Having Fun in Fairy Tail

[January X791: South Coast of Bosco]

"You're from Fairy Tail! You can't kill us!" the balding man screamed, his voice trembling with fear as his wide eyes darted around the room.

Bodies lay crumpled all around him, dozens of his guildmates impaled in an instant. Blood pooled beneath them, their wounds gaping, lifeless forms sprawled across the wooden floor. Desperately, the man began forming a magic circle with his trembling hands, but before he could complete it, the red-haired man in front of him moved.

Darius's spear blurred, faster than the eye could follow. A hole appeared in the man's chest, and the unfinished magic circle dissipated into nothingness as his body collapsed to the ground.

Darius didn't even glance at his fallen opponent. His mana flared, an overwhelming force that caused the walls around him to creak and groan under the pressure. With a single motion, he unleashed it, and the entire wooden structure exploded into splinters, scattering bodies and debris into the night.

As the dust settled, Darius turned and walked away, his gaze fixed on the pale, cold moon hanging high in the sky. He knew Gremmy's predictions well, and his mission would soon reach its conclusion.

Over the last seven years, Darius hadn't grown more powerful, but his control over his abilities had become razor-sharp. His Djinn Equip had never been necessary in battle—no enemy had come close to pushing him that far. Even S-Class quests had proven trivial, leaving his Metal Vessel untouched. His Djinn, Alloces, felt almost forgotten, its immense power lying dormant from lack of use. Yet Darius still remembered the magic it granted, waiting quietly within him.

What had changed, however, was the guild. Those who embraced his grueling training had grown far stronger. He saw it in the way they fought, in how they carried themselves. Not all had risen to the challenge, but enough had for Fairy Tail to feel like a guild reclaiming its strength.

And now, as Gremmy had told him, the old members were returning.

–

"Hey, Darius!" Max called out, grinning as he walked over to the table. "I heard you finished all the S-Class missions for the month!"

He plopped into a seat beside Darius, joined by Laki, Alzack, and little Asuka, who climbed onto her father's lap.

"Hi, grumpy uncle!" Asuka chirped, her bright eyes fixed on Darius.

Darius smirked faintly, raising his mug and tilting it just enough to hide it from Asuka's view. "Sharp ears for someone so little," he said, amused by her boldness.

"But yes, Max," he continued, his tone steady. "I've completed every S-Class mission available. This is my well-earned rest for the month."

"No training?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow as he sipped his drink. Nearby, Alzack handed Asuka a small cup of juice, which she eagerly accepted.

"No training," Darius confirmed, setting his mug down deliberately. "For seven years, I've pushed this guild to its limits. It has been a demanding journey, but you've all grown stronger. You've rebuilt what was lost and honored the legacy of those who came before."

A moment of silence followed as his words settled over the group.

Then Asuka broke the tension with a cheerful, "Yay! Mom and Dad are so strong!" She raised her little cup in celebration, her bright smile contagious.

"But we're still not first," Alzack said with a gentle smile, patting Asuka on the head.

"Yeah, Alzack's right," Laki added, leaning back. "Sabertooth and Lamia Scale are still ahead of us."

Max nodded in agreement. "If Bisca hadn't been pregnant during the Grand Magic Games, especially with the sniper competition, we might've finished first."

Darius glanced at Max, his strongest student. Over the years, Max's Sandstorm Magic had become incredibly refined—evidence of his dedication and hard work.

"Only for a year," Darius reminded them, his voice calm. "And let's not forget, that was the year the Twin Dragons didn't compete. Besides, you all decided I shouldn't participate."

"Of course!" Laki said with a grin. "You're way stronger than anyone who competes. It would've been cheating!"

Darius raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "There's no such thing as cheating when millions of Jewel are on the line. Perhaps I should stop donating to the guild and see if you still feel that way."

The table erupted into nervous laughter as Darius finished his drink and set it down.

"Miss Kinana, may I have another?" he called politely.

"Yes, Darius, coming right up!" Kinana's cheerful voice rang out as she moved to refill his mug.

Alzack leaned back, glancing at Darius. "So, have you thought about the Wizard Saint title?"

"I've considered it," Darius replied with a slight shrug. "But I won't take it. Too much paperwork, and the title offers no real benefits."

Alzack chuckled. "Sounds about right. I figured it'd be more trouble than it's worth for you."

–

Later that night, the party wound down. Darius glanced to his right, seeing Max asleep in a chair while Laki was sprawled over the table, a contented smile on her face.

They had shared stories and laughter, and as Darius looked up at the night sky, a heavy thought settled in his chest. He would need a lot of courage to tell them he was leaving the guild.

They were his friends now—something he never thought he'd have. He, who had no equals, not even Sinbad, had found companionship in this chaotic group. Somehow, these rowdy mages had melted the walls around his heart.

As he stood to leave, a faint voice stopped him.

"Darius…"

He turned and saw Laki still asleep, mumbling. "I'll… defeat you… promise…" she murmured softly.

Darius paused, a small smile forming on his lips. "We'll see, Miss Olietta," he whispered before stepping out into the quiet of the night.

--

[January X791: Sindria's Palace]

"Listen here, you half-man swordsman! Let me through!" the red-haired boy snapped, his crimson eyes burning with impatience.

"Oh, no, no, no," Sharrkan growled, stepping forward and pointing his sword toward the boy. "Kouha, you and your brothers aren't barging into our palace to stir up trouble!"

Kouha Ren, small but radiating arrogance, glared up at the taller swordsman. His long, red hair fell messily over his shoulders, the decorative ornaments in it jingling slightly as he shifted.

"I have a message for my brother inside!" Kouha shot back, his voice sharp and determined.

"Then you wait your turn," another voice interrupted.

The silver-haired man standing nearby stepped forward, his presence as cold and commanding as his voice. Nozel Silva's polished armor gleamed under the palace lights, and his sharp, calculating eyes locked on Kouha. "You don't get to throw tantrums and bypass protocol just because you're impatient. Wait like everyone else."

Kouha clenched his fists, visibly holding back a retort, as Sharrkan smirked, clearly enjoying the tension. "That's right, kid. Take a seat or take a hike," Sharrkan added with a mocking tone, his sword still resting on his shoulder.

"Kid?!" Kouha snapped, his crimson eyes blazing as a black sword materialized in his hands. "You're dead meat, Sindria scum!"

"Oh? The brat wants a duel?" Sharrkan replied with a wide grin, his sword beginning to glow blue as crackling lightning danced along its tip.

Before the two could clash, the air in the room shifted.

Nozel's mana surged, cold and oppressive, as silver mercury began swirling around him like a coiled serpent. His sharp eyes narrowed at the impending chaos.

Then, three more powerful presences flared in the room.

The first came from a tall, blonde woman with bronze skin, standing confidently with a sword strapped to her back. Her piercing gaze assessed the situation, ready to intervene.

The second came from a man in a pristine white haori bearing the symbol for "Six" on the back. His calm yet intimidating aura filled the space as he adjusted the edge of his coat, his eyes sharp with experience.

The last presence belonged to an older man, his war-era uniform crisp and perfectly maintained. With a pair of square glasses perched on his nose and a stern expression, he exuded the weight of authority from years on the battlefield.

The tension in the room was thick as the mana from all sides seemed to pulse against one another, filling the air with a palpable charge.

"Kouha, enough!" Nozel barked, his voice like ice. "This is not the place for your petty outbursts."

The blonde woman crossed her arms, her tone firm yet calm. "He's right. If you want to fight, take it outside before you wreck the palace."

Kouha hesitated, his grip on his sword tightening. Sharrkan, however, didn't back down, his grin widening as the electricity crackling along his blade grew more intense.

"Come on, kid," Sharrkan taunted. "Show me what you've got."

But the man in the haori stepped forward, his presence alone commanding silence. "Enough," he said quietly, yet his voice carried through the room like a wave. "This is neither the time nor the place for childish squabbles. Stand down."

The room stilled, the weight of his authority pressing down on everyone present, forcing even Kouha to begrudgingly lower his weapon.

The door creaked open, and a man's head leaned through the gap. His thin face was framed by disheveled brown hair, and tired golden eyes peeked out beneath dark, furrowed brows. A faint limp accompanied his movements as he stepped into the room, his attire neat but worn.

"What's going on here?" the man, Victor, asked with a sigh, his tone calm but carrying the weight of someone used to dealing with chaos.

"It's them!" Kouha exclaimed, his voice sharp as he thrust a finger toward Sharrkan. "I have a message for my brother, but they refuse to let me deliver it!"

Victor raised a brow, his golden eyes shifting from Kouha's irritated expression to Sharrkan's smug grin. Without a word, Kouha shoved a parchment into Victor's hands, clearly frustrated.

Victor looked it over briefly before his lips curled into a faint smile. "Kouha, you should be more patient. Charging into situations like this doesn't solve anything," he said, his tone soft and almost fatherly.

Kouha grumbled something under his breath, avoiding Victor's gaze.

"Now, go on. I'll make sure your message gets to where it needs to go," Victor said gently, giving the boy a light pat on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

With a final glance at the room, Victor offered a slight nod and closed the door behind him.

As soon as it clicked shut, Nozel crossed his arms, his silver eyes narrowing. "I still can't believe someone like him is S-Class," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief.

Sharrkan snorted, lightning still crackling faintly around his sword. "That man's smarter than all of us combined. S-Class isn't just about brute strength, Nozel."

Nozel huffed but said nothing.

–

"So, what was all that noise about?" Kouen asked, his tone impatient as Victor stepped into the room.

"Your brother wanted this delivered to you," Victor replied calmly, handing over the parchment.

Kouen frowned, taking it from him. "He could've just sent me a message through my Lacrima," he grumbled, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment to read it.

Victor said nothing, simply giving a small shrug before heading back to his seat.

"Well, can we get back to the meeting now?" Sinbad chimed in, leaning back in his chair as he eyed his fellow S-Class mages.

Victor nodded, taking his seat again, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly focused as the room settled down.

"So, we need to decide who we'll send to the Magic Games," Sinbad continued, leaning forward slightly. "As Gremmy mentioned, it seems Fairy Tail is making a serious comeback, and there's word that some so-called dragons—described as being quite powerful—will also make an appearance."

"Dragons, you say?" A man dressed in regal attire said with a smile. His face was youthful yet wise, with short, well-kept blonde hair and sharp, intelligent purple eyes that carried both curiosity and a playful edge.

"I can't wait!" Julius said excitedly, his eyes lighting up. "Can I participate?"

"No, Julius," another voice replied, calm but firm. Yhwach, the Quincy leader, stood wrapped in shadows, his presence heavy. "Only low A-Rank or B-Rank mages are allowed to participate. Besides, these dragons bring more than just games—they bring war. And war is such an ugly affair."

At the mention of war, Kouen's ears perked up. A subtle but unmistakable smile spread across his face, the very idea sparking his interest.

Julius, meanwhile, deflated in disappointment. "I just wanted to see their magic," he muttered, his excitement fading into a soft pout as the room fell quiet again.

"We've got time to decide," a brown-haired man said, his voice smooth and magnetic. "But sending our younger members to gain some experience sounds like a good plan."

Before anyone could respond, a wave of heat filled the room as an older man across from him opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

"Aizen," the old man growled with a deep frown. "And Yhwach… sharing a room with the two of you makes my skin crawl."

"Here they go again," Victor muttered with a tired sigh as he leaned back in his chair. Julius, on the other hand, watched the brewing chaos with childlike excitement, practically bouncing in place.

Meanwhile, Sinbad waved over a nearby servant, his smile far too deadpan to be comforting. "Bring enough materials to reconstruct the palace after the meeting," he said flatly.

The servant's face drained of color before she bolted out the door as though her life depended on it.

"You both deserve death!" Yamamoto roared, flames erupting as he drew his sword, his anger directed squarely at Aizen and Yhwach.

"Well, I guess we'll be deciding later," Kouen said dryly, standing up as the tension exploded into chaos. He moved to leave but was quickly grabbed by Sinbad and Victor, the latter limping along behind them as they hurried to escape.

The door shut behind them just as the first fiery explosion rattled the palace walls.

"Again?" Nozel asked with a deadpan expression as Julius appeared at his side, his excitement still far too inappropriate for the situation.

"Yeah, those old fossils are at it again," Sinbad said with a heavy sigh. "I just hope the wards I put in place can hold them this time."

The palace trembled as Yamamoto, Aizen, and Yhwach clashed, shaking the very foundation of the room.

Sinbad groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why couldn't the meeting have been in your palace, Kouen? You've got more resources to deal with this kind of destruction."

Kouen didn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, he turned to his younger brother, hoisting him under one arm like a sack of potatoes. "You've got answers to give," he said flatly, walking off with his sibling flailing in protest.

Sinbad and Julius exchanged glances, both equally done with the situation.

"Think we should step in?" Julius asked, though his tone suggested he was more interested in watching.

"No," Sinbad replied without hesitation. "Let them blow off some steam. It's cheaper this way."

–

Well here goes the chapter, a smaller one this time.

Hope you liked it, you can propose some kind of Faction in animes that I can implement, you have seen all the ones I thought would be cool.

Hope you liked it, see you soon :) 

Next chapter, Gremmy's antics.