Chapter 78 - Broken Alliances

Date: Late July X786

Location: Crocus Arena, VIP Suites & Sidelines

Magic crackled under the stadium lights as the Third Round began.

On the sand, teams stood poised, Helmstones clenched in gloved hands — five mages per side, each charged with guarding their banner and stealing the opponent's before the clock ran out.

Sabertooth vs Crime Sorcière.

Sabertooth advanced in a tight wedge, shields glowing with brutal force. Crime Sorcière moved like a drifting fog, curses curling around angles as if the air itself obeyed them.

The gates groaned open.

Sabertooth roared forward, sigils and steel gleaming under the midnight sky. Crime Sorcière folded around them, a soundless cut through the ranks.

Shields buckled under black mist curses. Sabertooth pushed back, kinetic bursts ringing against the stone, but Crime's precision picked them apart, thin blade strokes across a giant's ribs.

The coliseum trembled — every gasp and cheer merging into a single, ragged heartbeat.

High in the VIP suites, Silphine — God Slayer of Blue Islands — narrowed her eyes, one finger tapping the balcony rail.

"Watch the Falcons," she murmured. "They're rotating support lines, re-centering shields... No rage. Only unbreakable balance."

Beside her, Korval — Devil Slayer from Phantom Lotus — leaned forward, hood shadowing his pale hair.

"They slip through ward fractures," he breathed. "But tonight... I smell something deeper. Like bindings ready to snap."

Lower down, Councilor Bran spoke with Alistair of Saber's House, eyes locked on flickering overlays of vault maps and glyph diagrams.

"Weak wards spill blood. Strong wards delay," Bran muttered, voice flat as cold iron. "We want the crowd's pulse, not full collapse."

Alistair flexed his gloved fingers. "And if we push too far?"

Bran's thin smile barely twitched. "Then we pray the Council buries it before it blooms."

An Emergency Duel

Suddenly, arena lights dropped into a blue shadow. A hush pressed the stands like a great hand.

New words flickered across every screen: Elite Trials — Mage vs Three Slayers.

Three stepped forward:

• Silphine, aura calm and moonlit.

• Korval, eyes tracking every crack in the floor like sacred text.

• Zalena, Crime Sorcière's earth-mage, layered in sigil armor.

Opposite them: Silas Rose, mana crystal conjurer, raw power gleaming off every motion.

Silphine's divine blades slashed first, opening Silas's defensive web. Korval's darkness lashed inside, snapping core runes. Zalena's earthquakes shattered the final protections with exacting force.

Silas crumpled beneath their unified strike — stunned, breathless, alive.

A roar rose, dizzy and wild, flooding the coliseum in a single tidal exhale.

An Unexpected Silence

As the next match screen flashed, the entire stadium seemed to freeze.

A cold blue light washed across the field.

The announcer's voice wavered.

"…Special exhibition duel: Teresa of Fairy Tail… versus Mage Illaria Mir."

A ripple spread — whispers sharp as snapped wires.

Illaria entered first — tall, slim, limbs covered in blood glyphs pulsing like living veins. Her stance was coiled, every finger a silent promise of pain.

Then Teresa stepped in. Silver armor muted under arcane lights, no sword drawn, no flaring aura — just presence, still as a blade waiting in shadow.

The bell rang.

Teresa's Yoki Magic flared quietly inside her — no shine, no flash, only a silver fold beneath her skin.

She felt Illaria's glyphs before they formed, like heartbeat tremors echoing through deep water.

Illaria's first volley — spiraling paralyzation glyphs.

Teresa's eyes moved. Nothing else.

She exhaled.

The glyphs unraveled mid-air, strands dissolving like dry petals.

Illaria staggered, then screamed, layering more chains and nerve-locking sigils.

Teresa advanced, each step deliberate. Phantom Step — micro shifts, slipping past each kill line before they sparked.

From behind Illaria, her voice slid like a cold wind.

"You're reading the page too late."

Illaria whipped around, glyphs flaring in panic.

Teresa pivoted mid-step, Silken Nerve Control turning her into a river's curve, weaving through blood scripts as though they were only mist.

Illaria shrieked, hurling a final desperate salvo.

Teresa closed her hand, Yoki Magic folding inward, creating a small, perfect sphere of inversion.

The glyphs died before touching air.

Illaria dropped to her knees. Unharmed. Entirely undone.

Silence choked the arena.

Then, the announcer — small, almost reverent.

"…Victory: Teresa of Fairy Tail."

A single breath. Then the entire coliseum detonated in sound — a roar shaking even the upper balconies.

Watching From the Shadows

In the VIP suite, Silphine's fingers tapped once on her glass.

"That wasn't suppression," she whispered. "That was absolute dominion."

Korval shivered. "She doesn't stop magic. She owns it."

Zalena lowered her head. "That was mercy."

Council's Shock

In the Citadel's deep control room, Warrod and Ethne shared a long, quiet look.

Warrod pressed his palm to the screen. "That wasn't just omnidirectional nullification. She rewrote the entire fight's flow."

Ethne's eyes closed. "She could silence every vault echo in this world if she wanted."

Warrod nodded once, jaw tightening. "Exactly."

Closing Night

Later, under rainstorms of fireworks, Teresa walked alone through stone corridors, her cloak trailing ash-like shadows.

Council aides flinched as she passed, voices trembling: "Careful… handle her carefully."

Guild captains watched from archways, torn between awe and dread.

She paused by an old wall, tracing a faint inscription: Veilbreaker — an ancient rite to nullify cursed wards.

Her fingertip hovered, then pulled back.

Some names must disappear so others may breathe.

She exhaled, steady, final — then moved on.

Above her, the night burst into red and gold fire.

The Games weren't contests anymore.

They were the crucible where alliances shattered… and where silent wars began.