Master Makarov, sitting on a wooden barrel, rubbed his forehead helplessly and let out a long sigh. "Sigh... young people these days, their aesthetics are getting weirder and weirder. Back when I was young, that was what you called truly handsome. This glittering gold is just blinding. Riyao, if your magic can only be used for lighting, at least the guild can save a bundle on electricity bills from now on."
Facing the crowd's repeated teasing, Riyao didn't get angry but instead laughed. He extended a finger and shook it gently, wearing a profound expression as if saying, 'You mortals simply don't understand.'
"Superficial! Too superficial!" Riyao protested loudly. "This isn't some glowing graffiti; this is art! It's the manifestation of power! You old fossils and tsunderes who don't know how to appreciate it, just wait—don't let your jaws drop when you're scared by my handsome move!"
Gildarts looked at the boy before him, brimming with fighting spirit and radiating golden light. The smile on his face gradually faded, replaced by a look of seriousness and appreciation.
"Hahaha! Interesting! Truly interesting!" Gildarts laughed heartily, casually tearing off his cloak and tossing it aside. "Although you do look a bit like a glowing leopard, the flow of this magic power... is very unusual. Come on, kid! Let me see just how much weight that thing you spent two years working on actually has! If you dare to disappoint this old man, I really will beat the crap out of you!"
Before his voice had even faded, an incredibly terrifying surge of magic power erupted from Gildarts. That magic power felt like a physical weight, instantly sweeping across the entire backyard. The surrounding air seemed to grow heavy, and the pebbles and dust on the ground trembled under this invisible force, suspended in mid-air.
The crowd that had been joking and teasing fell silent instantly, everyone's eyes fixed tightly on the two in the center. They knew.
Feeling Gildarts' mountain-like, heavy pressure, Riyao didn't retreat in the slightest; instead, the corners of his mouth curled up.
To fit in with Fairy Tail's style, he had combined the Yin Seal and the Strength of a Hundred Technique, renaming it:
"Healing Magic: Hundred Battles, Release!"
With Riyao's low shout, the golden patterns on his body glowed faintly.
Gildarts, of course, wouldn't use his full strength; he was just playing with the kid, bringing out enough power to roughly suppress Riyao.
"Boom—"
The surrounding trees were instantly blown askew, and the stone slabs on the ground began to crack inch by inch. Master Makarov closed his eyes in heartache, clutching his chest and wailing, "My backyard! My wallet! Can't you two bastards be a little gentler?!"
However, the two in the arena could no longer hear the Master's wailing at all.
Gildarts laughed and said, "If this is all you've got, that won't do."
Riyao's legs suddenly exerted force, and he charged toward Gildarts like an arrow released from a bow. His fist, covered in golden patterns, sliced through the air with a sharp whistling sound, heading straight for Gildarts' face.
"Good timing!" Gildarts shouted. Without dodging, he threw a punch of his own to meet Riyao's attack.
Two fists, one large and one small, collided violently in mid-air.
"Bang—"
A deafening explosion echoed through the entire guild, and the violent aftershocks of magic power raged outward in all directions from the two of them.
At the very center of this shockwave's eruption, a relatively thin figure flew backward like a kite with a broken string at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track. The golden light traced a sharp parabola in the air, accompanied by a bone-chilling 'crack'—the mournful sound of bone snapping instantly under the crushing weight of absolute power.
"Bang!"
Riyao slammed heavily into the thick stone wall at the edge of the backyard. The massive impact directly smashed a spiderweb-like crater into the wall. Rubble crumbled down, and along with the thick dust flying everywhere, his figure was instantly and completely swallowed up.
The originally rowdy guild backyard fell into a deathly silence at this moment.
Gildarts maintained his punching posture. On his rugged face, which usually wore a bright smile, a rare flash of regret and panic appeared. He abruptly pulled back his fist, looked at the hand that had just released that terrifying power, and cursed under his breath, "Oops, just now... I subconsciously used too much force."
Even if he had forcibly retracted most of his magic at the last second, the pure physical impact erupted by the body of the strongest adult Mage was definitely not something a ten-year-old boy could easily endure. That clear sound of a bone breaking was like a sharp needle, piercing the nerves of everyone present.
"Gildarts! What are you doing, you brainless idiot?!" Master Makarov's hand, which had been leisurely stroking his beard, suddenly froze. He then leapt up from the barrel and cursed right at Gildarts' nose, "You were sparring with a kid, not subjugating an S-rank Monster! You reckless fool!"
The Master's roar broke the brief, deathly silence. The surrounding guild members snapped out of it, their relaxed, spectating expressions instantly replaced by deep worry and anxiety. Everyone's eyes turned simultaneously toward the rolling dust that had yet to dissipate.
Macao threw down his pipe, his brow furrowed and his face so grim it looked like it could drip water. Without the slightest hesitation, he strode toward the ruins, shouting anxiously as he went, "Riyao! Hey, kid! Are you okay? Can you still hear me?"
Just as Macao was about to step into the dusty area, a slightly raspy but still clear voice abruptly drifted out from deep within the ruins, breaking everyone's taut nerves.
"Cough, cough... I'm fine, I'm fine, it's a minor issue. Uncle's punch really has some kick to it..."
With that lighthearted murmur, a breeze blew past, slowly dispersing the lingering dust. Everyone held their breath, staring fixedly at the gradually clearing silhouette.
Riyao used his right hand to prop himself up against the cracked wall and stood up with some difficulty. His originally neat casual clothes were now in tatters, covered in dust and bloodstains. His high golden ponytail had also come loose in several strands, sticking messily to his forehead.
However, the most shocking sight was his left arm, which hung limply. Besides that, there were multiple scrapes and tears of varying depths on his chest and shoulders, with bright red blood constantly seeping out.
Master Makarov's pupils shrank, and his heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand. He jumped in anxiety, his voice even turning shrill from extreme tension: "Quick! Macao, Wakaba! Don't just stand there! Lift this boy up and get him to Porlyusica immediately! If that arm isn't treated soon, it'll be ruined for life!"
"Wait, don't panic."
Just as the crowd was in a chaotic mess, Riyao suddenly raised his intact right hand in a stopping gesture. He looked up, and on his young face, covered in dust and blood, there wasn't the slightest expression of pain or distortion. On the contrary, he grinned, revealing a smile so bright it seemed almost heartless, and even playfully winked his emerald-green eyes at everyone.
"I told you, it's just a minor issue. Let me show you the true charm of the Hundred Battles I developed."
The scrapes and tears of varying depths on Riyao's body began to heal at a rate visible to the naked eye. The torn flesh quickly closed, scabbed over, and then fell away, revealing new skin underneath that was as smooth as before, without leaving even a single scar.
But that wasn't even the most shocking part.
Everyone's gaze was locked onto his severely fractured left arm. Accompanied by a scalp-numbing 'cracking' sound, the forearm that had been twisted at a bizarre angle slowly returned to its original straight form, accompanied by the faint sounds of bones grinding and muscle fibers reconnecting.
Damaged blood vessels, nerves, and muscle tissues grew, intertwined, and reorganized frantically under the nourishment of the light. In less than ten seconds, the left arm that had looked completely ruined miraculously returned to its original state.
Riyao gently moved the fingers of his newly set left hand, his joints letting out crisp pops. He swung his perfectly healed left arm, feeling the magic power still abundant within him, and the smile on his face grew even more brilliant.
He said triumphantly, "I'm a handsome young man once again."
The breeze brushed through the backyard again, blowing away the last trace of dust, and sunlight poured over the golden-haired boy.