Chapter 15 - The Razor’s Edge

The creature lunged again.

Its armored segments shifted like interlocking blades as it coiled toward the second wagon, jaws wide, emitting a piercing shriek that reverberated through the stone.

Teresa moved.

In one breath, she was between the monster and the caravan.

The wide arc of her Claymore caught the descending head cleanly, slicing through its armored snout in a burst of black ichor. The beast recoiled, screeching as thick acidic blood sprayed across the ground, sizzling against the stone.

The poachers acted simultaneously, releasing enchanted nets toward the third wagon.

Weighted chains shimmered with suppression glyphs as they arced through the air, aiming to bind both cargo and guards.

Two mercenaries managed to slice the chains mid-flight, but another net landed partially, pulling one wagon sideways as crates tumbled.

The artifact crate wobbled dangerously on its sled but remained sealed.

Ralven watched with sharp, cold calculation from behind cover. Not panicked. Watching how far Teresa would push.

The giant centipede-beast reoriented, its segmented body flexing unnaturally as it launched upward against the cliff wall, scaling vertically in seconds. From above, it arched downward again, attempting to strike from a steeper angle.

Teresa spun smoothly.

Her Yoki surged beneath her control, sharpening her perception.

The creature's unnatural movement betrayed the same unstable design she had seen before—not a natural Earthland predator, but a magically altered construct.

Another hybrid weapon.

Another man-made monster.

As it descended, she stepped into its path, lifting the Claymore with both hands.

With perfect timing, she leaped upward, using the momentum of the beast's strike against it. Her blade struck directly into the exposed segment beneath its jaws, driving deep into the softer tissue beneath the runed armor.

The monster thrashed violently.

She held firm.

Her strength, amplified by Earthland's magic merging with her Yoki, anchored her position as the centipede's head snapped and jerked.

With a final controlled pull, she dragged the Claymore downward in a wide arc, splitting through multiple segments in a shower of acidic spray.

The beast collapsed, its body spasming.

Dead.

She landed smoothly on the rocky ground as the remaining poachers hesitated.

Some broke and fled instantly, vanishing into the high cliffs. A few continued firing bolts, but the surviving mercenaries cut them down with quick volleys of counter-fire.

Silence returned once more.

The caravan was still intact—barely.

And Teresa stood unharmed amid the wreckage.

Ralven stepped out again, as calm as before.

"Well executed," he said softly, voice almost admiring.

Teresa wiped her blade on the creature's hide before returning it smoothly to her back. "This was not your first attempt with such beasts."

Ralven's smile was faint. "Not my design, no. But my... competitors experiment freely in these regions."

"Competitors who knew your cargo."

"Indeed." He gestured toward the artifact crate. "Fortunately, your efficiency prevents unnecessary losses."

Teresa's silver eyes narrowed. "You expected me to eliminate them. You predicted escalation."

Ralven offered no denial. "This route always carries risk."

The surviving mercenaries regrouped quickly, securing the wagons once more. The damaged cart was abandoned, its contents redistributed.

Teresa turned briefly toward the cliffs.

The fleeing poachers were long gone.

But the message had been delivered.

Powerful factions were moving beyond Magnolia's peaceful façade—willing to risk artifacts capable of destabilizing entire regions.

And Ralven walked freely among them.

By late afternoon, the caravan finally crested the final ridge and began its descent toward a distant fortified trade post nestled between mountain valleys.

A neutral outpost—unofficial, unregulated, but tolerated by Earthland's trade councils as long as no wars erupted.

The true destination.

As the caravan entered the post's guarded gates, Ralven spoke again beside her.

"You've proven yourself invaluable, Lady Teresa. Far beyond my initial expectations."

"I fulfill contracts," she answered coldly.

"And yet, I sense you remain... unattached." His voice lowered. "Your skill surpasses guild politics. You could operate freely, beyond their chains."

She turned to face him fully.

"I chose Fairy Tail."

Ralven studied her calmly. "Why? They offer you nothing you cannot find elsewhere."

"They offer me nothing I cannot refuse," Teresa replied softly. "That is sufficient."

Ralven chuckled. "An unusual kind of freedom."

"It is the only kind I accept."

At the trading post, Ralven's clients awaited him—masked figures who made no introductions as they inspected the artifact carefully before signing transfer documents. Heavy bags of jewels and enchanted currency changed hands swiftly.

The trade was clean.

The law could not touch them here.

Once the final transaction was complete, Ralven returned to her side.

"As agreed, your full payment," he said, handing her a heavy pouch. "And a personal offer: should you ever seek... greater opportunity, my doors remain open."

Teresa accepted the pouch wordlessly.

Ralven offered a final nod. "Farewell, Lady Teresa of Fairy Tail."

He disappeared into the fortified compound with his guards, vanishing behind sealed gates.

The contract was fulfilled.

But Teresa understood now that Earthland's deeper currents ran far beyond the councils and guilds.

Ancient magics. Forbidden trades. Power struggles unspoken by the public world.

Earthland was not so different from her own lost world after all.

As evening fell, Teresa departed alone, making her way back down the mountain trail toward Magnolia.

The white cloak swayed gently behind her, the black Fairy Tail emblem clear against the fading light.

She walked alone.

But watched.

Always watching.

The Faint Smile remained.