"The requests are posted on the first floor—anyone can take them, right?" Shane clutched his forehead, arguing on principle.
He'd checked with Cana: second-floor requests were S-class only, but the first floor had no formal restriction.
"Still no!" Makarov folded his arms, firm. "Even the first-floor jobs must be matched to the right mages. That's the guild's duty."
That "kids don't know any better" look told Shane talk alone wouldn't cut it. He sighed.
Sometimes, being this age really did kill your credibility.
He'd hoped to save his True Name reveal for some dramatic moment in the guild later, scare everyone a bit. Looks like that wasn't happening.
"Like I told Gray… I really am fairly strong," he said quietly.
The cloth on his arm vanished; a deep crimson longbow snapped into being.
Warm, rich mana radiated out—like winter sunlight breaking cloud: gentle, not scorching, but carrying weight that made hearts skip.
It wasn't deliberate pressure, more the natural aura of a life that had stepped beyond normal.
Makarov's face changed in an instant.
He'd heard Gildarts talk up Shane, but he'd taken it as exaggeration. Seeing was different.
"At this level… he's not 'helping' on S-class jobs," Makarov thought, uneasy. He even felt a faint threat from the boy.
At a nearby table, Wakaba forgot to pull on his pipe. "That's… insane for a newbie…"
Macao blinked, then elbowed Wakaba, smirking. "Hey, imagine—Gray busts his back training, finally thinks he can beat that 'Shane' from today… and then sees this Shane. Picture his face."
"Heh…"
They shared a look and matching evil grins, already savoring Gray's future existential crisis.
Makarov looked at Shane's "So… do you believe me now?" expression and rubbed his brow hard.
"All right… with power like that, I have no grounds to stop you." His voice softened, but his eyes were serious. "I have only one condition. Finish the job—and do not drag Fairy Tail's name through the mud."
"Of course," Shane and Erza said together, faces solemn.
After they left, Macao edged closer. "Master, you really let them go? It's a dark guild…"
To him, whatever their strength, sending kids barely twelve to wipe out a guild was a question of adult responsibility, not power.
Makarov watched the door, gaze deep. "You felt Shane's power. That's not a chick to hide under wings. A mage walks their own road, and owns their choices."
…
Shirotsume lay not far from Magnolia; the train ride was less than a day.
Following the address on the flyer, Shane and Erza stopped before an absurdly grand estate.
High walls, gilded gate, and beyond, a manor like a small palace—everything screamed money.
"Nice house…" Shane tipped his head back, checked the address, and nodded. "No mistake. Duke Everlue's place."
Erza was simpler. She strode up and banged the heavy wooden door. "Anyone there? We're Fairy Tail mages, here about the job."
The words had barely left her mouth when the ground rumbled under their feet.
With a crash, the stone in front of the door exploded upward.
From the hole, a hulking, muscle-bound "maid" in a too-tight outfit, built like a gorilla, hauled herself out.
Shane was momentarily impressed by the entrance—and the build—but kept his manners. "We're Fairy Tail. We accepted Duke Everlue's request to eliminate 'Eisenwald.'"
"Fairy Tail?" A sharp, arrogant voice came from the hole. A short, fat man in a silk suit with a pencil mustache squeezed out behind her, dusting himself off.
"I thought all mages were cowards—job's been up for ages and no one bit. Hm?"
Halfway through the rant, he got a good look at them.
Two clearly underage kids.
His face flipped from pompous to furious. "Is this a joke? I paid two million J, not for a couple of brats to entertain me! Get lost!"
Honestly, Shane was used to being written off because of age.
"Your Grace, we're here to confirm the details. If you have additional information on Eisenwald, we'd like to hear it. As for our capability—judge after we finish."
"Additional—judge?" the duke screeched, voice climbing. "If I say no, it's no! I asked for real mages, not—"
He stopped dead.
A black katana had appeared at his throat, edge cool enough to sting his skin just by existing.
Sweat sprang out on his forehead and the nastier words died in his throat.
He froze, not daring to move for fear of nicking himself on the blade.
"You—you dare threaten your client?!" he squealed, bluffing.
Shane's grip was steady, his usual sunny smile still in place.
"Threaten? Never," he said lightly. "Just giving you a nice clear sample of 'capability'—so you stop worrying about our age."
His wrist flicked; the katana flowed back into light.
Everlue sagged, stumbling back behind the gorilla-maid, a hand to his neck to check for a cut.
His color flared back, mostly with anger—but beneath it, a healthy dose of fear.
"Hmph! Go then! Let's see what you're worth! Best if you just die there!" he snapped.
Shane acted like he hadn't heard the last part. "Appreciate the kind words."
~~~
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