"Looks like they're being controlled," Ace said, his eyes turning cold.
"What do we do?" Alzack raised his twin guns. "They're our guidmates!"
"Desperate measure for desperate times. Knock them out," Ace said simply, charging forward first.
He blurred into a streak of dark gold light, rushing straight down the narrow alley.
The first controlled member didn't even see Ace move before a sharp strike to the back of his neck made his vision go black.
He crumpled to the ground.
"So fast..." Alzack muttered in shock.
But the other controlled members had already reacted.
Seven or eight spells blasted toward Ace at once!
Fireballs scorched the air, ice lances tore through the wind, wind blades slashed at the walls, and rock bullets smashed the ground.
The narrow alley was instantly swallowed in a barrage of magical light.
Ace didn't back down.
He didn't even use his Digital Soul to defend himself.
He simply shifted his stance.
Stepping forward with his left foot, he channeled all his momentum into his right arm.
His fist shot out like a cannonball, slamming violently into the stone ground.
BANG!
A deep boom echoed as the stone paving exploded.
A massive, ring-shaped shockwave blasted outward from Ace's fist.
It was pure, raw physical force not magic.
The shockwave ripped through the air, dispersing the fireballs, shattering the ice lances, deflecting the wind blades, and pulverizing the rock bullets into dust.
Every single spell was destroyed before it could even reach him.
In the next second, Ace vanished again.
He left only blurry afterimages in the dim alley, weaving through the crowd like a phantom.
With every flicker of movement, another controlled mage fell—a precise chop to the neck, a quick knee to the gut, or a light tap to the temple.
There was no blood or broken bones.
His strikes were perfectly measured, delivering just enough force to knock them out without causing real harm.
"One, two, three, four..." Levy counted breathlessly.
Five seconds.
In just five seconds, all eight attackers at one end of the alley were down.
Ace stood among them, his breathing perfectly steady. He casually rolled his wrist like he had just finished a light warm-up.
But the seven members from the other end of the alley were already charging.
This time, they abandoned ranged magic for close combat.
The leading two lunged viciously, aiming for Ace's vital points with fists and kicks.
Ace smoothly sidestepped the first man's punch, his left hand darting out to grab the attacker's wrist.
With a sharp twist and pull, he threw the man completely off balance.
At the same time, Ace swept his right leg low, intercepting the second attacker's incoming kick.
Crack!
A heavy thud of bone hitting bone echoed.
The second man cried out and collapsed, clutching his bruised leg.
The first man, whom Ace had just thrown, crashed heavily into a third attacker, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
Instead of stepping back, Ace pressed forward, slipping through the remaining four like water.
He drove his left elbow back into one man's ribs, slammed his right shoulder into another's chest, brought his left knee up to crack against a third's jaw, and spun into a sweeping roundhouse kick that sent the fourth flying backward.
Four precise strikes, executed in less than a second.
All four mages collapsed, out cold.
The alley fell dead silent.
Only the howling night wind and the distant explosions from the city could be heard.
Alzack, Levy, Juvia, Elfman, and the recently healed Jet and Droy just stared, completely dumbfounded.
They knew Ace was strong, but they hadn't expected this.
Fifteen mind-controlled guildmates, all official mages, hadn't even lasted ten seconds against him.
Ace stood up straight, brushing non-existent dust from his clothes.
He frowned at the unconscious bodies scattered around him, a spark of annoyance flaring up.
Taking them out wasn't tiring, but this strategy was a problem.
Freed was using these enchantments to turn the guild against itself, whittling down their numbers without even having to lift a finger.
Worse, Ace could sense dozens more of these control runes pulsing across Magnolia.
If he had to personally beat up every single mind-controlled guildmate, the entire guild would be hospitalized by the time the enchantments were gone.
Did Laxus and the Thunder God tribe really think this would wear him down?
Regardless, playing along with someone else's trap wasn't Ace's style.
"Let's try a different method," Ace muttered.
He raised his right hand, palm facing up.
Dark gold Digital Soul swirled above it, projecting a glowing, intricate summoning circle.
"Heeheeheehee!"
A sharp, eerie laugh, like metal scraping against glass, pierced the night.
The light from the circle faded, and Piedmon landed gracefully.
With a theatrical flourish, the Digimon swept into an exaggerated bow.
"Lord Ace! You've finally remembered me!" Piedmon's voice was filled with delight, but it carried an unsettling, manic edge.
"What game are we playing this time? A killing game? Or... a battle royale?"
"Piedmon," Ace said calmly. "Among your 'Clown Tricks,' you have a move that turns living things into dolls, right? Can you change them back later?"
"Of course!" Piedmon giggled, pulling a pristine white handkerchief from his sleeve. "Lord Ace, you must trust my expertise. When the game is over, I will happily release them."
"Good." Ace nodded, pointing to the unconscious guildmates, then toward the streets beyond the alley.
"Use it. Turn everyone controlled by Freed's enchantments into dolls and gather them somewhere safe."
"Ehh? Just turning them into dolls?" Piedmon pouted, looking incredibly disappointed.
"How boring! I thought I was going to get a killing spree. At least let me play with them a little!"
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