Chapter 92: Battle for Fairy Tail (IV)
The streets of Magnolia were empty. Shops were shuttered. Doors were locked. The people who had been celebrating the Harvest Festival had disappeared into their homes, hiding from the lightning that crackled across the sky and the thunder that rolled through the streets without end.
Natsu walked through the silence with his hands in his pockets and his eyes scanning the rooftops. His scarf was bright against his burned chest. His footsteps were soft on the cobblestones. He was searching. He had been searching for a long time.
He stopped at the corner of a narrow alley and looked down its length. At the far end, through the gaps between buildings, he could see a flash of white hair. Mirajane. She was kneeling on the ground beside a massive figure slumped against a wall. Elfman. His body was covered in dust and bruises. His arm hung at a wrong angle. His face was turned toward the sky, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Mirajane was crying. Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding back the sounds. Her hands pressed against her brother's wounds, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to hold him together, trying to do anything at all.
Natsu watched her from a distance. He did not approach. He did not call out. He simply watched, his face unreadable, his eyes tracking the movement of her hands, the curve of her back, the way her hair fell across her face.
Then he turned and walked away. There was nothing he could do for her now. Not yet. The battle was still unfolding, and Laxus was still out there, and Natsu had his own hunt to finish.
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Across the town, in the shadow of a collapsed clock tower, Gajeel knelt on one knee. His head was bowed. His hands were pressed against the ground. Before him, floating in the air at eye level, was a Shikigami. A small paper figure, folded into the shape of a bird, its edges glowing with faint purple light. The voice that came from it was distorted, scrambled, impossible to recognize.
"Report," the voice said.
Gajeel's jaw tightened. "The Thunder God Tribe has scattered. Fried is engaged with the water woman and the drunk. Bickslow is hunting the ice brat. Evergreen has been dealt with by the red one."
"And Laxus?"
"Still moving. Still waiting. He wants the Salamander."
The voice was silent for a moment. Then it spoke again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And your position?"
Gajeel's eyes flickered toward the sky, toward the floating orbs of the Thunder Palace, toward the lightning that gathered in the clouds above.
"I am inside the Thunder Cage or whatever. The old man cannot leave. The dragon slayers cannot leave. But the others can." He paused. "Once I am done with Laxus, I will take care of the Salamander. And the rest of Fairy Tail."
The Shikigami pulsed once, twice, then folded in on itself and disappeared. Gajeel rose to his feet. His face was carved from stone. His eyes were empty. He walked toward the sound of battle, toward the lightning, toward the storm.
---
The square where Freed had fought Cana was a ruin. The cobblestones were cracked and blackened. The fountain had been shattered, its pieces scattered across the ground. The walls of the surrounding buildings were scorched, and the air smelled of ozone and blood.
Freed stood at the center of the square, his sword still drawn, his chest heaving, his face still calm. At his feet lay Cana. Her cards were scattered around her, torn and burned. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow. She had fought well, but she had lost.
"You are strong," Freed said. His voice was soft, almost gentle. "But strength alone is not enough. Not against me."
He turned to leave. The square was empty. The battle was over.
Then a new voice cut through the silence.
"FREED."
Freed stopped. He turned. Elfman stood at the edge of the square, his massive body swaying, his face pale, his arm still hanging at a wrong angle. Beside him, Mirajane held his elbow, trying to support his weight, trying to keep him on his feet.
"You," Freed said. "You should not be here. You have already lost. Evergreen defeated you. You have no right to continue the game."
Elfman's jaw tightened. "I do not care about your game."
Freed raised his hand. Runes flared around his fingers, dark and pulsing. "Dark Écriture: Pain."
The word hit Elfman before he could move. He cried out, his body convulsing, his knees buckling. Mirajane caught him, held him, lowered him to the ground. The runes burned on his skin, glowing through his clothes, sending waves of agony through his muscles and bones.
"Stop," Mirajane said. Her voice was small. "Please stop."
Freed did not stop. He raised his hand again. "Dark Écriture: Agony."
Elfman screamed. His back arched. His hands clawed at the cobblestones. Mirajane pressed her hands against his chest, trying to hold him still, trying to take the pain herself. Tears streamed down her face.
"Please," she said. "Please, he is my brother. He is all I have left. Please stop."
Freed looked at her. His face did not change. His hand did not lower.
"He should have stayed down," Freed said. "He should have accepted his defeat. Now he will learn what it means to challenge the Thunder God Tribe."
He raised his hand a third time. The runes around his fingers turned black, deeper than shadow, darker than night. "Dark Écriture: Death."
Mirajane's world stopped.
She saw Elfman on the ground, broken and bleeding. She saw the runes gathering around Freed's hand, ready to strike, ready to end everything. She saw the faces of her siblings, Lisanna and Elfman, the two people she had sworn to protect after their parents died, the two people she had failed when Lisanna fell, the two people she had been trying to protect ever since.
Not again. She would not lose another sibling. She would not watch another brother die. She would not stand by and smile while the people she loved were taken from her.
Something broke inside her. Something that had been locked away for years, buried beneath grief and guilt and the desperate need to be gentle. The scales rose on her skin, square and dark, covering her arms, her chest, her face. They shimmered once, twice, then shattered, falling away like broken glass.
Mirajane stood in the center of the square, transformed.
Her eyes were darker now, almost black, with a thin zigzag marking crossing her right eye vertically. Her hair was wilder, jutting upward and curling at the ends. Her ears had grown longer, pointed backward like an elf from old stories. Her lips were covered in dark lipstick, and her teeth were sharp, canine.
Her arms and hands were covered in scales, each forearm sprouting a fin like protrusion on its outer side. A large tail, thick and stocky, extended from behind her, made of what looked like metal plates or scales. Her clothes had been replaced by a dark, skimpy one piece suit that left her arms and legs bare, open in the front and back, exposing most of her belly and a wide expanse of cleavage. High heeled thigh high boots covered her feet, and gauntlets covered the backs of her transformed hands.
She spread her arms. Dark wings erupted from her back, bat like, with small spike like protrusions along their upper edges. The force of their emergence sent a shockwave across the square, cracking the remaining cobblestones and shattering the windows of the buildings around them.
Freed stepped back. His calm cracked. His eyes widened.
"The Demon," he whispered. "You are awake."
Mirajane did not answer. She launched herself into the air, her wings carrying her higher, faster, beyond anything Fried could match. The wind roared in her ears. The lightning crackled above her. She looked down at the square, at her brother on the ground, at the man who had tried to kill him, and she felt nothing but cold, perfect rage.
Fried spread his own wings, runes flaring around his shoulders, and rose to meet her. His sword was drawn. His face was set. His voice was steady.
"I have fought demons before," he said. "You are not the first. You will not be the last."
Mirajane's lips curled. Her teeth gleamed in the light of the Thunder Palace.
"You have never fought me," she said.
From the roof of a building at the edge of the square, Natsu watched the battle begin. His arms were crossed. His scarf fluttered in the wind. His eyes were fixed on the winged figure rising through the air, dark and terrible and beautiful.
He smiled.
"There she is," he said. "That is the Mirajane I have been waiting for. That is the one I can consider getting into my harem."
He turned and walked away, leaving the battle behind. The storm was still coming. Laxus was still out there. And Natsu had his own hunt to finish.
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Next Time: Battle for Fairy Tail (V) – Mystogan vs Laxus