Chapter 84 - Fractured Oaths

Date: Early September X786 (Noon)

Location: Crocus Citadel & Vault Region Command Center

A tense hush pressed over the Citadel's High Hall. Councilors, guild envoys, and Rune Knights stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Teresa and Task Force Nine gathered at the center like a living promise. Behind them, screens flickered with live vault feeds: mages sealing sabotage glyphs, corridors lit for the first time in decades, entire zones liberated. Across Fiore, citizens held their breath.

Teresa stood still, blade sheathed, cloak draped in steady folds. Yoki Magic pulsed beneath her skin — not as a threat but as a quiet vow.

Councilor Bran's boots struck the dais sharply. His voice struggled to rise above the hush. "This task force has interfered with Council jurisdiction," he declared, fingers white-knuckled around the podium.

Ethne's gaze pinned him. "Interference? Or intervention? We prevented collapse. That is the mandate we should have honored long ago."

Bran's eyes flashed, searching the hall for support. "Safety... or sovereignty? You cannot reshape our wards without Council sanction."

Zalena of Crime Sorcière rose, her back straight as a spear. "We acted while you argued. We saved lives."

Around them, envoys shifted — some nodding with grim respect, others glancing away, wary of consequence.

In a dim corridor, Fitzroy leaned close to Phantom Lotus's Korval. "They'll try to strip us of every foothold," Fitzroy murmured.

Korval's dark eyes glinted. "Then they will have to break us first."

Back in the hall, Bran's voice dropped low, each word a threat. "Disband Task Force Nine. Return vault control to the Council. Or — be declared outlaws."

A hush settled so deep it felt like the room had stopped breathing. Teresa's silver eyes lifted, unwavering. Her voice came softly and finally. "You are no Council. You are a choir of fear."

A ripple of shock moved through the assembly. Ethne stepped forward, raising a crystal token. Its inner light pulsed like a heartbeat. "The Council votes," she said, voice steady. "Task Force Nine retains jurisdiction until the vault threats end."

Warrod's nod rang like a silent bell. The token flared once, sealing the decision. Some councilors rose to stand beside them. Others retreated, shadows in their eyes. Bran stood motionless, authority draining from him like blood from an open wound.

Hours later, Task Force Nine advanced again. Alzack and Bisca arrived with Fairy Tail supply caravans. Blue Pegasus erected protective grids, Sabertooth formed defensive lines, Crime Sorcière wove cleansing hexes, Phantom Lotus vanished into the flanks like smoke.

Teresa moved first, slicing sabotage seals, disarming hidden traps, each strike a promise. Every cleared glyph stitched new trust, a fragile yet radiant tapestry binding them together.

In the Citadel, the marble halls cracked with shouting. Ethne's voice cut through. "No more games. Serve the people — or step aside."

Fitzroy stood frozen, gaze darting. Bran watched, pale and small, his power dissolving.

At midnight, dark guild operatives struck the vault hub, flooding passages with cursed fire webs. Teresa felt them before they moved, Preemptive Sensing roaring through her veins. "Evacuate," she commanded, her voice slicing through chaos. Her blade flashed — Void Sever cut sabotage lines, Silken Nerve Control folded each strike. No kill shots — only precision to disable.

In the Citadel, Bran's voice trembled. "You endanger everything—"

Ethne turned slowly. "We save them. You wanted only control."

He sagged. "Do not betray us..."

By sunrise, the vault network stood secure. Task Force Nine returned — battered, armor cracked, but eyes bright.

A final broadcast crackled across Crocus: Task Force Nine sanctioned, guild alliances ratified, Council reforms mandated immediately.

In the courtyard, Teresa stood in dawn's glow. Krag, Zalena, Alto, and Korval approached. "We stand with you," they said — no pageantry, only raw conviction.

She bowed her head. "Then let our unity become our shield."

Behind her, Ethne stepped forward, pressing the crystal token into Teresa's palm. "Authority — but only if you hold it in balance," she said.

The sun rose above the Citadel — older, stronger, and reborn.