Erza stood with her arms crossed, brows knit, the tip of her tooth worrying her lower lip—like she wanted to speak but couldn't.
"Staring at me won't change anything…" Blocked in the doorway, Shane spread his hands, helpless, not sure what she was hung up on.
After a brief standoff, she finally relented, her voice muffled. "Fine. You make a fair point."
Her lashes lowered as she nudged the floor with her toe. What he'd said was reasonable—she couldn't find a rebuttal. But the thought of delaying the trip she'd been looking forward to left her a little sour.
Shane nodded—right as his stomach growled on cue. "In that case, food first. I'm starving."
Thinking it over, from the moment they reached the inn yesterday he'd done nothing but wash up and mess with the Book's rewards—and forgotten to eat entirely. It had been a day and a half since his last meal.
"Mm." Erza answered, instinctively straightening her back. The plain dress drew close with the motion, faintly tracing the first shy lines of a growing girl.
"Hang on." Shane suddenly remembered something, stopped, and shut his eyes as if feeling for a current inside himself.
"What is it?" Erza tilted her head, curious.
He raised his right hand, palm up—five dusty-gray cloth straps blinked into being and drifted down into his hand.
Under Erza's puzzled gaze, Shane used his left hand to wind them around his right arm like bandages, neat and snug from wrist to elbow.
He flexed the bandaged arm, made a fist. The movement wasn't affected at all; he nodded, satisfied.
But Erza noticed that even though he moved easily, fine beads of sweat had broken out at his temples—as if he were bearing something.
"What's that for?" she couldn't help asking. "A new magic of yours?"
"Hard to explain," Shane chose his words. The wraps on his right arm were faintly warm. "Call it a kind of training."
He shook his right hand and tried for a simpler analogy. "Think of it as… adding weight to my body."
It was a spark of inspiration from last night while testing the Saber's Phantasm.
By continuously summoning and maintaining multiple weapons in the world, he could force a steady drain on mana and stamina, which in turn would trigger the inner warm current to repair his body—achieving a physical training effect.
It wasn't as efficient as grinding the body to its absolute limit, but it kept that warm current constantly stimulated, speeding his transformation toward a Heroic Spirit's physique.
Better yet, by adjusting how much he strengthened the conjured weapons, he could dial the load precisely, keeping training efficiency at the sweet spot.
Ridiculously convenient.
Shane couldn't help thinking he might be a genius after all.
Erza said nothing, studying him and quietly filing his current state away. She nodded, half-understanding, but she'd locked onto the concept of "adding load to train."
They headed downstairs together.
The inn's first floor doubled as a simple eatery. It was noon; sunlight through the windows lit dust motes in the air, and a few tables were already eating. They took a window seat and each ordered the daily special.
Erza had eaten, but her appetite was never small. Shane, ravenous, wasn't picky—speed was all he cared about.
The food came quickly: two grilled-fish sets with miso soup and pickled radish.
The fish was blistered gold at the skin, rough with sea salt. A light pull of chopsticks lifted steaming white flesh beneath, a smell of sea and charcoal curling up together.
Shane popped a piece into his mouth—crisp outside, tender within. Savory juices burst across his tongue, a warm satisfaction blooming in his empty belly.
"Gods, this is what food should be!" He was nearly moved to tears. Thinking back to the Tower—the stuff they ate was pig slop.
While he was busy demolishing his plate, familiar footsteps sounded at the door.
Grandpa Rob came in holding Millianna's hand, looking like they'd just returned from a walk. He spotted them by the window at once and smiled as he came over.
"Well now, finally up? We were just about to check if you'd woken," Rob chuckled, settling with Millianna and ordering two lunches.
Mouth full, Shane only managed a wave and a garbled greeting.
After polishing off the last bite with quick but decent manners, he took a sip of the drink the server brought, then looked to Rob.
"Old man, I'd like to ask a favor." He tipped his head toward the girl beside him. "It's about Erza. I think she might have the aptitude to awaken magic on her own. I was hoping you'd help me try to draw it out."
Erza sat a little straighter, eyes bright with expectation, and nodded seriously.
Interest flickered across Rob's face, but his tone was hesitant. "I haven't been able to use magic for a long time. Not sure how much help I'll be."
A rare trace of nerves crossed Erza's face. Shane was about to reassure him—
When a guy at the next table suddenly yelped, drawing their attention.
He was waving a freshly delivered newspaper, jabbing a page as he told his friend, "Hey! Look! Fairy Tail's made headlines again! This time they blew out half of Mount Tov! Honestly… as over the top as ever!"
His friend leaned in and clicked his tongue. "Them again? Didn't they level half a shopping street last month catching some dark-guild crook?"
"That's nothing—last year they wrecked an entire village! I think it was that guy Gildarts, right?"
Shane and Erza froze in sync, then slowly turned to stare at Rob, deep suspicion in their eyes.
"…Grandpa," Shane said, tone delicate, "are you sure Fairy Tail is, uh… a proper wizard guild?"
Erza said nothing, but her gaze asked the same question loud and clear.
Rob's smile curdled into a painful grimace. He scrubbed hard at his tousled white hair and let out a few dry laughs.
"W-well… sometimes the youngsters get a little… over-enthusiastic. Haha… haha… let's all be understanding!"
Then he sprang to his feet, voice jumping an octave. "Right! Since we've decided to help Erza develop her magic, no time like the present! Sun's perfect—let's find a quiet spot and begin! Move, move!"
With that he practically herded the still-bewildered Erza toward the door, shot Shane a look that said keep up, and hustled out of the inn at a pace that was anything but elderly.
As if scared that if he dawdled, the guild's next "glorious deed" would smack him in the face.