CHAPTER 606: DEMONS

Rhodes thought there had to be another way to bring Precht down besides destroying his so-called "core." If they couldn’t outlast his regeneration, then the answer was simple, take him out in a single, decisive strike before he had any chance to recover.

That was why Rhodes had called out Vilemaw. If nothing else, it was worth trying.

For a brief moment, it worked. Precht’s chest was pierced through, blood staining his robes, and he coughed up mouthfuls of red.

But even that wasn’t enough to finish him.

The wound closed almost instantly, the bloodstains vanishing as though they had never been there.

"To think you’d have such a spell... damn brat."

Precht staggered, trying to rise, but found his body bound tight in thick webbing. The spider silk cocooned him, holding him down.

But then his fingers twitched. Black flames surged from his body, and in an instant, the silk burned away into ashes.

He burst free from the fissure, Magic Power exploding outward in a suffocating wave.

"Tch—" Makarov frowned. A moment ago, he’d thought Rhode’s strike had been excessive... now it looked like it hadn’t been nearly enough.

The others were shaken as well. This surge of Magic Power, none of them, not even Makarov or Gildarts, could compare.

Could even the topmost of the Ten Wizard Saints match this?

"It’s been a long, long time since I’ve taken a beating like this." Precht pressed a hand to his chest. The wound was gone, but the pain lingered like a ghost.

"To treat this old man with such warmth... I suppose I should return the favor. I’ll make an exception and show you." He tore off the eyepatch on his right eye. "Demon Eye, open!"

His right eye snapped open, blazing with a crimson glow. At once, the darkness around him grew heavier, more oppressive, his Magic spilling out like death itself.

Compared to this, even Jose’s sinister energy felt trivial.

"What?" Makarov’s eyes widened. In his memory, Precht had lost that eye in a battle during his youth. Makarov had once suggested an artificial replacement, but Precht refused, saying he never wanted to forget the past.

But now... he had replaced it with something far worse.

"You threw everything away for this?" Makarov muttered.

Gildarts scowled. "That power... it’s pure evil. Pure darkness."

Mira glanced down at her hands. Even with her Demon Take Over, her Magic had never felt this corrupted.

Erza’s eyes widened. She recognized it, the same suffocating aura she had felt not long ago.

Zeref.

Precht sneered. "So shallow. You don’t understand. Magic itself is born from darkness. Magic itself is darkness!"

His Magic rose higher, his white hair bristling, and black energy swirled tangibly around him.

"What I’m about to show you is something far beyond your comprehension. Behold, the abyss of Magic itself!"

"The abyss of Magic?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

The group tensed, but Rhode’s voice cut in, calm and deliberate:

"Forget what he’s saying. It’s clear now, the ’core’ isn’t inside him. When he was lying in the pit just now, did any of you sense a separate source of Magic Power nearby?"

Precht’s head snapped toward Rhodes, eyes blazing with killing intent.

Precht’s thoughts were clear: this brat had seen through too much. If Rhodes was already considering his "heart," then he needed to be eliminated first.

The glare from his Demon Eye was all it took, the spell was already in motion.

Makarov’s face paled. "This is bad!"

"Rhodes!" Mira cried, panic flooding her voice.

Dark energy surged silently around Rhodes, crushing inward with terrifying force. If it connected, he’d be lucky to be left in pieces. At worst, he’d be erased entirely.

But Rhodes had long since accepted his status as the one enemies hated most. In that instant, he activated his Take Over: Mountain Dragon Soul. Rock-like armor surged over his body, thick and unyielding. At the same time, golden light flared around him as he clasped his hands.

"Light’s Protection!"

A radiant shield of light enveloped him just as the crushing force struck. The golden barrier buckled and shrank inch by inch before finally shattering, but not without blunting much of Precht’s spell.

The Dragon scales beneath cracked next, the stone armor splintering, blood welling across Rhode’s ribs.

"Ghh!" He gasped, eyes wide. One of his ribs felt broken, but at least he was alive.

Mira was at his side instantly, shielding him with her body, her eyes fierce.

"Bastard!" Erza and Laxus roared together, launching themselves at Precht.

But his newfound strength was overwhelming. Two black orbs exploded outward, striking both S-Class wizards at once. The shockwaves hurled them back, and a searing black explosion swallowed their landing.

Makarov and Gildarts pressed forward in tandem, one firing countless golden light bullets, the other unleashing a crushing net of destruction.

Precht raised one hand forward, the other skyward. His Magic surged with a sickening roar, and dark fissures split open around him, swallowing their attacks whole.

"It’s over, Fairy Tail!" His voice boomed like thunder. "From the Book of Zeref, Chapter Four, Section Twelve! Hidden Magic: Divine Punishment!"

From within the fissures, dozens of black shapes clawed their way free. Twisted monsters of every form imaginable, howling, snarling, thrashing, emerged, crowding around their master.

"Summoning Magic? No... it’s like Modeling Magic..." Makarov muttered, troubled. But the mention of Zeref’s book made his gut twist.

Precht laughed, pride swelling in his chest. "Summoning? Modeling? Don’t make me laugh! This is Hidden Magic! Zeref’s creation, the very technique he used to forge Demons themselves!

"They are fear! They are despair! They are Magic given form!"

The battlefield went silent as the black tide of monsters closed in.

And then Mira stepped forward, her expression steely, her voice low and grim.

"So, Demons, is it?"