Welcome to my fic for MardLu week!
This fic is going to be a fun one to write. I hope you all enjoy it.
Day 1: Prey
Humans would never have seen the Mard Geer as a creature of faith. He was crafted from the same darkness that birthed human nightmares, the villain in their stories, and the terror dwelling in their hearts. The King of the Underworld, death walked in his shadow.
He was a weapon of Zeref, pointed straight at humanity's throat.
But just as any blade, he'd been forged by his creator. Molded from ethernano into a form that echoed that of the humans he was destined to cut down. He was cast in his creator's image, whereas many of his brethren sported much more monstrous and twisted forms.
Unlike the ignorant humans, his existence was intended, purposeful. He had seen the face of his god, a being that had transcended mortality and wielded death and decay as easy as he breathed, with hair darker than the night and eyes the color of fresh blood.
"Devotion" wasn't a strong enough word for what Mard Geer felt for his creator. His faith had been backed by four hundred years of purpose, dark magic, and loyalty. All that Mard Geer did, he did at his creator's behest. His orders to protect the book of E.N.D. and develop a curse powerful enough to defeat immortality were Mard Geer's everything. Though such a goal ultimately meant Mard Geer's end – as from Zeref's magic he was born, so too would he return in death – it was a worthy end, for nothing was more important to the weapon than fulfilling the purpose of his creation. Even if Mard Geer were to survive Zeref's demise, there would be no point in continuing longer.
Mard Geer had taken such pride in who he was, in what he was intended to be.
Was it any wonder now, then, that he couldn't understand?
"You are no longer of any use to me."
Something inside of him cracked like glass. The cool words coming from his creator's lips buzzed in his ears.
This wasn't right. There was still plenty he could do. He was the Mard Geer. The four centuries of his existence weren't for naught!
"Please wait!" he plead with his creator. "I can still…!"
"No," Zeref told him with a slight shake of his head, and a calm, cruel smile on his face. There was no mercy in those eyes. He raised his hand, magic gathering around it. "Goodbye, Mard Geer."
Mard Geer didn't want to die.
He hadn't fulfilled his purpose yet.
Was this how the humans had felt, he wondered, when they finally realized that their gods had abandoned them, and that no one was coming to save them? The feeling that Mard Geer himself had instilled in countless numbers of victims?
He didn't know where the energy came from, or the willpower to use it, but it flowed through his veins, fast and hot. Before Zeref could finish his spell to return Mard Geer to his book state, Mard Geer let it flow.
Dark souls screamed as they fled from his body, swiftly enveloping the dark mage. The last thing Mard Geer saw of his creator was his surprised expression, the Book of E.N.D. clutched in his hands, before the flood of darkness fully enveloped him.
A final Memento Mori.
As the pillar of darkness climbed high into the sky, Mard Geer slowly pushed himself up using the debris that surrounded him. Once he was standing, he shakily walked away from the effects of his curse.
This wouldn't be enough to eliminate Zeref. Mard Geer's efforts had been too unrefined in the end. A simple devil slayer had defeated it, after all. It couldn't hope to stand up to an immortal. Not just yet, anyway.
He was a good distance from the battlefield before he felt the curse dissipate. Some strength had returned to him, the condensed ethernano from which he'd been crafted taking in the ambient energy to repair his body.
But, even as his body renewed itself, a chasm remained inside of Mard Geer. Where once had sat his faith and devotion to his creator, now lay empty – bereft of everything that had given the demon's life meaning.
His god had discarded him.
What was there for him now? Zeref had said it plainly, and the word of Zeref was absolute. Mard Geer wasn't necessary, his purpose now void.
The edges of his faith cut him from within.
Where had he gone so wrong?
Like a shock of cold water, the answer rushed through him.
When the girl escaped Allegria. That was when everything had gone wrong. If she hadn't survived that, then the Celestial Spirit King wouldn't have come, and her friends would have become nourishment for the Plutogrim. The friends that ultimately wore him down and defeated him would never have gotten the opportunity to do so, FACE wouldn't have been stopped, and Zeref would have become mortal once more, thereby fulfilling Mard Geer's purpose.
It was all that celestial mage's doing.
The space slowly filled with cold conviction, replacing the purpose that had been newly ripped from him.
She would have to die. As repentance for her transgression against Zeref, and towards Mard Geer as a loyal servant to his god. He would ensure that she suffered; that she would never have the chance to stand in his way again.
Pausing in his trek, he closed his eyes, and sent his thorns burrowing into the ground.
The light of her soul – bright as a star to his mind's eye – that he had known inside of the Plutogrim was distinct. Mard Geer would never be able to forget it even if he tried. He would hunt it down, and prey upon its brilliance.
It would become a sacrifice to a perfected Memento Mori.
In the meantime… his thorns were thirsty, and there were plenty of other souls in the vicinity upon which to feast.
But that shouldn't take very long at all.
Once the other souls had been culled, the girl's should stand out the brightest, as it had in the Plutogrim.
Mard Geer was counting on it.