Alzack and Bisca were only around fourteen now—far too young during the empire's last nationwide mobilization.
Yet even then, they had already understood the fate awaiting them as Mages: an inevitable march to the frontlines.
No exceptions were made.
Over the years, the Alvarez Empire has continued its war preparations, constantly building various magical ships in readiness for their next assault on Ishgar.
'Their ambition for invasion truly knows no bounds.'
Marco wasn't the least bit surprised by this news.
The Alvarez Empire would undoubtedly become a troublesome adversary in the future.
Marco's decision to take in these immigrants from the western continent served two purposes: first, to prevent them from causing chaos, and second, to gather more intelligence about the Alvarez Empire.
This was absolutely necessary—he couldn't afford to remain completely in the dark about their existence.
As it turned out, this was a wise decision.
Though most of these western immigrants were of humble origins, the information they provided gave Marco a deeper understanding of the western continent.
"The western continent, under that emperor's rule, has been completely transformed into a war machine. He cares nothing for the lives of the common people—only for his own ambitions and goals."
This was one western immigrant's assessment of their emperor.
Highly subjective, yet it resonated with many others.
Though none of them had ever seen the emperor in person—they were just insignificant commoners, after all.
In the distant western continent, the Alvarez Empire presented a facade of "peace and prosperity," as if this militarily powerful empire had no issues whatsoever in other aspects.
No—even if someone did notice problems, they wouldn't speak up.
They didn't believe they could change anything.
The entire Alvarez Empire was shrouded beneath the emperor's overwhelming shadow.
For those who wished to escape that shadow, there was only one option: "emigration."
A polite term for what was essentially "smuggling"—sneaking away from the Alvarez Empire's territory.
The emperor wouldn't care about such trivial matters, nor would he notice these fleeing commoners.
Mages like Bisca and Alzack were not uncommon.
Some hid away, living peaceful lives detached from worldly affairs, while others joined major guilds, becoming officially recognized Mages—at least they could live more freely than in the Alvarez Empire.
After this brief interlude, the housewarming feast soon began.
Loke clearly didn't have the influence to convince Mirajane to cook for everyone at his place, so this time, they had hired professional chefs.
"What a shame you couldn't taste Mira's cooking."
Marco felt genuinely sorry for Bisca, Alzack, and Loke.
Had they dared to ask or invite her, Mira might very well have agreed.
Recently, she'd grown fond of cooking for everyone—it turned them all into "praise monsters," even forcing Erza to admit defeat.
But since Loke and Alzack, the hosts of the housewarming, didn't extend the invitation, Mira couldn't very well take over.
Thus, they missed out on this opportunity—Mira even had new dishes she'd just developed, waiting to be tasted.
Truly, it was their loss.
"Mira's cooking is that good?" Bisca was astonished, glancing at Mirajane beside her.
Her reaction was understandable—Mira's usual demeanor didn't exactly scream "domestic goddess" or "culinary master."
"Looks like I'll have to cook something for you all to try."
Seeing Bisca, Alzack, and Loke all looking at her with surprise, Mirajane quickly made up her mind.
She would dispel their doubts on the spot and address their skepticism.
"No problem, there are plenty of ingredients left."
As the host, Loke immediately agreed.
"I'm already looking forward to what kind of delicacy this will be."
Marco also chimed in, expressing his anticipation for the dish.
Everyone else followed suit, slowing down their eating pace.
Although the chef Loke had hired wasn't bad, compared to Mira, they simply weren't on the same level.
Amid everyone's eager anticipation, Mira soon brought out a steaming pot of soup—her latest exclusive recipe. It promised a novel experience and was guaranteed to be incredibly delicious.
Marco glanced at it.
Though it looked rather plain, like a simple mix of vegetables and meat boiled together—even slightly green—the rich aroma that wafted over was undeniable, instantly whetting the appetite.
Mirajane ladled a bowl for each person, perfectly finishing the pot.
Truly befitting the title of "Culinary Goddess," her portion control was impeccable.
Everyone picked up their spoons and began tasting. With the first sip, many strange sounds like "Mmm!" and "Wow!" erupted—exclamations of astonishment at the soup's deliciousness.
It was quite an exaggerated reaction.
"Delicious."
Marco's comment was simple, only slightly more sophisticated than "tasty," but he genuinely didn't know how else to describe the soup.
Its unique flavor deserved quiet, repeated savoring.
Unfortunately, there was only this small bowl to enjoy.
Seeing everyone's reaction to her new dish, Mirajane was very satisfied.
A sense of fulfillment washed over her, and she began seriously considering whether to take over Aero's position after her "retirement."
It was a tempting choice.
If everyone knew Mirajane's thoughts, they would undoubtedly support her wholeheartedly.
In truth, Aero wasn't a full-time chef either.
Besides her, there was a dedicated catering team to assist, as she also had to handle registrations, greet guests, and sometimes wouldn't even step into the kitchen for an entire day.
Under such circumstances, a professional team was naturally needed for food service.
She only cooked personally when she had the time.
Mirajane didn't bring up the matter further.
She planned to quietly approach Aero later to seek advice.
If she were to take over in the future, she wouldn't be caught off guard or make mistakes.
Of course, for Mirajane, the most pressing matter at hand was still her promotion to S-Class.
Having failed this time, she absolutely had to succeed next year.
She couldn't allow herself to fail again—losing to Erza was one thing, but losing to anyone else was unacceptable.
...
The lively housewarming feast soon came to an end, and everyone dispersed to their homes.
Bisca didn't live outside; she chose to stay in the girls' dormitory, which was quite normal.
Although she had arrived with a group of immigrants, none of them were her relatives.
Being alone, there was no need for her to move out.
The atmosphere in the girls' dorm was excellent, and living with everyone helped her integrate quickly.
Despite the dorm supervisor, Grandma Hilda, appearing strict, she took care of everyone meticulously.
Ever since Marco saved her from a life-threatening situation last time, Grandma Hilda had rarely traveled far.
The old lady focused on being the dormitory supervisor, praying every day for the girls going out on missions, hoping each one would complete their tasks smoothly and return safely.
Compared to the boys' dormitory, which had been destroyed and became nothing more than a memory of the past, the girls' dormitory was almost too normal.
So normal that sometimes even the landlord, Mr. Lazio, found it strange—why had his property never suffered any damage?
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