Chapter 8 — Wounds Beneath the Surface

The sun was starting to dip low again as Teresa reached the outskirts of Magnolia. The towering city gates came into view beyond the quiet fields. She walked calmly, dressed once again in her black Claymore uniform, with no sign of battle upon her. The fresh breeze tugged lightly at her long, pale blonde hair as she moved.

Her footsteps barely disturbed the grass beneath her.

Her Yoki remained perfectly stable, and controlled.

Behind her, the corrupted ruins still festered like an old scar, though the creature she had slain would no longer stalk the trade roads. But the existence of such abominations in this world raised new questions.

This was not simply random.

Rogue magic left alone long enough always found new hosts.

Earthland had far deeper wounds than its cheerful surface suggested.

As she entered Magnolia's streets, the evening bustle of shops and cafes returned—laughter, merchant calls, and faint music carrying on the breeze.

She passed by a group of children playing near the bakery, one of whom accidentally kicked a bouncing ball into her path. The small boy froze, eyes wide as he realized where the ball had landed.

Teresa paused, then slowly knelt, retrieving the ball with careful hands.

The boy stared silently, unsure whether to run or speak.

She offered the ball back, her silver eyes calm. "You dropped this."

The boy blinked, then took it with a whispered, "Thank you."

Teresa stood again, turning without another word, her faint smile remaining as unreadable as ever.

When she returned to Fairy Tail's guild hall, the atmosphere inside was as lively as always.

Wakaba spotted her first and called across the room. "Hey! She's back."

The guild members paused to watch as she stepped inside, quietly assessing her body language. No injuries. No sign of struggle.

Macao approached calmly, folding his arms. "All finished?"

"Yes," Teresa replied. "The creature was destroyed."

"Creature?" Reedus leaned forward, eyes wide. "Not a Vulcan or a rogue beast?"

Teresa shook her head slightly. "A construct. A fusion of corrupted magic and flesh. It was artificial. I suspect ancient forbidden experiments. The ruins remain unstable."

Macao's expression grew serious. "That's worse than I expected."

Warren, standing nearby, rubbed his temples. "We'll need to report this to the Magic Council. If there's active rogue magic out there, they'll want to send a containment team."

"Will they be able to seal it?" Teresa asked.

"Eventually," Warren said. "But the council moves slow when it's not a political threat."

"Typical," Wakaba grunted.

"Were there more of those creatures?" Jet asked nervously.

"Not at this site," Teresa replied. "But if this corruption exists here, it may exist elsewhere."

Silence settled briefly over the group.

Macao exhaled, then gave a small nod. "Then we'll keep our eyes open. Thank you, Teresa. That could have gotten a lot uglier."

"You do not owe me thanks," Teresa replied softly. "I act as I choose."

Romeo approached, eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "Were you scared?"

"No," Teresa answered calmly.

"You didn't feel anything? Even a little?" Romeo asked innocently.

Teresa studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

"I have felt fear," she admitted. "But long ago. I understand it. I do not allow it to guide me."

Romeo nodded slowly, trying to grasp her words.

Macao ruffled his son's hair. "You'll understand more when you're older."

Wakaba chuckled behind him. "If he lives that long. You know how these kids charge into danger."

As the guild slowly returned to its usual rhythm, Macao stepped aside with Teresa near the far wall, lowering his voice.

"Teresa... I don't say this lightly, but I'm starting to think you might be one of the most important things to happen to Magnolia since our team vanished."

Teresa regarded him quietly. "I am no replacement for your missing members."

"I know," Macao said sincerely. "I wouldn't ask you to be. But having someone like you around… helps stabilize things. It gives people hope that we're not completely helpless out here."

Teresa's silver eyes softened slightly, though her faint smile never shifted. "Hope is a fragile thing. Dangerous when built too high."

Macao smiled faintly. "Maybe. But Fairy Tail's always been built on hope."

Later that night, after the guild had quieted, Teresa returned to her room at the inn.

The moon hung high over Magnolia, casting pale light across the rooftops. Standing at the window, she let the cool breeze wash over her as she gazed out over the sleeping city.

Beneath all the laughter and peace, this world was still bleeding. Old wounds, dangerous magic, forgotten atrocities. It was a cycle she had seen before.

In her world, men had tried to harness power beyond their limits. They created Yoma. Created Claymores. Then lost control.

Here, the cycle had different shapes—but the same pride.

The same failures.

And always, someone else paid the price.

She traced a gloved finger lightly over the black Fairy Tail emblem stamped into her cloak, resting on a nearby chair.

An emblem of recognition.

Not belonging.

Not family.

But... protection. A bridge that allowed her to stand near others without being drawn into their chaos.

It was acceptable.

For now.