Gray's eyes went huge, mouth falling open wide enough to fit an egg.
"I–Ivan?! You—you actually…?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Shane looked even more confused. "You already knew I went after him. What's so strange about me bringing him back?"
"B-but—" Gray's voice shot up an octave as he pointed at Ivan, his finger trembling. "You really beat Ivan?! He's—he's an S-Class mage!"
He hadn't even saved up enough jobs to qualify for the S-Class exam this year.
To Gray, Ivan—on the same "unreachable" tier as Gildarts—was absolutely one of the guild's top monsters.
And now someone like that had been—
He couldn't process it.
Shane just shrugged. "So what? If that kind of trash can be S-Class, then if I'd been eligible for the exam, I probably would've passed last month."
He said it like he was casually commenting on dinner.
Gray got choked silent by the sheer audacity.
Walking past Gray—who was still stuck in system-crash shock—Shane headed straight for the front. "All right, don't block me. I've still got business with the master."
Still reeling from the reality of "Shane solo'd an S-Class," Gray reflexively stepped aside, brain blank.
As Shane passed through the hall, he caught Cana's worried look and Erza's questioning gaze.
He gave them a quick wave and a "handled it" smile, then dragged Ivan—under the curious, stunned stares of guild members—up to the second floor.
Erza watched Shane vanish up the stairs, calmly finished her still-warm red tea, then looked at Gray's dazed face with a pleased smile.
"See?" she said lightly. "I told you Shane would win."
Her expression looked like she had won.
Gray opened his mouth, then silently sank into a seat to contemplate the meaninglessness of life.
He felt like his concern had been less useful than feeding scraps to a dog.
Who comes back from fighting an S-Class and immediately uses the first moment to scare the people who were worried?
Cana, meanwhile, stared at Gray in puzzlement. Everyone knew Erza and Shane were close.
But Gray… since when had he gotten this close to Shane too?
The realization gave her a weird, prickly sense of being left behind by her own age group.
…
Second floor, the master's office.
Shane pushed open the wooden door and immediately felt the atmosphere was even heavier than before.
Ten minutes had passed, and Makarov and Laxus were still locked in a silent staring contest.
Shane didn't know how to insert himself into that, so he simply walked to the center of the room and let go.
Thud.
Ivan hit the floor like a ripped sack of cloth.
The sound finally shattered the suffocating silence.
Laxus whipped around, saw his father—dirty, battered, unconscious, with scrape marks and scorch burns—and his face twisted. "You… you didn't kill—"
"Idiot! Look properly!" Makarov cut him off harshly. "He's breathing! He only passed out!"
The old man sat stiffly behind his desk, face dark. "And even if Shane had killed him—someone who harms comrades and betrays the guild would deserve it!"
"Damn you, old—" Laxus's head snapped up, veins bulging at his temple, on the verge of exploding.
"Ahem," Shane hurriedly tried to mediate, rubbing his cheek. "So, uh… I brought him back. Can we all calm down first?"
It didn't help much.
Makarov still looked like a storm cloud. Laxus's fists were clenched, chest heaving.
Shane sighed. He really wasn't built for messy family drama.
Makarov spoke first, forcing his voice into cold control. "Laxus. Get out. I need to talk with Shane."
Laxus's breathing hitched a few times. But perhaps confirming his father was alive helped. He shot a vicious look at his expressionless grandfather, then a complicated glance at Shane, and finally grit his teeth and marched out.
As he passed Shane, he muttered one word so quietly it was almost swallowed by the air.
"Thanks."
Then he slammed the door behind him.
Shane raised an eyebrow, surprised. For someone who looked hotheaded and rebellious, Laxus was… unexpectedly reasonable. Maybe not a bad person after all.
Now only Shane, Makarov, and the unconscious Ivan remained.
Makarov didn't speak right away. He walked to Ivan, lowered his head, and stared long and hard at his useless son.
The look was difficult to read—anger, disappointment, and perhaps the kind of pain only a father could feel.
Shane waited a moment, then asked quietly, "Master… what are you going to do with him?"
Makarov lifted his head. His eyes had hardened into the decisive coldness of a guild leader.
"I'm going to erase every memory he has of magic," he said, voice low. "And everything he knows about Lumen Histoire."
That genuinely shocked Shane.
Stripping a mage's memories of magic was almost worse than killing them. The punishment was extreme.
He'd assumed that, blood or not, Makarov would still hold back a little for his own son.
Makarov seemed to read the thought on his face. "He isn't a guildmate anymore. I have no reason to protect him.
"And as the father who taught him magic, I have both the responsibility and the right… to take away the right to use it from a son who's chosen the wrong path."
His voice turned even heavier. "He doesn't deserve to be a Fairy Tail mage. He doesn't even deserve to be a mage at all."
In that moment, Shane understood Makarov's devotion to the guild more deeply.
This wasn't just talk—Makarov truly loved the guild and acted on that love, no matter how painful the cost.
"I understand." Shane nodded. Even though he'd been the one to drag Ivan back, this was family and guild business. He didn't have standing to offer more advice.
Still… memory erasure.
Shane's mind couldn't help circling it.
If the master intended to erase his memory of that secret as well, Shane wouldn't like it. Having someone meddle with your mind felt wrong.
He was still weighing whether he'd even agree—when Makarov turned his gaze to him, tone softening.
"Don't worry, Shane. I'm only doing this to Ivan.
"The guild will announce the decision internally."
Then his eyes sharpened again. "As for Lumen Histoire… I need you to keep that secret. Don't mention it to anyone in the guild."