"Ancient document?"
Noah tilted his head in doubt, and Bob confirmed with a nod.
"Yes, it's called Archive. It's a type of magic that can compress and store information. The principle has only recently been developed. By channeling magic, information can be converted into data.
Right now, only a handful of people are studying and using it. Ren from our guild has already started learning. If you want, I can introduce you so you can study together."
"Thank you, President Bob."
As Noah listened, he realized instantly how suitable this magic was for him. The moment he heard "data," he knew this was a field with incredible potential. His heart stirred with impatience to begin learning it.
Bob's eyes lit up, pleased that Noah had accepted the suggestion so readily. He had worried that Noah might have the arrogance of a prodigy and reject others' advice. Seeing Noah's open-mindedness made him admire him all the more.
Makarov too was delighted to see them getting along. Chuckling, he lifted a glass and downed it in one go.
Noah blinked in surprise, then frowned.
"Grandpa, didn't you say you shouldn't be drinking this? I remember mixing medicinal wine for you not long ago!"
He reached to snatch the glass from Makarov's hand, but the old master dodged quickly. Noah tried twice more, only for Makarov to slip away each time.
"Just this once!" Makarov protested quickly. "Let me enjoy these wines. It's such a rare trip, and I haven't had them in years."
Noah exhaled in resignation. "Alright, but only this once. Make sure you don't overdo it."
"Deal!"
Makarov grinned and took another two gulps. Noah could only keep a closer eye on him to make sure he didn't drink too much.
"Medicinal wine?" Goodman interjected, catching a word that piqued his interest.
"Yes," Noah explained. "Grandpa's older now, so I take care of his health. Since he enjoys drinking, I made a special medicinal wine for him. If you'd like, I brought some with me."
He pulled two small bottles from his coat and handed them to Goodman and Bob.
Makarov raised his glass and added proudly, "Noah studied medicine under Porlyusica. She told me herself that she taught him everything she knows, and even admitted that Noah's skill has begun to surpass her own.
He spent a fortune on rare ingredients to make these wines, and they're incredibly effective."
Hearing this, Goodman and Bob carefully stored away their bottles, their faces suddenly much more serious.
"Learning medicine from Porlyusica, and even surpassing her… these wines must be invaluable."
"Thank you, Noah-chan," Bob said warmly.
Then, with his usual flamboyance, he suddenly pulled Noah into a hug and rubbed his face against Noah's cheek. Rationally, Noah knew Bob meant no harm, but his body stiffened in discomfort, a cold sweat breaking out as he endured the suffocating affection.
The evening continued in high spirits. Everyone ate, drank, and shared stories. Noah learned much from the two presidents that he hadn't known before.
At one point, Makarov began bragging about Fairy Tail's members. He spoke of Gildarts, already renowned, and Ur, whose fame had spread far even before she joined. He beamed as he listed the many young boys and girls with incredible potential who had recently entered the guild.
The more he talked, the prouder he became especially since so many of them had been brought to Fairy Tail by Noah himself. Makarov slapped Noah's shoulder again and again, his laughter filling the hall.
Goodman and Bob, however, looked on with faces twisted in envy. Why, they wondered, did Makarov get all the luck?
Seeing their sour expressions only fueled Makarov's excitement. He finally leapt onto the table now cleared of plates and began dancing with a flushed face.
Noah sighed as he watched. The redness in Makarov's cheeks made it obvious he was drunk.
Noah reached for a vial of sobering potion, ready to intervene. He had noticed the way Goodman and Bob were glaring at Makarov, their fists clenched, their patience fraying.
If they decided to rush the table and beat Makarov, Noah wasn't sure if he could stop them.
Just as Noah was worrying about Makarov's drunken antics, an oppressive wave of evil magic suddenly swept in from behind. The aura made Noah's skin prickle, his brows furrowing in instinctive disgust.
Bob and Goodman's expressions instantly darkened, and even Makarov sobered up somewhat under the pressure. He muttered under his breath, voice heavy with irritation.
"Why is he here…"
A mocking voice followed, smooth yet dripping with provocation.
"Oh my, isn't this supposed to be a gathering of guild masters? What's a child doing here? Don't tell me this boy is a guild master too?"
Noah ignored the barb and turned toward Makarov, speaking calmly but with a hard edge.
"Grandpa, what's going on?"
Makarov lowered his voice.
"That man is Jose Porla, master of the Phantom Lord guild. Fairy Tail has had constant friction with them. They've never liked us."
Jose, standing behind them, grew visibly irritated that no one acknowledged his taunt. But he quickly smoothed his face into a courteous mask and stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Master Makarov, it's a pleasure to see you at this regular meeting."
Makarov responded politely, though his tone was steady and distant.
"Jose, I hear you've recently been named one of the Ten Wizard Saints. Congratulations."
At the mention of the title, Jose's lips curled into a proud smirk. He waved a hand in mock modesty.
"No, no, I could never compare to Master Makarov."
But the gleam in his eyes and the tilt of his mouth told another story.
While they exchanged pleasantries, Noah slipped aside and joined Bob and Goodman, his gaze fixed sharply on the Phantom Lord's master.
Jose was tall and thin, with shoulder-length dark red hair and a patchy beard across his long face. A pointed purple hat, marked with Phantom Lord's emblem, perched on his head. His ornate purple coat had a serrated collar and hem, lined with intricate trim. Beneath it, he wore a simple shirt and a medallion of the Ten Wizard Saints that glinted proudly at his chest. Loose striped trousers and shoes that looked almost like a jester's completed his appearance.
Noah's frown deepened. The man's smile was false, his aura reeked of malice, and every glance he gave seemed steeped in arrogance.
He leaned closer to Bob and Goodman, his voice low.
"How can someone like that be chosen as one of the Ten Wizard Saints?"
Goodman sighed helplessly.
"I don't know what the Magic Council was thinking. But there must be politics behind it."
...
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