Come on, I thought dark guilds were supposed to be scary," Gray taunted, sidestepping a fireball before countering with a razor-sharp spear of ice, piercing straight through his attacker's defenses.
Lyon smirked, conjuring intricate ice sculptures that came to life, crushing enemies beneath their enormous weight. "It's not their fault they're outclassed."
Sherry stood behind them, her fingers dancing in the air as her enchanted dolls surged forward, overwhelming the enemy ranks in an elegant yet terrifying display of control. "Dance for me, my lovely dolls! Let them witness the artistry of true combat!"
A shadow darted behind her—an enemy attempting a cowardly strike from behind. Before he could land a hit, he was frozen mid-lunge, encased in a sudden and beautiful sculpture of ice.
Lyon flicked his wrist dismissively. "A sneak attack? That's no way to treat a lady."
With one swift motion, he shattered the frozen foe into glimmering shards.
At the heart of the battlefield, Natsu Dragneel was a walking inferno, his fists wreathed in roaring flames as he tore through enemy ranks with unrelenting fury. His movements were feral, each strike a devastating explosion of heat and power.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!" he bellowed, a wild grin splitting his face. "I WAS HOPING FOR A REAL FIGHT!"
Beside him, Erza clashed through waves of opponents with the elegance of a war goddess. Swapping into her Heaven's Wheel Armor, she unleashed a torrential storm of swords, the steel rain cutting through enemy ranks like divine punishment.
"We don't stop until they're all down!" she declared, her voice carrying a weight that sent a chill through her foes.
Above them, Happy weaved through the battlefield, dodging stray spells with ease. "Aye, Sir! These guys are dropping like flies!"
But the victory was far from secured. Just as the enemy lines began to break, another wave of dark mages surged forward, their numbers seemingly endless. Shadowy figures emerged from the trees, spells already forming in their hands, their eyes burning with malice.
"Tch—these guys don't know when to quit!" Natsu growled, cracking his knuckles.
From the treetops, several robed figures chanted in unison, launching a barrage of black tendrils toward Erza. She barely had time to react, twisting her blade to deflect the incoming strike, only for another wave of attackers to leap from the underbrush.
Natsu ducked under a sudden ice spear aimed at his head, his flames flaring as he spun and delivered a fire-coated uppercut to the attacker's gut, sending them flying. But before he could relish the hit, three more dark mages appeared, surrounding him.
"We still got plenty left to burn through!" he snarled, his flames intensifying.
The battlefield of Worth Woodsea had quieted, but the silence carried no comfort—only an eerie, suffocating stillness. The air was thick with the scent of burned wood and the lingering traces of magic. Smoke curled from the scorched earth, mixing with the soft rustle of leaves as the wind passed through the forest, whispering like ghosts through the blackened branches.
The allied guilds, once fighting side by side, had now become scattered across the woodland, separated by the chaos of battle. Their exhaustion weighed heavy on them—breaths labored, limbs sluggish. And yet, in their moment of reprieve, something far worse had begun to unfold.
They weren't alone.
From the darkness of the trees, unseen eyes watched. Shadows moved in unnatural silence. They had not come in groups, had not come with reckless force like the dark guilds before them. No, Oración Seis had come as hunters.
And their prey was already cornered.
Jura dusted the debris from his shoulder, surveying his surroundings. The air was oddly still, the earlier chaos replaced by an unnatural quiet. He could sense something—not just magic, but an ominous presence pressing against the atmosphere.
Beside him, Ichiya let out a slow breath, adjusting his torn collar with practiced elegance. His usual flamboyant demeanor was subdued, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Jura-dono… do you feel it? This scent… it is not one of a gentleman."
Jura gave a small nod. "I sense it as well. We are being watched."
A whisper. A laugh.
Then, the world twisted.
Jura barely had time to react before the trees around him warped, their trunks stretching and twisting unnaturally, as if reality itself had bent. The ground beneath him wavered, the very fabric of space distorting around his body.
"Finally," a voice murmured, smooth and lazy, yet laced with danger. "A Wizard Saint… and the famed Parfum Master… how convenient."
Jura's gaze snapped upward. From the air above them, Midnight floated effortlessly, his red eyes glowing under the dim moonlight. His smirk widened as he traced his fingers through the air, and instantly, the world around them began to shift. The trees elongated unnaturally, the sky itself seemed to spiral, and the earth beneath them tilted at impossible angles.
"So tell me, Jura of the Ten Wizard Saints…" Midnight drawled, his voice almost mocking. "How will you fight when the world refuses to obey you?"
Jura's fists clenched as he steadied himself. This was no ordinary magic. This was a battlefield unlike any he had fought before.
Ichiya, however, remained unfazed. With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he pulled a small bottle from his coat and took a deep inhale. "Hmmm… my cologne tells me that your magic… lacks elegance!"
Midnight's smirk twitched slightly. "What?"
Ichiya's eyes gleamed. "Then allow me to introduce you to the refined power… of true fragrance!"
With a sudden burst of movement, Ichiya unleashed a wave of his potent perfume, the overwhelming scent rushing toward Midnight like a crashing tide.
Jura took the moment of distraction to plant his palm into the earth. Even if the world itself twisted, he would not yield.