Paragon was a pretty place.
"Leave me alone!"
It used to be a pretty place.
"Stop chasing me!"
Ever since that demon cursed her, it has been a hellish place.
"Kill her! She's a demon!" The villagers roared as they chased Mira through the dirt streets of Paragon. Their curses followed her as she stumbled into an alley, her breath frantic as she tried to hide from the mob that chased her—taking cover behind a nearby box as the mob stormed past her hiding spot and left her a chance to breathe in peace.
I think they're gone-
Mira froze as she took a step to leave, her neck prickling. She heard her foot splash into a puddle and looked down to see red staining her feet. Her eyes widened in horror as she trailed the blood-red liquid unstick. She saw the person it belonged to, a young man with black hair and no arm, lying dead in front of her. His back against the opposing alley wall, like he was waiting for her to notice his death, until he spoke with the same voice as the villagers.
"To you so."
Then Mira's dream shattered, and she woke up with a choked scream, sweat dripping down her face as she looked at a wooden circling. Her eyes were wide and trembling as she put a hand to her mouth and stumbled off whatever bed she was on, blindly collapsing to the ground and crawling over to the nearby trash bin, where she vomited her lungs out.
It's a dream...
Mira heaved again as she had the memory of blood stain her vision; the memory of Kageyama's death spun her stomach in knots as she retched up all the liquid in her body. She was eventually resorting to dry heaving because there wasn't enough to throw up.
It's just a dream... right?
Mira felt her eyes water as she hung her head over the trash bin and sobbed. Her gasps of misery added to every time she saw her right arm hanging over the bin, keeping her steady. Like it was taunting her with how much she'd fucked up. Like it was her fault.
I killed someone...
Mira hated it.
I didn't mean to...
She hated her magic.
What am I going to-
"Well, little girly, you sure had a bad dream," An aged voice cut through the air, Mira's bloodshot eyes turning from her bin of self-loathing and towards an old tall woman with pink hair, red eyes and a mean look plastered on her face, "You're going to throw that out later girly, but for now why don't you calm down. You're hyperventilating."
Mira blinked in surprise, her breath's quickening pace ringing in her ears as she realized she was hyperventilating, and she didn't know what to do about it. Her body was shaking with fear because she didn't know where she was. Had they caught her? Did they know? Was this person a part of the rune knights? Here to take her away because she was a murderer? Execute for being a monster—a demon.
"I- I didn't- I."
Mira couldn't form any words; her panic was controlling her. Even as the old lady sighed and started doing breathing exercises to help her catch her breath, it was hard to calm down and quiet her rampaging thoughts that stabbed at her chest and tore at her mind. She could barely do anything, even after escaping the village.
"M- My- sib- siblings..."
No, she could do something. She had to do something. If they were going to take her away or kill her for being the demon the village told her she was, then she had to make sure of something first.
"They- they're o- okay, right?"
She had to make sure her siblings were safe.
"Please," Mira whispered tiredly, tears dripping down her cheeks. Her body trembled as she curled up in a ball and finally got her erratic breathing under control. Unable to pry her blurry vision from her knees, she wetted them with tears and listened to the old lady pause, her tone dipping into something almost mistakable for kindness.
"They're all right, dear. Your brother passed out, but he recovered quickly, and your little sister hadn't even been injured. They're all okay."
Those were the best words Mira had ever heard.
"So just breathe," The old woman said softly, her voice lulling Mira steadily. Mira's panicked breathing was entirely under control as she gave a gentle nod and mumbled into her knees, "Where am I?"
There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
"Who are you?"
She didn't care about what happened to her as long as her siblings were safe. So she waited for the older woman to tell her it was over. Mira had killed someone, and now she wouldn't be seen with her siblings again. Since they did nothing wrong and she was a monster that killed someone—a demon—she was waiting for the old lady to drop the hammer.
"My name's Porlyushica."
Instead, she heard the old lady's voice remain painful, kind, and even warmer than before. As if she wasn't talking to a demon. It startled Mira more than she wanted to admit. She didn't know how to react.
"I'm a doctor. You all were brought to my hut yesterday," Porlyushica said with a sigh as she walked over and gently took the trash can from the corner of the room. Idly, she noted how the little girl stiffened before she walked over to a window, opened it, and dumped the contents outside.
"You pushed yourself hard, young lady."
She put the trash can to the side so she could clean it later, subtly glancing at the girl to see her watchful, carefully observant eyes. The girl looked over herself as if now realizing she had some bandages on and was in a hospital gown.
"It's already the 18th. You've been asleep for a day and a half." Porlyushica said casually, an eye open as she watched the girl startle at the news. The girl's blue eyes were wide, and she seemed desperate to ask a question, but she stopped herself as if she wasn't sure she was allowed to request it. An action that didn't go unnoticed by Porlyushica.
"Speak up, young lady."
Porlyushica had a long day yesterday.
"You won't get anything you want by being quiet."
She was too tired and too... angry to play the guessing game with one of her newest patients. When she saw the state of the kids brought in the day before, she almost lost it. When she discovered who was responsible for the damage to one of them, she practically destroyed her garden in a rage. Even now, what Makarov's grandson had done was souring her mood.
"I'll answer any questions you have."
That issue could wait until she spoke with Makarov, though. The little girl who had fought to the point of collapse and near magic exhaustion came first, and thankfully, her hesitance didn't seem to last long.
"Can I see my siblings?" Mira asked hesitantly, gulping as she peeked at the old woman worriedly. Her heart dropped as the old lady shook her head, "No."
Then it picked up again once she explained.
"You're still injured. I want you to stay in the patient room for at least another day to ensure you're all right. Plus it's night, your siblings are already asleep upstairs, you know how long that took?" Porlyushica asked with dry sarcasm, rolling her eyes as she saw the girl's spirits brighten. Mira's eyes turned a little in laughter as she watched the old lady shake her head as one would do when dealing with Lisanna and Elfman's antics. It was inevitable.
"Hell, I had to force them to take a guest room upstairs; otherwise, they would've slept here. They refused to leave you two alone," the old woman said with a dry chuckle. Her attempts to alleviate the mood failed, and Mira was frozen in her tracks instead. Mira looked up and asked with a trembling voice, "Two?"
She looked to be in a makeshift patient's room, clad in medical equipment and potions. There was a single window with green curtains, and a hint of darkness peered through it, showing it was night. There were only two beds; the one she had been sleeping on was plain green.
"What do you mean two?"
The one right next to it...
"If there's two, then who's..."
Had a pale boy with black hair sleeping in it. He was wrapped in bandages from head to toe and wearing a hospital gown. Every inch of skin she could spot through the layers of cloth seemed to be covered in bruises or scratches. His nose was swollen, too. His entire face looked to be battered beyond belief. An IV in his arm gave him everything he needed to survive.
"The other one..."
His breathing was steady, but it was faint.
"Vera?"
It didn't look like he would wake up any time soon.
The city of Clover was dark as Jose walked its streets. He yawned as he walked towards a bar on the edge of town, his eyes tired from the utter rampage he had gone on in an uninhabited mountain range the night before to blow off steam.
I'll need to be careful...
Well, it was more like a desert now.
My ghosts are more unhinged than usual.
Jose hadn't taken his old master's message pleasantly, and now his ghosts were incessantly eager. He had shelved this issue for later because of where he was heading to make up for the bar appointment he had canceled the day before.
Damn, Makarov...
It was annoying that the old fool couldn't find it in his 'bleeding' heart to just let the whole bar idea die. He was adamant about getting at least one drink out of Jose, and since he was as annoying as he was powerful, Jose was obliged to go to the bar tonight.
I might as well get this over with.
Jose sighed as he strolled the town of Clover, heading for the bar, Luck o' the Lost, on the edge of town. It was run by a young man, James, who ran a smooth sip and knew to keep his mouth shut. A trait Jose greatly appreciated since a drunk guild master wasn't something he wanted to see on the front of the next Sorcerers Weekly.
At least the drinks will be decent.
Jose hummed idly at the thought, his walk subtly changing halfway to the bar as one of his ghosts appeared unwarranted behind him with a beady, red-eyed stare that reeked of disapproval.
"What do you want now, you old prune."
Jose didn't even bother looking back to address the old ghost. He knew what it was here for. The same thing it had always been so incessantly loud about.
"Here to voice your grievances against my meeting with Makarov for the seventh time today."
Unfortunately, his oldest ghost was his most potent, and he could never get it to obey him completely. It had too much personality and leftover hatred to submit to his whims. There was so much rage left from its life that this old bitter remnant was always the most clear out of all the ghosts whose voices blended to a static.
"Complain as much as you want, you decrepit old failure."
Whenever Fairy Tail was mentioned, it couldn't help but project its pure and utter outrage.
"I will abide by my decisions, no one else's." Jose finished with a sideways glance at his oldest ghost, who merely frowned with beady red eyes before fading away. Offering Jose a last warning as if he was doing him a favor and not projecting his bitterness onto someone else, "You'll regret it."
Jose merely scoffed as he watched the old shade vanish back to Purgatory, turning back to his trip and rolling his words back in his head with ease. His eyes were steady and his head clear because even if he was still thinking over what to do with yesterday's tense conversation, he knew at least one thing was true.
I refuse to follow anyone's whims but my own.
The only thing that would influence Jose were words because his actions were his alone—no one else's—not an old ghost who couldn't let go of a grudge and not a fake vampire with too much time on his hands.
So shut up and stay in your place...
Jose would come to his course of action, given enough to think through all the new information he gleaned from this Clover trip. He would do the same if anything of note came up during his conversation with Makarov. To benefit himself and his guild, he always makes the logical decision at the end of the day.
Dead ancestor of mine.
Just as he'd always done.
In a wooden cabin in the forest at the edge of Magnolia, a girl with white hair and blue eyes looked down at a boy with black hair. His faith yet steady breathing filled the room as he slept, without the faintest sign of waking up anytime soon.
"What happened?" Mira murmured shakily, struggling to her feet as she strolled over to his side. Her eyes were wide as she held out a shaky hand and touched his arm, feeling the warmth that was barely underneath before she realized, "Is he..."
He was fighting those people.
"Is he okay?"
He was fighting those assassins that were sent to kill her, and he ended up like this.
Is this..."
This was her fault.
"Is this my fault, too," Mira asked brokenly as she turned to Porlyushica, who noticed her silent tears and frowned with a strained voice, "No dear, none of this is your fault."
She sounded like she was holding back a mountain of fury.
"Not a single thing."
Mira couldn't even begin to guess who it was for.
"As for the boy, he'll be fine... eventually," Porlyushica said sideways to her newest patient, Vera. The boy was practically dropped off to her in a hearse, and she had to spend hours working on him to make sure he stayed breathing. "He took a lot of damage."
She did the best she could; it was lucky she knew a lot about his body type, but she wasn't a miracle worker. Some things couldn't be healed.
"Don't be surprised if he stays asleep for the next few days or weeks."
Like the disgusting scar Makarov's grandchild left on his chest.
"But if you're wondering if he'll make it, then don't worry, he's past the worst of it," Porlyushica said with a strained smile, her fists clenched so hard she thought they would break. Eventually, she had to pry her gaze away from the boy and his bandaged chest before she lost it in front of the emotionally drained girl, "I'll leave you to get some rest. There are some water flasks in the cupboards, and I'll bring you breakfast tomorrow when it's safer for you to eat solid foods."
Porlyushica took one last look at the girl, noticing her worried gaze linger on the boy before she sighed and took out the day's newspaper. She handed it to the girl, hoping she could read it and fill herself in on any questions she still had: "Here. Came out today. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me tomorrow."
"...thank you."
"No problem, dear," Porlyushica sighed as she turned and left the room, leaving the girl with a newspaper to keep her busy and hopefully put her concerns at bay.
"What a poor child."
A newspaper that little girl wouldn't put down for a long time afterward.
In Luck o' the Lost, two men were sitting at the bar with drinks in their hands. One was an elderly man holding a mug filled to the brim with beer, his sixth of the night, and the other, a younger man holding a glass of tequila that he sipped occasionally.
"You're going to die at this rate, Makarov."
Jose was pretty sure he was about to watch an older man commit suicide via liver disease.
"You sure you don't want to-"
"BA! Don't be such a downer, Jose! It's just a little beer!" Makarov exclaimed with a refreshed sigh as he finished the mug before slamming it on the table with a jolly laugh, "Another!"
He was having a blast.
"Quiet down, Makarov. We're the only ones in this place."
Jose was not.
"What did you even call me here for?" Jose muttered as he sipped his drink, listening to Makarov speak through his seventh drink of the night, "Oh, come on, Jose. I've told you this is for fun!"
Makarov was old enough to know when to relax after a stressful workday.
"There is no purpose!"
Jose looked like he'd had the most stressful day of his life yesterday.
"Learn to relax a little!" Makarov laughed as he drank from his mug. The buzzy sensation of alcohol kicked in as he heard Jose clench his teeth before taking a deep breath. Giving up on his resistance, he sighed and took another sip with less tense shoulders: "If it gets you to shut up, you old fool."
Makarov would take that as a sign of progress.
"Still, Makarov, there must be something you wish to talk about. I doubt you're just here to listen to me recount my grievances about the world."
Makarov would take that as a step backward.
"Ah, you're too strung up," Makarov burped before he sighed and set his glass gently down on the bar. His eyes closed as he spoke of something he hoped to bring up another time, maybe over a second game of chess, but he figured he might as well bring it up now if it would get Jose to loosen up.
"What do you think of getting some of our younger wizards to train together..."
Also, the chances of Jose accepting his proposal would be much higher if he was drunk.
"A sort of joint training camp for the younger ones."
Makarov glanced at Jose, watching the stunned man narrow his eyes suspiciously. A few gears turned in Jose's head before he scoffed and sipped his drink with a knowing look, "So this is why you were so chipper after our chess match."
"Oh, you noticed?"
"Of course, I did, you old fool," Jose muttered as he pinched his nose and set down his glass. Eventually, he sighed as he glanced at Makarov with a slight frown, "You know when I said that Laxus would need someone to take him down a peg..."
Makarov was much more sly than Jose gave him credit for.
"I didn't mean my runts."
He would have to remember it for later.
"Even if that were a possibility, they aren't on his level yet," Jose admitted with a click of his tongue as he tapped his finger on the desk and set his elbow on it before leaning on his palm. "Runt 2 might be able to put up a decent struggle, but the rodent is years away from even scratching his clothes."
Jose knew the strength of his runts.
"They won't be able to defeat Laxus."
He was confident they weren't on that lightning brat's level. Not even close.
"So why bother with this inane idea," Jose asked with a genuine curiosity. Watching with a hidden interest, Makarov shrugged as if already having considered that possibility, "I know, and if this were just about Laxus, I would have saved it. Waited a few years down the line when I figured your children-"
"Runts."
"Regardless, I would've waited until I thought they were strong enough to beat Laxus, but this is about more than my wayward grandson," Makarov added, sipping his mug before setting it down and speaking with a genuine openness that Jose hadn't expected from the old man. "Fairy Tail's second guild master once told me of a time when Ishgar wasn't so peaceful, where war between guilds was commonplace, and death was expected."
Makarov didn't hide anything; he spoke with an old fondness and forward-thinking.
"That time has passed, but it hasn't vanished completely," Makarov stated blandly, his eyes downcast as he swished his mug. "Light guilds are isolated by nature. Rarely do they come together for anything other than a necessary gathering like the guild master's conference."
Makarov was optimistic, but he wasn't a fool.
"Fairy Tail and Phantom Lord are the same way, and while I don't condone some of Phantom Lord's more violent tendencies..."
Fairy Tail would one day become strong enough that Phantom Lord would be hard-pressed to keep its name as the number one guild in Fiore.
"I do think it's a great guild with decent people. I believe its heart is in the right place."
The last thing Makarov wanted was for things to descend into chaos when that happened. He would like to avoid repeating the past mistakes Priecht told him guilds used to make in Ishgar, where they fought each other until only one was left.
"Now, I'm not saying I want our guilds to start doing everything together suddenly..."
Besides...
"But I would like it if our guilds built a closer connection than the one they share now."
Makarov would be lying if he said he didn't want to see Jose's 'runts' meet Fairy Tail's resident troublemakers. He felt like they would have a blast.
"So what do you say, Jose?" Makarov asked hopefully as he finished his speech and seventh mug before looking at Jose, "Does that idea have any merit?"
He looked deep in thought and more than a little surprised at his sudden declaration.
"It's a... unique proposal," Jose begrudgingly admitted as he looked at his cup. Watching his reflection frown in thought, he tapped the table more carefully than before. "I will..."
It was a proposal that had benefits for Phantom Lord. More so than he wanted to admit.
"Think about it."
It wouldn't hurt to get a good look at the talent pool Fairy Tail was working with. It would also be a way to get the runts acquainted with fighting others their age, showing them that even if they'd improved, they were still frogs in the deep well of Oak Town.
"That's all I can promise you, Makarov."
That seemed to be enough to satisfy the old mage.
"That's all I ask for, Jose," Makarov said with a grin as he burped and shook his head playfully. Patting Jose on the back as he jumped off his stool and walked towards the bathroom, he said, "Now I need to relieve myself. Then we start the real fun!"
Makarov was tired of all the work talk.
"We're going to drink this bar dry! Hahaha!"
He was ready to drink himself into a coma!
"Whatever, old fool," Jose muttered as he heard Makarov laugh himself into the restroom behind them. Jose tilted his head as he glanced at the barkeep, who was looking at a Sorcerer's Weekly newspaper with a pale expression. "What's wrong, James? Do you not like what you're reading."
Jose didn't remember a new issue being scheduled for today. They had already done one this week.
"Did something finally happen in our boring old country of Fiore," Jose joked halfheartedly as he watched James gulp. Jose's attempt at small talk fell flat as James glanced down at the paper before handing it to him face down so he couldn't see the title.
"It's a new issue pushed out a few hours ago. Sorcerer's Weekly wanted to get the news out as soon as possible."
Jose raised an eyebrow, surprised to see the young man, maybe in his early twenties, looking at him with an expression he hadn't seen in a while.
"It's probably best that you read it."
It was a look of sympathy.
In a cabin in Magnolia, a girl with white hair and blue eyes sat dumbstruck on her bed. She was using the lamp beside her to read an article that didn't make sense.
How...
One that she couldn't even begin to comprehend.
This isn't what happened.
She didn't know how to feel or how to react because she was devastated. Yet the deepest, ugliest part of her was relieved, and every moment she felt that relief was a moment she hated herself even more.
BREAKING NEWS
Mira didn't even know what to think anymore.
Vera of Phantom Lord attacked by dark guild on an escort mission gone wrong! Read more to find out the shocking details of the attack!
She just knew she had to keep reading.
Journalist: On July 17th, x778, Vera of Phantom Lord was escorting a rural family when the dark guild, Eisenwhalde, attacked. Reports hint at a hit being put out on the client, a rural family that will not be mentioned by name for safety purposes.
She thumbed the pages as she read it repeatedly until the words looked like mush.
Journalist: Vera was able to defend his quarry from the assassination attempt, but his magic seemed to have become volatile in the process.
Until she had to put the paper down and stare at her knees, curled in a ball with nothing to do but cry.
Journalist: Unfortunately, the details of such an event are blurry, as the assassins left from the attack were immediately taken into custody by the rune knights, and the clients were unwilling to give their accounts of the incident. But Laxus Dreyar of Fairy Tail witnessed the event and even offered to recount the incident. According to his recollection, it is highly possible that Vera of Phantom Lord...
Because she was a murderer.
Journalist: Killed Kageyama, a dark mage from Eisenwhalde, during his rampage.
And no one else knew.
The bar in Clover was dead silent as Jose read the paper. Makarov was still in the bathroom, stewing in tense silence. His eyes were dull as he looked at the newspaper the bartender had given him.
Journalist: The death of Kageyama, a dark wizard from Eisenwhalde tasked with killing the clients of Vera, a rural family whose name will not be mentioned for safety purposes, has sparked a series of questions among the magic community.
It was oddly silent.
Journalist: If it does turn out to be the result of Vera's uncontrolled magic outburst, then what comes next?
Jose figured his ghosts would be out by now.
Journalist: Will he be held accountable? Should someone with the teaching of a Wizard Saint be entrusted with that honor if he can't control his magic? What if he goes on a rampage in the future, and his next victims are innocent?
Maybe they were, but he didn't notice it.
Journalist: It's all very worrying, but with the other members of Eisenwhalde being sentenced to Black Voxx and Vera being too injured to give his account of the incident, the answer to those questions will have to wait until future interviews.
He couldn't hear anything except blood rushing in his ears and the clenching of his teeth.
Journalist: That being said, it brings a fascinating conversation. With Laxus Dreyar present to stop Vera's rampage and defeat him swiftly before he could cause any more harm to himself or the surroundings, it is clear that the rising stars list will have to be reevaluated. Laxus has instantly cemented his place as the strongest youth in Fiore.
It was when they showed a picture of his student's unconscious body, as it showed him pale and bloody with a broken nose and face that seemed to have been bludgeoned multiple times. It looked like he was an inch from death. That was when he heard a ghost.
Journalist: If he is that strong, then what of his guild? Could Fairy Tail be a more incredible guild than people give them credit for? It's hard to say, but it's something to look forward to in the future. This journalist will be keeping an eye on their development.
That was when he heard the ghost. The oldest ghost.
Journalist: To finish this sudden article, we asked Laxus to recount a few words about his experience. Here's what he had to say.
His dead ancestor who was watching him from somewhere high up the family tree.
Laxus: It wasn't how I wanted to meet my rival, but hey, I tried to help, but he was uncontrollable. He was attacking everything in sight and screaming like a banshee. I had already stumbled upon a dead body on my way there. I had to stop him before someone else died. I tried to keep myself from going too far, but...
The dead bastard that never seemed to let go of its bitterness from ages ago. So much so that it was passed on to his descendants to deal with.
Laxus: He was so much weaker than I expected that I guess I went a little overboard. My bad.
That old bastard whispered a single sentence to him.
"Told you so."
That was enough for the glass to shatter in Jose's grip and his eyes to lower in a cold gaze. His head flicked towards the barkeep as he tossed him the newspaper. Along with a with an order: "Leave."
Jose wasn't in the mood for compromise.
"Now."
Luckily, the barkeep understood that, and with a single quick gulp, he nodded and went to the back. He was most likely looking for a back door from which he could exit the building. Jose sighed and looked up at the clock. His mind went in circles as he watched it tick and thought about the inevitable consequences he'd face from this moment. He'd probably be banned from the guild conference indefinitely, and if he was lucky, he might skirt by with a stern warning from the Wizard Council since he was a Wizard Saint.
The rodent is a tool.
It was so stupidly obvious that he should leave and settle this formally. Find out the actual details of the incident and if the rodent really did kill someone before lashing out. Preserve his reputation and his guild's honor before he did something irreparable.
He is just something I picked up because I figured he would be useful.
He should have done a lot of things differently. He should have taken the lightning brat's taunt as what it was: an insecure little child throwing a tantrum.
If he breaks, I'll just focus my time on the other one.
He should have done the logical thing and stayed calm, then squeezed as much as he could out of this mess from Makarov and his bleeding heart.
If he breaks...
In the end, though, he didn't do the logical thing when he heard Makarov walk out of the bathroom with a relieved sigh and a stupid smile.
Ah...
Jose did what he truly wanted in that moment.
To hell with it.
Jose made the emotional decision instead of the logical one.
"Hehe, Jose, I must tell you, that was the biggest poop I've ever-"
"Dead Wave"
Jose snapped his arm out as a geyser of dead energy burst from his palms, hitting Makarov straight in the chest. The stunned guild leader was launched into the wall and out of the bar as Jose wiped the tequila off his hand, left a tip on the table, and stood up. Floating towards the new exit, he ascended to the sky and watched an angry giant grow out of the rubble with smoke coming from his chest and a loud bellow.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS JOSE!"
Jose watched dully as Makarov's old legs bulged and his aged back bulked until he towered over the town like a mountain. The old Titan roared into the air and glared at Jose. The one who had, in his eyes at least, attacked him out of nowhere and for no conceivable reason. To the old mage, it was as simple a matter as being betrayed by a colleague at a bar.
"WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME!"
Jose chose not to clear up the misunderstanding.
"Shade Magic"
Jose simply did what he wanted. Flourishing his hand as his shades converged and were molded together. Three snake-like creatures came to his side as he lit them on fire with dead magic and watched human skulls sprout from their necks. It was as if he had ripped the spine out of a serpent and stuck a human skull on it three times over.
"Phantom Gorgans"
They were hungry beasts circling Jose like floating eels as they awaited his following command and roared in hunger when he ascended to the sky. His eyes glowed a violet hue as he met Makarov's angry gaze with an icy tone that hid his boiling fury.
"You know Makarov..."
Jose tilted his head as his ghosts flooded the sky and blotted it out like a plague had descended on Clover. A plague that cackled and screamed for joy, even at that moment. As if their wishes had finally been granted this cold summer night.
"I've always wondered..."
Jose didn't often make emotional decisions, but that night, the night his student was beaten half to death by an insecure brat with a god complex, he had done so. As much as he tried to justify it, he had thrown logic out the window for the first time in years and made a purely emotionally driven decision.
"How I'd fare against a fellow Wizard Saint."
It must have been the alcohol.