Next to the wide-open sprawl of the first floor, the second floor felt almost cramped.
Only two or three square tables filled the middle of the room, and the request board on the wall held just a handful of scattered job listings.
Makarov crossed straight to the small, tidy bar and hopped up onto a stool with one light push off the floor.
Chase followed and sat down right beside him, easy and unbothered, no formality at all between guild master and member.
That kind of hierarchy didn’t really exist in Fairy Tail.
Not in a guild that ran more like one big, unruly family.
Mira, in her red dress, moved in behind the bar and got to work, mixing something stiff for the older members and something lighter for anyone younger.
Makarov accepted the drink Mira set in front of him without comment, then looked over at Chase and asked, straight to the point, “Chase.
What was this dragon like, the one you ran into on Guiltina?
Was it really something no one could beat?” In a world built on magic, and especially in a nation as steeped in it as Fiore, dragons ranked among the most feared things alive.
Old legend held that a single one could flatten a town with nothing more than a snap of its jaws, something entirely beyond what any human could stand against.
This was where Dragon Slayer Magic, the kind Natsu used, had come from in the first place.
“It was red.
Every inch of it.
Enormous.
Claws and fangs to match, scales like plate iron, and enough magic packed into its muscle that it felt like the air itself was straining to hold it in.” Chase gave the short version, took a sip of coffee, and let out a heavy breath.
“Whether people in general could beat it, I couldn’t say.
But I can tell you this much for certain: tie ten of me together and it still wouldn’t have been a fair fight.” Against an ordinary dragon, Duelist’s Soul might have been enough of an edge to make something of a real fight out of it.
But this hadn’t been an ordinary dragon.
It was one of the Five Divine Dragons, said to stand shoulder to shoulder with the black dragon Acnologia himself.
That claim was mostly reputation and hearsay, since as far as anyone knew, Chase had never actually crossed paths with Acnologia.
Even setting Acnologia aside, though, the five divine dragons alone stood so far above ordinary dragons that facing one felt like facing something with no real chance of victory built in anywhere.
“Really?
Not even ten of you could beat it?” Mira covered her mouth, eyes wide.
She had a decent sense of what Chase was capable of.
Even among the S-Class mages in the guild, he ranked near the top.
Even Erza had admitted, flat out, that in a real fight, full strength against full strength, she wouldn’t win against him.
By the Kingdom of Fiore’s own standards, Chase qualified for a seat among the Ten Wizard Saints, same as the guild master himself.
And that was the mage telling her, without any hedging at all, that ten of himself wouldn’t have been enough.
It wasn’t hard to imagine just how bad things must have gotten out there.
Mira looked him over again, safe and whole in front of her, and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, though the unease didn’t fully let go of her.
“Actually, that’s still a fairly conservative way of putting it.” Chase caught the worry sitting behind her eyes, set his coffee down, and gave her a small, crooked smile.
“Because that thing wasn’t just some ordinary dragon, either.” “When we crossed paths, it called itself…
the Flame God Dragon, Ignia.” Flame God Dragon.
Something about that title struck both of them at once, close enough to a name they already knew that it raised the hair on the back of their necks.
Makarov took a slow breath and asked, low, “Is this thing related to Igneel?
The Fire Dragon King who raised Natsu?” “According to it, Igneel is its father.
Which makes it Natsu’s half-brother,” Chase said, keeping his tone level.
Of course, none of that was a guess.
It was the kind of thing only someone who already knew how this story was supposed to go could say for certain.
The truth was, he’d stumbled onto Ignia by pure accident.
Ignia, worried that its presence might draw Acnologia’s attention, hadn’t wanted the fight dragged out.
A few exchanges in, it had let loose a roar that flattened Chase and the monster fighting at his side in an instant.
If Chase hadn’t already known exactly how dangerous the thing was and prepared accordingly, if he hadn’t had Monster Reborn ready to bring something back from the dead at exactly the right second, he wouldn’t have walked away from that fight at all.
There had been no communication between them, not really.
Ignia hadn’t so much as deigned to speak to something as small as a human.
“Natsu’s half-brother?
That’s a strange way to put it.” Mira tilted her head, turning the idea over, something not quite settling right about it.
Tying it to Natsu took some of the edge off her fear of the Flame God Dragon, enough that curiosity started creeping in around the corners.
Chase caught the shift in her mood immediately and cut it off.
“That thing is cold-blooded and brutal.
It looks at humans the way we look at ants.
Whatever you’re starting to picture, get rid of it.
It has nothing in common with Natsu.” “I’m sorry.
I’m really sorry.” Mira caught herself and backed off fast.
Makarov lowered his eyes to the wine rippling gently in front of him.
“We can talk about dragons when it’s appropriate.
But Natsu can never find out anything about Ignia.” He’d watched Natsu grow up.
He knew exactly how much trouble that kid could cause.
If Natsu ever got wind of this, he’d probably take off for the continent of Guiltina, across the sea, by the very next morning.
Chase and Mira, understanding exactly what that meant, both nodded.
“Chase.
Stay put for a while.
Rest and recover here at the guild.” Chase looked relaxed enough on the surface, but Makarov’s eyes were sharp enough to catch the exhaustion sitting underneath it.
The old man who acted as father to this whole unruly family felt for him more than he let on.
“But Master, what about the fallout from the failed mission—” “But what?
It’s a formality.
A few nice words to smooth it over.
Haven’t I cleaned up worse messes of yours before?” Makarov slapped a hand down on the counter, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Chase’s face broke into a wide grin.
“Then I’ll leave it in your hands, Master.” Something about that grin made Makarov’s eyebrow twitch, an uneasy feeling settling in that he couldn’t quite place.
He’d already made the offer, though, so he let it go, and just waved a hand to send Chase on his way.
When Chase and Mira came back down to the first floor, the noise in the guild dropped off fast.
Every eye in the room turned toward Chase, curiosity written across every face.
Every eye except Lucy’s, who sat crouched in her corner, drawing slow, listless circles on the floor with one finger, looking thoroughly dejected.
Her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her budget, and she’d caved, paying real money to strike a deal with Happy.
The verdict: Chase and Mira weren’t together.
They’d never even been on a mission together.
There was no rumor here worth chasing at all.
It was, to put it mildly, a disappointing return on investment.
Watching Happy nuzzle blissfully against the coins that used to be hers, entirely too pleased with himself, the regret hit her hard.
Lucy, you absolute idiot.