Chapter 6: Tsukuyomi!?

**Tsukuyomi!?**

[The Seed of Grudge]

"I'm back!"

*Boom!*

*Crash!*

*Thud!*

A symphony of destruction erupted as Gildarts made his entrance into the guild. The walls shattered, sending concrete flying in all directions, yet not a single soul seemed to bat an eye at the chaos—except one.

"Don't destroy the wall!" The voice was unmistakable. None other than the president himself, Makarov, shouting with his usual authority.

"Welcome back, Gildarts!" 

"Welcome!"

"Come, have a drink!"

"Gildarts, fight me!"

The guild members greeted him with warmth and enthusiasm, their voices a cacophony of cheer, even as Makarov scolded him. But amidst the celebration, what caught my attention the most was a bold, nearly absurd challenge issued by a kid, wearing nothing but his underwear, to the mighty Gildarts.

*Gray Fullbuster, huh?* I mused inwardly, recognizing him instantly. The current year was X775, meaning he had only recently joined, a mere year ago.

Gildarts, ever the easygoing soul, responded with a grin, his gaze shifting to Makarov.

"President, I've succeeded in recruiting him," he said, a subtle nod in my direction.

"Recruiting... who?" Makarov asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

They turned toward the spot Gildarts had gestured to, only to find nothing but empty air. A puzzled murmur rippled through the guild.

"What are you talking about, Gildarts...?" one of them asked, their tone uncertain.

"Oh? You can't see him? Well, he's terribly shy, hahaha!" Gildarts replied with a casual shrug, scratching the back of his head, though his explanation was as vague as it was unconvincing.

As their chatter continued, my eyes drifted to a certain elderly man—Makarov, his gaze fixed on me, calculating and sharp. He was measuring my power, silently appraising me. *Such a young age… yet his magic power is far beyond anything I've ever felt. It surpasses even my grandson, Laxus…*

Makarov's scrutiny lingered for a moment before he broke the silence with a warm smile. Without another word, he leapt off his chair and spoke, his voice rich with authority, "I've heard about your situation from Gildarts. Come with me, we'll talk."

A ripple of confusion spread through the room.

"What's going on…?"

"No idea..."

"???"

The guild members were bewildered, unable to comprehend what was happening. Clearly, Makarov and Gildarts were perceiving something that others couldn't—though what exactly, they had no way of knowing. As Makarov quietly left, heading toward the library, the others could only look to Gildarts for clarification.

"Hey, Gildarts, what's going on with you and the president?" Macao asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Gildarts, having settled into a chair with a glass of wine, smiled wide, his usual playful demeanor never faltering. "A 9-year-old kid has become a new member of our guild…" He paused, setting the glass down and leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "And he's incredibly strong, too!"

The guild members exchanged uneasy glances. "A 9-year-old?" Macao echoed incredulously.

Gildarts took a sip of wine, savoring the moment before continuing, "The reason you can't see him is because of his magic. Apparently, anyone with less than 5-star magic power won't be able to perceive him."

A frown spread across the room. *So, he's saying we're too weak to even notice him? That little brat is underestimating us…* The thoughts were palpable, bitterness brewing in the air.

But Gildarts, as if sensing their thoughts, raised a hand to pacify them. "Don't get the wrong idea," he said with a knowing grin. "His concealment isn't meant to insult you. It's a form of protection. Those below 5 stars—like most of you—would fall victim to hallucinations, visions of your deepest fears, which would drive you to madness. Hiding himself, then, is not an insult; it's a shield."

Of course, this wasn't entirely the truth. Though he could control his passive, the real reason for my concealment was far more personal—hiding from someone, using this as a convenient excuse. Gildarts, however, was unaware.

He took another sip, his voice dropping slightly, enough to make a few ears twitch. "That being said, if you want to *see* him, you'll need to be strong enough."

His words weren't aimed at Macao, but rather at a certain individual who had been listening in silence. The room fell into an almost palpable tension as Laxus, having overheard Gildarts' challenge, clicked his tongue in annoyance. Without another word, he stood up and began to head in the direction where Makarov and the newcomer had gone.

"This is going to be interesting," Gildarts mused aloud, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. He had, of course, already anticipated what was to come. By emphasizing just how "extremely strong" I was, and carefully dropping the fact that I was a mere child, he had lit the spark of competitiveness in Laxus. 

Laxus, unable to see or sense me, had no choice but to acknowledge my power. Yet, true to his rebellious nature, he couldn't let Gildarts' words go unanswered. His pride burned brightly, and he was determined to prove the older man wrong.

****

I sat across from the president of Fairy Tail, Makarov, the quiet hum of the library around us only deepening the sense of gravitas in the room.

"I see," he said softly, his gaze unwavering. "So that's why... I won't force you, but since you've chosen to join us, we welcome you as family." His arms spread wide in an almost inviting gesture, a warm smile lighting his face as if he were offering a welcoming embrace.

"Okay, President," I replied, my voice steady but laced with seriousness, "I'm going to show you something, but you must promise to keep it a secret. Don't tell anyone else."

Makarov's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his gaze sharpening as I reached for my mask. The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I slowly removed it, revealing the truth behind my identity.

The moment the mask fell away, something in Makarov's expression shifted—an earthquake of shock tremored in his eyes, reducing his pupils to mere pinpricks.

"You... You are..."

He staggered back, his finger trembling as it pointed toward me, the shock too great for words.

"Yes..." I said with a calm smile, not the least bit rattled by his reaction. "I'm Gildarts' son and Cana's twin sister."

"But..." Makarov began, his mind clearly struggling to process the revelation, but before he could say more, I cut him off.

"But I disappeared when I was a child, didn't I?" I asked, my fingers tapping thoughtfully against my chin. "The reason for that... is because of a god."

"I see..." Makarov didn't press further. For him, it seemed, as long as I was safe and sound, that was all that mattered.

"Also," I continued, shifting my tone, "it would be rude of me to keep hiding behind this ability, so I'm thinking of modifying my passive illusion magic."

Makarov's curiosity peaked, his attention fully on me now.

"My ability, *Witness to Fear and Death*, is a passive effect that impacts anyone within a 15-meter radius. Those who witness me suffer from hallucinations, visions of their deepest fears brought to life. For them, it's as if they're witnessing death itself. But what they see... well, I show them the appearance of the Cult of the Black Goat, the all-mother Shub-Niggurath."

I paused, the words hanging in the air as Makarov processed my explanation.

"The reason I named it *Witness to Fear and Death* is simple," I continued, my voice quiet, but firm. "I stand at the center of their fear, a silent witness to their torment and eventual death."

A faint smile tugged at my lips as I reflected on the power I wielded. *Quite amusing, isn't it?*

"I've slightly modified it, though. Instead of summoning the cult god, I drew inspiration from a legendary figure—Kim Dokja, the Ugly King from *Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint*." 

Makarov raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my reference.

"To become a legend," I went on, "you must follow the example of one. But I didn't want to risk being mistaken for something… unsavory, so I ensured that my voice would stand out. Even with my face hidden, they'll recognize me by my voice alone—no one will be able to recall my appearance." 

I smirked at the thought. "*Man in the Middle*," I continued, explaining further, "is the name I gave to this new form. It's a cyberattack term, referring to a hacker who intercepts and manipulates data between two parties, often without their knowledge."

I paused, watching Makarov carefully. "As for why I chose the name—well, it just sounded cool, and it fits."

Makarov remained silent, his expression unreadable as he processed the weight of my words. I could tell he was deep in thought, but I wasn't finished yet.

"My ability works in two ways: automatic and manual. The automatic version is triggered by my passive effect—there's no control over its intensity, and it's set to the maximum at all times. But with the manual version, I can control the intensity of the illusions, setting them at whatever level I desire."

The two of us paused, simultaneously sensing a presence at the door. Our attention shifted, and the unmistakable sound of the door being kicked open broke the stillness.

*Baam!*

"Laxus, huh?" I mused inwardly, watching Makarov's reaction as he responded, his voice sharp with authority.

"Don't destroy the door, Laxus!"

"Hmph!" Laxus grunted, not even acknowledging his grandfather's command. His eyes locked onto me with intensity, as though sizing me up. 

*I can see him?* Laxus thought, confusion flickering behind his eyes. *Something's off here... he's deliberately letting me see him. Is he looking down on me?*

Laxus, unable to understand what was happening, gritted his teeth, his pride clearly bruised. He slammed his fist onto the wooden table and issued a challenge, his voice dripping with defiance.

"Let's go outside! I'll show you how strong I am!"

*Looks like he wants to prove something,* I thought, watching him closely. Those who constantly seek to prove their worth often do so out of self-doubt.

I didn't respond immediately, simply meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. My thoughts drifted back to the time when Laxus had taken on Raven Tail five versus one—a feat that had caught my interest. 

"Sure, let's go outside," I replied at last, my voice cool and composed.

Laxus' eyes gleamed with renewed determination as a smirk spread across his face. He turned on his heel, heading toward the door.

"Follow me, then!" he called over his shoulder, clearly eager for the fight.

I glanced at Makarov one last time before standing to follow Laxus. I offered a slight shrug in his direction.

"President, please be prepared to send Laxus to the hospital," I said, my tone laced with a hint of seriousness. "Though my magic is an illusion, its internal destructive power is incredibly strong—so much so that even Gildarts was affected. I can't promise I'll be able to control it fully, and there will likely be casualties."

It wasn't arrogance, merely the truth. The potential for harm was high, and I wanted Makarov to be prepared.

Makarov nodded, understanding the gravity of my words. He didn't try to stop me. Perhaps he saw this as an opportunity for Laxus to learn something valuable, to witness my capabilities firsthand. Either way, he trusted me to handle it.

**Thud!**

**Thud!**

**Thud!**

The deep, resounding footsteps echoed from the second floor, stirring the usual sense of chaos in the guild. Normally, the air would be thick with boisterous laughter, bickering, and the constant sound of fights breaking out—an unspoken rule that kept everyone's hearts beating. But today? Today, a strange stillness settled over the room, as if the very atmosphere had drawn in a breath, waiting.

Three figures emerged from the second floor, yet it wasn't the familiar sight of Laxus or President Makarov that seized the attention of every member present. No, all eyes were drawn to the mysterious figure trailing behind them—a child cloaked in black, with only a white katana and a scarf to break the monotony of his attire. But it was his face that held their gaze, or rather, the absence of it. The outline was visible, but the features—his true identity—remained hidden, an enigma that none could decipher.

'I can feel their eyes on me,' I thought silently, my attention shifting toward Cana. Her stare pierced through the room, sharp enough to cut, as if she were trying to devour me whole.

*He feels familiar, yet so... unfamiliar,* her inner voice whispered, and I could almost hear her mind churning. She turned her gaze toward Gildarts, who was lost in his drink. *So… am I still too weak?*

No one else seemed to notice the quiet despair creeping over her, but I did. I could see it in the way she held herself, the faint crease in her brow that spoke of frustration and doubt. But I had no intention of offering comfort. We may share blood, but that was where any bond between us ended. I had no affection for her, and her personal struggles were hers to handle. To me, they were trivial, meaningless.

Laxus, brimming with pride and determination, shot a challenging glare at Gildarts, his voice bold and taunting. "Uncle, watch me defeat your so-called 'strongest kid'!"

The audacity of his declaration was enough to ignite the room. It was as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.

"Wakaba, an old hand in the guild, raised his voice above the chatter. "Laxus is going to fight the newcomer!"

The air hummed with energy as bets began to fly across the room like sparks in a tinderbox.

"I'll bet 1,000 J on Laxus!" one voice called out eagerly.

"Then I'll bet 2,000 J on the newcomer!" another joined in, a spark of excitement in their eyes.

"I'll also bet 2,000 J on the newcomer!" came a third, their voice eager to see the unknown challenger rise.

"I believe in Laxus! I'll put 4,000 J on him!" And another joined the fray, as the stakes climbed higher.

The amounts weren't grand by any means—mere pennies in the grand scheme of things. But that wasn't the point. It wasn't about the money. It was the thrill, the rush of watching two titans clash, the anticipation of seeing who would emerge victorious. The bets were just an excuse to heighten the tension, to feed into the excitement that filled the air like electricity.

**In the forest of Magnolia...**

Amidst the dense trees and the cool, serene silence of the woods, two figures stood facing each other—separated by a mere ten meters. One was Laxus, the embodiment of raw power and pride, and the other was Kyoka Suigetsu, a mysterious enigma in the flesh.

Laxus cracked his neck, stretching his arms in a show of confidence. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he prepared himself, his every movement a testament to his readiness for battle. He was fully intent on ending the fight in an instant—his pride would not allow anything less.

As his hands stretched into the air, his gaze flicked toward me, as if something suddenly struck him. "That reminds me... What's your name?"

I paused, momentarily taken aback. I hadn't introduced myself. Makarov and Gildarts knew who I was, but beyond them, my name was unknown. 

"Just call me Kyoka Suigetsu," I replied, my voice steady and devoid of emotion.

"Kyoka Suigetsu, huh...?" Laxus muttered, his mind clearly racing, but he quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Watch me beat you in five seconds!"

*What a bold declaration,* I thought inwardly, a smirk curling at the corner of my lips. *And watch me defeat you with nothing but a single finger.*

Makarov, standing between us with his arms crossed, interrupted the brief exchange. "Are both sides ready?"

We both nodded in unison.

"Then... begin!" Makarov's voice rang out, signaling the start of the battle.

Without hesitation, Laxus unleashed his thunderous might. "Lightning Dragon's Breakdown Fist!" he roared, his body crackling with electric energy. In an instant, he molded the lightning around him, shaping it into a spear-like weapon. With a fluid motion, he raised his hands, the jagged electricity swirling dangerously as he prepared to strike.

"Such power!" someone from the crowd gasped in awe.

"As expected of the president's grandson!" another voice chimed in, impressed by Laxus's raw strength.

The crowd's murmurs faded into the background as I remained locked in my focus on Laxus, studying his every movement. *Has he already obtained a Lacrima?* I wondered. But it hardly mattered. 

*This battle was over before it had even begun.*

"It's over," I said, my voice calm and crystal clear, carrying effortlessly through the forest.

Laxus, under the impression that I was already preparing to fall, smirked with the arrogance of someone who knew victory was assured. He had unleashed his strongest attack, and yet, I remained standing—unmoved, unaffected.

I lifted a single finger, pointing it toward him. A white magic circle materialized beneath my fingertip. 

*No magic fluctuations…?* Makarov and Gildarts exchanged confused glances, both struggling to comprehend the nature of my magic. Gildarts, in particular, wore an expression of disbelief, haunted by the memory of the first time I had left him reeling. But despite their efforts, neither of them would understand. They couldn't sense what was happening—not yet. 

Because, as they were thinking, I was already executing my magic. The illusion was already in motion.

In that instant, the magic circle was not just a signal of my intent—it was a manifestation of my power. Laxus, who had been standing confidently moments ago, suddenly collapsed to the ground. His knees buckled, and he was forced to steady himself with his right hand, gasping for air as though the very life was being squeezed out of him.

"What's going on!?" he managed to shout, his voice weak, trembling with confusion and panic.

His magic had been nullified. The power that had once surged through his veins was now a distant memory. Worse still, he was struggling to breathe, as if invisible hands were closing around his throat. The sensation was not just physical—it was a suffocating weight on his very soul. The illusion had taken hold, and there was no escape from its grip.

**"Cough! Argh...!"**

Laxus's violent coughs echoed through the air, each one more painful than the last, causing the onlookers to tense in concern. The sounds were jagged, unsettling, and filled with a raw agony that left everyone watching in stunned silence.

**"Laxus was beaten instantly!?"**

Macao's voice was strained with disbelief. *Laxus...* Everyone knew him, knew his strength. The very thought of him being overwhelmed with a mere flick of a finger was unthinkable. It was a spectacle that stretched the limits of logic itself. Even someone like Gildarts, with all his power, couldn't accomplish such a feat.

Yet here Laxus was, choking, gasping, and struggling with something far beyond mere physical pain.

**Cough!**

Another round of violent coughing followed, each one pushing him closer to the edge. And then... something more grotesque occurred.

**Cough!**

The sound wasn't just painful—it was disturbing. Laxus's stomach lurched as he vomited, but what emerged from his mouth wasn't just the typical contents of the stomach. No—this was far worse. Twitching, animated fingers began to slide out, their unnatural movements setting everyone's nerves on fire.

**"Definitely disgusting!"**

**"What is that!?"**

The crowd gasped in horror. They knew it had to be illusion magic, but the realness of it, the disturbing nature of the twisted fingers wriggling out of Laxus's mouth, made it feel all too tangible. The air thickened with unease as everyone watched, mesmerized in a sickened, horrified awe.

Even Laxus himself, who had been gripped by confusion and pain, froze in terror. He was too dazed to make sense of what was happening to him. But the worst part? As he struggled to pull the fingers out of his mouth, something far worse followed.

A whole hand.

And then a forearm.

Still twitching, still alive in some nightmarish sense.

The crowd recoiled collectively.

**"!!?"**

Their eyes widened in disbelief as Laxus—face contorted with dread—pulled the arm out of his mouth. He could feel the familiar texture of the fingers, the palm... yet what terrified him was the growing realization. This wasn't just some random appendage.

It was *his* arm.

His own arm.

In a panic, he glanced down at his left side and—his heart stopped. His left arm was *gone.*

**"What!?"**

The words barely made it past his lips. His mind raced as he desperately clung to the fragments of his rationality.

*Calm down. This is just an illusion. Just an illusion...*

He gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breath, willing himself to focus. The absence of his arm should have been enough to snap him out of it, but his own body betrayed him—no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, the reality of the situation kept shattering his composure.

He wouldn't let this defeat him. *I can break it. This is just an illusion.* He thought as he clenched his fist, calling upon his power. His right hand crackled with raw, blinding energy as he summoned his ultimate technique.

**"Lightning Dragon's Breakdown Fist!"**

A surge of electricity burst from his hand, the crackling power flashing in the air like a storm unleashed. His strongest attack, a blow that could level mountains.

But instead of disintegrating the illusion before him, the crackling energy passed harmlessly through it, leaving nothing but an eerie, unchanged scene. The illusion wasn't even scratched.

**"Impossible!"**

The ground beneath Laxus seemed to give way beneath him as he entered a daze. His mind refused to grasp the magnitude of what had just occurred. His ultimate move, his pride, had failed.

And then the nightmare worsened.

The twitching arm, still held in his hand, twisted with an unsettling motion—*it grabbed him.*

Laxus's body froze as the appendage clamped around his head with vice-like strength. The grotesque sensation of it was enough to send his heart into a frenzy. And then, in one horrifying motion, the rest of the figure emerged.

A body.

A whole form.

Starting from the fingers, the arm, and then the head—*the figure* itself pulled its way out of Laxus's mouth, using the twitching arm as leverage to climb free.

**"This is..."**

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, the horror of what was happening settling over the onlookers. What was emerging from Laxus's very body? What was it that was so powerful, so terrifying, that it could bring even him to his knees?

What they witnessed next shattered any semblance of reality.

The air rippled as something utterly unnatural unfolded before them. It wasn't the process that took them aback, but the grotesque result. From Laxus's very mouth emerged another figure, identical to him in every detail—a twisted, mocking reflection of his own self. The two locked eyes, the illusion wearing a look of pure derision. The real Laxus gritted his teeth, fury bubbling inside him. Not only had he failed to shatter the illusion, but now, he was being toyed with like a puppet caught in a cruel game. 

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a sharp, resonant crack—like the breaking of glass—the illusory Laxus dissolved, its form unraveling into shimmering fragments of light, rising slowly and dissipating into the air. His missing arm reappeared, as though it had never been lost.

The silence hung heavy, only broken by the calm words I spoke next. 

"Admit defeat now, Laxus... You don't stand a chance against me."

Laxus, panting heavily, slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine. His eyes burned with frustration, a fire that could not be extinguished. He realized, with a sinking weight in his chest, that I had hardly moved a muscle. *I did nothing but raise a finger, and yet...* A bitter laugh rose within him. *Am I still this weak?* He could feel the sting of humiliation. His pride, shattered. His resolve, tested. 

He slammed his fist into the ground, gritting his teeth. "I will never accept this!" His voice thundered in the air, the energy swirling around him. He became a vessel of lightning, electricity arcing across his body as though he were a living conduit. A mighty roar erupted from his throat—a roar of defiance, a roar of a Lightning Dragon in its rawest, most primal form.

Our gazes met, locked in a silent contest of wills.

I felt the electricity in the air, the tension thick with the impending clash. *So this is the roar of a Lightning Dragon?* I thought silently, but the words slipped from my lips before I could stop them. "You leave me no choice... Tsukuyomi."

A magic circle materialized beneath my finger, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. The world around us began to distort, unraveling. The sounds of the guild hall vanished, the faces of the spectators fading into nothingness. In an instant, it was just me and Laxus—alone, suspended in an infinite, empty void. The world had turned black and white.

"What!?" Laxus's voice was filled with confusion and dread. The moment he spoke, his body jerked, as though bound by invisible chains. His arms and legs were splayed out, suspended in mid-air, like a marionette caught in the cruel grasp of fate. His eyes widened as he realized his inability to move. His body was crucified, trapped in the cold, suffocating silence of the dimension I had woven around us.

I took slow, deliberate steps toward him, my eyes never leaving his. Each movement seemed to drag on longer than it should have, as if time itself was suspended in this artificial realm. I unsheathed my katana with a smooth, fluid motion, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light. 

Laxus's eyes locked onto the blade, fear and defiance warring within them.

"What... What are you going to do?" Laxus stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to mask the growing terror in his chest.

Our eyes locked, his wide and panicked, mine cold and unyielding. His fear hung heavy in the air, and yet I stood unmoved, as if a mere reflection of the storm that raged within him.

And then, from the very ground beneath us, figures began to emerge. Three at first, then five, then ten—until they swelled into a hundred. Each clone mirrored my every movement, a silent army of identical shadows, each one holding a katana, poised and ready. They surrounded him, their presence suffocating, an inevitable conclusion to his defiance. 

In that moment, the memory of Itachi Uchiha surfaced unbidden, not just the fearsome power of his Genjutsu, but the elegance with which he controlled his world. No hatred had ever marred my admiration for him, despite his own tragic actions. Instead, there had always been a quiet respect—a longing to wield control as he did. And now, standing here, I would do just that. Using the magic I had mastered—time, space, and Kyoka Suigetsu—I would recreate the Tsukuyomi. A world of my making, where every second bent to my will. 

The power consumed me, draining me far more than I'd anticipated, but the effort was worth it. This was a one-time move, meant for no one but Laxus.

I locked eyes with him once more, and in that moment, I shifted my voice, mimicking Itachi's calm tone.

"This is an artificial world," I said, each word deliberate, layered with weight and finality. "I control time, space, and all within it. For you, the next 72 hours will be nothing but this moment, repeating over and over."

And then, with a slight tilt of my head, I raised my hand, a silent command. The clones surrounding Laxus paused, their katana hovering inches from his skin, but no strike was made. They only waited. The world had shifted. Time itself had become my servant.

I spoke to Laxus, my voice smooth, as if explaining a simple fact of life. "This is the reality you've chosen."

And with that, I raised my hand, and a single clone stepped forward, its katana now poised above his thigh. Without a sound, the blade descended, drawing a thin line of red.

"ARGHHH!"

Laxus's scream tore through the silence like thunder, his body writhing in an agony he couldn't escape, as if trapped in an endless loop of suffering. Every struggle was futile. Every motion, a mere echo of the same pain, reverberating within the confines of the illusion I controlled.

The same moment repeated itself endlessly, an inescapable cycle of torment, wearing down his mind more than his body. The clones, like an unyielding tide, stood silently around him, their swords unmoving, yet he could feel their presence, suffocating in its certainty. Five more stabs followed, each one a reminder that there was no escape from the world I'd created for him. 

Laxus's struggles slowed, his energy drained, his consciousness flickering as if he were losing his grip on reality. Even if he hadn't passed out, I was prepared to end it. This wasn't a battle to the death. It was a demonstration—of control, of power, of my capabilities. 

The world, once stark and suffocating in its black-and-white haze, began to waver, like a mirage fading under the first light of dawn. Slowly, everything blurred and then vanished, leaving only the lingering echo of the illusion in the minds of those who had witnessed it.

As the black and white faded, all eyes turned toward me, silent and wide with disbelief. They watched with rapt attention, as if trying to understand the depths of the power I had just wielded. And in that moment, I didn't need to say a word. The weight of my actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

Makarov crouched down to check on Laxus, his face furrowing in confusion as he noticed there were no physical injuries. His grandson was perfectly fine, save for the obvious fact that he had passed out, still trembling from the emotional aftermath of the experience. It was a chilling realization: everything we had seen was nothing but an illusion. A perfect, horrifying illusion that had been woven around them.

Gildarts stood there in silence, his eyes narrowed as they tracked me. I could almost hear the thoughts swirling in his head. He didn't need to say a word for me to know what he was thinking: *Even I wouldn't last three days under such a mental assault.* His throat worked as he swallowed, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead.

I could only smile internally. *It's not like I could use it for three days.*

Gildarts continued to observe, analyzing my magic power. His brows furrowed as he tried to gauge the lingering effects of my technique. *It's definitely gone down significantly. Tsukuyomi drains at least half of his reserves... and it only lasts for a minute. It's not something that can be sustained, at least not continuously.* He nodded slightly, as if confirming his thoughts. *The toll on his magic power... it's severe. I doubt he could use it repeatedly over a prolonged period.*

He sighed, wiping his forehead as if the weight of the situation had momentarily crushed him. *Just like Itachi… overusing Tsukuyomi carries a heavy penalty.*

But then, as if realizing something, his eyes shifted, a flicker of amusement sparking within them. *More importantly…* he thought, his gaze flicking toward the katana strapped to my side. *He hasn't even shown us his swordsmanship yet. The man is not just strong in magic, but in swordplay as well.*

Gildarts couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips. *I'm looking forward to the day he truly grows into his power.*

It was clear now that this was only a fraction of what I was capable of. Even though I'd demonstrated an overwhelming mastery of illusion magic, the undercurrent of anticipation and excitement hung thick in the air. They hadn't seen anything yet.