In a dark, rundown office.
Sunlight slipped through the windows, bathing the room in a pale glow. In one corner, a towering stack of papers loomed proudly.
The desk itself was a mess.
Abandoned pens with dried-up ink lay scattered around. A dusty old crystal paperweight sat carelessly off to the side. A half-empty, cold coffee mug rested haphazardly on the right edge of the desk.
A man was calmly picking his nose. His tired eyes stared absently at the mountain of paperwork in front of him.
The office's silence was shattered by the shrill ring of a landline phone, breaking the dusty, lonely harmony of the place.
Without much care, the man abandoned his unappealing task and reached for the receiver. His weary fingers gripped the phone with sluggish indifference.
["Sorry to bother you, Guildmaster, but someone's here to see you."]
A woman's voice came through the line.
"Hm? Who is it?" the man asked, mildly surprised anyone was looking for him.
["He says his name's Rashville, Guildmaster."]
At that, the man's eyes widened for a split second. His expression shifted to a mix of detachment and annoyance as he glanced at the piles of documents mocking him from the desk.
"Tell him I'm busy and can't see him," he muttered, his tone flat and uninterested.
The voice, clearly awkward, gave a timid nod before an odd sound crackled through the line. The once-feminine tone morphed into a masculine one, tinged with a hint of humor.
["You think we're buying that crap? The day you actually work seriously, chickens'll grow teeth and pigs'll sprout wings! You better see me, or I'll spill all your dirty little secrets to your crew."]
The man's brows furrowed, his lips tightening as he let out a long sigh.
Seconds ticked by in tense silence as he glared at the phone.
Then, after a brief moment of thought, he made up his mind.
"Alright, enough! Stop scaring my staff and just come to my office if you've got something to say."
The voice, clearly amused by the response, mumbled for a moment before hanging up abruptly.
With a tired gesture, the man set the receiver back on its base.
The office, still cloaked in dim light, seemed to stir to life.
The man's gaze, now lit with a spark of determination, swept the room one last time before settling on the door. He waited patiently, arms crossed over his chest, his nose still slightly red from his earlier pastime.
A few endless moments passed, then the door creaked open slowly, revealing a hulking figure. A man in his forties, dressed in a sharp dark suit, stepped inside. His face wore a smug grin that hinted at a lively conversation ahead.
The tired man's eyes sized up his visitor. Suddenly, both men burst into uncontrollable laughter, swept up in a shared fit of hilarity.
Their booming laughs filled the room, brimming with joy and camaraderie. After a moment, the man at the desk managed to catch his breath, stifling the last chuckles still shaking his frame.
He looked at his friend with a beaming smile and said, "It's been ages since you last dropped by! I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
"Oh, come on, it's *you* who's supposed to visit *me*—I'm the older one, after all!" the visitor shot back, grinning.
"My dear friend, you've aged like fine wine! I'm not sure my office can handle all that wisdom you've packed on," the man at the desk teased with a wink.
"At least I'm not piling on pounds and fat!" his friend fired back, laughing.
Their banter went on for a bit longer before the man at the desk gestured for his friend to take a seat in one of the cozy armchairs scattered around the room. The visitor eagerly accepted and settled in comfortably.
"So, my old pal, what finally brings you to the humble halls of my guild?"
His friend paused, then answered in a low, serious tone, "Do you know what went down in Drisst two days ago?"
The man at the desk nodded wearily. "Yeah, sadly, I had to sit through an endless meeting about it. Total chaos."
"Then you know how that crisis ended," the visitor replied, a cryptic smile playing on his lips.
"Roughly, yeah," the man at the desk said with a shrug. "Apparently, a Senkai guild member from Drisst stepped in and sorted it out. No surprise there."
The visitor shook his head disapprovingly and leaned in, whispering, "You've got it wrong, buddy. There's more to it than that." A sly grin spread across his face. "I got my hands on the real story."
Intrigued, the man at the desk stayed quiet, ready to hear what his friend had to spill.
"Drisst actually hired an underground deviant to handle it," the visitor continued, his tone growing grave. "They just dressed it up to look like the Senkai's work."
"Hmm, I see," the man replied, not overly shocked. "Makes sense for a barely-on-the-map place like Drisst to use a merc as a precaution. But how pathetic—their authorities have no honor. Letting an outsider clean up their mess."
"Anyway, the real issue's with the deviant himself," the visitor said.
"What's so special about this merc you're talking about?" the man asked, puzzled.
"This guy's from the Zion guild," the visitor answered seriously.
The man burst out laughing, floored by the reveal.
"Zion? Seriously? Drisst called in a heavy hitter for a little crisis? Talk about overkill!"
The visitor pulled his phone from his pocket, fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it over, saying, "If only it were just overkill. Take a look at this—you'll get it."
Curious, the man took the phone and studied the image on the screen.
He could barely make out a figure with silver hair. "What's this? What am I supposed to see in a blurry pic?" he asked, glancing at his friend, confused.
"It's a shot of the deviant in question—one I snagged from some solid sources," the visitor explained.
The man, still lost, opened his mouth to ask why it mattered, but the visitor read his mind.
"The real problem's in the next image. Scroll down, pal."
Intrigued, the man swiped his fingers across the screen.
His eyes widened when he saw what came up next. He looked at his friend, incredulous. "Am I dreaming, or is this the name I think it is?"
"I got curious about this deviant," the visitor said calmly. "But when I got the intel from a source, it hit me like a ton of bricks. That's why I'm here—this ties back to both of us."
The man was still reeling as he stared at the phone.
The image was a screenshot of some kind of ID, featuring a clearer photo of the silver-haired man along with details about him. But what grabbed the man's attention was the name clearly printed there: Zeref Grimwald.
He stared at the screen and asked uncertainly, "Is it really him?"
The visitor shrugged. "Can't say for sure—the photo looks different. Could be plastic surgery."
The man shook his head. "I'm dead certain I finished him off for good."
The visitor pressed him, "Did you see his body with your own eyes?"
"How do you leave a body when you're burned to ash?" the man shot back, flustered.
"Well, then it could just be an imposter, who knows?"
The visitor took his phone back, messed with it again, and handed it over once more. "Here's one of the clearest videos showing the deviant in action during the crisis."
The man hit play, and his eyes widened as he watched the sky light up with a thousand glowing streaks raining down on a city. He turned to the visitor, brows furrowed, who commented, "If he's an imposter, he's still one hell of a threat."
The visitor pocketed his phone and asked, "So, what's your move?"
The man took a moment to think. "I've got to meet him. If he's a fake, I'll just ask what his deal is with Zeref and handle it depending on the vibe. But if it's really him… I'll make damn sure he regrets crawling back from the grave."