I do not own Fairy Tail, not any of the characters in it.

Disclaimer: There will not be any Fairy Tail in the Liminoid Illumina Arc. It is only there as a way to understand the OC that most of the story will be focusing on. It is not necessary for one to read it, however it does allow one to get insight in the character as a person, though if you're not interested you can skip these five chapters, even though it's not advised, and still enjoy the actual meat of the story, as this serves as nothing more than a form of prologue (A 25000 words long prologue, but still nevertheless a prologue)

Guttersnipe; A member of the lowest social class, often refers to street urchins.

He could feel the warmth of the sun slowly creep onto his skin, forcing the cold air to dissipate. He tightly hugged the ragged cloth he had wrapped himself in, in order to stay warm through the night. A strong smell hit his nostrils like a wave of air, though the smell was anything but fresh. It was the smell of rotten food, of some indescribable substance that made his nose wrinkle. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a stray beam of light, penetrating through a tiny crack in the little shelter made out of boxes and whatever was lying around. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to remove all of the gound that had built up over the night. He blinked rapidly, now able to focus his eyes properly. He was staring straight into a wooden box, with the credentials Delroge Shipment imprinted into the wood. He could barely make that out at this point, though as he gradually started to return to consciousness, his eyes started to see the inside of his little shelter. Not that there was much to look at, however it was still better than what he had grown accustom to over the past few years. It had only been recently he had been able to scrounge enough materials together in order to create this... home.

He sat up and while doing so, he quickly realized how much his back hurt from sleeping on the uneven ground. He yawned heavily, stretching his arms forward as that was the only way to do so without knocking anything over. He looked around for a little while for no particular reason at all. He fixated on the little hole on the right side of him. He could barely make out what was outside, the only thing he was able to see was a beam of light passing through a large amount of dust and fumes, all coming from the trash beneath him. He pushed the cloth off of himself and placed it at the bottom of the shelter. He then turned around, lying flat on his belly. He began pushing himself forward, pushing aside a small metal plate that served as a door. The plate fell over and landed on top of a pipe and other things, making a loud, mostly metallic sound. The loud noise startled him briefly, though what was the most startling were the ominous clouds that hung above him. A very dark colour, threatening to release their downpour at any given time.

He crawled completely out of the boxes. It took a few moments for him to stand up, his weak legs taking their time to adjust to the new weight. He leaned against the boxes for a little while, he then pushed himself onto his legs, finally managing to support himself. He could begin to feel the hunger growing within himself. He quickly gazed around. He was all alone amidst a pile of trash, a quite large one at that. He was within a little valley of waste, with his home located right down the middle. Conveniently enough for him, the light of the early morning sun just reached over the trash and managed to cast a few beams onto his home. It was not because it was the warmth he was looking for, rather it was the point in time where he would wake up. It was the point in time where he could begin to move into the city again, scavenge whatever they thought of as waste and use it for himself. Maybe I could find a piece of bread today, he thought to himself, his world suddenly seeming a lot brighter that just a moment ago. He took one last look around himself, before he began to walk up the mountain of trash, barefooted. Carefully placing his feet, avoiding what broken glass and other sharp materials that were inevitably lying around somewhere beneath the filth.

He reached the top of the small hill. A view that never seized to amaze him was before him. The morning sun casting its light over the rooftops of Delroge. The chimneys had already started to pour out smoke, each leaving its own trail into the darkened skies. The clouds were covering most of the west, allowing for the sun to shine from its low angle onto the city. He looked at the point where the sky became cloud. He deduced he would have about an hour of sunlight before the sun was swallowed up by the darkness. He couldn't remember how many times he had stood in this exact spot, looking down at the streets of Delroge. Seeing people walk along the outskirts of the city, some throwing their waste into the landfill. As he was standing now, the city was just in front of him, the forest leading into the mountains to the left, and the ocean to his right. There was a quite long way into the city from the dump. It took maybe ten or fifteen minutes to reach the outskirts of the city. He could barely see the top of the cathedral from where he was standing. He heard a loud noise, as a person had just thrown a large sack of garbage into the rest of the trash. The sound threw him out of the daze, and his focus turned towards the sack. It was made out of what seemed to be quite expensive cloth, at least for his standards.

He began to make his way down the hill, moving towards the sack that was just thrown away. He reached the bottom of the pile rather quickly, considering how much effort he had to put in to avoid the hazardous materials lying around, especially considering he was barefooted. He crouched down next to the bag and inspected the cloth. It was certainly of some quality, better than the sack I'm using to sleep in now, he thought to himself, as he picked up the bag and began to loosen the string that was tying the opening together. He turned the sack upside down and watched as a mix of animal and fish bones dropped out, as well as some blood stained cloth and other unneeded things. A slight smirk made its way across his face. He found it quite funny how he seemed somehow unaffected by what could be something that must have reeked of rot. He noticed something peculiar though. Amongst all of the trash within the sack, there was a small book. The book looked quite worn-out. It must've served its purpose thoroughly before it was discarded, he figured. He picked up the book and looked at it. He opened the book and saw that it was a quite normal book, however the content seemed quite bleak, almost as if the ink would fade away as you read another word. It would simply disappear the next time it was read. Its final fulfilment of its creation, of its purpose. He closed the book again, though he didn't put it back. The book itself didn't look valuable, however there was a book-store in the city where they would take in any kind of book, as long as it was still readable. He figured that he would be able to buy some food if he exchanged it.

He rose up from the spot and began walking back over the hill, this time with a sack in one hand and a book in the other. When he got back to the shelter, he simply threw the sack into the hut, turned around and started to walk towards the city once more. It's a shame that I have to trade this book, he thought to himself. It wasn't everyday he had access to reading material. It was actually quite common for him to read a book before exchanging it, but today was somewhat special. There had been a food shortage in the city, so they were even more strict about giving food away, especially to people such as himself, and he wasn't going to turn to stealing, since that would only turn out for the worse, no matter how one twisted or turned it. If you get caught, you hurt yourself, if you don't, you hurt your unwilling benefactor. It was better to starve through the hard times, and then be careful during the easier times. Though lately, he hadn't been able to find anything and had to use whatever money he could get hold of to pay for sustenance. The last month or so had been exceptionally bad, however it seemed that it was maybe at a turning point. With the book in his hand, he made his way towards the city.

As he reached the city, he started walking faster, avoiding people as much as possible. He stopped when he was above an open manhole. The stench was quite bad, however the dump was worse, so it didn't affect him as much. He began climbing down the small hole, down into the sewers. It had been his daily routine since he moved to the dump to take this route. If he was lucky the local baths would be letting out some hot water today. He reached the bottom of the ladder. He stood on a little platform. At each end of the platform, there was a small passageway hugging the wall tightly, allowing the sewage to run through the other part of the tunnel. It was dark, though luckily for him there was always a stray torch lit down there, mostly because of problems with leakage and the rat infestation which had come to be a common issue. After walking through the sewer for a couple of minutes, he reached a pipe sticking out just above the passageway. A lot of somewhat clean water was rushing out of the pipe. He walked up to it and put his hand into the stream. He quickly withdrew it. It was cold. Frighteningly cold. He cursed his bad luck. He looked at the torrent for a little while. After standing there, idle, he carefully placed the book on the ground, and thereafter he began unclothing himself, carefully laying the clothes down next to the book. When all of his clothes were removed, he stepped into the torrent. The water crashed against his pale white skin with an incredible force almost knocking him out of balance, though grabbing onto the pipe was enough to keep him from falling into the sewage.

After five minutes he stepped out of the torrent. His body was shivering, though it felt fresh. Even if the sewage stench would still remain on his clothes, at least he, himself was not as filthy. He began to take his clothes on. They stuck to his skin tightly, it almost felt as if he was taking on rubber. Yet he wasn't. He took the rest of his rags on and turned back to the water. He stuck his finger inside of the torrent and began brushing his teeth using his finger as the brush. After he was done he took on his clothes again, picked up the book, moved to the nearest ladder and then he returned back to the surface.

He got up from the hole in a back alley. It was filled with even more trash, presumably to be taken to the dump in the near future. He went out of the alley and into the main street, where a large stream of people surged by. So many faces, so few names. He began walking with the stream, towards the centre of the city. In the midst of all the residential houses lied a massive cathedral. He had once attended a sermon there, however he quickly abandoned the idea. He couldn't stand the thought of anything divine existing, especially not one who was praised for his kind-heartedness. Granted it did provide him with shelter from the cold, but he would rather continue feeling the cold and getting used to it, in contrast to receive warmth and then be thrown out shortly after because you're not acceptable in a church... He had found it both amusing and sad when he had been thrown out of the cathedral. The person who needs the warmth of god the most was thrown out because he simply does not meet the standards of this divine being. And people still inexplicably follow these priests and bishops blindly, listening to their every word, absorbing the entity called god. He had almost reached the cathedral when he broke away from the stream and went into a little park. It was one of the only free spaces in the city which wasn't owned by a so called, outstanding citizen. He turned his head to the sky and deduced that it was around two hours from midday. The sun was nearing the cloud, soon it would be gone.

The book store opened at midday, so he still had some time to waste before he could go there. He found a bench and sat down on it, embracing the suns light. It was near the end of autumn, slowly approaching the winter. A chill was sent down his spine as the thought crossed his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something unusual. A tall man in a long, black coat walked into the park, briefly looking around before continuing through. It seemed as if the man had completely overlooked his entire existence as he passed by. As the man walked through the park, he spotted a little sack which had just fallen out of the man's coat. The man continued, seemingly unaware of the fact that he had dropped something. The man crossed the park and walked down one of the many streets surrounding the park. He sighed and stood up from the bench, walking over towards the little sack. He picked it up without much trouble, although the pouch was quite heavy. He couldn't control his curiosity, so he opened the bag and found that it was filled to the brim with gold coins. It might be that this amount would be able to pay for food for some months... no, months wasn't enough, maybe a year or two?

As he stood there, the sun disappeared beyond the clouds. The sudden lack of the sun woke him up from his shock. He shook his head and looked around. Maybe the man was still here. He turned towards the street that the man had walked down. He wasn't there. The streets had all nearly emptied, only a stray half-drunken man would walk on the tiles, as the rest were all sitting quietly in the cathedral listening to the prayers. I might as well go to the book store and look for that man on the way there he thought. Luckily the man had walked in the general direction of the book-store, so maybe he was headed there too?

He walked down the empty streets. Now with all the people gone, he came to realize that the dump was actually quite alike. The ground was filled with filth, the stone tiles were almost completely covered by dirt, smut, and litter. There was also a lot of trash-bags, not only in the alleys between the houses, but also stacked outside of them, though it looked more like some residents of the apartments above had just thrown what they couldn't use out of the window, though in contrast to what was thrown in the dump, this was just rotten food and bones. As far as he could remember, the only clean spot in the city was either the parks, or the plaza around the cathedral, otherwise the whole city was just as filthy as the dump almost, especially because it was trapped beneath countless feet and houses. This caused the stench to be far worse than what it would normally be, however when you walked amongst the crowds, it wasn't as as easily noticeable compared to how it was when you were alone. Today was actually one of the few rare occasions when he had practically all of the city for himself, as he would normally seek refuge in the forest nearby during the day, as the city wasn't really the most hospitable place, he found the forest to be much more serene. The parks had some of that, however the noise city still overflowed in the park, whereas the sound of the nature flowed freely in the forest. Listening to the birds chirp always brought a sense of calmness over his mind, whereas the city only brought headache.

He turned a corner and heard a loud voice further down the street. The words were to him, unintelligible, though he could recognize the tone. It was a frantic attempt to forcefully make someone else view something as you do yourself, though already having acknowledged the persons inferiority and therefore his lack of understanding. Something he had been exposed to quite a lot during his early life. Though those memories were of the past, and they needn't and shouldn't be disturbed. As he slowly approached he could begin to make out what the voice was saying. It was coming from around the corner. As he turned the corner, the voice burst out once more.

"I'm telling you! GOD, IS, DEAD!" the voice yelled stoutly. He could now see that it was the man with the black-cloak that had dropped the money whom stood in front of a city guard. The city guard was wearing the normal leather outfit, with the symbol of the city engraved in the chest-piece, a bird in front of the sun. He was equipped with a short-sword, and a shield with the crest of the church on it. The guard looked quite dissatisfied with the cloaked man, however the man seemed unaffected by what seemed to be unjust scorn.

"I don't know how many times I have to explain this to you before you can begin to fathom the concepts of which I'm speaking. However, regardless of your comprehension, when I conceived the thought of a dead god, the one you pray to seized to exist in that instant, leaving nothing behind but a jaded image of what once was, and what could never come again. For you to propose that I pray to this undying mirage, I can do nothing but reject you, in spite of your own beliefs, because of your own beliefs. So would you please go away, as we would never reach a consensus limited by your intelligence," the man said, rather coldly towards the guard. At first it surprised him what words the man was saying, and especially considering to whom he was speaking to. The guards in the city had been picked by the church, and they were known to be notorious supporters of obligatory sermon attendance, however for someone to say something like that, not only in the presence of, but directly towards a guard is nothing short of madness.

"Seize your heresy at once, or you will be taken to the gallows for blasphemy!" the guard shouted back at him.

"I will seize what you call heresy, when you seize your attempt to control me," the man retorted briefly.

You could feel the guards irritation, burning, seething within him. It was quite obvious that he was nearing a breaking-point, however the man seemed unaffected by this. The man sighed at the guard, which seemed to push the guard over the edge. The guard reached for his sword whilst grunting angrily at the man. All the man did was point in the vague direction of the spectator who had been observing the conversation with his head around the corner, however he had stepped out and was now completely visible to both of them. The guard quickly looked at him and shouted, "You stay right there!" The guard immediately began sprinting towards the spectator, who quickly realized his predicament and turned around and ran away. The man in the cloak readjusted his hood as he went the opposite way, away from the guard.

"Stop running!" the guard shouted at him. He was somehow managing to not get caught by the guard. His malnourished body was barely hanging on at this point, but it seemed that the guard's armour weighed him down just enough so that he couldn't catch him. It wasn't common for him to be chased in this fashion, however the possibility still remained. It had been quite a while since he could walk through the streets without the looming fear of being taken to what they called a 'Correctional Facility'. He didn't know exactly what they did there, but anyone he had ever known, which for the record wasn't many, had never returned from it. They had simply disappeared from the surface of the earth. But right now there was no time to think about that.

The chase continued for around three minutes before he ran into an alleyway. He jumped into a pile of trash before the guard turned the corner. He covered himself quickly with the trash, and tried to calm his breath as much as he could. The guard turned the corner and ran down the alley. He held his breath as he heard the guard approach him. The guard continued past him, the footsteps slowly becoming more faint, and then they vanished. He allowed himself to breath again. He gasped for air, though the air he was inhaling was foul. He pushed himself out of the trash and took another breath. Only now it struck him. It was the first time he had actually been actively chased without being reported by a citizen. The guard had flat out chased him by the mere sight of him... something definitely wasn't right.

He walked out of the alley and went to the book-store, and whilst doing so making sure to avoid any more guards. Just as he was approaching the street the store was on, the bell-tower rang and the gates of the cathedral opened. He couldn't see it, but it was the usual procedure. It signified it was midday. He arrived at the street with the store. It was an one-way street and at the bottom of it, the store was located. The street itself much resembled one of the small alleyways, completely overshadowed by the houses at it sides, leaving the street covered in a state of perpetual darkness. He went down the street. Surprisingly enough the store was open, which suggested that the shopkeeper hadn't attended sermon... Can't be good for business he figured as he went inside the door.

The store was cramped, not with people, but with bookshelves. There was only one person as far as he could see in the store, and that was the clerk behind the desk. He could, however, hear a set of footsteps somewhere within the shelves. He chose to disregard them, there was no way a guard would go into this store, unless if ordered to ransack it which actually was fairly common. They would search stores at random, looking for blasphemes texts and scrolls. If something was found denouncing their beliefs, the store would be burned and the owner would be hanged. Sometimes they would be taken to the guillotine for a more public execution, and it usually attracted quite the crowd.

He walked up to the clerk. "I'd like to trade in this book," he said, placing the little book on the counter.

The clerk picked up the book and looked at the front cover with slight confusion. He then opened the book and narrowed his eyebrows. "There ain't no words in this book," the clerk said.

"What do you mean there's no words?" he said, grabbing the book out of the clerk's hands and looking at the pages. They were still covered with the same fragile words as the last time he had looked into it. "See?" he said, showing the page to the clerk.

"No, I don't. There ain't no words in that book," the clerk said persistently.

"This isn't funny."

"I ain't trying to be funny, there ain't no words in that book. We ain't gonna be exchanging empty diaries, only the written works."

"But... this is?"

"That's the Liminoid Illumina," a third voice said from behind. He turned around quickly and saw the man with the dark hood stand behind him, however he had taken the hood off, revealing his face. He had short dark-brown hair, a very clean face and green eyes. He looked to be in his late-twenties, early-thirties.

"The what?" the clerk said.

"Liminoid Illumina," he repeated. "I have personal interest in this book, so if you don't mind I'd like to have a chat with you," the man said towards him, with a tone suggesting he should present himself.

He avoided the question and answered. "Okay... we can talk over there.. I guess?" he said, pointing towards a little alcove in the shop. The alcove was normally used for people to read, however it would do.

The man frowned slightly at the lack of a presentation, despite that he complied and walked over. He was right behind the man. The clerk had receded into the back-hall, probably taking a break since there were no other customers present, nor were there going to be any presuming that nothing out of the usual happened, which it didn't. Well, at least not for the shop.

They sat down together around a small wooden table. He placed the book in between them.

"I think it's appropriate for us to exchange names, if we are to proceed. Some might even say that it is essential even," the man said.

"You start then," he responded.

The man sighed once more, obviously tired of his avoiding the question. "Fine, have it your way. My name is Chraiot Chrynsta of the Western Plains. Do you want to know any of my titles as well?" he said sarcastically.

He began fidgeting in his place a little, as Chraiot stared at him. "Well, your turn?"

He remained silent, however it felt like his resistance was being hammered down by his penetrating gaze. "Well... the thing is that I don't really... you know... I don't have a name..." he finally said.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Wha...?" he managed to stutter out. It caught him completely by surprise how little he cared about the fact that he didn't have a name. The normal reaction would be some form of cold-hearted sympathy, however this one really did not seem to give a damn...

"You see, there is this thing within out society that we put an emphasis on identity, however we only put emphasis on the arbitrary part which is the name, rather than who you are. I could call you any name right now, and it would be just as good as the next one, but if you really want a name, I'll figure something out for you, even if it's only temporary... granted everything is temporary though that is none of your concern right now," Chraiot said, smiling at the last remark.

He just sat there, stunned, silenced. He simply didn't know what to say. Truth be told, it wasn't common for him to speak with other people, but he was able to have a proper conversation with most normal people, but this? It was just too absurd, but even so, it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the conversation, on the contrary, it felt quite good in contrast to all his other experiences, however it was still uncommon for him.

"Ah, I'm sorry for going on a tangent," he said, still smiling. "Anyhow, I'll just call you... lets see... You'll be... I'm really not good at making names, but how do you feel about Galvian, or in short, Galv?"

He sat there for a little while, thinking. A smirk crossed his face as a response popped into his head. "It doesn't really matter, since, as you said, it's arbitrary, so whether or not I like it is irrelevant. The real question is if I can get used to it, and that is something that remains to be seen, however I think that it could grow on me," he said, feeling quite satisfied with himself.

"Good, good, excellent. I doubt that you would've been able to give me a more satisfying answer, would you, Galvian?" he said, his smile widening ever so slightly.

"That depends which answer you believe to be the best," the newly formed identity said.

"Anyway, lets get back to business. About this book of yours," he said, poking the cover. "As you may or may not have assumed already, this book is not like any other book you've encountered up until now... I presume. This book is called Liminoid Illumina. The literal 'translation' of the title is that it's a book restricted by social class, and it sheds light on something. Personally, I've not been able to read this book, since the book is actually imbued with magic. The purpose of this magic is to hide the words of this book from prying eyes, namely the churches. Therefore people of the lower-social classes are the only ones who are able to read this. How the book distinguishes low from high is beyond me, but I can only presume it has something to do with ones own greed and gluttony, as they are normally lower in people of lower social classes, such as yourself" he finished the last remark by gesturing towards Galvian's appearance.

"I haven't been able to access it, and even if I did, I doubt I would be able to read it, as the words for me are not visible, however, you are able to see them. I've only heard rumours of the contents of this book, and it is one of my first times seeing one, as there are only a few in circulation. It is beyond me why you are in possession of it, however I feel as if it's a good chance to receive some information about what the book says. That's where you come in. You are able to read the book, so what I would ask you to do, is read some of it and then meet me in an apartment just above town-square tomorrow just before church starts. Are you fine with that?" he said. His face was showing every ounce of seriousness it could, the smile long gone.

"Well, I was going to hand this book in fo-..." He stopped mid-sentence. A little pouch in his pocket had leaped into his mind. He stuck his hand down and fetched it, putting it carefully on the table. "I think you dropped this earlier in the park... I picked it up, so I cou-" "It's fine, you don't have to explain," Chraiot said, interrupting him. He dragged the pouch over to himself and stuck his hand down, taking a piece of gold up. He slid it across the table to Galvian. "Buy some food, a candle and something to light a fire with," he said, standing up from the table.

He placed a little note on it and grabbed the pouch and placed it into his pocket. "Meet me at that address tomorrow," he said, tabbing the little scrap of paper.

"Uh.. okay... was nice meeting you?" Galvian said.

"Sure, you too," the man said, pulling up his hood and heading out the door. Galvian stood up as well, taking the note and the gold coin. The clerk poked his head out from the back-room. He saw that no one new had come in, so he returned to whatever he was doing back there. Galvian decided to leave the store as well. Now that he had money for food, he really couldn't care less about handing the book in, and especially not after what he had been told about it. He opened the book and looked at the words once more. They were as fragile as ever, though now they seemed to be stronger, maybe because they received a purpose? He shrugged, what would he know about magic he thought to himself as he headed out into the street.

He had quickly found a vendor selling both candles and matches, granted the merchant did send some weird eyes as he saw the gold coin Galvian had to use for payment. Almost reluctantly had the merchant accepted it, obviously presuming it was stolen goods. He decided that a loaf bread would have to do for food, as he did not want to waste all of the money he had just acquired. Granted, it did look like more money was coming, but that was just a presumption. After having bought all of the necessary items, he began wandering back to his little shelter. Somewhere along the way, rain had started to pour down, however refreshing it might have been, it was still penetrating his thin clothes, soaking him with the very cold water. As a side-effect of the water, the mountains of trash had grown slippery, so he had to be even more careful going back up. He nearly fell a couple of times, but he somehow managed to overcome that obstacle standing on his two feet. He walked down into the valley of trash. His little home was still intact, and it seemed as if the water hadn't broken through his ceiling.

He removed the iron plate and crawled back into the boxes from whence he came. He closed the door again and placed the various items beside him in the cramped area. He ate the bread rather quickly, briefly enjoying the taste of food which he had missed quite a lot. He then lit the candle, placed the book down and opened it. He began reading as the rain continued its never-ending siege, attempting to penetrate the roof through the smallest of cracks, but to no avail. The only thing the rain caused was the sound. The constant clash between the ground and the rain. Between the heaven and the earth. Between the tears of gods and the strength of man.

Author Notes: So yeah. This is... well, yeah, what is it? It's a story inspired quite a lot by different things, anyway, the question on your mind will probably be "But Nerve, how does this story fit into the Fairy Tail universe!?" and my answer to that is, wait. It should become more clear in the next chapter, when that will come out, I do not know, but reviewing will always make things go faster. Regardless of reviews and such, I really feel motivated to write this, and I believe that it shows great potential, and the story which I'm planning to create is a vast one, extending itself throughout cities, countries, maybe even continents if I get a bit frisky. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and if you did, please leave a review, and if you didn't, please leave a review telling me why you didn't. Have a nice day, and things like that. Any answers you may have will probably resolved later, so stay tuned.