A/N: Thank you very much for your support! Please enjoy this chapter! The ElfEver finally gets going at the end~
All Elfman had wanted was an easy job. Something where his life wasn't in constant danger and he wasn't always escaping by just a hair. He had sisters to take care of, after all, and while danger was exhilarating and tempting, it wasn't ideal. An easy job. Even just once a month. That was all.
Of course, he had no such luck.
"We might have a bandit camp set up in the West Forest," Mirajane told him in a daily meeting. Her tongue poked out of her mouth just slightly and she squinted at a map she had the tip of her finger on. "The towns here are the ones being attacked, right, Lisanna?"
Their younger sister leaned forward and double-checked briefly. "That's right."
"Yes, that is right."
"And?" Elfman asked, already dreading the loss of a peaceful day where he could train and beat on Gajeel and have Gajeel beat on him. Those were fun times.
But sometimes, beating on bad guys was even better.
"Based on the locations, we suspect the camp is in… This area?" Mira circled a general area near the middle of the forest with the tip of her finger. "Erza has asked us to dispose of it, since it's closer to our side of the forest than her's. Can you do it, Elfman?"
He slid his hands together and cracked his knuckles. "How many do we think?"
Lisanna pulled a sheet of paper from the top of a stack. "Witnesses can account for about ni-no, about eight thieves. Gajeel, Levy, and Lily are out taking care of something else in Hargeon, so we need you to do it."
He blinked. "Aren't you going with me?"
The sisters shook their heads in unison. "Meetings," Mirajane said, and that was the end of the discussion. Meetings always trumped everything else.
"Eight or more brigands and me?" he asked.
"No problem for a manly man like yourself," Lisanna coaxed, inching towards him. "Right?"
"Of course it isn't!" he boasted. "I'll take 'em all out and be back before dinner. That'll make Gajeel jealous."
"Natsu, too, if he catches wind," she chipped in. "Now, get going soon. The sooner we can deal with this problem, the better."
Mirajane sighed and hung her head. "The kingdom's already got so much on its plate right now, what with the head priest dead and Prince Ivan still comatose."
"Hasn't it been a couple months already?" Elfman asked. He gripped the handle of the ax at his side a bit tighter.
"The healers say his condition is improving steadily," Lisanna informed. "He's expected to wake up soon, but-"
"-no lead on the murderer," Mira finished. "That she's avoided punishment for so long is impressive."
"What motive is there to kill the head priest?" Lisanna wondered as she gathered her papers.
"Sends a lot of processes into turmoil," her sister explained. "The head priest does a lot of ceremonies and work in the main castle, so having him gone is a big loss."
"Not even Natsu has found her?" Elfman questioned. His sisters began to make for the exit and he swung his ax into the holster on his back. "He's the best tracker in the kingdom."
"He was murdered on that day with the massive storm, remember? Her scent is all washed out and there's no trace of footsteps or anything. Any damage she may have caused escaping can't be told apart from storm wreckage."
Elfman sighed and made for the exit. "A troublemaker like that… how unmanly."
He set out into the forest shortly after he'd ensured that his sisters were safe and sound in their meetings. It was a good day for tracking: The air was clean, crisp, and fresh, the ground was dry, and the world was quiet.
Eight brigands against him. Elfman liked his chances. He'd taken on more, after all, and vastly more skilled. This would be little more than a warm up, just a bit of a workout.
He dropped into a crouch and studied the forest floor. Pressed into the ground were a selection of footprints, all heading towards the east. If he counted carefully, there were four sets. Whoever these thieves were, they weren't smart, and they weren't at all good at hiding their footsteps. They would be easy. This was a simple job after all.
Still, he walked quietly and carefully. There was no telling if they'd caught on to him and were lying in wait behind a log or hiding in the trees. He had to be on alert at all times, because he was a man, and a man did not so easily let his guard-
"It's a knight! Get 'im!"
His heart jumped and something blunt slammed into the side of his head with an impressive force, taking him to his knees. The world squirmed and the sounds of pounding footsteps and battle cries echoed in his head. Even though there was five of everything, Elfman took a wild guess guided by instinct and grabbed at a shape rushing towards him. The feeling under his hand was definitely flesh, given its give, and he threw the brigand at another hazy figure to his right which he hoped was another...
Nope. It was a tree.
His right temple was throbbing. He struggled to stay standing, but drew himself up to his full height in an attempt at intimidation. For a moment, it worked; the combination of their companion limp at the base of a tree and his massive size was enough to make them pause. Some even stepped back and gave each other nervous looks. Very slowly, the five of everything became four of everything, and then even three. Elfman prayed for a little more time.
"Don't stand there! It's only one of him and ten of us. We can do it!"
Ten? That was certainly more than eight. Wasn't it? His head was still spinning. It would be best to not go for his ax- if he was still this dizzy, the chances of hurting himself was much too high.
Some of them had lances, others had swords, and some just their bare fists. The one near the tree was still unresponsive, despite the woman next to him desperately trying to shake him awake.
One, two, three. He took down three quickly by smashing them all together. The blade of a lance nearly skewered his head, but he leaned and only received a thin slice on his jaw. The wielder stumbled forward, swore, and squeaked when his weapon broke with naught but a smack from his enemy. Elfman's hand stung and his jaw tingled unpleasantly, but he ignored it and dodged a swing from a sword. The blade clumsily went down and grazed along the armor on his forearm, but went even lower and caught on the flesh of his wrist.
That really hurt.
"Somebody grab the loot and run!" shouted an older woman. "I saw a place over the hills you can keep it."
"Isn't it real dumb to say that when I'm standing right here?" Elfman asked.
"Not if we kill ya!" A smaller boy dropped down from the treetops with a sword in hand.
Elfman nearly yelped, but decided it was not very manly. He jumped back away from the boy and decided his ax was then a good option. A hot pain slid over his side and he swung an arm back while hissing in agony. A brigand had been waiting and was grinning in triumph, a lance decorated with a bloody blade gripped tightly in his hand.
"Hey, go for it!"
Something- an arrow -thunked against his hard leather armor and bounced harmlessly off. Four more came in a quick succession, doing just the same, and then one found a place between his armor plates and another lodged into the edge of his neck. The pain was blinding and he could not even find the means to yell.
A sword fell against his shoulder. An ax sliced open his thigh. A blast of white hot magic, of all the damn things, scorched his armor and rendered it useless. More arrows buried into his calves, someone stole his ax, and when he held out a hand to deliriously block what looked like a punch, a knife went clean through his palm.
Sweat dripped off his nose. The blunt handle of a lance, again, smashed into his temple. Their laughing was dim, faint against his the pounding in his head and audible beating of his heart. Another arrow slammed into his shoulder and he roared, lunging for the brigand nearest to him. They pranced back and swung a handful of knives down against his back. The blade of one scraped against his spine. He cried out and collapsed, his arms shaking.
The dirt had red. A very violent red. Red blood, and it didn't belong to the bandits.
"Finish him off already."
"Nah, he's not goin' anywhere. I say we leave him to bleed out. Slow and painful, real befitting of a knight."
"Let's go catch up with the others and the loot."
Someone kicked up a cloud of dirt in his face as they ran down the hill, howling like a hyena. Elfman gritted his teeth, suppressing a cough, and clenched his fists into the ground. He heaved and a thick wad of blood hit the back of his teeth. His thigh gushed blood and he rolled over, desperately grabbing at the gaping wound. His other hand twitched uselessly.
He was going to die, damn it all. Mira would be so disappointed in him. Lisanna would cry for days. And what would everyone else say?
The morbid thoughts motivated him. He struggled to get up again, urging his bruised and bleeding body upward. A sharp pain stabbed his chest and he yelped, flopping back down.
So this was it. Bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.
Birds sang in the trees without pause, squirrels scurried around, and the sky kept shining. The world was oblivious to his death.
His head fogged, but Elfman squinted and shook his head. He had to stay awake. He would never wake up if he went to sleep. He had to… stay…
…
. . .
. . .
Something cold pressed against the side of his face. It traced down his jaw and neck and came to rest on his chest before moving back up to where it had started. A pleasant feeling. It was so cool and fresh.
His eyelids were so heavy, but he cracked them open and caught a glimpse of what was surely, definitely an angel.