Fairy Tail: Strongest Creature

The news hit Fairy Tail like a thunderclap. Everyone stared at Nab as he burst through the guild doors, waving a folded newspaper.

"The Magic Council… they've been attacked! All nine councilors are dead!"

Makarov's whiskered face went pale. "What—? Every member of the Council… gone?"

Even wizards who had little contact with the Council felt the gravity of the disaster. Without the Council's leadership, the entire magic world teetered on the brink of chaos.

At the Yakima Restaurant, Yakima himself read the same headlines with a heavy heart. "Nine councilors… 119 killed or injured… an unimaginable tragedy."

Freed, chopping vegetables, frowned. "That's—our friend Makarov's circle."

Bickslow tried to break the tension with a joke, only to be cut off by Yakima's glare. "Not funny, Bickslow!"

Evergreen, dressed in her maid uniform, sighed, "Even here, business is slow. I thought a new outfit would help."

The others grumbled. "We need customers, not costumes."

Just then the door burst open—and in strode a figure cloaked in shadows and a wide-brimmed hat.

Before anyone could react, a roaring gale of wind exploded through the restaurant, shredding tables and chairs to splinters.

"What—?!" Yakima shouted, leaping to defend the cooking counter, but a single palm strike sent him crashing into the wall.

Freed and Bickslow both hurled out improvised attacks—Freed's puppet needles and Bickslow's cursed flames—but each was swept aside by that storm of wind.

Yakima struggled to his feet, only to feel his body stiffen, as though wrapped in paper. "My magic… won't work!"

A cold, mocking voice answered from the whirlwind. "I am Calamity, one of the Nine Demon Gates of Tartaros. Your councilors fell today—now you share their fate."

Yakima gasped for breath as the wind tightened around him. Freed, bloodied but unbowed, tried to burst through the storm, crying, "Yakima! Hang on!"

Calamity's eyes glittered. "Hades's gate opens—mankind shall be judged."

Just as all seemed lost, a crack of thunder split the storm overhead. A golden bolt of lightning smashed through the wind barrier—then another, thicker bolt followed, striking Calamity directly.

The wind died instantly.

Laxus, robe billowing, stood in the shattered doorway, crackling with electricity. He advanced, lightning dancing across his fists. "You picked the wrong guild to terrorize."

Calamity staggered, eyes wide. Laxus's storm raged stronger, and with a final thunderclap, Calamity was driven back—vanishing into a swirl of debris.

Yakima collapsed to his knees. Freed and Bickslow rushed to his side.

Laxus sheathed his bolts of lightning and offered Yakima a hand. "Next time, call me first."

Yakima managed a shaky smile. "Thank—or… ten thousand thanks."

Outside, the wind had fallen silent. But the assault on the Magic Council had plunged Ishgar into uncertainty—and Tartaros's shadow had grown yet darker.