And welcome, readers, to the rewrite of my first story:
Fairy Tail: Days of Future Past!
I'm really looking forward to rewriting this, far better than it was before. Now that I've got the drive to do this story again, I hope you'll enjoy it!
Now then, on with the story!
Chapter 1: The Ink That Blackened Our Sky
The future. A lost and darkened world. A world where all hope has since been lost. He who bathed in the darkness has long since taken control over the realm of Earthland, forcing those who serve the light back, with no chance to bate their breath.
What is left of this desolate world? What is left of us. Are we destined to be destroyed by the dark, or can we make a change, fast enough to save our fate.
Year: X813
Date: 7th July
Country: Unknown
In the silence, our story begins in the long since ashened remains of what was once a city. Buildings that had once probably stood tall, now piles of rubble from the years of bloodshed and violence. Amongst the remains of what could have been the homes to families, where objects such as books, clothes and cuddly toys lay in waste, grey with age and the life drained out of them.
A lone, hooded figure ran silently under the inky sky; the tapping of their feet the only giveaway to their being there. The figure stopped at a corner of a destroyed shop. Hesitantly, he peered around the corner, to come face to face with something he really didn't need right now; a platoon of Phantasms.
Phantasms were the dark warriors of the initiator of this dreaded war; Zeref. Comprised entirely out of malice and all things wrong, they slayed the innocents without a second thought. Oh, but as his luck would have it, it wasn't just Phantasms that he had to deal with right now. No, there were also the Bradwr.
The Bradwr were, once upon a time, normal people and wizards. But they had pledged allegiance to Zeref and his forces of darkness, just to save their own skin than help the fight against the evil. Now, as if a testament to their betrayal, a layer of dark energy coated their bodies, whilst a few human features were still visible. They wore armour and weaponry atop their bodies, them being good or bad varying with their rank.
Why did it have to be him? He gulped slightly and reached inside his cloak, letting his fingers wrap around an object shrouded in aged maroon cloth, simultaneously being hidden in a pocket with said piece of clothing. He sighed and then gritted his teeth.
"Oh…" he thought, "…to hell with it!" Jumping out from behind his cover, he inhaled a massive breath and quickly built up his magical energy to his throat.
"Atlas Dragon's Roar!" A furious vortex of white and pale blue fire blasted out towards the enemy platoon, scattering them apart. Before they could fully regain their bearings, the figure took off in a sprint towards the forest near the city.
"After them!" He heard one of the Bradwr yell as he got farther away. Despite him having the lead, their thunderous footsteps could still be heard from where he was. The chase through the shadowy woods ended quickly as he blasted out into the open and had to dig his feet into the dirt in an effort to grind to a halt, lest he slide over the edge of the cliff he was now stood on. He looked over the rest of the ruined city, that was on the ground below.
He was about to turn back, but a blast of dark energy shot right past him. He turned around to see one of the Bradwr charging at him, a sword in hand. He expertly bobbed and weaved to dodge the slashes, before his right fist was engulfed in the same flames as his previous roar, and he hammered his fist into its face, sending it cartwheeling backwards into the others, killing it.
"Just give up." The Bradwr in charge said. "You're not going to win this war. So come quietly with us, Dragonslayer."
The figured let out a boisterous chuckle. "No way in hell am I going with you. You threw yourselves in with the likes of Zeref!"
"The Lord will rule this world benevolently. Your 'Resistance' can't do a damn thing to stop him!" The figure was silent for a moment, before speaking.
"Maybe you're right…" he trailed off, but smirked under his hood "…but that won't stop us from trying!"
He jumped high into the air, backwards, over the edge, still facing his adversaries. The flames then came to be a small orb between his palms, until it began to grow rapidly and he held it above his head.
"Eat this! Atlas Dragon's Inferno Bomb!" He threw the large attack at the platoon, resulting in a large explosion and effectively killing them all. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he fell to the ground below. After landing not so gracefully, and making a large spiderweb of cracks appear on the ground, he looked around to ensure his returned solitude before pulling down his hood.
What was revealed was a mop of unruly and curly purple hair, belonging to a man in his middle ages, accompanied by a face with dark onyx eyes and a scar on the right side of his chin. Romeo Conbolt looked around a few more times before he resumed his run through the burnt remains of the city.
After ten minutes of continues running, he came to a small heap of rubble that had a large metal plating that had fallen on it for a makeshift roof. Walking through the area that he supposed was where the door frame was, Romeo found himself stood in front of a khaki coloured cover draping over a relatively large object. Yanking it off and over his shoulder, he smirked at the Magic Two-Wheeler before him, or Motorbike as many had taken to calling it before the war. If he wanted to be annoyingly specific, it was an MJ-Ø Fox .
Stepping over the bike to plop down on the seat, he put the keys in and revved the engine with a grin on his face. Without anymore stalking, he took off at great speeds, the roaring of the engine following him.
He couldn't help but fine some form of relaxation from having the wind whip his hair around. But Romeo knew that he had to stay focused; he was on a top secret mission. He could not fail.
He zipped across the barren wastelands of dull grey and black rocks, under an equally dull grey sky. The occasional corpse of a house or maybe even a guild came along, but apart from that, there was nothing. The desolate loneliness of the wastelands. He would often pass the time whilst riding by trying picture what his surrounding environment had looked like all those years ago. But he had no such time. He had a destination he had to reach.
The black clouds above him served their purpose of ironic opposite to their white and calming predecessors, by dampening his mood. Those weren't storm clouds. They were regular clouds. He had no real clue as to why the clouds had taken to wear a coat of soot and coal and hide their beauty. Perhaps it was from all the innocent lives taken, that had striped the clouds of their happiness, resulting in the colours they were now.
After hours and hours of driving, he finally made it. If the radar on his bike, and his own ability to sense a certain magic pressure hadn't gone faulty, this was the current place of a warp-point. Slowly rolling over to a black marble pillar that was, unsurprisingly broken at the top and more chunks missing from it, he came to a halt. Romeo closed his eyes and placed his right palm on the pillar and focused. Though it could not be seen through his cloak, the emblem to a certain place glowed on his right shoulder, and a similar insignia glowed into existence next to his palm.
He smirked and then placed the same hand over the insignia and gripped his motorbike harder. His eyes then opening, Romeo looked to the sky, and recalled the words a wise man had once said to him.
The sky has blackened. The ink that tarnishes the canvas is the doing of a malicious and horrific pen. That pen spreads across the lands and brings calamity. That ink, is the blood of the innocents. As the sky absorbs the water from the earth, blood has seeped into and dyed this cursed dirt, for it then be pocketed by the clouds. So the ink of man spreads and recolours the clouds. And then, perhaps one day, we shall be made the pay the penance of being showered by that same ink that had been so mercilessly shed here.
He frowned again, his mood dampening even more at the remembrance of those words. He shook his head free of that depravity laced voice and spoke the spell.
"Apparate." Then, Romeo and his bike, to the eye of any who could have seen it of they were there, swirled, twisted and turned in on themselves at an incredible speed, vanishing from sight.
A/N: Well…I don't know about you guys, but I thought that chapter came out to be quite good. I mean, I'm happy with it.
So, I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of the rewrite for this story!