them could do it very easily.
But what would that accomplish?
The Fairy Games weren't a real war.
They weren't fighting enemies.
They were fighting family.
Many of the veterans had watched these children grow up inside the guild hall.
Some had taught them.
Some had babysat them.
Some had literally changed their diapers.
The idea of hunting them down the moment the match started felt strangely wrong.
Not because they were going easy on them.
But because they wanted to see what they could do.
Several older members had admitted afterward that they intentionally ignored younger contestants when they spotted them from a distance.
Not out of mercy.
Out of curiosity.
They wanted to see how far the next generation could go.
Meanwhile, the younger contestants had their own reasons.
Most of them weren't stupid.
They knew exactly how dangerous the veterans were.
People like Wakaba and Macao might spend most of their time drinking and arguing in the guild hall, but they were still experienced combat mages who had survived countless missions over the years.
The younger generation respected that.
More importantly, they wanted to measure themselves against people their own age.
Jellal wanted to compete with Gray.
Gray wanted to compete with Lyon.
Cana wanted to compete with Ultear.
The girls wanted to compare themselves with Erza.
Everyone had rivals.
Everyone had benchmarks.
Everyone wanted to know where they stood among their generation.
As a result, most of the fiercest battles had naturally happened within those groups.
The veterans fought veterans.
The newcomers fought newcomers.
Whenever the two generations crossed paths, the encounters were usually brief.
A quick exchange.
A few attacks.
Then both sides moved on.
There were exceptions, of course.
Erik certainly hadn't cared about age.
Neither had a few others.
But overall, the pattern remained surprisingly consistent.
Looking back on it now, many Fairy Tail members found themselves smiling.
Without realizing it, the guild had revealed something important about itself.
It wasn't just strong.
It was healthy.
The older generation wasn't desperately clinging to its position.
The younger generation wasn't trying to tear down those who came before them.
Instead, both sides were pushing each other forward.
The veterans wanted successors.
The newcomers wanted to become worthy of succeeding them.
That realization left many of the older members feeling unexpectedly emotional.
A few years ago, many of these children could barely cast basic spells.
Now they were standing on the same battlefield.
Now they were competing in the Fairy Games.
Now they were forcing experienced mages to take them seriously.
The growth was impossible to ignore.
The results mattered.
The rankings mattered.
The prize money definitely mattered.
Nobody in Fairy Tail would ever pretend otherwise.
But when they looked around the booth and saw dozens of talented young mages laughing, arguing, complaining, and celebrating together, those things suddenly felt less important.
What mattered most was seeing just how much Fairy Tail had grown.
What mattered was knowing that the guild would continue long after the current generation stepped aside.
And judging by the strength displayed in the preliminary round...
The guild's future had never looked brighter.
Meanwhile, elsewhere inside the stadium, eight finalists were preparing for the next stage of the competition.
Some were resting.
Some were strategizing.
Some were quietly sharpening their focus for the battles ahead.
And every Fairy Tail member knew one thing.
The preliminary round had only been the appetizer.
The real show was only just beginning.