Makarov slapped the smoke from his chest and glanced at the Phantom Lord colossus opposite him, a sneer tugging at his lips. "So this is the surprise you spent years preparing?"
"Jose, are you trying to scratch my back?"
"Impossible!"
From within the magic gigant, Jose's voice overflowed with disbelief. "jupiter's power can obliterate a city! How could you—"
"Hmph, frog in a well."
Makarov snorted, cutting off the tirade. "How could a man lost in schemes ever grasp it? The will and power we of Fairy Tail carry—your petty ambition and that cold lump of iron can't measure them!"
Before the words faded, Makarov's titan fist, blazing with golden light, shot out like a comet cleaving the night—too fast for eyes to follow.
"Giant's Fist!"
The blow held no fancy tricks, only raw strength and magic. Wherever the fist passed, the air itself shrieked from the pressure.
The Armor across the gigant's chest shattered like paper the instant it met the fist, inner frameworks and circuits groaning as they buckled under the overwhelming force.
The impact punched clean through, leaving a perfect fist-shaped bulge on the machine's back.
The enormous body lurched, its heavy feet carving two bottomless furrows across the ground.
"How… can he be this strong?"
In the cockpit Jose clenched his teeth, fighting to steady the machine and raising its arms for another try.
Makarov gave him no chance.
The Master Mage moved with impossible agility for his size; one hand still gripping the gigant's chest, the other splayed wide as he seized its head—Jose's perch.
"Game over, Jose!"
"Out you come!"
With a roar, Makarov's muscles bulged, golden magic blazing like fire.
A sharp crack rang out as the neck joints tore apart, parts raining down in a clatter.
At that instant a viscous, chilling darkness burst from within, blowing the head apart. A figure rose slowly through the shower of shards.
A tall-hatted man in violet-black robes, about forty, thin mustache curling above a sly, shadowed face.
Jose Porla—Guild Master of Phantom Lord, fellow Ten Wizard Saint.
His clothes were disheveled, blood at the corner of his mouth, yet the seething dark-purple magic around him spoke of abyssal power.
"Heh… heh-heh…"
"Well played, Makarov."
Jose wiped the blood, twisting his lips into a grin. "You've battered my Phantom MK-2, but don't think you've won! I didn't earn my seat among the Ten Wizard Saints with scrap metal!"
He flung his arms wide; vast dark magic became a tide of shrieking shadow-soldiers that blotted the very Sky, their chill aura enough to freeze the soul.
With a sweep of his arm the phantoms howled toward Makarov, blotting out all sight. Hidden within the black haze, Jose dived like lightning.
Jose was a schemer; six years earlier he had already lost to Makarov once.
Now, with his plan in ruins before it began, he had no intention of dueling an unweakened Makarov.
The Master Mage was mighty, but his weakness was obvious.
Seize one of the brats below and the doting Makarov would be helpless.
Wreathed in thick dark magic, Jose shot downward like a wraith, aiming straight for the Fairy Tail wizards made careless by the gigant's fall.
A vicious smile curved his lips—he could already see the rage on Makarov's face once a hostage was taken.
"Watch out!"
Erza sensed the murderous intent first, shouting a warning as she instantly donned her Heavens Wheel Armor, swords swirling to shield her friends.
Yet Jose was too fast; a full-force strike from a Ten Wizard Saint outpaced any normal Mage.
Dark magic swept down like a curtain, crushing the air itself, shredding Erza's sword array in a heartbeat.
The black wind hurled Natsu, Gray and Elfman aside like leaves.
Jose landed, hand reaching for the nearest target—Lucy.
A wall of flame erupted, sliding precisely between Jose and Lucy.
"Holy-fire?"
Jose snapped his gaze to the source: Hope stood before the others, sacred flames burning the darkness away.
"Nice one, Hope!"
As Happy yanked Lucy clear, Natsu inhaled, unleashing the strongest move in a Dragon Slayer's arsenal.
Fire Dragon's—Roar!
A searing whirlwind of flame surged toward the blocked Jose.
At the same instant Gray slammed his palms to the ground, ice erupting beneath Jose to trap him.
Caught off-guard, Jose snarled; their magic was nothing to him, but being balked by Hope, Natsu and Gray stung his pride.
He flicked a hand; darkness swallowed their spells, then turned on Hope. "Brat, you ruined my game—die!"
Dark magic erupted, warping the ground and drinking the very light. A monstrous claw formed, raking for Hope at blinding speed.
"Hope!" Natsu and Gray yelled.
Hope triggered Gods Foot, dodging by a hair; the claw still tore a deep gash across his back.
A mere side spell had nearly killed him.
So this was a Ten Wizard Saint… Realizing he couldn't win, yet knowing passivity meant death, Hope's eyes flashed coldly.
He launched himself straight at Jose like an arrow loosed from a bow.
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