"I absolutely will not let you take another step forward!" Makarov roared, his massive right fist swinging directly towards the dark airship docked by the shore.
Suddenly, a huge, glowing purple defensive barrier materialized in the air, forcefully blocking Makarov's colossal punch.
"An Amaterasu seal! It really is you!" Makarov gasped, gritting his teeth.
He had still held onto a tiny, desperate sliver of hope before, thinking that maybe the person Raizel mentioned was just an imposter with the same name.
But what if the magic was exactly the same, too? And such an incredibly difficult, ancient magic to learn at that.
"Come out, Precht! I know it is you!" Makarov bellowed.
"Magic Convergence Cannon: Jupiter!" Precht did not respond to the plea, he only issued a cold command to his ship.
The massive barrel of the Jupiter Cannon began to extend from the ship's bow, humming with destructive energy.
Makarov could certainly dodge it, but directly behind him was Tenrou Island and his vulnerable children.
So, Makarov bravely raised his left arm, directly taking the devastating magical blast head-on.
Fortunately, in his Giant Magic state, his physical defense was impressive.
Even so, the sheer, concentrated power of the Jupiter Cannon tore through his defenses, leaving his arm bleeding profusely.
"Take the remaining members down to the island," Precht ordered from the shadows of the deck.
"What about you, Master Hades?" Zubal asked.
"I will personally take care of Makarov."
"Understood."
Zubal waved his large hand, and the remaining low-ranking grunts were absorbed into his spatial magic.
He then used his flight magic to zip past the giant and land deep within Tenrou Island.
Makarov watched helplessly as Zubal flew past, gritting his teeth and thinking he would just have to deal with them all together later.
"Are you still not coming out, Precht?!" Makarov roared.
He brought his massive palms together, a blindingly bright, golden energy ball beginning to gather rapidly between them.
"Grimoire Heart, according to the ancient rules of judgment... I will count to three."
"One of the Three Great Fairy Magics... an ultra magic that judges those deemed as enemies and completely eradicates them..."
Precht watched the golden energy ball expanding in the giant Makarov's hands from the shadows.
"Fairy Law."
"One..." Makarov boomed. "Two..."
"Three... It ends here!"
Makarov pressed his palms together completely.
From the seam between his massive hands, dazzling, holy golden light continuously shot forth, preparing to bathe the entire ship.
"Fairy Law!"
Precht slowly walked out from the shadows and onto the open deck, standing directly opposite Makarov.
He raised his hands, mirroring the stance.
"Grimoire Law!"
Seeing Precht in person, even Makarov—a man who had experienced countless great storms and waves over his eighty years—couldn't help but feel a profound, crushing sense of sorrow.
What surprised him even more was the terrifying dark magic pooling in Precht's palms, acting as a perfect, sinister mirror to Fairy Law.
Precht's pressed palms emanated terrifying dark magical power and an overwhelming, suffocating pressure.
"This magic is a deterrent force of suppression—something that should never be used lightly," Precht warned, his voice echoing coldly across the water.
"But if you still refuse to back down, Makarov, then I am afraid the final outcome will be a horrific nightmare for both sides."
Precht had Makarov completely figured out.
Makarov would absolutely never unleash a spell that would result in mutually assured destruction while his children were still on the island behind him.
Makarov didn't hesitate for even a single moment. His golden magical power gradually dissipated, and the holy light faded away into nothingness with it.
He shrank back down to his normal, diminutive size, landing heavily on the shore.
"Long time no see, kid," Precht greeted coldly.
"Master Precht..." Unlike Precht's completely calm, detached tone, Makarov's voice carried decades of heavy nostalgia and sorrow.
It was a deep nostalgia for the wise Precht who had once gently led him, and pure sorrow for the ruthless Hades who had fallen so completely into darkness.
...
Forty-eight years ago, Makarov, then forty years old, was honestly no different from the current Natsu and Gray—constantly causing massive destruction during routine missions and constantly being nagged and fined by the Magic Council.
Back then, Makarov was equally hot-tempered, entirely unable to calm his raging fists even when his guild companions desperately tried to reason with him.
"Cut the kid some slack," Precht, who had just returned to the guild hall from a long journey, said, immediately catching Makarov's attention.
"I heard you caused yet another massive scene at the job site today," Precht sighed, standing next to Makarov as they gazed out at the setting sun over Magnolia.
"Those fallen Mage thieves dared to openly mock our guild!" Makarov yelled, crossing his arms defensively.
"Your deep, fiery love for the guild is certainly not wrong, my boy," Precht smiled gently. "But mindless conflict only begets more conflict."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Master."
"The true spirit of harmony lies in mutual respect, which ultimately leads to unity. Humans originally come from the exact same existence, and the exact same goes for all magic."
Precht's kind, patient smile was incredibly vivid in his memory, his earnest, philosophical teachings still echoing warmly in Makarov's ears.
...
Slowly, that warm memory overlapped with the terrifying, present-day Precht standing before him, who now wore a demonic horned helmet and an eyepatch.
"Why... Why would you?" Makarov couldn't help but ask, his voice cracking.
"Why did you fall to a Dark Guild?"
"What is the point of stubbornly distinguishing between good and evil?" Precht scoffed. "This world cannot be explained so simply through arbitrary concepts of good or evil. 'Legal Guilds' and 'Dark Guilds' are merely fragile labels."
"Whether light or dark, good or evil, the core spirit of Fairy Tail remains completely unchanged," Makarov stated firmly.
"Hahaha! I never thought the hot-headed kid from back then would ever say such wise things," Precht laughed, though his lone eye remained entirely cold.
Makarov was no longer like his younger self, who would immediately fly into a blind rage at being casually called "kid."
"Stop calling me 'kid,' because you are no longer a recognized member of my guild," Makarov said, his tone dropping to a dangerous low.
"Still... I truly don't want to fight you."
Makarov clenched his tiny fists, his arms trembling slightly from the sheer, emotional force it took to hold back his tears.
"If you turn around and leave with your people right now... I can pretend this invasion never happened."
Precht wasn't surprised by Makarov's merciful words.
He laughed heartily at first, then slowly adopted a twisted, sorrowful expression.
"Don't misunderstand me, Makarov—I actually feel some genuine pain about this too. I never thought the day would actually come when I would have to completely destroy Fairy Tail with my own two hands."
As one of the original founding fathers of Fairy Tail, a man who had taken over as the Second Guild Master after Mavis's tragic "death" and single-handedly supported the fragile guild for decades, Precht now found himself actively needing to destroy his own legacy.
He genuinely felt a pang of reluctance.
But for Mavis's ultimate sake, and to usher in the Ultimate Magic World, he truly believed this was a necessary, unavoidable sacrifice.
As for whether Mavis herself would ever approve of his bloody methods—that no longer seemed important to him.
"Why have you become like this? Over the years, I considered that you might have passed away... but I never, ever imagined things would turn out this terribly," Makarov grieved.
"At this point, does questioning the past reasons even matter?" Precht challenged.
He had absolutely no intention of explaining himself.
If Makarov could actually manage to defeat him, perhaps then he might feel inclined to share his dark history.
"I will not let you destroy the guild!" Makarov declared.
He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep, shuddering breath before slowly opening them again.
The heavy confusion, sorrow, and deep loneliness in his eyes had been completely banished.
Now, his gaze held only pure, unyielding determination—the absolute resolve to protect his children and safeguard the guild at all costs.
He had absolutely no idea how monstrously powerful Precht, a man who had lived and trained in darkness for over a hundred years, had truly become, but he would never back down.
"Impressive determination. You have truly grown up. Are you actually planning to confront me head-on, brat?" Precht smirked.
Though it was hardly the right moment for pride, Precht genuinely felt that Makarov had matured immensely as a leader.
It was a stark contrast to the reckless man who, despite having long entered middle age, had once retained the volatile temperament of a spoiled child.
Intense, suffocating magical power began swirling violently around both of them, their heavy cloaks fluttering wildly as if stirred by an unseen, apocalyptic wind.
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