The cliffside fell silent. Only the cold wind continued to howl.
Bacchus glanced at the tiny black speck of a corpse at the foot of the mountain, then looked back up at the black-haired boy on the cliff top who was unhurriedly putting away his greatbow. His bleary, drunken eyes went perfectly round.
"One arrow to kill a wyvern?"
"From that far away? That power— that accuracy—?"
He felt like he'd sobered up halfway on the spot. He hadn't expected to misjudge this badly.
Seeing Shane stay out of the fight, Bacchus had assumed he was another newbie Fairy Tail had brought along for Erza to train—just like the two brats.
"We won, right?!" Compared to Shane finally showing his strength, Natsu and Gray cared a lot more about the outcome.
"With skill like that, and you've stayed anonymous this whole time…"
Bacchus scratched his head at the two idiots' question.
"So much crazy new blood… Fairy Tail really is something else."
He was a straightforward guy, and he admitted it on the spot. "Yeah. You guys win."
"No," Shane shook his head, not pressing the point. "There are four of us and you were alone—call it a draw."
Bacchus burst out laughing. "Ha! You're a funny one."
His impression of Shane instantly improved.
"The rules were mine, and I lost, so I lost. But—thanks for letting Quatro Cerberus keep some face."
He took a swig of liquor, then pointed at the huge wyvern corpse near his feet. "Then take this one as a thank-you gift. It's yours."
With that, he didn't linger. He waved, then sprang lightly down the slope—vanishing into the wind and snow in moments.
"What the heck…" Natsu muttered, watching him go. "He's just leaving? That drunk guy is weird."
"What's bad about that?" Gray was practical. He stared at the extra wyvern and shrugged. "We got a free wyvern. That's another five hundred thousand in materials."
Shane ignored their money-grubbing and walked over, patting each of them on the shoulder.
"Not bad. Trading blows with a wyvern like that means you really did get stronger."
He'd been watching the whole time. Their coordination was still rough, but their combat sense and reaction speed had improved a lot.
"Tch—what's there to praise?" Natsu didn't look happy at all. He kicked a pile of snow. "It couldn't even fly and we still needed two people. And we didn't even finish it cleanly…"
Then he glared at Gray. "If this droopy-eyed guy wasn't in the way, I'd have handled it alone!"
"Huh? What'd you say?!" Gray instantly bristled. "You and your stupid slanted eyes spraying fire everywhere— you almost burned me! If I hadn't blocked its tail for you, you'd be the one getting swatted into the cliff!"
"You wanna fight?!"
"Bring it on!"
As their foreheads knocked together again, Shane rolled his eyes, exhausted.
He couldn't be bothered with these two hyperactive idiots. He turned to the wyvern carcass instead.
Per the guild master's request, besides taking a trophy horn to prove the kill, they also needed scales.
With a thought, Shane materialized a sharp file in his hand.
Nearby, Erza strode over with a frown, hands on her hips, eyes snapping toward Natsu.
"Natsu. Watch your mouth!"
Then she turned to Gray—who was somehow halfway to stripping his pants off again.
"And Gray, at least wear your clothes properly in the snow! Are you trying to catch a cold?"
"When did—" Gray looked down and finally realized not only his shirt but even his pants were missing. He started fumbling around in the snow, still trying to act tough. "Quit nagging! Ice mages don't catch colds!"
"Enough."
Erza grabbed them—one in each hand—and marched them over to the other fallen wyvern.
"If you've got so much energy, use it on the job! Hurry up—there are still tons of scales to process!"
Under Erza's iron-fisted suppression, the two of them had no choice but to comply, even if they hated every second.
The group worked in the biting wind around the corpses. Even with Shane's conjured tools, prying off scales was brutal labor.
By the time they'd stripped everything valuable, the sky had already darkened.
The trip back was another circus.
"I won't! Even if I die, I'm not getting on that hell train again!"
The moment he heard "train," Natsu wrapped himself around a station pillar. No matter how much Gray mocked him, he wouldn't let go.
"Quiet."
Shane didn't have time to indulge him. He just grabbed Natsu and hauled him.
Ignoring the pig-slaughter screams, he dragged him into the carriage and dumped him into a seat.
With a clunk, the train began to roll.
The second the wheels started turning, Natsu—who'd been bouncing around like a monkey—went limp like his spine had been yanked out, collapsing onto the table.
"Pathetic," Gray sneered automatically, staring at Natsu's half-dead face.
Then he turned, bored, to the snowy scenery whipping past outside.
Suddenly, his gaze fixed.
"Huh?"
He pressed his face to the window and pointed toward the distant sky, voice bright with surprise. "Hey, look over there—why is that spot clear, but there's a tiny cloud raining?"
In a world of white, falling snow, that lone little raincloud drizzling water looked bizarre.
"Probably some kind of magic," Shane said without even blinking. He glanced once, then leaned back and shut his eyes to rest.
"Oh…" Gray answered. He was still curious, but the train had already sped up—no chance of jumping off to investigate. So he sat back down.
When they finally returned to the guild, it was already late at night.
But the hall was still brightly lit and loud as ever.
"Yo! You're back!"
Guild members raised their cups in greeting the moment they came in.
Shane and Erza weren't particularly attached to money. Without any fuss, they took out the mission reward—1.5 million J—and split it evenly on the spot.
Everyone's share felt satisfyingly heavy.
After the money was handled, Shane carried the large sack full of wyvern scales over to Makarov.
"Master. The stuff you wanted."
"Oh, oh! Good work!" Makarov checked the bag and nodded in satisfaction.
Shane straightened, then—out of habit—swept his eyes toward the bar.
Normally, this time of night, Macao and Wakaba would be glued together, drinking and bragging.
But today, only Wakaba sat there alone, nursing his drink in silence. Pipe smoke curled around him, making him look oddly solitary.
"Huh?"
Shane walked over, puzzled. "Wakaba, where's Macao? Why are you alone?"
Wakaba slowly exhaled a smoke ring and glanced at Shane through the haze.
His look was complicated—some mix of sympathy and a weird, resentful bitterness.
"That guy…" Wakaba lifted his glass and downed a mouthful, voice hollow.
"Seems like he… got married on impulse."
"…Huh?"