Upon returning to the guild, the first order of business was naturally to distribute the mission rewards.
Although they hadn't contributed much effort, the Magic Council still paid them as usual.
When the Magic Council summoned the various Wizard Guilds for action, it certainly wasn't without compensation.
Even soldiers need their pay, let alone Wizard Guilds that were essentially affiliates.
Gathering everyone for a mission naturally required payment.
"It'd be great if we got more missions like this," Macao said with a grin as he received a fairly generous reward.
"You're dreaming. This time, we only made it because Marco was here. Without him, your half-baked magic might've gotten you killed in the forest. The compensation for your death would've been higher—too bad you wouldn't be alive to spend it," Wakaba retorted mercilessly.
"Half-baked?! Wakaba, are you looking for a fight?!" Macao immediately glared at his old friend, furious at the blunt insult.
Wakaba didn't back down either, and the two were about to come to blows when the crowd around them egged them on, eager for some entertainment.
"It's good to be back at the guild," Marco mused, feeling genuinely at ease.
After spending two or three months alone in Nord Forest, battling magic beasts every day, even the usual guild squabbles now seemed amusing to him.
Compared to solitude, Marco much preferred the lively atmosphere.
Though he could endure loneliness, given the choice, he'd always opt to be with his guildmates.
"BOOM!"
A loud explosion sent Macao and Wakaba flying just as they were about to brawl.
Makarov calmly retracted his giant fist, completely unfazed by the two he'd just punched away.
"Good work, everyone. Go get some rest," Makarov announced under the guild members' expectant gazes.
But no one dispersed—they were waiting for him to continue.
"Tomorrow night, we'll hold a celebration feast for the successful completion of the mission!"
At this, the crowd erupted in cheers, thoroughly satisfied.
As everyone slowly dispersed, their faces lit up with excitement—partly because of the generous rewards, but mostly because of the upcoming feast.
Even though Fairy Tail threw parties all the time, no one ever got tired of them.
After everyone had left, Marco and Makarov were the last to close up the guild and head home together.
"That brat Laxus wouldn't even come back to stay for a single day," Makarov grumbled, still irritated that Laxus had outright refused his invitation.
"You could always go stay at his place. He can't refuse that," Marco suggested with a laugh.
"Absolutely not! He didn't invite me," Makarov huffed, puffing up in frustration.
Laxus was such a handful.
If only he were even a tenth as sensible as Marco, Makarov wouldn't be this upset.
The contrast was just too painful.
The little old man huffed back to his room, leaving Marco with a helpless smile.
Although Makarov was usually quite rational, there were times when the rebellious Laxus would get under his skin—this grandfather-grandson pair truly had a love-hate relationship.
Marco returned to his own room and began studying his gains.
He had been continuously converting magic power into Ki.
Magic power was something he had in abundance, as it could be endlessly produced, so he didn't need to be frugal with it.
The only issue was that the conversion speed was a bit slow.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Marco channeled his magic power into "Ki" while sensing the flow of "Ki" within his body.
He attempted to bypass the intermediate step of converting magic power into "Ki," trying instead to directly absorb the natural energy of the world or convert his own vibrant life force into "Ki."
But each attempt ended in failure.
Still, Marco wasn't discouraged.
He kept trying, confident that he would eventually uncover the trick.
...
The next afternoon, Marco's eyes snapped open, gleaming with sharp intensity.
With a thought, his body was suddenly clad in a suit of armor with an ink-wash aesthetic—majestic, highly protective, and covered in dragon-scale-like plating.
Overall, it resembled the "God Cloth" form of the Draco constellation, but sharper, more aggressive, and without a shield.
"Not bad. The boost from this Robe is on par with a Gold Saint Cloth."
Marco was quite satisfied with the enhancements provided by his "Azure Dragon Robe."
It was practically equivalent to a Gold Saint Cloth, though it lacked the inherited techniques of one.
The full potential of the "Azure Dragon Robe" would have to be explored by Marco himself.
Dismissing the robe, Marco tidied up and hurried to the guild—there was a banquet to attend today.
By the time he arrived, the guild hall was already lively, with many of his comrades having shown up early.
"Marco, why are you so late? If you'd taken any longer, we would've sent someone to fetch you."
Makarov greeted him as he entered, his gaze flickering meaningfully toward Erza, Mirajane, and the kids.
The children, spotting Marco, immediately cheered and waved at him.
But it wasn't just them—the entire guild warmly welcomed him with enthusiastic greetings.
This victory banquet couldn't possibly be held without Marco, because the only reason they were celebrating a victory rather than holding a memorial service was due to Marco's single-handed efforts in turning the tide.
Everyone had witnessed with their own eyes the terrifying Beast Tide.
They all knew that without Marco, casualties would have been highly likely, and no one would have been in the mood for any celebration under such circumstances.