Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

The forest swallowed the sound.

Only the rustle of leaves and faint creaks of old branches accompanied Teresa's steady steps as she moved deeper into the woods. Moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy overhead, casting scattered silver patches across the forest floor.

Her armored form moved with controlled precision, heavy boots brushing quietly against the undergrowth. The weight of her Claymore rested comfortably on her back, but her hand remained near the hilt.

She extended her senses outward.

Magic flowed through these woods—not natural magic like the vibrant, playful hum of Earthland's common creatures. This was sharper. Twisted. It pulsed faintly, shifting like distant ripples upon a still lake.

The predator was aware of her presence.

The first howl came softly—far away, a haunting call that rose sharply, then faded.

The paralyzing magic was subtle but present even at a distance. She felt it tug at the edges of her muscles—a thin thread of tension crawling along her nerves, urging stiffness.

Her Yoki pulsed gently in response, counterbalancing the foreign pressure.

The paralysis faded before it could take hold.

She smiled faintly. A voice-based magic. Effective against minds ruled by fear.

Not effective against her.

The second howl came closer. This time, she recognized the layering of sound—multiple frequencies woven together. The creature wasn't simply calling—it was actively hunting her through resonance, testing her responses.

She slowed, adjusting her breathing, allowing her senses to spread wider.

Then she heard it.

A faint whisper of disturbed leaves to her right. The brief snap of a twig to her left.

Flanking movements.

She pivoted smoothly, scanning the trees.

The first form appeared between the trunks—a blur of shifting shadow. Its four-legged frame was lean but heavily muscled, covered in thick black fur that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. Long, powerful limbs ended in clawed paws. Its narrow head bore slitted yellow eyes and wide jaws filled with needle-like fangs.

It didn't resemble any wolf she had ever known. This was something deliberately crafted—or perhaps mutated—by rogue magic.

The true Night Howler.

As it stepped forward, its body blurred, flickering briefly as it slipped between visible and semi-invisible states—a primitive cloaking ability.

Teresa remained still.

Another faint ripple behind her.

A second one.

They hunt in packs.

The first lunged without warning.

Teresa sidestepped smoothly, pivoting around its charge. As the beast passed, she drew her Claymore in a single fluid motion, the blade flashing in the moonlight.

Her strike connected, slicing a clean arc across the creature's hindquarters, sending it tumbling into the undergrowth with a yelp of pain.

The second Night Howler attacked instantly from behind, using the first's charge as a distraction.

Teresa spun, raising her blade to meet the rushing form. The creature lashed out with wide claws, but her Claymore intercepted cleanly, the heavy blade biting into its forelimb and driving it back with a growl.

The pack hesitated, reassessing.

The third howl came immediately—this one much closer and louder, layered with a deeper resonance.

The sound struck her chest like a physical wave, briefly pressing against her balance.

For a moment, her legs stiffened—not from fear, but from the calculated effect of the resonance harmonics.

Her Yoki flared in response—just enough to nullify the effect without breaking her external composure.

The two creatures circled her now, darting between trees, staying at mid-distance.

Teresa narrowed her silver eyes, studying their rhythm.

Their paralysis works best on targets that panic.

She adjusted her stance, breathing slowly and evenly.

One of the beasts lunged again from her right. Teresa shifted with impeccable timing, meeting its momentum with a rising slash. The Claymore's broad blade cleaved through its chest with brutal efficiency, sending the creature skidding across the ground in a heap.

The remaining Howler shrieked, then vanished entirely into the foliage, using its cloaking magic at full strength.

The woods fell eerily silent.

Only the soft crunch of distant movement hinted at the remaining predator's position.

She waited.

Patience was her oldest ally.

A faint ripple to her left.

There.

The beast lunged once more—this time fully invisible, attempting a final surprise attack.

Teresa pivoted smoothly at the last moment, extending her left arm.

With perfect timing, her Requip activated mid-motion—a pulse of light bringing her gauntlet fully into existence as her hand met the creature's open jaws.

The armored fist struck upward into the beast's exposed throat, breaking its momentum.

Before the creature could recover, she drove her Claymore downward into its torso, anchoring the blade through its ribcage. It spasmed violently, then fell still.

The Night Howler's cloaking shimmer dissipated as death claimed it.

Silence returned to the forest.

Teresa stood still for several long seconds, listening carefully.

No more movement.

No more presences.

The pack was dead.

With measured breath, she wiped the dark blood from her blade against the nearest tree trunk, then returned the Claymore to its sheath.

The hunt was complete.

As dawn's early light began filtering through the trees, she made her way back toward the village.

By the time Teresa emerged from the forest, the village was already stirring nervously. Lanterns flickered along the narrow dirt paths, casting long shadows across the thatched roofs.

The gathered villagers stood in tense silence as she approached, their eyes wide, scanning her for wounds. Seeing none, a wave of cautious hope spread among them.

The village leader stepped forward hesitantly. "You—" He swallowed. "Did you...?"

"It is finished," Teresa said softly.

"You killed it?"

"I killed all of them."

Gasps rippled through the small crowd. Some villagers exhaled sharply, others dropped to their knees in prayer or wept quietly. The oppressive fear that had hung over them for weeks finally broke.

"You're—" the man stammered, "—you're alone, but... how?"

"I am sufficient," Teresa answered, her voice calm and steady.

Another man stepped forward, voice shaking. "How can we thank you?"

"You've already paid," Teresa replied, lifting the request sheet to remind them of the contract terms.

"But that's not enough," the leader insisted. "You saved all of us. You should stay—eat, rest—at least for tonight."

Teresa studied them silently for a moment.

In her old world, gratitude was rare. The villagers she once protected had often feared her even after being saved. Here, while fear still clung to their expressions, it was mingled with something warmer—genuine relief.

"No need," Teresa said softly. "You are safe now. That is sufficient."

With a faint bow of her head, she turned and walked back toward the road without waiting for further praise or ceremony. The villagers watched her go, standing in respectful silence.

By midday, Teresa crossed back into Magnolia's outer farmlands. The familiar skyline of the town rose in the distance as the sun warmed the air.

She walked steadily through the gates and into the lively streets, receiving polite nods from townsfolk who had grown accustomed to her quiet presence. The news of her success would reach the guild soon enough.

As she stepped through Fairy Tail's large wooden doors, several members looked up from their meals and conversations.

"She's back," Nab muttered, lowering his drink.

Macao approached with a small smile. "Quick as always."

"Job complete," Teresa said simply, handing him the marked request slip.

"No trouble?" Macao asked.

"They fought poorly."

Wakaba exhaled a puff of smoke. "Poorly, she says. Half the guild wouldn't come back alive from a job like that."

Reedus scribbled furiously on his sketchpad, already working to capture the details. "Did they match the previous corrupted pattern?"

Teresa gave a slight nod. "Similar. Mutated flesh, enhanced senses, cloaking abilities. Efficient hunters. But crude in their tactical coordination."

Romeo beamed. "You're amazing."

Teresa turned her faint smile toward him. "I am efficient."

Macao placed the completed contract into the guild's files and handed her a small coin pouch. "Here's the remainder of your pay. You earned it."

She accepted it with a nod. "Thank you."

As the guild returned to its usual rhythm, Wakaba murmured to Macao, "Y'know... the more I watch her, the more I think we're lucky she ended up on our side."

Macao smiled faintly. "Agreed."

From her usual corner table, Teresa sat quietly, observing the guild's activity. The voices, laughter, and warmth were distant to her—not unwelcome, but not her place.

She did not seek the bonds these people clung to.

But she would protect their peace.

For now.