"Who was that…? Why does she look so much like Erza? No… am I just seeing things?"
Arlen suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring at the scarlet figure about to disappear into the alley at the end of the street. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, half-convinced it was just an illusion.
Just as he hesitated—
Two sleazy-looking thugs, grinning obscenely, slipped into the same alley.
"…Forget it. I'll take a look."
Muttering to himself, Arlen quickened his pace and followed.
Inside the dim alley—
A beautiful, voluptuous woman stood there, her expression calm… no, slightly amused, as she looked at the two men approaching her with lecherous grins.
"Well now, miss~ all alone?" one of them sneered. "Haven't eaten yet? How about we invite you somewhere nice…"
"Boss, she's incredible…" the other drooled, eyes practically glowing.
"Heh… how interesting," the woman chuckled coldly. "Such ugly creatures."
Her expression turned icy as she slowly raised her hand.
The two men, oblivious, stepped closer—already walking toward their own demise.
"Disappear."
Her voice was quiet.
Final.
At that exact moment, Arlen reached the alley entrance.
He sensed a faint fluctuation of magic—
Then saw it.
The two men's bodies… melting.
Like wax under heat.
Arlen raised an eyebrow, his gaze settling on the woman.
As for the two scum?
He felt nothing.
If anything—they got what they deserved.
"Oh? Another one," the woman said, turning her attention to him. "Your magic… is quite impressive."
There was a hint of surprise in her eyes—both at his power and his presence.
At the same time, Arlen was observing her carefully.
Black cloak. Long boots. A strange witch hat.
A staff shaped like antlers.
Crimson hair tied into braided strands.
A face—
Almost identical to Erza's.
Only more mature.
More dangerous.
More… overwhelming.
And on her abdomen—
A scar.
"She's strong," Arlen thought. "Far stronger than the Master… even Gildarts."
"There's no one like her in Ishgar."
"Which means…"
"Another continent."
"Who are you?" the woman asked casually, though her tone carried an unmistakable authority. "Why are you following me? Are you with those two?"
Arlen frowned slightly, clearly displeased.
"…Are you insulting me?"
He met her gaze calmly.
"And before asking someone's name—shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"
"…Heh."
The woman smiled.
"Interesting. It's been a long time since someone dared to speak to me like that."
She lightly tapped her staff against the ground.
"Very well. I'll indulge you."
"My name is Irene Belserion."
"…Belserion?"
Arlen muttered, searching his memory.
Then—
His eyes widened.
"I remember now."
"I once read a fragment of an ancient text. Four hundred years ago, there was a Sage Dragon named Belserion—who died protecting his kingdom."
He looked straight at her.
"And in the western continent's Alvarez Empire… there is someone known as the 'Scarlet Despair.'"
"Irene Belserion."
"That's you, isn't it?"
Irene's expression shifted slightly.
"Impressive," she said. "To think someone in Ishgar knows that name…"
"…What's yours?"
"Arlen. Arlen Viviamilio."
He gave a slight noble bow.
"If you don't mind me asking—what brings you to Ishgar? If you need assistance, I can help."
Of course—
This wasn't just politeness.
She was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
If she lost control—
There might not be anyone on this continent who could stop her.
"Oh?" Irene's lips curled. "Are you trying to monitor me?"
Her staff glowed crimson.
A terrifying wave of magic pressure descended.
Arlen's body stiffened.
It felt like being crushed under immense weight.
Even his magic flow faltered.
"…So this is her power," he thought, shocked. "She's not even using twenty percent…"
Still—
His expression didn't change.
Magic surged through him as he resisted the pressure.
He stood straight, hand on his sword.
Calm.
Unyielding.
"I think you misunderstand," he said evenly. "As the son of a duke of Fiore, it is only proper that I extend hospitality to a guest from afar."
"…Hmph."
The pressure vanished.
"I didn't expect you to be nobility."
Irene tapped her staff lightly.
"Very well. Since you're interesting… you may follow me."
Arlen silently let out a breath of relief.
On the surface, he looked composed.
Inside?
Not so much.
Still—
He made a mental note to inform his father and Makarov later.
Someone like Irene appearing in Ishgar was no small matter.
"Where would you like to go?" Arlen asked.
Irene glanced ahead, her tone casual yet commanding.
"Show me around Ishgar."
In truth—
She had no destination.
She had come here on a whim.
Perhaps—
Just bored of staying in one place for too long.
Arlen nodded and stepped forward.
"Then allow me, Lady Irene."
"I'll start by introducing you to this city."
And just like that—
The most dangerous woman in the world…
Began a casual stroll through the streets.
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