Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

Date: Year X785 — Mid-September

Location: Southern Trade Route — Near Magnolia

The attack came not as an open declaration, but as a calculated incision—precise, indirect.

Not a frontal assault on Fairy Tail. Not a challenge to Teresa herself.

The dark guilds, for now, remained cautious.

Instead, they struck where pressure could ripple without direct reprisal: Magnolia's southern trade routes—the arteries through which goods, coins, and communication flowed.

Two nights prior, scouts had reported an uptick in cloaked couriers drifting into the region, their concealment spells faint but deliberate. The signs were there.

Now, the trap sprung beneath starlight.

A modest caravan of four wagons moved slowly along the winding road. Each was staffed by drivers and escorted by lightly armed mercenaries—sufficient for repelling highway thieves, but wholly unprepared for what awaited.

From both sides of the tree line, shadows emerged in synchronized waves. No crests. No banners.

Just precision.

Silent. Efficient.

Operatives—not thugs.

Trained, not impulsive.

The leader, face masked in black cloth, raised a single hand.

"Disarm. No kills unless forced. Secure the manifests."

The ambush unfolded flawlessly.

Paralysis hexes dropped the guards before they could raise alarms. Magical nets collapsed the lead horses. Within seconds, the caravan was immobilized, helpless.

Scrolls and ledgers were taken, not cargo.

They weren't here to steal.

They were here to map the veins of Magnolia's trade.

A clean strike.

Low-risk. Denied. Effective.

Or so they believed.

Moments Earlier — Teresa's Estate

A ripple cut across Teresa's perception like a blade against silk.

Not distant. Not probing.

Active aggression.

Her silver eyes opened in the darkness.

In a breath, her Requip activated.

Silver armor embraced her form. Her Claymore appeared at her side, heavy and ready. The white cloak unfurled behind her like a storm crest rolling down from the hills.

"Enough," she whispered and stepped into the night.

Southern Trade Route — Seconds Later

The strike leader activated a lacrima communicator, voice calm.

"Extraction complete. Retreat phase—"

He never finished the sentence.

The air shifted.

A pressure fell over the field like gravity bending.

Even the shadows recoiled.

And then—she appeared.

A blur of silver arcing down the northern rise.

Silent. Implacable. Inevitable.

"Phantom Step."

The outer flank didn't scream. They simply fell—limbs severed from weapons, minds stunned by sheer velocity.

"Void Sever."

The lead rogue raised his defensive charm—

—Teresa's blade sliced through it like smoke.

Her Claymore stopped an inch from his throat, humming with restrained force.

"Yield."

His legs gave out.

The rest froze.

Her voice was calm.

Cold.

Absolute.

"You entered territory that's not yours.

You are fortunate I prefer information over corpses."

The surviving operatives dropped their scrolls.

Minutes Later — Aftermath

The caravan's guards stirred as the paralysis wore off, staring wide-eyed at the scene before them.

One guard whispered, almost reverently:

"Silver-Eyed Valkyrie..."

Teresa spoke without turning.

"Collect your caravan. Leave the intruders. Council units are inbound."

"Y-Yes, ma'am!"

Rune Knights, alerted by the guild's early warning system, arrived moments later to escort the caravan and recover the prisoners.

Teresa remained behind, standing among the neutralized agents.

Their leader, still conscious, glared up at her in silence.

"Whom do you report to?"

No answer.

"Speak."

Nothing.

She stepped closer, voice low and lethal.

"Do not confuse mercy for hesitation."

He flinched—but held his silence.

That silence, she knew, would break elsewhere.

Interrogation would come.

She would not waste more words here.

Later That Night — Magnolia Guild Hall

The map board bore new markers.

The first breach had come.

Macao stood before it, arms folded, face grim.

Warren's voice crackled over the lacrima line.

"Council finally approved full detainment authority within Magnolia's protection zone. They're dispatching an extraction unit."

"They should've moved days ago," Macao muttered.

"They underestimated her response," Reedus said. "They thought she'd hesitate."

"She didn't," Wakaba added. "They picked the wrong route."

Kinana arrived with fresh tea, setting it beside the reports.

"But they'll adapt. The broker behind this is learning."

Macao nodded. "And he's not done."

"Voldane?" Reedus asked.

"He's testing the scaffolding now," Macao said. "Next, he'll start targeting support beams."

Romeo, seated nearby, looked up.

"They're afraid of her."

Macao glanced at him. "They are.

But fear, Romeo, does strange things.

It either paralyzes... or makes people reckless."

That Same Night — Voldane's Hideout

The cavern's crystal display showed flickering projections of the failed strike.

Voldane stood quietly, his expression unreadable.

Around him, his lieutenants shifted nervously.

"The Valkyrie responded faster than anticipated," one offered.

"She neutralized the entire squad in seconds," another added.

Voldane didn't raise his voice.

"She knew we would escalate. She allowed the pattern to form—then broke it."

"Do we strike again?"

"No," he said. "Not yet. The Council will tighten patrols. Let them. It gives the illusion of control."

He turned to face the projections again.

"We shift strategy. We don't strike the roads.

We strike the foundation—information, alliances, morale."

A pause.

"We don't break Fairy Tail in battle.

We make them question the ground beneath them."

The shadows around him nodded.

The next wave would not be clean or visible.

It would be slow, and silent.

The unraveling had begun.

At Teresa's Estate — Dawn

The hills were quiet again as the first sunlight gilded the grass.

Teresa stood on her high balcony, her armor still in place. Her sword rested across her back.

The first real strike had failed.

But it was only the opening gambit.

She exhaled slowly, her words caught on the wind.

"Next time, you will not leave breathing."

And then,

that small, merciless smile.

They thought she had drawn a line.

They didn't yet understand—

she was on the line.