Laxus panted heavily, his aura still blazing—but after prolonged combat, even his magic reserves were running dry.

His eyes darted between the surrounding dark mages, a silent struggle flashing in their depths.

If I use that spell, cleaning them up would be easy...

But he wasn't alone here.

Rayne's presence complicated things. If that observant brat noticed anything unusual, it'd spell trouble.

Meanwhile, the enemy mages hesitated.

Their coordinated attacks had revealed one truth: even exhausted, this lightning-wielding monster could take at least two of them down before falling.

And in a dark guild? No one volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb.

"Let's wait for Lyle to finish off the other kid first."

The same cowardly thought echoed among the five remaining mages. Their tense silence broke only when—

WHOOSH—CRASH!

A familiar sound tore through the forest.

The wire-controlling mage grinned. "Hah! Your death's here, brat—"

SPLAT.

His torso split diagonally before he could finish, blood spraying as a massive axe embedded itself into the ground.

The battlefield froze.

Every eye followed the axe's trajectory—to where Rayne sprinted toward them, his path littered with the bisected remains of Borg and a headless Lyle.

"Wha—?!"

This defied all expectations. The dark mages had envisioned their leaders victorious, not butchered by a child.

Even Laxus blinked. He used the rat swarm distraction to kill both?

One mage barely registered the warm coil draped over his shoulder before realizing—

—it was his own intestines.

"Lighning Bolt: Surge!"

Laxus seized the opening. Golden magic circles erupted as thunder split the sky, electrocuting the gutless mage into a charred, twitching husk.

"Mercy! We surrender!"

"Take us to the Magic Council! We'll give you all our savings!"

"Lyle forced us into this!"

The remaining two dropped their weapons, groveling.

Laxus paused, glancing at Rayne. Standard protocol was handing prisoners to the Council—most mages avoided outright execution.

"Young master...?"

The pleading mage looked up hopefully as Rayne approached—

CRUNCH.

A crimson-armored fist obliterated his face before he could blink.

"Kill them!"

The survivors lunged in desperation, but—

CRACK!

Rayne's uppercut shattered ribs, launching one mage skyward like a broken puppet.

The last man snarled, magic circle flaring—

ZAP!

—only for Laxus to intercept, his lightning fist sending the mage flying. The unfinished spell fizzled out.

"Thanks."

Rayne landed lightly, dismissing the [Boosted Gear] as its timer neared its limit. Red particles scattered like dying embers.

"...Why?" Laxus eyed the dissolving armor. "They surrendered."

"Their victims didn't get that choice."

Rayne's smile was serene, but his next words dripped ice:

"Let the dead decide if they're forgiven. My job's just delivery."

As he walked toward Conner's hiding spot, Laxus stared after him.

This kid...

He'd thought he was Fairy Tail's resident problem child. But compared to Rayne's chilling pragmatism? He might as well be a choirboy.

"Old man...you've really outdone yourself this time."

A grin tugged at Laxus' lips.

Makarov's future headaches were going to be legendary.

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