Chapter 72 - Threads in the Loom

Date: July X786 (Mid-Month)

Location: Crocus — Council Citadel 

In the Council Citadel's war room, tension coiled like a wire drawn too tight. Magical screens flickered with maps of threatened regions, ward overlays, and emergency dispatch routes.

Bran pointed sharply at the projections. "We know she disobeyed. We know she acts alone. We don't know how many Vaults remain — or what she might fail to see next."

Warrod folded his arms. "If we force her hand, she'll vanish. Then we lose her entirely — and any chance to shape her moves."

A young mage stammered. "Sir… outer wards are flickering. Even Crocus protections strain at the edges."

Ethne met Warrod's gaze. He nodded. She rose, voice even and cold.

"Then we act on two fronts. Reinforce all high-threat sites. Draft a clause — she cooperates without subjugation."

Bran scoffed. "You think she'll sign?"

"She already did," Warrod said softly. "When she sealed Ky'run alone."

Bran glared but fell silent.

That evening, in the Archive Wing's labyrinth of hush and lacquered scrolls, Fitzroy stepped through a jade door marked by treaty seals.

Inside, Mana stood over a table of confidential reports.

"The Celestial Union refuses to authorize planetary-wide wards," she muttered. "They see it as provocation."

Fitzroy scanned the scrolls: anomalous mana signatures, hybrid creature sightings, flickers of draconic echoes.

Mana snapped a ledger shut. "This isn't escalation. It's containment. But they'll weaponize the optics."

He nodded. "The rift-guilds will call for a probe during the Grand Games. Bran will paint her as a rogue."

Mana's voice dropped. "We fight not just Voldane's cells — but our fear of her silence."

Fitzroy leaned closer. "Then force her to speak before Bran poisons the floor."

Location: Crocus 

Outside the city, two cloaked operatives moved among supply wagons. Council-issued runic bands disguised them as logistics auxiliaries.

One pointed to a hidden rune under a crate. "Almost done."

The other nodded. "Once seeded, the wards collapse — even at high-tier zones."

They slipped past shadowed gates, invisible in the lantern glow. Their plan: sabotage from within.

Location: Magnolia — Fairy Tail Guild 

Teresa stood at the guild's outer gate, cloak draped in her arms.

"I'll go to Crocus," she said softly. "Brief the Council. I won't attend the Games."

Macao studied her, brow creased. "They'll see that as defiance."

Her gaze didn't waver. "Then they'll choose: stand beside me, or fracture."

Location: Crocus — Council Citadel

The next morning, Teresa entered alone. Cloak folded, sword sheathed.

Silent. Absolute.

Guided to the central dais, she faced the Council above her. Lacrima scribes hummed softly in the rafters.

Bran rose. "Teresa of Fairy Tail. You received a summons."

She nodded once.

"This summons is voluntary."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"You are asked to choose cooperation."

She paused, then spoke — low, firm: "I came."

A ripple of shocked whispers spread.

Later, in a sealed chamber, Org and Warrod stood near her.

Org began, voice measured. "The outer wards are buckling. Vault echoes spread."

Warrod stepped forward. "You're the only one trusted to intervene without collapse."

She met them evenly. "You want me officially aligned."

Bran's projection flickered on a lacrima screen. "We want your allegiance."

Teresa's eyes stayed on him.

"My allegiance was never yours," she said. "But I choose to oppose Voldane."

She pointed at the vault map behind them. "Bring me in — and you accept my methods, before I make them."

Bran's image crackled and vanished.

Org's jaw tightened. "We'll propose conditional jurisdiction. Funded — but free."

She nodded. "Accepted."

Warrod exhaled. "Then we move under the Moon's time. You keep your edge."

As she exited, Rune Knights flanked her quietly. Above, the same cloaked saboteurs watched from the upper corridor.

They saw her scentless aura. Proof she'd never truly belong to any faction.

One tapped the other's shoulder. They slipped into the flow behind her.

Location: Crocus Waterfront, Dusk

Macao and Romeo stood together under the lanterns.

Romeo's voice trembled. "Will she be safe?"

Macao's hand tightened on his shoulder. "She chose this. She walks where no one else can."

Romeo's gaze dropped. "What if they betray her?"

Macao stared out across the rooftops.

"Then we trust her to survive. And to strike."

Lanterns bobbed on the canals. The Grand Games arena loomed silent beyond.

But beneath the hush, threads of alliance and sabotage tangled tighter with every breath.