"Winner, Saaaaaabertoooooooth…!"
"Does that even count?" Macao asked. "She looks like she couldn't count to one."
Most of the guild had gathered against the railing, leaving their seats to stand and watch the match. It had been brutal. Ultear and Minerva traded hits with no concern for their wellbeing. Just when Minerva looked like she was down, she'd come back and delivered a magic-fueled headbutt that Ultear crumpled under.
Minerva was still on her feet, standing with a vacant look on her face, swaying but upright.
"It was a good match. A fair match," Harry said. "This time it's Sabertooth's win. We'll get them next time."
His calm voice settled down many of his guildmates, some of whom groaned and returned to their seats. The crowd was going wild over what they'd seen, roaring with approval.
Only Jellal noticed the small movement at Harry's side, as Harry stowed his wand back in its holster.
For a bit, things had been going in a dangerous direction. Ultear had it handled, and in the end, the match ended fairly. Toughly contested, but there had been no malice in the last attack. Jellal didn't comment on Harry's wand.
Meredy sprinted off to join the medical staff who had come into the arena, stretchering Ultear away and ushering Minerva toward the exit. Mato was giving another excited speech, as he loved to do. Harry wasn't really listening. He looked at the scoreboard a third of the way into the tournament.
Blue Pegasus was in last place, boasting a measly three points from their efforts so far. Weak day one and day two performances were only made worse by Ren's loss to Lyon.
Mermaid Heel was next. They had five points for now. Considering Kagura hadn't competed yet, one first place result was all it would take to catapult them up the rankings.
Raven Tail were third from bottom, a guild that gave Harry shivers. It wasn't about their power. It was the impression they gave off. Their performance today had been downright cruel, and he couldn't shake an ominous feeling about them. The fact that Mary joined the guild immediately after he rejected her was also worrying.
Quatro Cerberus were in fourth thanks to Bacchus dominating the second day. They were right in between the top and bottom threes, splitting the difference almost exactly.
On ten points, Lamia Scale was in third, just one point behind the top two. That was a bit frightening with Jura waiting in the wings. Lyon had been impressive, too. There was a reason they finished second in the past games, only beaten by Sabertooth.
The top two were tied. Sabertooth had caught up, putting them and Fairy Tail on eleven points each. It was a good start. Harry's guild mates would call it a great start. Still…
He grinned, a little bit maniacally, the way he used to when the Snitch landed in his sights.
Things were just getting started.
O-O-O
When Harry caught up with Meredy, she was pacing.
Back and forth. Right to left. She crossed past the same closed door a dozen times, then a dozen more. Harry let her keep at it, leaning against the wall.
Soon, the door opened. A doctor stepped out and nodded once. "She's awake."
He left. There was no lasting damage, at least for a mage on Ultear's level. Meredy sprinted inside, Harry walking in after her.
"Ultear!" Meredy dropped to her knees beside the bed. "Are you okay?"
Ultear smiled at her, closing her eyes. She was sitting up in bed with the blanket over her legs, and she touched Meredy's head, petting it. Most of the damage she'd suffered was superficial. All the same, Meredy's eyes watered as she looked at the fat bruise on Ultear's forehead.
"I'm alright. I'm okay," Ultear cooed. "It was a good fight. I haven't fought so hard since we were beaten on Tenrou Island."
"I didn't like it," Meredy sniffed. "You were getting hit so much. Why did you fight like that?"
"There was no way around it. My opponent was strong."
Harry watched the two of them from a few steps back. This was a moment that they needed, especially Meredy.
Ultear spoke softly and calmly until Meredy stopped crying. Eventually, the pink haired mage remembered that they weren't alone. She looked embarrassed when she glanced at Harry. He just smiled.
"Ultear looks tired," he said. "We should let her get some rest."
"Oh. Oh!" Meredy shot up. "I'm sorry!"
Ultear smiled. "It's no matter."
Harry walked Meredy to the door. He stopped when she stepped outside. As Meredy turned an inquisitive look toward him, Harry inclined his head. "Go back to the others. I'll be out soon."
Meredy closed the door behind her. Harry returned to Ultear's bedside, seating himself on the edge of her bed. When she looked at him, her face was blank.
"It's okay. You can let it out."
Slowly, Ultear's eyes crinkled. She sniffed, and even so, couldn't completely keep her snot in as she started to cry, bawling at least as hard as Meredy had been.
Harry touched the back of her head, pulling it against his shoulder. "S'okay. You did great."
"I wanted to win." Ultear's voice was muffled by Harry's body. "I really, really wanted to win."
"I know you did. I'm proud of you."
Outside, Meredy leaned against the door. She just listened, looking at the ceiling, until she took a deep breath and stepped away.
Meredy looked around as she walked through part of the Domus Flau she'd not visited before. It was somewhere underground, based on the cool temperature of the air. The floor was a mellow clay color with stone walls and lots of evenly spaced doors.
The doors were all closed except for one. It sent a cone of light spilling into the hallway.
Meredy stopped there, curious, and gazed inside. The room was nearly identical to the one that she just visited, down to the bed occupied by a bruised and battered mage.
She waited in the doorway. It was a long time before the woman inside noticed her.
"What?" Minerva asked. "Are you here for revenge?"
Despite being the victor, Meredy thought she looked worse than Ultear. Her broken nose had been fixed by the doctors but there were still cuts across her face. Of course, she had an identical swollen bruise taking up the majority of her forehead. The treatment room looked cavernous with only one woman in it.
"Revenge for what?" Meredy asked. "You won this time. I guess."
Meredy visibly looked around the empty room, causing Minerva to bristle.
"I did win," Minerva insisted.
"You did," Meredy said. "So who's celebrating with you?"
"What does that matter—!"
Meredy turned as footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty hallway. A young blond man with Sabertooth's mark on his left shoulder was striding toward them. When he saw Meredy, his face turned downright acidic. "What do you want, Fairy?"
Meredy met Sting's angry gaze, even when he stopped right in front of her.
"Nothing. I was just leaving."
"Make sure you do," Sting said.
Meredy rolled her eyes. She stepped around him, her boots clicking against the floor. She was almost gone when Sting's voice stopped her.
"I'm not going to lose to you again!"
She stopped and looked back. This time, she was smirking. "Are you sure about that?"
"I won't lose," Sting insisted. "If it wasn't some silly race with so many rules, I would've—"
"You would've what?" Meredy asked. "You would've beaten me?"
"Yes," Sting said.
Meredy laughed, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. "The games aren't over. Maybe you'll get your chance."
Sting watched her leave.
O-O-O
Minerva leaned back in her hospital bed. She enjoyed the cool embrace of the stone wall behind her. It helped her ignore the ache in her forehead, like a soothing pack of ice. She stared at the ceiling while Sting talked.
"—Master says that you did well, winning such an important match—"
"No he didn't," Minerva said.
Sting shifted uncomfortably. She saw it in her peripheral vision.
"You defended Sabertooth's honor proudly."
"And marred the guild's image." Minerva pulled her head away from the wall, looking at the blond man four years her junior. "Winning isn't enough. The audience watched a close contest. Father demands domination."
"...He did say it was good you won."
Minerva laughed. "If I hadn't, he would be here himself, punishing me. Did he even send you?"
"Not everything I do is decided by the guild master," Sting said.
"So you came on your own." Minerva opened her mouth, hesitated, began to close it, then pushed through. "Thank you."
Sting looked surprised. He hid it with a smile. "Of course! We're still comrades, aren't we?"
Minerva flinched.
Her breath sped up. Her fingers squeezed the blanket that was over her legs, spasming as her grip relaxed and strengthened. For a second, she felt like she could hear an explosion, going off right next to her.
"—erva? Minerva?"
Sting was touching her shoulder. He looked worried. Minerva barked at him. "I'm fine!"
"Is it your head?" Sting asked. "I can get the doctor."
"I'm not so weak! I'm basically healed! You've said what you needed to, so leave."
He shifted weight between his feet. "Are you sure?"
"Leave."
She said the word low and soft, taking no disagreement. Sting backed up. He was a powerful mage himself, so he must have sensed that staying close was dangerous.
"Okay." Sting backed up another two steps. "Okay. It sounds like they're going to send you home tomorrow. If you need Rogue or I to help you—"
"I'll be quite alright."
"Okay," Sting said, one more time. "Bye, then."
He ducked out. Minerva forced herself to breathe deeply. She sucked in a breath so large that it hurt her chest, blowing it out in a steady stream. She no longer heard explosions. She was in a hospital room, alone, and she had won without killing. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Not for lack of trying.
It was some time later — not long, Minerva thought, but it felt very long to her — that she heard footsteps again. She looked up.
It could have been Sting. She wouldn't have hated that. Her hope was for another man, as ridiculous as it was to think he would check on her.
She was completely unprepared for the stranger she saw standing there.
He was dressed like a doctor up to the neck. His face wasn't visible, with a red hood drawn over it covering his eyes. He raised his hand, holding a paintbrush, and— magic!
Pict Magic activated in the air as the man painted a simple arrow in two strokes. As soon as it was formed, the arrow shot at Minerva. Territory Magic appeared around her hands.
She meant to reverse the arrow's path and shoot it back at the man attacking her. When she tried, her head ached and her vision swam. Minerva realized that she was going to fail and aborted the attempt, swiping her hand to the side. The arrow was thrown into the wall in a much less complex defense.
The enemy mage growled. Minerva noticed, with a slightly sinking heart, that he had already prepared three more arrows. Using her magic left her feeling like she would vomit. Worse, she heard footsteps outside the door, and three more men appeared. One looked like a monkey, another was wearing a mechanic's outfit with a wrench in either hand, and the third who was dressed as a high school delinquent. The delinquent carried a bat while the monkey man had some kind of knife.
"She has some power left. We have to move fast," said the man in the hood.
"If you think you have any chance against a mage of Sabertooth—"
Minerva's threat wasn't enough. All of them except the man in the hood ran into the room, while he wielded his pict magic from the back to fire all three arrows at Minerva's head.
She defended them. Barely. When she scattered the arrows, she was left with nausea in the pit of her stomach. The magic around her hands flickered and failed.
Damn Ultear. Damn these games. Damn whoever these fools were, so weak that she should have been able to crush them beneath her boot without breaking a sweat, who attacked when she could barely sit up straight. She couldn't possibly, to these weaklings—!
"White Dragon's Iron Fist!"
The Pict mage age in the back found his feet in the air and his hooded head embedded facedown in the floor. Sting crouched over him, yanking an arm clad in white light out of the crater it made. The other three mages froze. Their target was still in front of them. But the way out was blocked by a very angry, very frightening dragon slayer
"I don't know who you guys are, so I guess I should avoid hitting one of your faces, so I can find out," Sting said. "The rest are on the menu."
The mysterious assailants looked at each other and scattered.
The mechanic hit his wrenches together and created a kinetic blast. Sting was unfazed when it hit him. The wall couldn't say the same. It crumbled, giving the mages a way out that didn't involve the narrow door with a Dragon Slayer standing in it.
Sting wasn't going to let them go easily. He flew to the side, kicking the monkey-man into the wall. After the impact, the mage slid down the side, his knife tumbling from his hand.
The delinquent tried to hit him with his bat. Sting caught it and squeezed.
Minerva watched the mage's eyes get wider and wider as Sting's hand, coated in white light, began to crack the metal bat. After ten seconds, it shattered in two. This wasn't the one whose face Sting was going to spare, as he gave him a punch that shattered the man's cheek.
"Look!" Minerva said.
Sting turned and saw the mage in the mechanic's outfit, who had been slow before, accelerate faster than was natural. Sting cried out. "Speed Magic! You're not getting away that easily!"
Light curled around him and he gave chase, the two of them vanishing down the hallway. Minerva felt as if a storm had just passed.
"What in the world…"
She hissed, pressing a hand to her head. The adrenaline was beginning to bleed out, leaving her truly exhausted. She hadn't been this worn down since she was young, training with her father. When she peeled her hand away from her face, she watched it wobble side to side, blurring.
"A concussion?" Minerva asked. Her voice sounded loud and made her head hurt worse, so she shut up. She took a deep breath.
In the silence, she heard something move.
Her head jerked up. She had to look twice to understand that the monkey-looking mage's body dissolving wasn't a trick of her blurry eyesight.
He reappeared on his feet, uninjured and still holding his knife. Illusion magic. Minerva tried to call on her power, but the only thing she summoned was bile to the back of her throat. The man with the monkey face was grinning. His teeth were sharp, with slightly more of them in his mouth than a human should have. He took his knife, a long six inch blade of sharp rusted metal, and thrust at Minerva's throat.
Blood hit Minerva's cheek. It wasn't her own.
A hand had gotten between her and the blade, stopping the weapon at the cost of being pierced. If not for the woman's bright bubblegum-pink hair, Minerva would've struggled to place who had saved her. A band of light appeared around Meredy's wrist. Even with her hand pierced, she never made a noise. The enemy mage began to scream.
He dropped the weapon, falling to his knees, clutching what looked like an uninjured hand as tears poured from his eyes. "Please," he said. "Please… Please…"
Meredy grabbed the handle of the blade.
"You were going to stab someone with only that much conviction?" She yanked the blade out of her hand, speckling his fur with blood. "Pathetic."
Eight glowing swords appeared around the mage. He was promptly turned into a pincushion and fell to the side, foaming from his mouth.
Meredy stepped over him, walking to a cupboard of medical supplies, and withdrew a wad of bandages. She calmly began the process of wrapping her punctured hand.
"You need healing magic," Minerva croaked.
"I'll get some." Meredy didn't seem in a rush. "Who was this fool?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I may have an idea," Meredy admitted. "I just don't know what they want with you."
She went to the delinquent Sting had knocked out. His face was swelling into an ugly bloated shape. Meredy grabbed his collar instead, yanking it down enough to show a guild mark.
It looked like an upside down pentagon, the letters B and U printed inside of it. Meredy's lips curled.
"Black Unicorn. Weak, pathetic lackeys of Oración Seis. The only men I've ever seen who look like that," she pointed at the monkey-man, "are Naked Mummy, another cut from the same cloth. The man with his head buried into the floor looks like he's from Red Hood. What did the last one look like?"
"Mechanic." Minerva stuck to one-word answers, her voice weak.
"Harpuia." Meredy grimaced. "But what are Oración Seis dregs doing here…?"
She looked over, and what she saw convinced her that Minerva wasn't going to be the one giving any answers. She stood up and sighed.
"I wonder where those doctors got off to." Meredy looked at the outfit the Red Hood mage was wearing and sighed. "Maybe that's one of them. I guess I should go back to the guild accommodations first."
Minerva watched her, saying nothing. She still couldn't see very well. She hadn't liked Meredy before, and despite the woman saving her, Minerva's opinion hadn't changed. Still, it was obvious that Meredy wasn't out to hurt her, which was why Minerva didn't want her to go. Meredy looked back, and based on her expression she could sense some of Minerva's thoughts.
"You beat Ultear, so you can't be weak," Meredy said. "You'll be fine. Besides, I know there's company you'd prefer to mine."
She walked out after saying that, leaving Minerva feeling dizzy on the bed, sharing her hospital room with three bound and unconscious dark mages.
Slowly, Minerva processed that yes, the mages were all bound. Thick cables of rope were wound around their bodies, preventing them from moving an inch. Who had done that? When had it been done?
A hand had just appeared over her shoulder. Whose? And her stiff bed was bending down slightly. Someone else was now sitting on it.
She turned her head and there was Harry, leaning on the wall the way that she was, holding her against his side. Her eyes widened comically.
He laughed.
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "You only noticed me now? You really are out of it. Even Jose didn't manage to push you this far. Here."
He took something out of his… Pocket? Bag? Minerva couldn't see where it came from, just that he was holding out a vial of dark purple liquid.
"Just relax," Harry said. "You'll feel better when you wake up."
He put it to her lips and Minerva dazedly swallowed it. It tasted like pulped berry seeds. That was the last observation Minerva had time to make before she slipped into a blissful oblivion.