Chapter 82 - Forging the Unbound

Date: Early September X786 (Late Night)

Location: Crocus — Council Citadel & Fairy Tail Guild Hall, Magnolia

Night pressed heavy across Crocus, but inside the Citadel, the air vibrated — a hush threaded with runelight and tension sharp enough to cut through bone.

The Trial Chamber lay open now. Where once it demanded obedience, it stood stripped bare, filled only with the echo of something unbound.

Teresa stood at its heart. Her armor caught each flicker of torchlight, her breath steady as frost before dawn. Ethne and Warrod flanked her like grave markers; behind them, Bran slumped in the rune chair, his eyes anchored to the floor as though they might never rise again.

Footsteps surged through the corridor — sharp, uneven. Mana appeared, a rank of Rune Knights bracing behind her, shields raised out of habit, not conviction.

Ethne's voice was the first to split the silence. "The Council must decide what follows."

Mana's jaw twitched. "Order must be upheld."

Warrod stepped forward, slow but unyielding. "Order without justice is a guillotine without a target."

Teresa's voice landed like a sword laid softly on an altar. "What is your will?"

Down the hall, Fitzroy arrived, breath ragged, hair wild, eyes blazing as though he had run through nightmares to come here.

"You can't hold her!" he shouted. "If you do, guild lines will fracture. Cities will riot. You will turn every hand against you."

He stopped, meeting Teresa's gaze — that unwavering quiet, deeper than any verdict. Slowly, understanding dawned in his face like the first cruel sun.

"She offered mercy," he murmured. "And you forced fracture."

Mana faltered, as if her spine had momentarily turned to glass. "She is... Council-acknowledged?"

Ethne pressed her palm against the cracked rune floor. Her voice trembled, but she didn't flinch. "She was. Tonight — she decides, not us."

Fitzroy's words came in a whisper, a confession to no one. "Not betrayal... balance."

Far away, in Magnolia, Macao watched the rune projection flicker in the guild hall's quiet. Behind him, Romeo stood wide-eyed, half hidden behind Kinana.

Kinana's voice broke first. "Has she... won?"

Macao didn't answer at once. His hand found her shoulder, solid and warm. "She hasn't won," he said finally. "She changed the field."

Romeo swallowed hard. "Will they come for her?"

Macao's eyes gleamed like steel. "If she moves first... they won't get the chance."

Back in the Citadel, the chamber's hush snapped. Bran rose from the rune chair, face pale and cracked with defeat.

"I... step aside," he rasped. "Until stability returns." His head bowed. "The Laws have failed me."

Ethne stepped forward, closer than any other would dare. "Then help us rebuild — not retreat."

Bran's gaze dropped. No answer came.

Warrod's voice rose, unwavering. "Teresa is no threat to this Council. She is its reflection — and its conscience."

A ripple shivered across the floor as bright rune light coiled beneath Teresa's boots. She lifted a hand, slow and certain.

"I reclaim my authority in action," she said. "I will form a task force — Council-approved, guild-integrated — to guard vault sites, purge corruption, and ensure this Trial is never repeated."

The words hovered, then settled like a final, gentle verdict. Even the Rune Knights exhaled — some in fear, some in something close to hope.

Later that night, Teresa stepped beyond the Citadel gates — not as a prisoner, not as a councilor's pawn, but as a blade given its breath.

A carriage waited in the torchlit courtyard. Alto of Blue Pegasus stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Lady Teresa, Pegasus stands ready."

She inclined her head once, her cloak folding behind her like dusk.

Krag of Sabertooth stepped forward, voice rough but resolute. "We'll follow."

A quiet nod. Words were unnecessary.

Behind them, Zalena of Crime Sorcière and Korval of Phantom Lotus watched from the shadows, their silent bows enough.

The carriage rolled through moonlit streets and into Magnolia's courtyard. Lanterns swayed gently as Teresa stepped down. Medics hovered, but she waved them off. The exhaustion in her face softened nothing in her gaze — her eyes were wildfire wrapped in silver.

Macao met her with a slow breath. "Judged... and you returned."

She nodded once.

Warren stepped forward. "And now?"

She stripped off her gloves, dust slipping like ash. "We mobilize. Task Force Nine is born — Council-backed, guild-led. No walls between us now."

Kinana's brows furrowed. "With them? After all they did?"

Teresa met her eyes, sharp as a mirrored blade. "They guard themselves. We guard the people. That's the difference."

Back in the Citadel, Ethne faced the remaining councilors. Her voice cut clean as a winter wind. "Tonight we choose. We authorize Task Force Nine. We rewrite the Oath: service is not submission — it is action."

Bran bowed his head, silent. Warrod exhaled as if exorcising centuries of ghosts.

Outside, dawn crept into the courtyard. Task Force Nine assembled under rune lanterns — knights and guild mages side by side. Blue Pegasus. Sabertooth. Crime Sorcière. Phantom Lotus. Fairy Tail.

Faces glimmered between fear and resolve. Teresa stood at the head, sword sheathed, cloak clasped.

Her voice rose, clear as a temple bell. "We are the hinge on which tomorrow swings. Vaults are threatened. The Council lines script our silences. We strike before they pick up their blades again."

She scanned every eye, her silver gaze reflecting every tremor and every spark.

"This is not a ceremony. This is war."

Above, in the dark rafters, a single figure crouched, dagger gleaming with runic poison.

He whispered into the wind.

"The Trial failed. Now... the Hunt begins."