Watching the two of them charge around the snow like headless flies, Shane couldn't help feeling a headache coming on.
At this rate, when were they ever going to grow up?
He sighed, quickly flipping through what he'd read in the guild library's monster compendium. "Stop staring at the sky. A wyvern's scales are snow-white—when it stays still, it blends perfectly into ice and snow. With the naked eye, it's almost impossible to spot."
He pointed to a distant cliff face. "Let's check the south-facing ledge over there. They can handle the cold, but they're still cold-blooded. That spot gets direct sunlight and it's sheltered from the wind—perfect nesting territory."
Shane spoke with confidence, neatly laying out the wyvern's habits and logic.
Erza tilted her head slightly, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Shane might not know much formal magic theory… but when it comes to obscure monster lore and survival know-how, he's weirdly knowledgeable.
The thought made the corners of her mouth lift a little—though even she wasn't sure why.
"Makes sense!" Natsu and Gray exchanged a glance. They didn't want to admit it, but Shane's reasoning was convincing.
"Then that way!" they agreed.
No longer wandering blindly, the group followed the winding ridgeline toward the south-facing, wind-sheltered slope.
After about twenty minutes, the wind really did ease.
"There's something here!" Natsu, who was in front, suddenly dropped to his stomach at the cliff edge. He sniffed twice, then leaned out to look down.
"WHOO—!"
The instant he peeked over, a snow-laden gust reeking of blood and musk blasted up from below!
The wind whipped Natsu's pink hair into chaos.
With the heavy thoom of collapsing snowbanks, three massive white shadows surged up from the gorge, bursting into view with crushing pressure.
Three wyverns—each with a wingspan over five meters.
Their snow-white scales reflected cold, metallic light in the sun. Saliva hung from their jaws. They looked furious.
"They're really here!" Gray blurted.
Then he pointed at the biggest one leading the charge and shouted, "Wait—someone's on it?!"
Everyone focused.
Sure enough, sprawled across the leader's back was a person—
Bacchus.
One hand clamped onto the bony plates along the wyvern's spine, his body bouncing with its violent motion, yet he clung to it like he'd grown roots.
Spotting the group above, Bacchus flashed a wide grin. "Yo. Pretty quick, aren't you?"
His eyes sharpened instantly.
"Splitting Palm!"
THUD!
His palm slammed down into the wyvern's back.
CRACK—!
A crisp bone-splintering sound echoed through the mountains.
This was Bacchus's signature—body, strength, magic, and martial technique fused into a physical magic style.
The strike carried both raw destructive force and penetrating magical impact.
"ROOOOAR—!!"
The wyvern shrieked in agony. Plates along its spine shattered in chunks. The beast lost balance, wobbling, then began to tumble downward.
"So strong…" Gray's pupils tightened.
"We move!" Erza's sharp command cut through the shock.
"Requip—Giant Armor!"
Golden light wrapped around her, then cleared—revealing heavy, power-focused armor in bright yellow tones, designed to boost throwing strength.
Erza gripped her sword Flowing Water, locking onto the left wyvern as it angled into a dive.
"Hah!"
She exhaled, rooted her stance, and hurled the sword like a spear.
WHOOSH!
The blade tore through the air and punched cleanly through the wyvern's broad wing.
SHUNK!
Blood sprayed.
A gaping hole ripped open in the wing. It lost lift, howling as it crashed toward the cliff platform.
"It's yours!" Erza barked without looking back. "I'll take the last one!"
A massive greatsword appeared in her hands. She kicked off and shot straight at the final uninjured wyvern.
"Oh! Leave it to me!" Natsu's fists collided—FOOM—flames roaring to life. His eyes burned with fight.
"If we take these two first, then we win, obviously!"
Gray surged in right behind him, cold air exploding around his hands.
"ICE-MAKE: Spear!"
Ice and fire smashed into the wounded wyvern in a blur, swallowing it whole.
Roars echoed across the cliff. Magic flared again and again.
Only Shane was left standing there, oddly… spare.
Snow and wind drifted past. It felt a little bleak.
Erza hadn't given him instructions—probably on purpose, to let the other two get their moment.
"Fine." Shane shrugged, glanced curiously at Erza's new armor, then watched the messy brawl—two idiots versus one grounded wyvern.
Even without flight, it was still a magical beast with a monster's body. For Natsu and Gray, it was still dangerous.
"I'll just cover you from here."
He leaned against a large rock out of the wind, arms folded, eyes never leaving the fight.
"Hey—what, you're not helping?" Bacchus laughed from atop the falling wyvern, actually having the spare attention to look back.
"Not needed right now." Shane spread his hands blandly.
Bacchus didn't care. He unleashed several more heavy Splitting Palms in rapid succession.
THUD—THUD—THUD!
The leader was already at its limit. It wailed as it plummeted toward the ground.
Meanwhile, Erza displayed terrifying power.
Wielding Iron-Cleaver—the "steel-splitting" greatsword Shane had made for her—she leapt like a valkyrie, rising to the wyvern's altitude.
"Iron-Cleaver: Heavy Sever!"
She raised the blade overhead with both hands, poured magic into it, and brought it down with mountain-splitting force.
BOOM!
The wyvern didn't even scream. It smashed into the ground, half its body buried in snow.
"Looks like we finished around the same time, Fairy Tail's super rookie," Bacchus said as he hopped off the fallen leader, excitement glittering in his eyes.
The last wyvern—still entangled with Natsu and Gray—finally sensed something was wrong.
With its companions dead, it felt death closing in.
Survival instinct surged. It violently whipped its intact wing, forcing Natsu and Gray back.
Then, ignoring the ruined wing, it endured the pain and flapped like mad toward the cliff's edge.
"Crap! It's running!" Natsu and Gray shouted, but they were too late.
The wyvern launched itself off the cliff, using its damaged, leaking wing to awkwardly stabilize—skidding through the air in a crooked glide.
"Shane!" Erza called from afar.
"Got it."
Shane, who'd been bored stiff at the cliff edge, rolled his shoulders.
His left hand closed on empty air—and the familiar crimson greatbow appeared.
From his requip space, he drew a pre-made spiral "special round."
Draw. Nock. Full pull.
Predict the trajectory. Adjust for wind drift.
Release.
THRUM—!
The bowstring's thunderous snap sounded like a grenade going off.
The spiral arrow became a red lightning bolt, carrying crushing pressure as it crossed nearly a kilometer in a heartbeat.
SPRT!
No suspense. It pierced straight through the wyvern's skull.
The beast instantly lost control—spinning like a kite with a severed line—before slamming into a snowbank at the mountain's base, lifeless.
~~~
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