Jellal's body gave a slight jolt. He opened his eyes, a bit sheepish, and pushed himself up on an elbow. Scrapes from the fight still marked his face; his breathing was unsteady, but his gaze was clear again.
"When did you notice? I was going to try a sneak attack—help you out a bit," he said with a wry smile, the look he gave Shane still carrying unspent shock. "But the more I watched, the more I realized… I couldn't even get a hand in. I didn't think you'd already gotten this strong."
"I'm not blind," Shane chuckled. Clairvoyance A could see futures—and the tiny tells on a person's body.
"Business. What did she do to you? Did she mention 'Zeref'?"
Jellal's face sobered; he nodded. "She said she sensed my potential and told me to worship her. Her words had some kind of magic in them—it pulled at my mind. I didn't accept, then blacked out."
"Right, and at the end I did hear her call herself Zeref." A bitter twist touched his mouth. "Sounds like she just wanted to seduce me into being 'material.'"
"Same playbook as the dark-mage cult," Shane said, eyes cutting to the unconscious girl in purple.
"Erza should have the coast handled; the plan's mostly on track. We can head back."
He stepped to the girl's side. The crimson bow flowered into his hand, and his eyes went cold.
He'd wanted to ask more about magic—but seeing her nature, there was no point holding back.
He could learn the rest once they were out.
He was about to act when—
"Wait!" Jellal blurted.
Shane paused, puzzled. "She's the same as the others. Don't tell me you're going soft because she's a girl."
Jellal drew a long breath, resolve hardening in his eyes.
"I heard you two. A ritual this massive can't be run by her alone. There have to be others behind it. This 'Tower of Heaven'…" His voice dropped. "An evil rite that spends human lives—can't be allowed to stand."
Shane thought a beat. "You think there are puppeteers—and you want to do what?"
By age alone, the girl didn't look like a mastermind—and Grandpa Rob had been stuck here for years.
"I hate this place more than anyone," Jellal said, anger tight under the words. "I want to pretend I fell under her spell and infiltrate them. Only by knowing what they are can we rip them out by the roots."
Shane studied him for a few seconds, sober. "Honestly, I don't want you risking it. We've saved everyone and smashed the tower. That's enough."
"Not 'we'—you," Jellal cut in softly. "From drafting the plan and playing bait to rescuing people… you did all of it. I didn't help at all, and you even had to save me…"
Shane saw how set he was and didn't know what to say for a moment. He sighed.
"You're sure? It's dangerous. You won't be facing just her—but a whole organization in the dark."
"I'm sure." He nodded without hesitation, burning the boats. "I hate this tower, and everything it stands for. If there's a chance to tear it out by the roots, I'll take the risk."
Shane was quiet a while, then let out a breath. "All right. If that's your decision… I'll respect it."
"But," he added, firm and non-negotiable, "I won't lie to Sawyer, Wally, or Millianna. They fought with us; they deserve the truth. I won't let them mistake you for a traitor."
Jellal blinked, then understood. Warmth stirred in his chest. He nodded. "I get it."
They hashed out the details, settling on a scene: the blue-haired boy enthralled, friends at odds but unable to strike.
Done, Shane said, "I'll go ahead. Do you want to see them first?"
"No. Just tell them I'm safe. I'll prep here and wait for her to wake." Jellal shook his head, then suddenly smiled. "And I need to thank her."
"What?"
Shane had barely asked when Jellal stood and flicked his hand. Mana flared; a nearby heap of rubble burst apart, stones skittering.
About as strong as one of her crystal shots, single-round.
"You awakened magic!" Shane said, delighted. That boosted Jellal's chances of staying alive.
"Mm." Jellal sat back down. "Be careful. Don't get weaker than me next time we meet."
Clearly, Shane's power had left its mark—even a friend couldn't help feeling competitive.
"I'll look forward to it," Shane laughed, and strode off.
He'd gone only a short way when he suddenly doubled back, peeking around the corner. "Oh—watch out for fire."
He left Jellal baffled and headed out alone.
At the coast, the once-dead beach was a bustle of life.
Several big ships lay in a neat line, ready to sail. Each deck was packed, faces lit with a joy and relief no one had ever worn before.
Even from a distance, Shane spotted Erza on one of the ships.
She'd shed the prison rags for a rough jacket and trousers from who-knew-where—loose, but clean and crisp. Her scarlet hair burned like flame in the sun.
She was talking quietly with Simon and Sawyer.
"Shane?"
Someone caught sight of him emerging from the tower's shadow. A cheer went up at once.
"Shane's back!"
"Thank goodness—you're okay!"
The shout rolled through the crowd. He'd never even introduced himself properly, but everyone knew his name.
"Where's Jellal?"
Sawyer saw no one at Shane's side and jumped down from the ship, urgent.
"He's fine. I'll explain in a bit," Shane said calmly.
Unease flickered over Sawyer's face, but trust won; he held his tongue.
Others watched too, anxious.
Shane gave them a steady look, then raised his voice and went down the line: "How's the haul? Is everyone ready? Did we miss anything?"
"More than we thought! You wouldn't believe how much those bastards squirreled away." Wally's booming voice rolled from the deck. Before he finished, he shoved a tightly trussed figure off the rail.
The man thudded into the sand. Shane glanced closer—an old acquaintance.
The lanky overseer, gagged, whimpered through the cloth, eyes begging.
Shane acted as if he hadn't seen, and kicked him aside.
Then he faced the sea and let his gaze sweep every face.
Where numbness and despair had been, hope now gave a faint glow. He drew a long breath, and his voice carried clear across the shore:
"We're free."
~~~
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