Just as Rogue Cheney was about to fade away, a hand pressed against his already-illusory body. A torrent of magic power surged into his Thought Projection, forcibly halting his self-dissolution.
Drawing vast mana through the Arc of the Great Tree, Hope looked down at the stunned Rogue, scowled, and grabbed the old man's shoulder as if afraid he'd bolt.
"Wendy wanted a hug, so hug her before you go."
"And hey, we just cleaned up that pain-in-the-neck Nirvana for you. You're not ghosting us without some real reward, old man."
"Does that seem fair?"
"Of course not—so if you've got anything valuable left, hand it over for us to split before you kick the bucket."
Watching Hope act like a loan-shark, Rogue was dumbstruck.
Wendy, tears still on her cheeks, froze as well.
Everyone else sported black lines across their faces, petrified on the spot.
They all knew Hope only wanted Rogue to linger a while, but his method was… downright banditry.
In truth, Hope really did intend to rob him.
He'd planned to fleece the old geezer once Rogue admitted he was a Thought Projection, but the moment the truth came out the man self-destructed.
So Hope lost it on the spot.
Feeling Hope's fingers tighten on his shoulder, Rogue didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Enough, lad. Channeling vast earth-mana through Great Tree Arc is a heavy burden; what you poured into me can keep me solid for another hour."
At the old man's words, Hope finally let go.
As for the stress of that mana surge? To a body reinforced by Magnetic Field Power it was nothing.
The instant Wendy saw Grandpa regain substance, she hugged him tight.
Rogue patted the little girl tenderly. Hope had a point—leaving so abruptly was unnecessary; Wendy and Carla at least deserved time to brace themselves.
"Young man, as you can see I'm just a frail elder. My only wealth is this tiny village—there's nothing of value I can give."
Meeting Rogue's gaze, Hope smiled. "I want your magical knowledge. Well, except Nirvana—I'm a pragmatist, and that half-baked Super-Magic doesn't interest me."
Rogue nodded. Though merely a Thought Projection, his scholarship had ranked near the top even in that age of geniuses four centuries ago.
Yet he had only an hour left—far too short to teach everything—and his projection couldn't survive a second mana infusion.
Hope chuckled; having come to fleece Rogue, he'd naturally come prepared.
With a flash he appeared before the Blue Pegasus mage, Hibiki. "You—Karen's ex-ex-ex-ex-boyfriend—cast your spell."
"Mr. Hope, could we not bring that up…?"
Flushing, Hibiki still released his magic: Ancient Texts.
Hope clapped his shoulder; the system instantly recorded Ancient Texts. "You're a good guy—may you find someone who truly loves you."
Having delivered the polite rejection, Hope walked off, leaving Hibiki unsure what expression to wear.
In front of everyone, Hope drew a large magic crystal from his Armor space. The instant his palm touched it, a mana-built magical computer appeared before him.
"He can actually copy other people's magic!"
"So that's why Hope's so terrifying?"
Jura and Ichiya were stunned, but Natsu's group looked unsurprised—they'd once queued up to "sell" their own spells.
Watching Hope approach, Rogue understood: the lad would use Ancient Texts to receive his knowledge. If his scholarship could live on, why refuse?
Once linked via Ancient Texts, Rogue "beamed" his knowledge like a Bluetooth file. Mana transmission was far faster—and didn't drop packets.
Worthy of the man who created Nirvana, Rogue's vast lore took a full twenty minutes to transfer.
"Thank you, senior. We'll take good care of Wendy." Hope spoke with solemn gratitude.
Rogue didn't mind, yet one thing puzzled him. "The Dragon-Slaying aura on you—I sense something familiar. The Wise Dragon?"
"You know Belserion?"
Rogue neither confirmed nor denied, so Hope briefly recounted his and Erza's encounter with Belserion.
Learning another four-hundred-year-old Thought Projection existed, Rogue sighed—had he wandered the world, he might have shared old tales with Belserion.
Erza asked about her mother, Irene, but Rogue only knew the title "mother of dragon slayers" and had never met her.
After passing his knowledge to Hope, Rogue didn't forget the others. "Friends, if you have magical questions, I can spare a moment to answer."
Hearing a top expert from four centuries ago offer guidance, everyone eagerly sought advice and deepened their understanding.
Yet Rogue specially warned Natsu to hone his will and never drain his magic completely—lest something dreadful awaken.
Natsu didn't fully grasp it, but seeing Rogue's grave face, he promised.
Those pointers consumed another twenty minutes.
In silent accord, everyone left the final moments to Wendy and Carla.
This time the little girl and white cat didn't cry; each simply held one of Rogue's hands like two granddaughters walking with their grandpa.
Accompanied by them, Rogue circled the small village one last time—the cradle of the Nibelung Tribe and the resting place of its last member four hundred years ago.
Now, long-dead himself, he could finally let go.
Rogue's Thought Projection dissolved into countless motes of golden light, rising like reversed starlight toward the azure sky.
The gentle flecks brushed Wendy and Carla's cheeks, carrying the scent of grass and the warmth of sunlight, before vanishing in the breeze.
"Go forth, children—your futures have only just begun…"
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