Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

📍 Crocus — Domus Flau Arena & Sabertooth Waiting Room

📅 July X791

While preparations stirred on the arena floor, a different kind of game played out away from the spotlight—quieter, colder, and far more dangerous.

Inside a shadow-laced waiting room, Minerva Orland leaned against the wall, arms folded, her back straight as a blade. Her long black hair spilled like ink down her back, and her gaze—sharp, heavy—missed nothing.

Across from her, Sting sprawled lazily, feet kicked up, his usual smirk stretched across his face.

Rogue sat tucked into a corner, quiet as a ghost, eyes obscured behind his dark fringe. He didn't speak, but the weight of his presence could still be felt, like mist clinging to stone.

Minerva's lips curved slightly, a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

"The crowd's noisy today," she said, voice soft and dangerous. "So easy to rile… like children with sparklers."

Sting chuckled.

"Let 'em scream. Once we step out there, the real show begins."

Rogue didn't respond, but his gloved hand twitched—briefly curling, as if remembering something no longer there.

Minerva pushed off the wall, her heels barely whispering against the floor.

"You enjoy the noise too much," she said, walking past Sting. "But applause means nothing. Real power leaves no one standing long enough to cheer."

For a second, the grin faltered on Sting's face. Then he waved her off.

"Yeah, yeah. Long as we win."

High above, in the observation booth, Teresa watched the scene through a crystal screen. Her silver eyes never blinked.

"She strikes before drawing the blade," she murmured. "Crushes the will before the fight begins. Strategic… but merciless."

Kinana folded her arms around herself, her expression tense.

"She feels… hollow. Like she forgot how to be anything but sharp."

Macao exhaled slowly.

"That girl's walking danger. You can see it—right there in her eyes."

Teresa didn't speak. But her gaze didn't shift.

Back in the lower halls, Minerva turned toward the corridor.

"I have… guests to greet," she said, her tone almost mocking. "Try not to disappoint me while I'm gone."

She stepped out, the door closing behind her like a blade sliding into its sheath.

Others in the hallway instinctively stepped aside. Minerva didn't glance at them. She didn't have to. Her presence carved space around her like frost on glass.

She paused at a balcony overlooking the stadium. The roar of the crowd rolled up to meet her, but she didn't react. Her fingers moved to the charm around her neck.

"Father," she whispered, so quiet the wind almost swallowed it. "Watch me. I'll crush them all. And prove… warmth is a lie."

For a moment—just a flicker—her eyes dimmed. Something fragile surfaced behind the glassy surface.

Then it was gone.

Above, Teresa's expression shifted.

"A blade without heat," she said softly. "Cuts clean. But brittle under pressure."

Kinana turned to her, wide-eyed.

"You think she's weak because she's cold?"

"No," Teresa replied. "Just more likely to crack when the pressure comes from within."

In the Fairy Tail booth, Mavis hovered quietly.

"She's buried herself under pride and silence," she whispered. "So deep… I wonder if her echo can still find its way back."

Makarov nodded solemnly.

"Some armor… You can't see. It's not made of steel. It's made of old scars."

Minerva returned to the inner corridor. Sabertooth members stood straighter as she passed. She didn't look at them, didn't slow.

In the viewing hall, supporters gathered. Some cheered when they saw her.

She didn't smile.

"Do not show weakness today," she said flatly. "Sabertooth stands above all. If you forget that… you'll answer to me."

The room fell still. One young mage dropped his gaze to the floor.

Teresa's eyes narrowed.

"She rules through fear," she murmured. "Fear keeps soldiers obedient… but it kills loyalty."

Macao shook his head.

"She's not leading them. She's cornering them."

Kinana's voice was barely audible.

"They're right next to her… and still feel alone."

Far below, Minerva walked past a silver-framed mirror on the wall. Something made her pause.

She turned.

And stared.

The reflection showed what the others didn't see.

A young woman, tired behind the edges. Eyes that burned not from hate—but from something once gentler… now caged.

She lifted a hand. Slowly. Hesitantly.

Her fingers reached for the glass—

Then curled inward. Sharp. Guarded.

She turned away before the gesture could finish.

Didn't look back.

Above, Teresa's fingers tapped once against the armrest.

"Even the darkest echo," she said, "still remembers how to whisper."

The magic screens above the arena flared. The next match was called. Cheers rose like thunder.

Minerva stepped into the lighted hallway, her mask flawless again.

No hesitation.

No crack.

The mirror, and whatever it had reflected at her, was already forgotten—or buried.

Teresa leaned back, silver eyes watching the girl move like a shadow through flame.

"Shadows hide," she murmured. "But they don't silence. Sooner or later… every echo finds a way to rise."

Kinana looked at her carefully.

"Do you think she'll change?"

Teresa didn't answer.

But the corners of her mouth shifted—just a little.

And then, just like the flicker in the girl's reflection, it disappeared.