"The truth is right in front of you, yet you choose to ignore it."
Jellal lifted his head to meet Cobra's accusing gaze.
Racer had brought the news, and the Gemini Celestial Spirits provided corroborating testimony, yet several members of the Oración Seis acted as if they saw nothing.
Marco's power had surpassed what Jellal witnessed before.
Even from Racer's descriptions alone, Jellal could glimpse its magnitude.
Others might dismiss it as unbelievable or exaggerated, but Jellal had experienced it firsthand.
He understood, even able to visualize the scene.
"Jellal, you were defeated by that Star Rose God, right? Are you saying his strength is that terrifying?" Angel asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Before Jellal could answer, Cobra sneered. "Of course he'd claim the guy is strong—he lost to him! I don't believe a word he says anyway."
A defeated man, imprisoned like a stray dog and only freed by the Oración Seis, Jellal was nothing more than a worthless pawn in Cobra's eyes.
Jellal remained silent, gazing at Cobra's arrogant expression with pity.
This fool is destined to learn a harsh lesson.
The more arrogant Cobra was now, the more agony he would endure after the battle.
Faced with overwhelming power, his pride and arrogance would be shattered.
"May you fare well," Jellal sighed, losing all desire to speak further.
He carried a heavy burden of guilt for Cobra, Midnight, Angel, Hoteye, and Racer.
After all, they had once been part of the Tower of Heaven, destined to be saved by Erza. But he had deceived them, keeping them behind and handing them over to Brain.
Jellal bore direct responsibility for their plight.
After being rescued by the Oración Seis, Jellal tried to persuade them to change their ways, hoping to sway his former comrades to his side.
But it was a futile endeavor.
Cobra, Midnight, Angel, Hoteye, and Racer had been chosen by Brain at a young age and groomed into their current roles.
Unlike Jellal, who was brainwashed by magic, these five had been influenced by Brain's teachings throughout their lives.
In this situation, their ingrained beliefs couldn't be changed with a few simple words.
The ultimate outcome was that although Jellal had been rescued from prison and escaped, he remained imprisoned—only the identity of his captors changed.
It was a rather abstract predicament.
Jellal could have feigned cooperation with the Oración Seis, pretending to go along with their plans.
However, burdened by guilt, he chose not to.
Instead, he attempted to "redeem" his five companions, underestimating the difficulty of the task.
"Enough talk. It's time to act, or these bastards will scatter," Racer said, frowning as he interrupted Cobra's harassment of Jellal.
There was no point in dwelling on the past, their priority was winning the battle.
"Simple. We just need to take out those strong guys," Midnight said, stretching his body.
His gaze swept across the battlefield, searching for Marco's silhouette.
"He doesn't seem to be here?"
Midnight had never met Marco, but he could tell he wasn't present.
While the other combatants possessed decent strength, none gave him the slightest thrill, looking at them, he felt no urge to engage.
Among those present, only Jellal had seen Marco, so Midnight turned to him, his eyes carrying a silent question.
"He hasn't made his move yet," Jellal replied.
He had been puzzled by this as well, but considering that none of the Oración Seis had entered the fray, it made sense for the Allied Forces to reserve some combatants as a contingency.
"Hold the line! I'll go see what's happening myself," Brain declared, his expression grave as he surveyed the battlefield.
He needed to inspect the crater to confirm the situation with Nirvana.
"Right! We'll win this!" Cobra roared in agreement, charging into battle. He had already chosen his target.
"Poison Dragon's Roar!"
Cobra stood firm, gathering Magic Power in his mouth.
His Poison Dragon Slayer Magic was effective on such a large battlefield; a single blast of toxic mist could cover a vast area.
Once the mist made contact, the viral poison would infect the target's body, overwhelming ordinary people and incapacitating them.
Boom!
Cobra spewed a crimson-purple poisonous mist, which spread across the sky and blanketed the Allied Forces, creating a chilling spectacle.
"Sky Dragon's Roar!"
Just as the mist began to spread, a fierce gale erupted, dispersing the poisonous cloud.
"Nice one, Wendy!"
"Great job, Wendy!"
Wendy's Fairy Tail comrades cheered her on.
This was Wendy's doing.
Her Sky Dragon Slayer Magic specialized in manipulating air currents, manifesting as control over wind.
The gale she conjured proved highly effective in dispersing the poisonous mist.
"It worked!"
Wendy clenched her fist in triumph, delighted that her attack succeeded.
Though she disliked fighting, that didn't mean she was inept at it.
Her Sky Dragon Slayer Magic excelled at healing and neutralizing abnormal conditions, making her a valuable support Mage.
But its offensive capabilities were far from weak.
In truth, the Sky Dragon's attacks packed considerable power.
After all, this was the force of a raging gale, capable of tearing through flesh with ease.
"Damn it! Where did that Sky Dragon come from?!"
Cobra seethed as his attack was thwarted.
Cobra hadn't even noticed the Sky Dragon Slayer Mage on the battlefield, his gaze was fixed on the Fire Dragon Slayer, Natsu, who was his true target.
'Dragon Slayer Mages should fight Dragon Slayer Mages,' Cobra thought.
'I'll prove that I am the strongest Dragon Slayer Mage!'
Cobra intended to prove that "Second Generation Dragon Slayer Mages" like himself were the future, while "First Generation Dragon Slayer Mages" like Natsu, the Fire Dragon, were outdated anomalies destined to be swept away by the tide of time.
This claim wasn't without merit.
After all, dragons hadn't been seen for centuries, making Second Generation Dragon Slayer Mages the norm of this era.
Mages like Laxus and Cobra, who became Dragon Slayers by implanting Dragon Lacrima, were precisely these Second Generation Dragon Slayers.
Unfortunately for him, Wendy kept a low profile, focusing on rescue work on the battlefield and avoiding direct combat.
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