Demolition Begins

Master Makarov, sitting on a barrel, pressed a hand to his forehead in resignation and let out a long sigh.

"Sigh... Young people these days have stranger and stranger tastes. Back when I was young, that was what you called real style. All that glittering gold is hard on the eyes. Riyao, if your magic is only good for lighting things up, at least the guild can save some money on its electric bill."

Faced with the barrage of complaints, Riyao laughed instead of getting angry. He raised a finger and gently wagged it, wearing a mysterious expression that said, "You mortals just don't understand."

"Shallow! So shallow!"

Riyao protested loudly.

"This isn't glowing graffiti. It's art! Power made visible! You old fossils and tsundere freaks who can't appreciate it had better not let your jaws drop when you see how cool my move is!"

Gildarts looked at the fighting-spirited boy before him, golden light radiating from his body. The smile gradually faded from his face, replaced by seriousness and appreciation.

"Hahaha! Interesting! This is really interesting!"

Gildarts burst out laughing and casually pulled off his cloak, tossing it aside.

"Although you do look a bit like a glowing leopard, the flow of that magic power... is pretty extraordinary. Come on, brat! Let's see what that thing you spent two years working so hard on can really do! If you dare disappoint me, I'll really beat the shit out of you!"

Before he had finished speaking, a terrifying surge of magic power erupted from Gildarts.

The magic power swept across the entire backyard in an instant, bearing down with an almost tangible weight.

The air around them seemed to grow heavy, and the loose stones and dust on the ground trembled under the invisible force before rising into the air.

The crowd, who had been laughing and making jokes just moments ago, fell silent at once. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the two in the yard. They knew.

Feeling the pressure bearing down on him like a mountain, Riyao didn't shrink back in the slightest. Instead, the corners of his mouth rose.

To fit Fairy Tail's style, he had combined the Strength of a Hundred Seal and the Strength of a Hundred Technique.

[Healing Magic: Hundred Battles]

With a low shout from Riyao, the golden markings on his body glowed faintly.

Gildarts naturally wouldn't use his full strength. He was only playing with a kid, using roughly enough power to get the better of Riyao.

"Boom—"

In an instant, the surrounding trees were blown every which way, and the stone slabs on the ground began to crack inch by inch.

Master Makarov closed his eyes in anguish and clutched his chest with both hands, wailing, "My backyard! My wallet! Can't those two bastards go a little easier?!"

But the two in the yard could no longer hear the master's cries.

Gildarts laughed heartily and said, "If that's all you've got, it won't be enough."

Riyao pushed off hard with both legs, shooting toward Gildarts like an arrow loosed from a bow.

His fist, covered in golden markings, cut through the air with a piercing whistle, heading straight for Gildarts's face.

"Bring it on!"

Gildarts bellowed. Without dodging or retreating, he threw a punch of his own to meet Riyao's attack.

The two fists, one large and one small, slammed together in midair.

"Bang—"

A deafening crash echoed throughout the guild as the violent aftershock of magic power rampaged outward from the two of them.

At the very center of the blast, a relatively small figure was sent flying backward like a kite with its string cut, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Golden light traced a swift arc through the air, accompanied by a chilling "crack"—the cry of bones giving way and snapping under the crush of absolute power.

"Bang!"

Riyao slammed into the thick stone wall at the edge of the backyard. The tremendous impact punched a deep, spiderweb-shaped crater into it.

Broken stones rained down, and thick clouds of dust billowed into the air, instantly swallowing him from sight.

The once-noisy guild backyard fell deathly silent.

Gildarts remained in his punching stance. A rare trace of regret and panic flashed across his rugged face, which was usually lit by a hearty smile.

He quickly pulled back his fist and looked at the hand that had just unleashed that terrifying power. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "That last hit... I used too much force without thinking."

Even though he had forcibly withdrawn most of his magic power at the last moment, the sheer physical impact unleashed by the body of the strongest adult mage was not something a ten-year-old boy could easily withstand.

The distinct sound of breaking bones stabbed at the nerves of everyone present like a sharp needle.

"Gildarts! What are you doing, you brainless idiot?!"

Master Makarov's hand, which had been leisurely stroking his beard, froze. Then he leaped off the barrel and pointed a finger in Gildarts's face, berating him.

"You're sparring with a kid, not subjugating an S-Class monster! You idiot, you don't know your own strength!"

The master's roar shattered the brief, deathly silence. The surrounding guild members woke as if from a dream, their relaxed, spectators' expressions instantly replaced by deep worry and anxiety.

Everyone's gaze turned as one to the billowing dust that had yet to settle.

Macao tossed aside his pipe, his brows tightly knitted and his expression grim enough to drip water.

Without the slightest hesitation, he strode toward the rubble, calling anxiously as he went, "Riyao! Hey, brat! Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

Just as Macao was about to enter the dusty area, a slightly hoarse but still clear voice suddenly came from deep within the rubble, breaking the tension gripping everyone.

"Cough, cough... I'm fine, I'm fine. It's a small problem. That punch of yours really packed a wallop, old man..."

As he muttered this in a lighthearted tone, a breeze swept through, slowly dispersing the dust.

Everyone held their breath, staring fixedly at the figure gradually coming into view.

Riyao braced his right hand against the cracked wall and struggled to his feet.

His once-neat casual clothes were now in tatters, covered in dust and blood.

Several strands had escaped his high golden ponytail and lay messily against his forehead.

Most shocking of all, however, was his left arm, hanging limply at his side.

Besides that, his chest and shoulders bore numerous abrasions and cuts of varying depths, which continued to ooze crimson blood.

Master Makarov's pupils contracted, and it felt as though an invisible hand had seized his heart.

He stamped his feet in alarm, his voice growing shrill with tension. "Quick! Macao, Wakaba! Don't just stand there! Pick him up and take him to Porlyusica right now! If that arm isn't treated soon, it'll be ruined!"

"Wait, don't panic."

As everyone descended into chaos, Riyao suddenly raised his uninjured right hand to stop them. He lifted his head, and there was not the slightest trace of pain on his young face, though it was covered in dust and blood.

Instead, he broke into a bright, almost carefree grin and even gave everyone a playful wink with his emerald-green eyes.

"I told you, it's just a small problem. Let me show you the true appeal of the Hundred Battles I developed."

The abrasions and cuts of varying depths on Riyao's body began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The torn flesh quickly closed, scabbed over, and then flaked away, revealing fresh skin as smooth as before, without a single scar.

But that wasn't the most shocking part.

Everyone's eyes remained fixed on his severely fractured left arm.

With a series of scalp-tingling cracks, his forearm, twisted at a bizarre angle, gradually returned to its original straight shape, accompanied by the faint sounds of bones rubbing together and muscle fibers reconnecting.

The damaged blood vessels, nerves, and muscle tissue grew, intertwined, and reformed at a furious pace under the light's nourishment.

In less than ten seconds, the left arm that had looked completely ruined miraculously returned to normal.

Riyao gently flexed the fingers of his newly reattached left hand, his joints popping crisply.

He shook his fully restored left arm, and as he felt the magic power still abundant within him, his smile grew even brighter.

"I'm a handsome young man again," he said smugly.

A breeze swept through the backyard once more, carrying away the last trace of dust as sunlight spilled over the golden-haired boy.