"This is..." Makarov’s face was ashen. The injuries inflicted by the enemy were not severe, but the loss of magic power itself was extremely painful for him.
"Master, why is this happening..." Carla asked weakly.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She had already seen the "future," yet she could not change anything. For the first time, Carla regretted her own weakness.
"Don’t be afraid, at least..." Makarov saw the despair in her gaze. Summoning the last of his strength, he trembled as he held Carla close and forced himself to stand, trying to walk out of the magic circle. "At least... I can’t let you die with me."
"Master..." Carla’s voice broke as she sobbed uncontrollably, unable to do anything.
And in his current state, Makarov could not possibly leave the magic circle.
"This stubborn look, truly worthy of the one I chose. However, sleep now. It is time for Fairy Tail to make its curtain call."
Precht activated the magic circle without hesitation.
The surge of astonishing magic power was felt by almost everyone on the island. A brilliant explosion of light destroyed all the surrounding trees and rocks.
The immense power shook the ground again. Grimoire Heart’s members cheered, convinced that their Master had struck the killing blow. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✦𝓷𝓮𝓽
With magic of this magnitude, the enemy was surely dead.
Yet Precht turned his head with interest toward another direction.
There, Lahar stood with a sword in one hand, watching him warily.
Mest held Carla in his left arm and Makarov in his right, panting heavily.
The short distance they had traveled was not too much of a burden, but the danger had been extreme.
The hem of Mest’s clothes was scorched black. Had he been even half a second slower, he would have been caught in the blast.
Snatching someone away at the very last moment, risking his own life, had been far too close. Mest’s heart still pounded violently.
"It’s you again." Precht’s "Demon Eye" allowed him to see whatever his guild members saw at any time.
He had witnessed Mest using spatial magic to help Zeref escape earlier, and now this brat dared to appear before him once more.
"Then I’ll take care of you too." Precht flicked his hand casually, and the Amaterasu Twenty-Eight Style activated instantly, giving Mest no time to escape.
But when the explosion cleared, the group was unharmed.
A barrier of dense magical characters shimmered in the air, completely shielding them.
Lahar exhaled in relief. Fortunately, they had prepared for this moment. Without the barrier, given the opponent’s casting speed, Mest would never have gotten everyone out alive.
"Formula Magic?" Precht identified it immediately.
He was not overly surprised; he knew enough about this form of magic.
Forming a sword-hand seal, Precht casually drew several strokes in the air. Purple-black characters materialized instantly and shot toward the barrier.
Lahar’s eyes widened. The characters the opponent had written actually merged seamlessly into the formula magic he himself had created.
If the enemy could freely alter his formula magic, then they were finished.
"Mest, hurry and go!" Lahar placed a firm hand on Mest’s shoulder.
But three seconds later, Mest’s expression turned to shock. "No, I can’t get out!"
"What? How is that possible? My formula magic is only one-way defense..." Lahar’s voice faltered as he stared at Precht in disbelief.
He had thought the man was simply opening a hole to enter, but in just a few casual strokes, Precht had changed a defensive formula magic into an imprisonment formula magic.
"Kids, the world is vast, and there are countless magics that can restrain spatial magic. Don’t be too arrogant." Precht smiled faintly. "Still, I must thank you. Preparing the formula magic in advance has saved me quite a bit of trouble."
"To be proficient even in formula magic... this is the Master of Grimoire Heart..." Lahar’s composure wavered, frustration gnawing at him.
Good news: formula magic was absolute, and Precht’s offensive spells could not directly destroy it.
Bad news: Precht understood formula magic even better than he did.
The feeling of being utterly crushed in the very field where he excelled was infuriating.
When Precht began writing again, Lahar had no choice but to grit his teeth and try to rewrite the part of the spell the man had modified, hoping to nullify the space-sealing effect.
But making such fine adjustments in front of Precht was far easier said than done.
Halfway through his corrections, the opponent would already have read his intentions and prepared a cracking formula to counter him.
Makarov spoke with difficulty. "He is a magic master... he knows countless magics..."
If his magic power were still abundant, he might have had a chance to fight, but in his current state, Makarov truly had no idea how to escape.
Precht worked leisurely, continuing to alter the original formula magic while also countering Lahar’s attempts, clearly intending to reverse the original one-way passage.
The worst part was that the Amaterasu Hundred Style magic circle was already primed. The moment the formula magic was rewritten or erased, the spell would activate immediately.
Lahar considered creating another defensive formula magic inside the original one and then finding a way to escape, but the gap in their skill was too great.
He feared that before he could finish writing, the original would be completely rewritten into Precht’s control.
"There’s only one way. Get ready." Lahar knew it was risky, but staying any longer meant certain death. He had no choice but to gamble.
The two exchanged a silent glance, and Lahar decisively deactivated the defensive formula magic.
Although the array had been rewritten, Lahar was still its original caster and power source, so he managed to force it to shut down.
He barely had time to breathe. The instant the formula vanished, Amaterasu was already active.
Lahar could not tell whether Precht’s reaction was simply that fast or the circle had been primed to trigger the moment the barrier dropped. Either way, there was no grace period at all. The split second the formula dispelled, the spell detonated.
All three people and the one Exceed were swallowed by the furious blast.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Mest triggered his Teleportation Magic. The group at the heart of the explosion blinked out, then reappeared deep in the forest, where every one of them collapsed, unable to move.
It was only a last-ditch struggle. Precht did not bother pursuing. Securing Zeref mattered more.
What could mages with no magic power do now, anyway?
He turned his Demon Eye toward Azuma’s battlefield and watched. Demon Mirajane had not been drained or knocked down. Clearly, Azuma wanted to savor the fight a little longer.
Let him. The Seven Kin of Purgatory he had trained were all highly individualistic, and Precht had no interest in correcting them.