Rise of new dark guild

Chapter 8: Rumors and Echoes

Solas never truly trusted anyone.

That morning, before the tavern—before death—he'd spent hours pacing between safe houses, evading detection, and finalizing a plan that only three other people in the entire Obsidian Fang guild knew.

Spies inside Fairy Tail.

Not active saboteurs—yet—but loyal sympathizers, ones who'd grown disillusioned by the guild's recent decisions, Precht's closed-door behavior, or simply enticed by money. Solas had cultivated them slowly. Quietly. And now they were ready.

He was exhausted.

Wearing a plain cloak, he ducked into the guild-owned tavern with slouched posture and dragging steps. It was familiar territory, one where he could drop the weight of subterfuge for a while. The bar was noisy, mercenaries laughing, weapons resting against chairs, and deals whispered between drinks.

He stepped up to the counter. The bar maiden gave him a crooked smile.

"You burn more tables than you sit at, you know that?"

Solas smirked inwardly but only offered a dry chuckle. "They're too flimsy. Not my fault they can't handle heat."

He reached for the glass she slid toward him, and for a moment, his expression softened. His eyes, those sharp, ember-colored mirrors of wrath, drifted toward the fireplace in the corner.

> "They never helped us. So we built our own safety."

He remembered his brother's body lying in the ash, the smell of burning cloth and skin, the screams of a village that had already written them off. Obsidian Fang was cruel—but it had given him purpose.

"You ever think we're the bad guys?" he asked the bar maiden.

She rolled her eyes. "You think too much for a walking firestorm."

He gave a half-smile, then looked down into his drink.

The door creaked open.

---

The Next Morning — Victor's Room, Magnolia

Victor woke to soft light filtering through the curtains. He sat upright, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the system menu. Fifty Random Gacha Draws were tempting. But they came with no guarantees.

Still… it was worth testing.

> [10x RANDOM GACHA DRAW INITIATED…]

He watched as the results popped into view.

Combat Swimsuit (Size Small)

Gothic Lolita Dress (Enchanted for minor fire resistance)

Nurse Outfit (Glows in the dark)

Maid Headband (Stat bonus: +1 Dexterity)

Magical Girl Wand (Non-functional, squeaks when swung)

Slime Plushie (Sticky. Sentient.)

Cat Ears (Accessory. Causes wearer to purr involuntarily.)

Mini Skirt of Wind (Self-explanatory. Beware gusts.)

Cheerleader Boots (Increased jump height)

Maid Uniform (Duplicate)

Victor blinked. Then again.

"...Is this a joke?"

He rubbed his temples and sighed. "Alright. One more. Just to be sure."

> [10x RANDOM GACHA DRAW INITIATED…]

The items began to appear:

Bag of Marbles (Explosive. Possibly unstable.)

Demon Toy Duck (Quacks curses. Still adorable.)

Balloon Animal Kit (Unenchanted)

And then:

- Cursed Blade: Shatterveil

Heals user by consuming sanity. Induces illusions with every grievous wound. May whisper in dreams.

- Legendary Cosplay Outfit: The Perfect Maid

Boosts wearer's combat ability by 500%. Fits all sizes. Auto-adjusts. Frilly.

- Flame Ring of Isolation

Grants complete immunity to fire for one hour. Cooldown: 12 hours.

Victor stared.

"This system... it's messing with me."

He leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling. The temptation to keep drawing warred with reason.

"No. Not worth the risk. The premium draws are the real jackpot. These... are jokes with teeth."

---

Elsewhere — Obsidian Fang Guild Headquarters

The room was silent.

Solas was dead.

The three grunts who returned from the tavern were still shaking as they knelt before the guild's inner council. Their descriptions were disjointed—words like vanished, shadow, blade, and maid outfit repeated often.

"She called herself... the Assassin-Class Servant," one of them whispered.

Nereza leaned back, brows knit in thought. "A servant? Like celestial spirits? Is that what this is?"

"Could be," Veyra said coldly. "A new kind of summoning magic. Not unheard of. Especially from foreign lands."

Kross Deltane, the guild master, didn't speak.

He stared at the candle in the center of the table, the flame dancing unnaturally high. His thoughts weren't on the girl.

They were on Precht.

Too much lined up. The timing. The growing strength of Fairy Tail. The whispers he'd heard from old Council friends.

"Is this you, Precht?" he muttered, voice low.

But no answer came.

Only a storm.

Kross stood. "Accelerate the plan. We strike the guildhall before the month is out."

The others looked shocked.

"We're not ready—" Nereza began.

"I said move."

His tone silenced them all.

He couldn't afford to wait.

Because if Precht really was behind this, then the battle was already lost.

---

End of Chapter 8