Chapter 84

“Has Mo En gone with the old man to the chairman’s regular meeting?”

In the Fairy Tail guild hall, Laxus heard the news; his expression flickered, but he quickly returned to normal—he wouldn’t go even if the old man called him.

What’s the point of this “Regional Guild Alliance”? Its reputation is negligible; many of the member guilds are weak, and some of their leaders couldn’t even defeat him. What’s the use of banding together with such weaklings?

Laxus turned away and continued training, making his final preparations for the S-Class Mage examination.

Meanwhile, Mo En had already set out with Macao; the two had boarded the train. Mo En wasn’t unfamiliar with this railway line—he’d taken it several times to Croba, and had even accompanied Wendy when she visited her relatives at the “Cat’s Nest.”

The train headed north, passing through several cities, crossing the Croba Grand Canyon, and finally arriving at Croba Station.

“The meeting venue isn’t in downtown Croba—it’s in the suburbs, but not far. Let’s rent a carriage.”

After disembarking, Macao spoke.

“Alright.”

Mo En nodded. Outside the station, many carriages waited for passengers. After leaving the station, they easily boarded one; once Macao told the driver the destination, the driver skillfully whipped the horses and set off.

The meeting venue was quite remote, nestled in the woods outside Croba—yet the driver seemed perfectly familiar with the route, which surprised Mo En slightly.

“Veteran drivers here have been doing this for years—they all know how to get there. The Regional Guild Alliance has existed for many years, and the meeting place has never changed.”

Macao explained, and Mo En understood: for drivers, the meeting venue was a notable landmark worth remembering.

After the driver sped along at breakneck speed, Mo En and Macao soon arrived. Disembarking, Mo En looked toward the building—it was a large, luxurious villa, like a grand hotel nestled in the forest.

“Let’s go in. I wonder how many have already arrived.”

Macao, with his short legs, led the way. Mo En followed behind, genuinely looking forward to the meeting—this hotel-like villa had real class.

Upon entering the villa, Mo En was slightly startled—the interior decor differed from its exterior appearance.

Put plainly, the interior was overly simple, almost jarringly disconnected from the outside: from the outside, it looked like a five-star international hotel; inside, it resembled a budget chain hotel.

Yet the space inside was still vast—the conference hall and banquet hall were both large, and there were many rooms, all spacious suites capable of housing several people, clearly designed with the possibility that guild leaders might bring attendants.

“Let’s put our luggage down first.”

Mo En wasn’t familiar with the place, so he naturally followed Grandpa Ma Kaou, who easily found a suite with the emblem of the Fairy Tail guild carved on it—clearly preassigned.

Every time he came to the meeting, the old man stayed in this room—he knew it inside and out.

After taking Mo En to his room to put down his luggage, Macao didn’t linger. It was already nearly night when they arrived; the banquet would begin tonight, so heading straight to the banquet hall was perfect.

Mo En spoke little and acted cautiously, silently following his grandfather. Along the way, they encountered many people, most of whom politely greeted Grandpa Macao with deep respect.

Macao, however, had no airs about him—he smiled warmly with everyone he spoke to. At eighty-two, he carried the prestigious title of “Top Ten Mage,” and had personally elevated “Fairy Tail” to its current stature; his reputation stood at the very peak throughout the Fiore Kingdom.

“This is my grandson, Mo En. I brought him along to see the world.”

Macao never forgot Mo En along the way—he always mentioned him whenever someone greeted him. Many others had brought their own young ones too, and Mo En ended up meeting quite a few people.

Soon, the banquet hall filled with people, and Macao’s closest circle gathered around him.

Among them, Mo En recognized several, such as Gao Deman, president of “Four-Headed Hounds,” and Bob, president of “Blue Pegasus.”

These two were old friends of Grandpa Macao, having known him since youth; they had once been members of “Fairy Tail,” and were also longtime acquaintances of Grandma Porlyusica.

“Grandpa Gao Deman, President Bob.”

Mo En greeted them both, though it had been some time since their last meeting—he’d been much younger back then.

Gao Deman wore a black triangular hat, black sunglasses, and a full black outfit. Most striking were the spiked collars around his neck and wrists—the kind typically worn by guard dogs or hunting dogs—very distinctive.

“Little Mo En? Itachi’ve grown so much already? At just twelve or thirteen, Itachi’re almost as tall as me. Time really flies.”

Gao Deman looked at Mo En with a wistful expression. Last time they met, Mo En had still been a child of seven or eight—now he’d grown so much. Thinking about it, Gao himself was eighty now; these old men were growing older by the day.

Beside Gao stood a short, bald fat man, wearing pink heart-shaped lipstick, rosy blush, a pink-purple strapless dress, and a pair of tiny white wings on his back—his outfit was wildly exaggerated, bordering on vulgar.

“It’s been years, little Mo En—Itachi’ve turned into such a handsome boy~ So adorable~”

His speech and manner matched his appearance—he was Bob, president of “Blue Pegasus,” gazing at Mo En with paternal affection.

Seeing Bob, Mo En felt his scalp tingle. He called Bob “President,” not “Grandpa” like he did Gao Deman, because last time they met, Bob had demanded Mo En address him as “Grandma.”

Mo En couldn’t bear it, so he simply settled on “President.”

To be honest, whether in his past life or this one, Mo En was never good at dealing with such people—especially when they were elders, and especially when they were kind and even fond of him. It was deeply exhausting.

“Little Mo En, what do Itachi think about what I told Itachi last time? Join Blue Pegasus. Look at your magic—it’s all Pegasus Meteor Fist. Doesn’t that suit us perfectly?”

“And our guild is full of handsome guys and beautiful girls—Itachi’re a little charmer too. Itachi’d be perfect for Blue Pegasus~”

Bob leaned in, beaming with paternal warmth, one hand caressing his cheek, his whole demeanor exuding flamboyance.

“Bob! Itachi bastard! Right in front of me, Itachi’re trying to steal my grandson? Can’t Itachi at least have some dignity?!”

Bob’s words enraged Macao—he immediately jumped up and shouted. Among the three elders, Macao was the oldest; Bob, at seventy-four, was the youngest, so Macao could scold him freely.

Bob didn’t get angry at being scolded—he just smiled easily and waved his hand at Macao.

“Itachi should respect Mo En’s own choice, Macao. Itachi don’t get to decide for him.”

As he spoke, Bob looked at Mo En with eager anticipation.

Gao Deman watched from the side like a hunting dog ready to pounce—if Mo En actually agreed, he’d move in too.

Over the years, this little Mo En had grown astonishingly fast! Just standing there, one could almost feel the vitality radiating from him. What kind of luck had this old man had? How did he get such a gifted grandson?!

Gao Deman was truly envious. His guild, “Four-Headed Hounds,” was the weakest of the three in reputation and strength, so he naturally coveted talented young mages even more.

“I’m sorry, President Bob, but I must decline again. In my heart, there is only one sun—Grandpa Macao!”

Facing the three presidents’ gazes, Mo En stood at attention, hand over his heart, answering with firm resolve.

“This kid…”

Macao laughed. He’d never worried Mo En would be swayed—Mo En was so happy in “Fairy Tail,” cherished and adored by everyone. How could he ever want to join “Blue Pegasus”?

“What a shame~”

Bob sighed helplessly, looking wounded—his performance made Mo En struggle to keep a straight face.

But facing this kind elder, no matter how uncomfortable, he had to endure it.

“Didn’t either of Itachi bring anyone this time?”

Macao first laughed mockingly at Bob’s failed attempt to poach, then asked curiously.

“We did. I’ll call him over to introduce Itachi.”

Gao Deman called out to a distance, and a young man carrying a gourd wine flask hurried over. He looked barely older than Mo En, his hair tied up, a white headband wrapped around his head, and a row of small triangles tattooed beneath each eyelid—his expression was bold and unrestrained.

(End of Chapter)