Chapter 252: Seven Years
The sea was silent.
After the Black Dragon, Acnologia, descended upon Tenrou Island with the fury of an apocalypse, it vanished as quickly as it had arrived, leaving nothing but churning waves and a void where an island used to be.
The Magic Council acted swiftly, or as swiftly as bureaucracy allowed. For six months, ships scoured the waters. Fairy Tail's remaining members in Magnolia searched with desperate, frantic energy, refusing to sleep, refusing to eat, refusing to believe the impossible truth.
But they found nothing.
No debris. No bodies. No magical residue. The island, and everyone on it—Natsu, Erza, Gray, Lucy, Wendy, Gildarts, Master Makarov... and Ren—had simply ceased to exist.
Hope is a cruel thing. It lingers long after logic has packed its bags and left. But as the months turned into years, even hope began to rust.
One year passed. The searches stopped.
Three years passed. The memorial services began.
Five years passed. The strongest guild in Fiore became a ghost story.
Seven years passed in the blink of an eye.
Hargeon Port. X791.
The port town was bustling with commerce, the smell of salt and fish filling the air. Seagulls cried overhead, diving for scraps in the harbor.
A young man stood at the edge of the pier, his hands gripping the wooden railing until his knuckles turned white. He gazed out at the endless expanse of blue, his dark eyes searching for a silhouette that he knew wouldn't appear.
The sea was calm today. A cool breeze brushed his messy black hair, carrying the scent of the ocean, but it carried no message. It brought no laughter of a fire dragon slayer, no stern commands from an armored titania, no lazy drawl from a lightning mage.
"How long are you going to stare at the sea?"
A female voice broke his trance.
"The job is done. The bandits have been handed over to the guards. Let's head back to the Guild."
Alzack Connell and Bisca Connell stood behind him. They had changed over the years. Alzack's hair was longer, partially covering his face, and he carried himself with the weary reliability of a veteran. Bisca, too, looked more mature, her cowgirl attire swapped for something more practical, though her beauty remained.
They looked at the unresponsive young man with a hint of helplessness and shared sorrow.
"Romeo," Bisca said softly, stepping forward. "If you don't hurry, your father will worry, you know. Macao... he gets anxious easily these days."
"That's right," Alzack added, adjusting the rifle on his back. "Macao entrusted us to take good care of you. We can't have you catching a cold staring at the ocean all day."
"Mm..."
The young man, Romeo Conbolt, finally turned around. He wore a scarf that looked suspiciously like the one Natsu Dragneel used to wear, though the scales were different. Seven years had passed, and the little boy who looked up to Natsu had grown into a sullen, quiet young man carrying the weight of a broken dream.
"Let's go," Romeo muttered, walking past them without making eye contact. His heart felt heavy, a stone in his chest that never went away.
Magnolia Town.
Far from the bustling center, on the outskirts near the hills, stood an old, small, dilapidated tavern. The wood was rotting, the sign hung crookedly, and the wind whistled through cracks in the walls.
This was the current Fairy Tail Guild.
The grand cathedral-like hall in the center of town had been seized as collateral for debts years ago. Now, they were relegated to this shack, a shadow of their former glory.
"Romeo isn't back yet?! It's been hours!"
Inside the dimly lit tavern, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a mustache paced back and forth nervously. "Are Alzack and Bisca taking good care of him? Did they run into a powerful monster? Is he eating properly?"
Macao Conbolt grumbled, wringing his hands. Due to the disappearance of the core members and elites of the Fairy Tail Guild, Macao, as the most senior Mage left, had been elected as the Fourth Guild Master. It was a title he never wanted, a crown of thorns he wore out of necessity.
"Stop yelling, you're not a child. Calm down, Macao."
Wakaba Mine, sitting at a table with a pipe in his mouth, blew a ring of smoke and sighed. He looked older too, his hair greying, his signature pompadour slightly deflated. "Romeo is a mage now. He can handle a simple escort mission. He's been out for a few days, and you've already whined about it a hundred times."
Macao whipped around, his face flushing. "I believe I asked you to address me as Guild Master!!"
"I've never seen a Guild Master like you," Wakaba retorted, rolling his eyes. "Master Makarov never panicked like a mother hen."
"Whatever," Macao scratched his head, deflating. The mention of the Third Master always stung. He looked around the desolate tavern. "What? Are there fewer people in the Guild again? Where is everyone?"
Macao's gaze swept across the room. It felt even emptier than usual. Seven years ago, the Fairy Tail Guild had hundreds of members, laughter echoing off the rafters. Now, barely a dozen remained.
Warren Rocko, sitting by the window, adjusted his telepathy headset—more out of habit than necessity. "It can't be helped, Master. No one will give commissions to a small, weak Guild like ours. People have bills to pay. They leave to find work elsewhere."
Nab Lasaro, who was—ironically—still standing in front of the request board, pointed at the few scraps of paper pinned there. "Look at how few requests we have in total!! Most of these are just finding lost pets or moving furniture. And the pay is peanuts."
Guild Mages earn their rewards through commissions. It's a simple economy. Strength brings fame, fame brings jobs, jobs bring money. Seven years ago, Fairy Tail was the undisputed king of Fiore. They received S-Class quests, national defense contracts, and lucrative monster hunting gigs.
Now? They were bottom feeders. The laughingstock of the magical world.
"Look at me! I'm about to finish my new dance!"
In the corner, Vijeeter Ecor was gyrating awkwardly, his limbs flailing. "I call it the 'Dance of the Weak'! It represents our struggle!"
"How disgusting... kick him out," Marcus groaned, covering his eyes.
At another table, Team Shadow Gear sat—or rather, what was left of it.
"Droy, has Earth's gravity increased recently?"
Jet, who hadn't changed much aside from looking more tired, teased his partner.
"Are you trying to say I've gotten fat, you bastard?!"
Droy shouted, holding a grilled sausage in one hand and a chicken leg in the other. Seven years had been unkind to Droy. The stress and depression of losing Levy had caused him to spiral into binge eating. He had transformed from a slightly chubby mage into a massive, bloated man who struggled to fit on the bench.
"If you know that, then lose some weight properly!" Jet complained, though there was no real malice in his voice, only concern. "Now, when we go on missions together, we always have to wait for you. You get winded walking up a hill! Look at Lidas, how slender he's become now."
Lidas Jonner, who was sketching on a pad nearby, looked up. He was indeed thinner, almost gaunt. "I was actually this build originally. I only maintained that larger physique back then to make using my 'Pict Magic' more convenient. More body surface area meant more canvas. But now... I don't really feel like drawing much."
"I also exercise every day!! Haven't you noticed? Look at these muscles buried under here!!" Droy argued stubbornly, taking a bite of the chicken.
"What would Levy say if she saw you now?" Jet muttered, the name slipping out before he could stop it.
The atmosphere in the tavern instantly dropped to absolute zero.
"Levy won't be coming back... Ah!"
As soon as Droy finished speaking, he realized he had said the forbidden words. He slapped a hand over his mouth.
Silence enveloped the room. It was a heavy, suffocating silence. Lidas stopped drawing. Warren looked down at his table. Macao stopped pacing.
Although they told the public they believed the Tenrou Group was still alive—that they would return one day—seven years was a long time. It was too long. Deep down, the seed of doubt had bloomed into a forest of despair.
Levy. Gajeel. Ren. Everyone. They were gone.
Suddenly!
BAM!
The flimsy wooden doors of the tavern were kicked open violently, shattering the melancholic silence.
A group of rough-looking men swaggered in. They wore the emblem of a grinning ogre on their clothes.
"Hey, hey! Is this Guild really down to just a few people? Are there even fewer people now than last month?!"
"Gyahahaha! It smells like failure in here!"
"That's why this Guild is weak! Weak!!"
The Fairy Tail members all looked up, expressions of fear and distaste crossing their faces. It was them.
"Teebo!" Macao shouted, stepping forward, trying to muster the dignity of a Guild Master. "I told you not to come here again!!"
The leader of the group, Teebo (Tibault), a man with a spiked mohawk and a cruel sneer, stepped forward. He looked around the shack with disdain.
"Hey, hey! Is it okay to talk to us like that, old man? Have you forgotten who lent you the money to rent this pathetic shack? Have you forgotten who allows your Guild to barely survive in our territory?"
Teebo walked up to Macao, towering over him. "This Guild won't last much longer, hahahaha. You were indeed Fiore's strongest Guild once—a legend. But legends die. Your era is over."
"Now, a broken Guild like yours versus the new generation's Twilight Ogre... any clear-headed person can see which one is better for this city, right? We run Magnolia now."
"It's just because your Guild has more numbers..." Marcus muttered unhappily from the back.
"Exactly!! We have willpower!!" Warren shouted, standing up. "The spirit of Fairy Tail isn't dead!"
Teebo sneered, spitting on the floor. "What can willpower do? Can willpower pay the rent? Can willpower defeat monsters?"
Macao interrupted him, raising a hand to stop Warren. "What are you doing here, Teebo?"
"To collect this month's payment," Teebo said, holding out a hand. "The protection fee. Plus interest."
Macao's expression stiffened, sweat forming on his brow. "We... we haven't received any significant requests this month. We barely have enough for food. We'll pay it all next month! Please, just wait a little longer! I promise!"
Bang!
Without warning, Teebo swung his leg and kicked Macao hard in the stomach.
"Gah!"
Macao crumbled to his knees, clutching his gut.
"Macao!"
"Master!!"
"You bastards dare to..."
Wakaba, Alzack (who had just arrived at the door with Romeo), and the others immediately prepared to act. Magic circles flared to life. No matter how unqualified Macao felt he was, he was still the Guild Master of Fairy Tail, and they couldn't let these thugs humiliate him.
"No one move!!"
Macao shouted from the floor, holding up a hand. His voice was strained, filled with pain and humiliation. "Don't... don't fight them."
"But Master!" Romeo cried out, seeing his father on the ground.
"I said stand down!" Macao ordered.
He knew that if they fought, Twilight Ogre would retaliate with their full force. Fairy Tail, in its current state, would be wiped out. They had to swallow their pride to survive. They had to endure.
The Twilight Ogre members laughed, seeing the Fairy Tail mages hesitate. They began to destroy things—flipping tables, smashing chairs, breaking bottles behind the bar.
Crash! Smash!
"Hahahaha! Look at them! Too scared to move!"
"How pathetic! Is this Fairy Tail?!"
"How disgraceful!! Where are your dragons now?! Hahahaha!!"
Teebo grabbed a handful of Macao's hair, lifting his head up. "Listen here. We'll give you a month's grace this time. Consider it charity for the elderly. But if you still haven't paid next month, don't blame us for being impolite. We'll burn this shack down."
He shoved Macao back to the floor. "Let's go, boys! This place stinks of mold."
"Hahahahaha!!"
The group left, swaggering out into the sunlight, leaving behind a mess of broken furniture and broken spirits.
Romeo stood at the door, trembling with rage, tears streaming down his face as he looked at his father, who was slowly picking himself up from the dirt.
Watching this scene, all the Guild members couldn't help but feel a surge of overwhelming sadness.
Once upon a time, their Fairy Tail was the strongest Guild in the Ishgar continent. They had Natsu, who destroyed ports. They had Erza, who challenged hundreds of monsters alone. They had Ren, who fought wizard saints. No one dared to provoke them. Even a powerful Guild like Phantom Lord was erased from history for crossing them.
Now? They were being trampled underfoot by a third-rate guild like Twilight Ogre, unable to resist. Forced to kneel just to exist.
How could things have come to this?
Wakaba sat back down amidst the debris. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled a cloud of grey smoke. He watched it rise and dissipate into the rafters, much like their dreams.
It felt like only yesterday they were celebrating. But looking at the ruins around him, the harsh reality settled in.
"Seven years have passed since then," Wakaba whispered to the empty air.
[Akarin Note:
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