Chapter 334: Attack on the Council
"You're saying it was infighting within a Dark Guild?"
"That's completely impossible."
"Moreover, according to our estimates, Tartaros should already have considerable armaments."
"Master Org is getting old, after all. His judgment might be clouding."
Inside the grand, magically reinforced chambers of the Magic Council in Era, the highest authorities of the Ishgar magical world sat around their massive circular table. The debate was heated. Several Council Members simply didn't believe a Dark Guild of that caliber would fight amongst themselves, as that would actively weaken their own power.
Wouldn't that be like cutting off one's own arm? There was simply no logical reason for a pillar of the Balam Alliance to commit such a senseless act of self-sabotage.
"Wait, Master Org's opinion also makes sense. We cannot underestimate the chaotic nature of Zeref's worshippers," a stern voice echoed, cutting through the bickering.
"Chairman?!"
The others were stunned; they hadn't expected the Chairman to actually agree with Org's cautious opinion. Gran Doma sat at the head of the table, his imposing, armored figure radiating absolute authority.
"The issue of Tartaros, which has been shelved until now, has finally come time to be resolved," Gran Doma declared, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. "The enemy's true face is still unclear, but as long as we destroy it, the Balam Alliance will also completely collapse."
He slammed a heavy, gauntleted fist onto the table. "Now is the time for our Magic Council to exert its full strength and fight. We will eradicate this darkness once and for all."
The other Council Members' expressions shifted into masks of deep concern. Tartaros was no ordinary Dark Guild; dealing with them wouldn't be so easy. They were the elusive third pillar of the Balam Alliance, a guild shrouded in complete, terrifying mystery.
Org felt very gratified hearing the Council Chairman's words. Gran Doma was a hardline Council Chairman, but everything he did was for the sake of the Magic World's stability.
Compared to the previous Council Chairman's tendency to turn a blind eye and sweep problems under the rug, Council Chairman Gran Doma wanted more to actively contribute to the peace of the continent. He was willing to wage war to protect the innocent.
Suddenly!
The heavy oak doors of the chamber were violently pushed open. A frog messenger burst in, his green skin pale with absolute terror as he shouted, "This is bad!! Everyone!!"
"What is it?!"
"Idiot!! We're in the middle of a classified meeting!!" a Council Member shouted irritably, slamming his hand down. This was an incredibly important strategic meeting, and interruptions were strictly forbidden.
"There's no time to worry about that now, there's an intrusion..." the frog messenger stammered, pointing a trembling finger behind him.
BOOM————!!
A violent explosion erupted throughout the entire building before the messenger could even finish his sentence. The deafening roar of the blast shattered the eardrums of everyone present.
The terrifying blast destroyed the massive, multi-story stone structure completely. Pillars cracked and collapsed, and the enchanted barriers woven into the walls shattered like cheap glass. Everyone inside the building was caught in the blinding, searing heat of the explosion, instantly incinerated and killed before they could even scream.
"Ugh... ugh..."
Mest Gryder slowly opened his eyes, choking on the thick, suffocating ash that filled the air. "Wha... what happened..."
His entire body screamed in agony, crushed beneath the weight of shattered marble and burning wood. The explosion just now had been too swift; he hadn't even had time to process the threat or activate his teleportation magic before he lost consciousness.
He pushed a heavy stone slab off his chest, his vision swimming with dark spots. "Lahar, pull yourself together! Lahar!!"
Mest saw his close friend and Captain of the Rune Knights lying not far away. He scrambled over the jagged debris, tearing his clothes and skin, and rushed to help him up. But as his hands touched Lahar's cold, unresponsive shoulder, he immediately sensed the horrifying truth.
Lahar had already lost all signs of life. His body was broken, the life violently snuffed out of him.
"You... you're joking, right... Lahar, wake up..." Mest whispered, his voice cracking as tears carved tracks through the soot on his face.
Mest turned his head and looked back, his heart plummeting into his stomach upon seeing the entire magnificent headquarters destroyed. Council Chairman Gran Doma and the other esteemed Council Members were all lying lifeless in pools of blood, their lives completely gone. The leaders of the magical world had been slaughtered in an instant.
"Impossible... this... are there any survivors?! Is anyone else there!!!" Mest screamed into the burning ruins, absolute despair gripping his soul.
At that moment, a weak, agonizingly raspy voice sounded from beneath the rubble. "Doranbolt..."
Mest looked up and saw Org lying on the ground amidst the ruins, his lower half completely crushed. The elderly man was calling him by his old alias, coughing up thick globs of blood. Mest immediately wanted to go over and pull him to safety.
Slap!
A heavy, clawed foot stepped deliberately and sadistically directly onto Org's head, pressing the dying old man's face into the shattered stone.
"You can't do that, no, no. It won't do if you don't breathe your last," a mocking, playful voice echoed through the smoke. "Our goal is all nine Council Members. No exceptions for the elderly."
"St... Stop it!!"
Seeing this, Mest immediately shouted to stop him, his eyes widening in pure horror. The figure standing over Org possessed animalistic, jackal-like traits, a long tail, and a sickeningly cruel smile plastered across his face.
"Doranbolt, run!! You can't die too, run!!" Org wheezed out, his one good eye staring desperately at Mest. "To carry out your justice! Live on!!"
The beast-man chuckled darkly, leaning forward. "Escaping from my explosion is impossible, little human. My name is Jackal, one of the Nine Demon Gates of Tartaros."
Jackal raised a hand, his palm glowing with a terrifying, destructive curse power. "Remember it in the Underworld—the name of the man who wiped out the Council Members."
BOOM————!!
A violent explosion erupted again, originating directly from Jackal's touch. The blinding yellow blast destroyed everything in the vicinity, completely consuming Org and sending Mest flying violently backward into the darkness.
[Akarin's Note: Tartaros is comprised of Etherious—demons created by Zeref. They do not use Magic, but rather "Curses", which are fueled by negative emotions and completely bypass standard magical defenses.]
Fairy Tail Guild, Magnolia Town.
"Mira-chan, a drink over here!" Macao called out from his table, holding up an empty wooden mug.
"Coming, coming! Just a moment!" Mirajane replied with her signature, angelic smile, expertly balancing a massive tray of foaming ales as she navigated the crowded guildhall.
"This bug is so strange!" Asuka pointed at the bizarre, glowing shrimp-like creature skittering across the wooden floor, her large eyes filled with childish curiosity.
Bisca gently pulled her daughter back, a warm, motherly smile on her face. "Don't touch it, Asuka. It'll hurt if it pinches your finger. Let's leave the magical critters alone."
The guild was incredibly bustling; people were drinking, singing off-key, getting into rowdy brawls, and flirting—a perfectly normal scene of harmony and familial warmth. Sunlight streamed through the large stained-glass windows, completely devoid of the shadow that had just fallen over Era.
"Tartaros?"
Makarov frowned deeply upon hearing the name, sitting at the bar counter with a large mug of beer. Oración Seis and Grimoire Heart had already been enough of a massive headache for his guild, and now there was Tartaros making quiet moves in the shadows.
Moreover, as a veteran who had lived through many dark eras, he had an ominous, gut-wrenching premonition that Fairy Tail would inevitably clash with Tartaros. Trouble always seemed to find them.
"Does Warrod-san have any more news about Tartaros?" Makarov asked, looking toward the tall, white-haired mage seated beside him.
Ren nodded calmly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Yeah, he said Tartaros is a very ancient, highly secretive guild. They are completely different from normal mages. They are likely related directly to the demons from the Books of Zeref."
"Demons from the Books of Zeref!" Makarov gasped, his grip on his mug tightening until his knuckles turned white.
Demons from the Books of Zeref were Etherious—creatures born of pure malice and dark magic, created by Zeref himself. Legend had it that every single demon from the Books of Zeref was incredibly powerful, designed with the sole purpose of killing the immortal Black Wizard.
"What a massive pain!"
Makarov felt even more of a headache throbbing at his temples. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Nothing good ever came from things involving the Black Wizard Zeref.
Seven years ago, the catastrophic incident on Tenrou Island, which had resulted in their temporary erasure by Acnologia, was also fundamentally because Zeref had been involved. The immortal wizard was a magnet for absolute disaster.
"Ren, what do you think we should do?" Makarov asked Ren, his tone shifting to one of heavy reliance.
If anyone in this world could suppress Tartaros, the only ones he could think of, besides the legendary Four Gods of Ishgar, was Ren. The young man had proven himself to be a walking anomaly, a force of nature draped in a human guise.
"Let's wait and see," Ren replied, his green eyes entirely devoid of panic or concern. "If there's concrete news of Tartaros making a move, I'll take the initiative to deal with them personally. Until then, we just protect our own."
"Yeah, that's all we can do for now," Makarov sighed, taking a long gulp of his beer to soothe his nerves.
Previously, Makarov used to constantly worry that Ren's magic power was insufficient for the reckless things he did. But not anymore. This brat Ren's magic power was now clearly rivaling, if not vastly exceeding, his own.
In fact, after witnessing the sheer, apocalyptic scale of Ren's golden Nine-Tails avatar, Makarov knew deep down that even if Ren encountered Acnologia again, the boy could easily escape or even fight back. With Ren standing as the guild's ultimate shield, Makarov felt a rare sense of profound security.
Suddenly!
The heavy, oak doors of the guild were violently flung open, slamming against the walls with a deafening crash. Jet and Droy ran in, completely out of breath, their faces pale as sheets. Droy tripped over his own feet, falling face-first onto the wooden floorboards, but he didn't even stop to groan in pain.
"Something terrible has happened————!!" Jet screamed, his voice cracking with absolute panic.
"Big news————!!" Droy yelled, scrambling to his feet and waving a crumpled piece of paper in the air.
"What's wrong?! Did a dark guild attack town?" Erza demanded, instantly equipping a sword and stepping forward, the entire guild hall falling into dead silence.
"The... Magic Council..." Jet gasped, clutching his chest as he tried to pull oxygen into his burning lungs. "The Magic Council in Era was completely attacked! All the Magic Council Members have been killed!"
"What————?!"
Everyone in the guild was profoundly shocked to hear this. The mugs of ale slipped from their hands, shattering against the floor.
The Magic Council was the highest, absolute authority in the Ishgar Magic World. The building was heavily fortified, and the Magic Council Members were individuals who stood at the absolute pinnacle of political and magical power.
Now that these untouchable people had all been killed in a single day, it was undoubtedly the biggest, most catastrophic event in the history of the Ishgar Magic World. The balance of power had just been violently shattered.
"What exactly happened?!" Makarov asked solemnly, his expression turning terrifyingly dark as he hopped down from his barstool.
Jet hurriedly rushed over and handed the special edition newspaper directly to Makarov.
Makarov immediately opened it, his hands trembling slightly, and looked closely. The newspaper recorded horrifying, wide-angle photos of the Magic Council being attacked.
The majestic headquarters of the Magic Council had been reduced almost entirely to smoking ruins, a massive crater where the central building used to stand. It had clearly suffered a terrifying, overwhelming assault that left no room for retaliation.
There was a blurry portrait of the attacker on the front page, captured by a surviving surveillance lacrima, along with the attacker's declared name written in bold, chilling letters.
Tartaros, one of the Nine Demon Gates, Jackal.
"Tartaros!!" Makarov grit his teeth, the paper crinkling under his tightening grip.
He hadn't expected that right after just mentioning the name Tartaros, they would do something as insanely bold and destructive as this. It was a direct declaration of war against the entire continent.
Everyone in the guild crowded around the bar, and they were also shocked to see that Tartaros had openly attacked the Magic Council in broad daylight.
"Those guys actually dared to attack the Council Members?!"
"What are they trying to do?!"
"Do they want to start a war?!"
[Akarin Note:
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