After Erza's arrest, Fairy Tail's hall had fallen back into its usual rhythm—or at least it tried to. The smell of roasted meat, spilled beer, and wood polish hung in the air. A table had already been broken in half for no apparent reason, and someone was snoring upside down on the counter.
From the outside, it was business as usual. Inside, though, something was missing.
The laughter was a little forced. The chatter, a little thinner.
Erza's absence was like a hole in the air. Everyone tried not to look at.
At the far end of the hall, Natsu sat hunched over the table, arms crossed, teeth grinding loud enough to be heard over the din. The mark of Makarov's earlier scolding still faintly smoked on his forehead.
He suddenly slammed both hands on the table. BANG!
"I can't take it anymore!"
Half the guild jumped. Cana dropped her mug. Happy flapped in alarm. "Aye! Natsu, next time, warn me before shouting!"
Natsu whirled toward the bar where Makarov sat, sipping his drink like nothing had happened. "Master! I can't just sit here! Erza didn't do anything wrong, and they took her like a criminal! I'm going to bail her out right now!"
He spun toward the door, fire already sparking around his feet—
—and got flattened halfway across the room by a single massive fist.
BOOM.
The floorboards shook. The guild went silent for three whole seconds, watching Natsu's body crater into the floor.
Makarov's voice rumbled above him, calm but firm. "Don't be stupid, Natsu. It's just a formality. She'll be back tomorrow."
"Ah?" came the muffled reply from the floor, and from everyone else.
Gray, never missing one, leaned over Natssu with a smirk. "Yeah, flame brain. Maybe try using that thing in your head that you never use."
Natsu shot up, flames licking his hair. "What did you say, ice cube?!"
"I said think, you overcooked salamander!"
"You wanna fight, freezer face?!"
"Bring it, matchstick!"
Makarov sighed, rubbing his temple as the two lunged at each other.
Lucy, sitting nearby, groaned into her hands. "Do they ever stop?"
Happy floated between the two brawlers, munching on a fish. "Aye! Not until one of them forgets why they started."
Before they could start another using magic, a heavy thunk echoed through the hall. Makarov had slammed his mug down on the counter.
"That's enough, you two," the old master said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command.
Everyone quieted instantly — even Natsu froze mid-swing.
Makarov took a long sip, set the mug aside, and sighed. "Listen carefully, all of you. Erza didn't destroy a thing. Every guild master in Clover can vouch for that. But the Council…" he grimaced, stroking his mustache, "the Council needs someone to blame."
Natsu blinked, confused. "Blame? But it was that Shadow guy who did everything! Why not blame him?"
"Because," Makarov said, folding his arms, "you can't arrest a shadow."
The room went still for a moment as his words sank in.
He continued, tone steady but edged with irritation. "That man disappeared before the Council could even find a trace of his magic. They can't charge someone they can't reach, so instead they pick the next easiest target."
He gestured vaguely at the guild hall around them — a wall with a new hole in it, a chair embedded in the ceiling, a table on fire for no apparent reason.
"And who better than Fairy Tail? The guild that destroys half the town every other week."
Mira chuckled softly, polishing a glass. "They're not wrong, you know."
Elfman slammed a hand on his chest. "It's manly to take responsibility for the chaos we bring!"
Cana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, manly, sure. So pay me back for those drinks, 'Mr. Responsibility.'"
Elfman puffed out his chest proudly. "Being broke is also manly!"
A ripple of laughter went through the room. Chairs creaked, mugs clinked, and for a moment the hall felt alive again.
Makarov's expression softened. "They just want to make a show of control. Erza will be questioned, scolded, and sent home once they've had their little performance. She'll be fine."
Natsu relaxed a little, his flames dying down. "Ahh… so that's what you meant by 'formality,' huh? Then why didn't you just say that earlier, Master?"
Makarov snorted. "Because you were too busy screaming to listen, you idiot."
Gray grinned. "Guess he finally used that thing in his head."
"WHAT'D YOU SAY, ICE CUBE?!"
And just like that, the guild's signature noise returned — laughter, bickering, and the comforting sound of chaos.
---
The Council branch of Fiore stood like a fortress of light and order.
Polished white marble gleamed under shafts of sunlight that filtered through the high, arched windows.
The air was cool and still — so still it carried the faint echo of every footstep.
The scent of parchment, incense, and ancient wood filled the corridors, a constant reminder that this was a place where power and judgment intertwined.
At the far end of a long corridor, flanked by ornate pillars, Erza walked in step with her escort — the frogman who arrested her.
Her armor clinked lightly with every measured step, the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
"Please wait here," the frogman croaked nervously as they stopped before a grand set of double doors.
Beyond them lay the inner chambers of the Council — a space few ordinary mages ever saw. He bowed awkwardly and scuttled away, leaving her alone.
The silence here was heavy — the kind that pressed softly on the shoulders, reminding one they stood in the heart of authority.
She crossed her arms, waiting for someone to come escort her further in. But instead, a voice drifted from behind her.
"Erza."
Her eyes widened slightly. She turned, metal shifting with the movement.
There, a few paces down the hall, stood a man leaning lazily against a stone column — blue hair gleaming in the light, his uniform immaculate, posture casual to the point of arrogance. His expression carried that same faint, knowing smirk that always made her guard rise.
"Siegrain…" she said evenly.
He pushed off the pillar with unhurried grace, hands sliding into his pockets as he approached, footsteps echoing. "You still seem to dislike me," he said lightly, "just because I happen to look like my brother?"
Erza's gaze sharpened further. "Not just for that, Siegrain, and you know it…"
He chuckled lowly, the sound echoing faintly against the marble walls. "Ah… still the same, I see. Always ready for a fight, even here of all places."
The tension between them was thick enough to bend the air — two forces of will quietly testing each other.
Before another word could be spoken, the doors behind Erza opened again with a soft click.
"Siegrain," came a clear, commanding voice, "stop intimidating the girl."
Erza turned slightly.
A woman walked out of the chamber— tall, poised, her presence immediately filling the corridor.
She wore a sleek, dark-blue bodysuit accented with white lines, every step radiating confidence and control.
Her eyes were sharp and knowing, her smile the kind that seemed both kind and dangerous at once.
Siegrain's smirk faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. "Ultear…" he said, voice tightening just slightly.
She stopped beside her, folding her arms. "Honestly. We're just supposed to be questioning her, not unnerving her before the session even starts."
Erza's mind raced. Ultear…!
The name alone made her heart skip.
The strongest magical talent on the entire continent of Ishgar — one of the Ten Saint Wizards, and one of the Council's highest-ranking members.
A prodigy who had mastered time itself… and one who was said to dabble effortlessly in countless other forms of magic.
When Ultear's gaze met hers, Erza could feel it — an invisible pressure, deep and suffocating, radiating beneath that calm exterior.
It was the kind of power that didn't need to roar to be terrifying — vast, unshakable, and hidden behind a gentle smile.
"Come," Ultear said, her tone shifting to something almost polite. "The Council is waiting."
Erza straightened, meeting her gaze without flinching. "Very well."
As she followed them deeper into the chamber, the echo of her footsteps mingled with theirs — three figures walking toward the heart of Fiore's authority.