"So this is the place…"
Makarov ventured deep into the forest, far removed from civilization on the continent of Fiore. Normally, matters of this nature would be ranked and assigned to a guild. But this time was different—far too different.
The Magic Council had deemed the situation beyond the capabilities of an ordinary guild. Under normal circumstances, Makarov would have entrusted the task to Gildarts, whose abilities he fully acknowledged. However, Gildarts was away on a mission of his own. In the end, the Ten Wizard Saints had no choice but to take matters into their own hands.
That was why Makarov had been chosen to investigate.
He walked on undisturbed despite the heavy jungle surrounding him. There were no roads, no hunters' paths—not even animal tracks. And yet, he proceeded with an almost leisurely calm. Soon, he passed between two gigantic trees, their towering forms resembling a gateway into the realm of fairies themselves.
What lay beyond was so bizarre that it sent goosebumps crawling across his skin.
Beyond the trees stretched an open field—
a field meant for tending corpses.
To the right stood a small cabin. To the left was a doghouse, followed by a barn and a stable. Beside them grew a lone tree bearing a beehive. Nearby lay a small pond, then a chicken coop. The rest of the land was occupied by a vast field, with a small shed positioned at its far left corner. Beyond that flowed a river, crossed by narrow bridges leading toward the mountains.
Stranger still, ever since he had passed through the gate-like trees, Makarov had been hearing an odd, unfamiliar tone lingering in the air.
Then he noticed movement.
Something small wandered about the field and its surrounding structures—a childlike being clad in strikingly vivid colors. They noticed Makarov's presence but showed no reaction, continuing their work as though he did not exist.
It took Makarov several moments to regain his composure before he finally decided to speak.
"Hello. May I ask you something?"
The red-colored child stopped and turned toward him.
"Hello, Budum. It's a nice day to work today," they said—only to return to their task the very next second.
"…"
Makarov could make no sense of what was happening.
When an orange-colored child passed by, he tried once more.
"Child," he called out.
"Hello, Budum. We're going to have a tea party. Would you like to join?" the child replied casually before walking away as if nothing had happened.
The second attempt was enough for Makarov to understand.
It was as though none of them possessed a heart.
"Just what is this…?"
"Oh—Mayor? Did the mayor finally come?"
The voice that reached him was different from the ones before—clear, human, and unmistakably aware.
"But where's the red hat?"
Makarov turned around and saw a young man dressed in simple farmer's clothes, wearing a blue-and-yellow hat.
"Who are you? Are you the new mayor?" the young farmer asked.
"No. I'm Makarov, guild master of Fairy Tail. Do you live here?"
"Oh, so you're not." The man sounded genuinely disappointed. "That's a shame—but still, it's nice to meet you. I'm Rain. This place is called Cloud's Farm. Please, make yourself comfortable."
Rain took a few steps forward, then suddenly stopped and glanced back.
"Oh, if you're looking for the missing hunter, go past that bridge." He gestured vaguely toward the distance. "I wouldn't recommend it… but I suppose you'll be fine."
"Mhm." Makarov narrowed his eyes, intrigued by the comment. "May I have a bit of your time?"
"Hm, sure. Just give me a few minutes—I'll finish this first."
With that, Rain stepped into the chicken coop. A short while later, he emerged with several eggs cradled in his arms.
"Let's head to my place," he said casually. "It's nothing fancy, but I can at least prepare some herbal tea."
***
"So… do you live here alone?" Makarov asked, glancing around the cabin. Just as Rain had said, the interior was as simple as it could be.
A small table stood in the center of the room. A single bed occupied one corner. Near it sat a black box—its purpose unclear—and beside that, another box filled with tools.
"Mhm." Rain nodded. "Mostly, yes. Sometimes people visit—like you—but not very often."
He spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, yet knowing the nature of this forest, Makarov found it hard to imagine.
"I see." Makarov took a sip of the hot herbal tea. "This is quite delicious."
"Right?" Rain's face brightened. "I've tried many different blends, but this one's my favorite!"
"Tried many things…" Makarov murmured, probing subtly. "Do you mind telling me why you advised me not to cross the bridge?"
"There's a nasty spider over there," Rain replied, as casually as if he were reading the newspaper. "No one who crossed that bridge ever came back."
"Then why do you live here?" Makarov asked. He still couldn't believe someone chose to remain in such a place.
"Hm… not telling."
The blunt refusal left Makarov momentarily speechless. Rain had been cooperating so smoothly that the sudden shift caught him off guard.
"I have no reason to tell you," Rain added calmly. "There are two kinds of people who come here. Both try to cross the bridge. One is satisfied just passing through. The other can't control their greed." His gaze sharpened. "So—which one are you?"
The next moment, the entire cabin trembled as if struck by a massive earthquake. The ceiling shuddered violently. Then—crack—the roof was peeled away, and the walls collapsed outward, leaving the structure like an open box.
Behind Rain, the scenery warped and changed.
The peaceful field vanished, replaced by a colossal mountain looming so close it felt as though Makarov could reach out and touch it. The mountain erupted violently, spewing debris as rivers of magma surged downward. From both sides, a stampede of animals burst forth, charging toward them in blind panic.
It was nothing short of apocalyptic.
Makarov's eyes widened in disbelief. He had suspected something—but this far exceeded his expectations.
A soft glow gathered in his hand. He did not aim it at the oncoming stampede. Instead, he fired it straight into the air.
Boom.
His overwhelming magical power spread outward like a shockwave.
When Makarov's vision cleared, the illusion had collapsed.
What remained was a crude cabin: a roughly assembled table, poorly crafted furniture, all made with simple, unrefined carpentry. The vast field stretched out before him once more—plain, quiet, and real.
"I suppose my luck has run out," Rain said dejectedly. Makarov was far beyond what he could handle.
"That's an interesting kind of magic," Makarov remarked, turning away as the last traces of the illusion faded.
Then he froze.
Where the young farmer had been standing was now a child—no more than ten years old.
"…"
"Hah. Nice to meet you. I'm Rain," the boy said again, forcing a faint smile. "I'd appreciate it if you ended this quickly. No—really, it's better that way. I swear, you don't want to keep me alive as plaything."
Makarov frowned. The child understood something grim—sometimes, death was kinder than survival.
"I don't have that kind of preference," Makarov said quietly. "Just tell me—how did you end up living here?"
He sighed. Torture wasn't an option, and if Rain continued to refuse, he would have to find another approach.
"…Alright. Come with me."
The child stood and began walking.
Makarov nodded and followed. The field gradually gave way to the dense forest Makarov had passed through earlier—though part of the land remained exposed. His magic had corroded the illusion, disrupting it unevenly. Areas far from his influence remained untouched.
They reached the river and the bridge.
So this is an illusion too, Makarov thought.
"Didn't you say crossing the bridge was dangerous?" he asked, watching Rain carefully. There was fear in the boy—but not the kind meant for this place.
They crossed.
Beyond the bridge lay a narrow mountain path. After several minutes of climbing, they arrived at a waterfall halfway up the mountain.
"This is it," Rain said.
"Be careful. Don't overstep your place."
He gestured around them.
Aside from the small area where they stood, everything else was smothered in spiderwebs—layer upon layer, stretching in every direction as though trying to consume the entire mountain.
"That's—"
"You asked why I live here, right?" Rain cut in.
He pointed toward the web-covered expanse.
"That's the hunter."
Then he pointed at himself.
"And this… is the prey."