A/N: Hiya, readers! I'm back from scout camp! I caught a virus and am sick, at home, so I decided to (finally) finish this chapter. I also found my old, white Toshiba 16 gigabyte flashdrive, so I can once again work at multiple computers. However, it is now falling apart and will have to be replaced soon. I also downloaded the Grammarly Chrome attachment, which should help me root out those pesky errors

For those of you who are interested in yours truly, I went to two successive week-long BSA summer camps, where I was acting ASPL and then acting SPL because I was the oldest scout, our current SPL went to neither, and our current ASPL only went to the first camp. I completed multiple merit badges, and we won Honor Troor* and the Scout Skills competition at Seminole, then won literally every award given out at Yocona, despite being the second smallest group there, at only 8 scouts.

School started, and with it (one of) my high school's hardest courses—AP Euro. If you've never taken Coach Adair's APEH class, you're thinking "It can't be that bad," just like I stupidly did after taking AP Human last year. Between that, English, and Cross Country, I consistently stay up until midnight working. I'm managing to maintain a B+, so that's good (and tiring). I also really need more sleep. Even without writing this story, something needs to go to the chopping block, but quitting AP Euro while #3 in the class would be a prestige and Dip. Rep. hit I refuse to take.

*the tree plaque literally read HON TROOR

There will also be a note where the grisly part starts, if you want to skip it. I meant it to be horrifying and sad, so tell me if I over/underdid it. The only new things introduced during the scene are the main pairing (In the part that's meant to be sad! No necrophilia!) and motivation. The main pairing is cleared of ambiguity right after it, though...

I ended up cutting this chapter short anyway because, if a 24-page chapter has MS Word screw itself, Grammarly screws with my formatting and then Fanfiction makes me fix it again, what would a thirty-page chapter do?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Fairy Tail. That right belongs to Hiro Mashima, the lucky bastard. I don't make any sort of money off of this, and only own what/who I come up with.

"This is talking,"

'This is thinking,' and special circumstances

Italics*Italics=normal

This is When Shit's Goin' Down


Gildarts and Natsu trekked in silence through the cave the train had come from. Eventually, they came to a place where the cave widened into a cavern, and a dilapidated Fairy Tail guildhall sat in the center of it.

The hall was plagued with holes— some caused by projectiles, ripping through the wood, while others were the result of magical beams, their small, clean holes carving through the walls. Still more were caused by age, where several sections of the roof had fallen in. The guild banner hung like a drowned rat from one rope, swaying from the loose mooring it still clung to. The whole miserable sight was covered in a layer of mildew, and Natsu could find no familiar scent on the derelict structure.

"What happened?" Natsu asked as Gildarts strode towards the run-down bar.

"Natsu, this particular building has always been like this. We're in the part of your subconscious where your fears reside—where they seem the most real," the orange-haired man explained, nearing the leaning doorway.

"Then why are we here!?" Natsu asked indignantly, more than a little put off at the idea of seeing another train.

"Because, kid," Gildarts began, pushing on the left door. With a Snap! the bent frame finally gave out, and both doors fell into the rotting corpse of a hall with a resounding CRASH!, throwing up a cloud of dust. "Those fears are our greatest weapons against that demon of yours."

The dust settled, revealing a series of tipped-table barriers as if people used this building for foxholes, broken by small gaps and the occasional pile of roofing. Gildarts strode off the fallen doors, leaving footprints in the plentiful dust.

"But you're the strongest member of Fairy Tail! Can't you stop him?" Natsu asked half-declared, half-begged of the older man.

Gildarts stopped, halfway around a particularly large pile of roofing, and sighed, "Natsu, there's something you need to realize about me." The man turned to face the pinkette, solemn expression at full power, before elaborating, "I am a very powerful man, yes, but beneath all the magic and destruction, that is all that I am. A man, and men were never meant to stop engineered killing machines on their own."

The dragonslayer could only gape as if all his dreams had just been shattered on the rocky shores of reality.

Nothing was stronger than Gildarts.

Nothing.

"Don't get me wrong, I'll help in any way I can," The orange-haired one continued, hands splayed in honesty, "But I can't stand up to that… that thing by myself." He raked a hand through his slicked-back hair, before turning on his heel and disappearing behind the shattered shingles and shredded supports.

Natsu closed his mouth and followed his role model around the mound of roofing.

On the other side, Gildarts was halfway in a trapdoor, holding it open for the pinkette.

"C'mon, we don't have all day!" the older man shouted with a grin on his face, before climbing down the ladder. With a moment of hesitation, the dragonslayer stepped into the tunnel that the crash mage had just descended, before climbing down the cold metal rungs too.

The trapdoor gave a shrill shriek of protest as gravity pulled it shut.


About thirty feet down the ladder, iron rungs gave way to rough-hewn wood as the cramped stone chute widened into a massive cavern, with the ladder clinging to one wall. A little way after that, the planks grew too wide for the dragonslayer to wrap his hands around, and he kept hitting his knees on the one-by-sixes. The whole way was lit by small glowing mosses that clung to the sheer stone.

"Ow!" Natsu yelped when a splinter lodged itself in the heel of his hand.

"Careful, kid! It's a long way down!" Gildarts yelled up from somewhere far below.

That was when Natsu heard it, faint but unmistakable:

Chugga-chugga Chugga-chugga Chugga-chugga

It seemed the train had come back for a second pass at the dragonslayer, and in doing so, revealed that gravity had switched directions, pulling Natsu toward the ties instead of along the rails. He stood up as the chugging grew louder.

The train thundered around a bend into sight, leaning off the left rail.

Luckily, E.N.D. had scraped himself off the boiler and wasn't present to hurl surprisingly effective fireballs at the Fairy Tail mages.

The locomotive's headlight glared on the dragonslayer like a subterranean star, and all color in his normally tan face fled in terror like a pack of nocturnal rabbits.

Steel shrieked as the train slammed back down, drawing a groan of protest from the overburdened rail. Natsu, previously frozen, dashed to his left as steel buckled and the locomotive skipped the tracks. Its cowcatcher lodged in one of the ties, flipping the locomotive through the air like a trebuchet arm, snapping its smokestack and car coupling like twigs. Natsu poured on the speed when earth flew and metal groaned as the train hit the ground and rolled, before finding the tracks once again. When the train landed sideways on the rails, the cars it had been pulling slammed into it. The steam engine skidded along, throwing sparks, flinging gears, and chucking cogs like a five-year-old would confetti. The train slid to where the dragonslayer had been standing just seconds before…

And exploded, not in fire, but in steam. Shards of steel whizzed through the air, followed by a veil of water vapor. Natsu raced on, frantically searching for a place to hide in the surprisingly featureless rock.

As if summoned, a gigantic human hand sprouted from a crevasse and grabbed the Dragonslayer by the scarf, eliciting a surprised yelp from the pinkette as it carried him towards its source. That yelp was replaced by a pained hiss when searing shrapnel rent a deep, jagged tear across his right forearm. Other bits of roasted rubble buzzed through the air around the dragonslayer, some nicking him. Natsu closed his eyes in terror, sure that ferrous debris would tear his vital organs to shreds and the cloud of water would boil him alive at any moment.

Instead of the scorching pain of steamed bits of track and train piercing his body, the next thing Natsu felt was the rough rock against his face and body as he was pulled through an opening in the wall. His eyes shot open, only to be met by a diminutive balding man in a wizard saint coat as he hit the stone floor. Half a second later, steel and steam screeched and howled against the rock face, seemingly infuriated that the dragonslayer had gotten away and demanded he is handed back for certain death.

Natsu covered his ears against the din as the hand gripping his scarf yanked him to his feet. It released the dragonscale cloth, then beckoned deeper into the cleft, as nothing could be heard over the painfully loud, high-pitched cries of steel, steam, and stone.


When the noise from outside the fissure faded to a faint whirr in Natsu's ears, the dragonslayer removed his hands from them. The occasional torch appeared on the gradually more polished and arched tunnel walls.

Natsu took this as a cue to ignite his fist and eat the torch fire.

Makarov took it as a cue to begin a spiel.

"Natsu, that train demonstrated something Gildarts and I have been trying to teach you for years."

"Wha's Thah?" the dragonslayer garbled around his physics-warping mouthful of flame.

"That fear is a good thing. It keeps you—"

Natsu choked on the torch handle that had made its way into his indiscriminate maw, cutting off the guild master with gagging as the dragonslayer removed the stick. A shouted interruption came after Natsu could breathe again.

"But you're never scared!" Natsu began, voice a mix of confusion and indignation, "How am I supposed to protect my friends when I'm afraid!?"

"What do you mean, I'm never scared?" Makarov snapped back, spinning to face the taller dragonslayer, "Whenever you, or Erza, or Elfman, or Gray, or Laxus, or Gildarts destroy half a town, the Magic Council threatens to take Fairy Tail away from me! Every time one of our members goes on a hard job, I worry way too much!"

Makarov sighed, regaining control, before continuing, "I'm just good at hiding it."

Natsu was silenced by the second worldview-shattering revelation in the past… 10 minutes? .0015 seconds? Eh, who knows.

Makarov continued in the ensuing silence, "A little fear is a good thing. It keeps you alert, awake, and alive in dangerous situations. To act without it is stupidity. When you delve into terror, the paralyzing, mind-numbing side of fear, it stops being a good thing. To act in spite of that is courage."

The guild master then rounded a corner off the now well-manicured stone hallway. The new branch somehow sparkled more than the previous tunnel, and a large set of double doors stood at the far end. Two men in robes with an ankh emblazoned on the chest stood at attention on either side, backs as straight as their spear shafts. Wrought-iron braziers on both sides of the protruding arches provided light to see the intricacies of the doors' court carvings until Natsu ate their blazes. Everyone was silent— Natsu was mulling over Makarov's words, the old man was letting him, and it was in the guards' job description.

When Master Makarov was about ten feet from the large, masterfully carved double doors, the guards crossed the split blades of their spears and shifted their stern, shaven faces to the approaching mages.

"State your business!" the one on the left barked.

"He's here to see the Magic Council," Makarov replied, jabbing his thumb towards the pinkette behind him.

"C-c-council?" Natsu asked, dropping into a terror-induced stutter as he paled once again.

"Something about a trial?" the short man continued for the two guards. As soon as the last word came out of his mouth, the Rune Knights shot into action.

The wooden doors opened, blinding Natsu with the high-quality light, as cuffs slapped around his wrists and ankles. Strong hands gripped his upper arms and lifted him up, before throwing him into the next room. The doors closed behind the pinkette dragonslayer with an audible thunk as he unsuccessfully tried to clamber to his feet. After about thirty seconds of undignified scrambling, a guard on the new side of the doors walked over and helped Natsu to his feet.

Standing up, the dragonslayer could see that seating took up the half of the room closest to the doors, split by a central aisle. A short wooden barrier stood at the far end of the seating, with a small gate where the aisle was, separating it from a mostly-open space with two desks. Behind the one on the right sat a thin man in a fancy—definitely expensive—tailored suit with a mountain of documents in front of him. The left desk was bare, with only one chair behind it. At the far end of the open space was a tall wooden barrier that the Magic Council sat behind, seated for a tribunal. Natsu, despite his enhanced vision and the bright lighting, could make out nothing of the members more detailed than a shadowy silhouette. A small door stood to the right (Natsu's left) and behind the raised shadowy seating.

"Have a seat, Mr. Dragneel," a voice called from the councilors' seats. It was strange, almost garbled, like a mix of all the council members' voices Natsu had ever heard, yet it wasn't. Natsu quietly shuffled down the aisle, unsure in the detached environment, behind the guard who helped him up, before sitting down in the lone seat at the left desk.

"All rise," the ambiguous voice called. It tickled the dragonslayer's senses in all the wrong ways, compounded by the lack of emotion. Both seated people stood.

The sound of paper shuffling filled the otherwise silent room as the council searched for something.

Having found the something, the unnerving mechanical paradox of voices calmly spoke again, "Natsu Dragneel, you stand accused of 17 counts of Theft, 35 counts of Vandalism, 42 counts of Assault, 300 counts of Robbery, 7,512 counts of Arson, 81,586 counts of Manslaughter, 8,609 counts of Extortion, 94,374 counts of Accessory to Murder, one count of Attempted Murder, 46,253 counts of Murder, 85 counts of Domestic Terrorism, seven counts of High Treason, and 1,029,756 counts of Genocide."

The voice paused as if trying to create dramatic tension.

Natsu could only gape at the delusional list of accusations.

"How do you plea?" the voice asked, still as cold and robotic as the first demand. However, Natsu's R.A.M. was consumed by , so the popup was unable to be displayed.

"Mr. Dragneel!" the voice shouted for the fifteenth time. I don't know if it was the barest hint of anger in the mishmash of voices or the fact that it was the fifteenth shout that did it, but the unresponsive pinkette suddenly rebooted from his absurdity-induced crash. Still coming out from under the effects of his stupor, Natsu moved his mouth, as if trying to summon words, but none came.

"Guilty, or Not Guilty," the nebulous councilors supplied.

"I-I didn't do those things," Natsu whispered, wide-eyed as the weight of the situation slowly cracked its way through his thick skull. They were SERIOUS.

"Not Guilty it is then," the warped voices of a prestigious crowd stated, one of their number faintly relieved, before continuing, emotionless again, "The Prosecution may begin opening statements."

The thin man in an expensive suit stood up from behind the mountain of papers obscuring his face, before lifting a foothill of files and advancing towards the council's seats.

"Men and women of the council, in this trial, I seek to prove that the accused did, in fact, release the Demon of Zeref known as E.N.D., and proceeded to go on a genocidal rampage. In this rampage were actions such as burning Magnolia, Crocus, Hargeon, and 85% of all structures in Fiore—along with their populations—to the ground, the incineration of 67 battalions of the Fiorian Royal Army, murdering the Royal Families of Fiore and neighboring Bosco, attempted usurpation of the dead monarchs' thrones, allowing the Alvarez Empire to invade unhindered by our remaining military units, a systematic culling of humans, and causing general chaos and damage totaling no less than 80,000,000 spools of woolen thread, since that is how the government has paid people since the collapse of the Fiorian Jewel, Boscan Standard Piece, and straight nails, all of which can be attributed to the fire demon. This is supported by piles of irrefutable physical evidence, as you can see," The thin man asserted, before stopping for a breather as he put the 5-inch tall file foothill atop the councilors' raised wooden desk/barrier. "And, for the record," the suited man added, "I believe that the lack of eyewitness testimony speaks for itself." With that, he turned around and strode back to his seat behind a plateau of papers.

Natsu started to panic.


'Oh shit, this isn't good. I thought that we sealed that demon away forever.'

That is what went through the great red dragon's mind as he flew through the rocky area he had erected in that of his adopted son. He flew low, almost striking the rocks with his wings on every thunderous beat. His sharp eyes scanned the barren landscape of solid and molten rock as he whizzed past its stark outcroppings and lava flows, looking for something.

He found it— a hole in the ground with gouges carved deep into its yawning mouth, as if something big had been forced down it, or maybe clawed its way up.

Not stopping to think of the latter possibility, the red drake dove into the massive hole, headed to employ his contingency plan.

Five seconds after the beginning of the dive, the dragon spread his wings as far as the pit allowed and flipped tail-down to dig his claws into the igneous rock. Like nails on a chalkboard, a horrid screech split the volcanic atmosphere as friction slowly overcame gravity and momentum.

He came to a stop about thirty feet from the bottom of the chasm. A stream of magma bubbled out of the rock on his right, inching a channel through the floor's carpet of ash into a cavern opposite the red reptilian form. A lone orchid grew surprisingly close to the molten rock, its single white flower wilted despite the nutritious volcanic soil. The dragon detached himself from the wall's newest gashes and followed the luminous bayou, careful not to disturb the flower that was dangerously close to it.

He was not careful enough.

The once-beautiful flower moved in the wake of the dragon's tail, and all eight tons of flying red reptile froze, eyes on the limply swaying flower.

It leaned left.

It leaned right.

A growl echoed from within the cave, conveying every emotion from indignation to undying hatred.

The flower leaned towards the molten rock, thin trails of steam leaving its drooping petals.

Something struck metal, filling the cavern with a sharp Dunk!, followed by the rattling of chains.

The flower leaned left again and stopped.

An apathetic snort came from deep within the cave, and the chains slowly faded into silence.

The dragon took it as a cue to start moving again, paying close attention to his tail.


"We have heard enough," the strange agglomeration of councilors' voices began, "And have reached our verdict. This court hereby finds the defendant, Natsu Dragneel, guilty of all charges."

Natsu tried his magic for the hundredth time, only for the cuffs he was wearing to negate it again. The strange voice continued, oblivious.

"We hereby sentence Mr. Dragneel to death by hanging. Guards, take him away!"

Their declaration was enough to get the adrenaline flowing through the dragonslayer's veins.

The Rune Knight that hadn't left the side of the desk went to grab the pinkette.

However, Natsu stood up before he could and snapped his shackles, sending splinters of enchanted steel throughout the room, before dashing for the small door at its back. More guards crawled out from under every board he stepped on, like a horde of cockroaches. They filled the room from every conceivable entrance, forming a shifting mass of blue and white robes, all grabbing at the convict. Natsu flung his freshly freed fists of fire at those who got too close.

The son of Igneel reached the small wooden door and flung it open to reveal a barren stone cave on the other side. Not having a moment to think, Natsu continued his escape run out of court and slammed the door behind him.

An arm was wedged between the door and its frame, but another harsh slam solved that problem. The door closed, cutting off both light and sound from the courtroom and plunging Natsu into total darkness.


The great red dragon stood in front of a metal cage, with bars three feet thick separating its lone occupant from the outside world, along with a multitude of ultra-duty padlocks and even heavier-duty chains. The occupant was also a dragon, but it was significantly smaller than the one outside— a sign of its youth—and its scales were deathly pale in comparison to the elder's lustrous mahogany. This could be due to its lack of sunlight and lava baths, or maybe its scales were naturally pale.

Another possible cause could be its moping, as a dragon's hide tends to reflect its long-term mental state. Like a cat's fur, dragon scales require periodic attention to retain their lustrous gleam and vibrant color. It didn't move, its eyes on the wilted orchid that grew too close to the molten rock for comfort.

The free dragon advanced upon the cage and produced a ring of keys, varying from thick, cast iron skeleton keys to intricately carved anthracite and from ancient-looking, rust-covered iron to brand-new, sharply-cut bronze.

The pale one didn't look up.

The dark red dragon reached for the lightest lock and inserted an iron key that gleamed wherever it wasn't rusted. With a groan and a click, the bar opened and a single chain came loose.

The pale one spared a glance at the wall of chains, which looked no different, before turning back to the orchid.

The scaled foreclaw reached for another, thicker padlock—this time a combination lock— and began to spin it. After six directional spin changes, it joined the first padlock on the ground, and a second chain came with it.

One by one, the pile of chains and locks grew at the red drake's feet. It began to spill into the lava stream when only two locks remained— the strongest padlock and that of the cage itself.

The dragon with pallid scales looked up at the one with vivid colors, emotions making its previously blank gaze forceful. The elder stumbled back as if struck by the strength of a dragon's emotions—

Fury and a need for revenge.

As soon as it appeared, the pale dragon rolled over and kept moping, any trace of its hatred gone.

The great red dragon turned and left, clawing his way back up the volcanic chasm with a little less confidence than what he came with.


Natsu set out into the darkness, one fist afire in front of him. He had been walking for a few minutes now if time flowed the same way in his skull as it did in Earthland.

The dragonslayer heard something move in the darkness beyond his fist fire, and his eyes darted towards the noise. His nose caught a whiff of a scent that a neuron deep in his brain claimed was familiar, but he couldn't figure out where from.

Turning up his magical light, Natsu headed further into the darkness, towards the scent. At the very edge of his vision, the dragonslayer saw a familiar shape— a human arm, beckoning him forward.

Not one to ignore his curiosity, the pinkette ran after it. When the edge of his flickering ring of light was about to touch the figure, it turned and dashed farther into the darkness, always staying in the shadows. However, Natsu's superior vision allowed him to make out a few things about the strange figure, like the broad shoulders and short, pink hair of a man. He also smelled distant strawberry cake.

Wait. Pink? That raised the tally to three, and it was climbing surprisingly fast after the fiasco with Duke Everlue.

Natsu's contemplation was interrupted when he ran into the man he had been chasing. Surprised, his flaming fist went out, allowing a lone wall-mounted torch to light the small chamber he found himself in.

Hands rested on the dragonslayer's shoulders and pushed him back above his own feet, allowing the pinkettes to get a good look at one another. The man was a good inch or two taller than Natsu, with hair the same shade as his—salmon. His face was rounded where the fire mage was angular, and the only differences in his smile were the pride in his eyes and normal-sized canines in his jaw.

The pride irked the same part of Natsu's brain that the familiar-yet-not smell did. It reminded the dragonslayer of Macao, and—not himself—Romeo. The older pyromancer often gave his son—

It made sense. He knew where that scent was familiar from.

Beneath the smells of flame and Fairy Tail, of ash and adopted family, he found the barest traces.

He smelled like this man.

The elder pinkette's proud visage shifted to a knowing smile as realization washed across the dragonslayer's face. He took his right arm off Natsu's shoulder to gesture to the right of the lone torch, where a thick steel door was inset. His left hand kept its grip, guiding Natsu to follow as he walked towards it.

The metal door looked like a combination of a bank vault and a ship's door. A wheel locking mechanism was bolted to its front, six metal bars jutting into the doorframe to keep the thick-looking slab of steel secured in place. A small porthole was just above it, showing a dismal rocky blackness. The torchlight laid across two outward bulges in the door, as if whatever was in there had tried to knock it down. The cake was on a pedestal towards the middle of the room, directly in front of the hatch.

A loud thump filled the cavern as another bulge appeared in the door.

The force of the impact shook pebbles from the roof, and Natsu turned to ask the man what was on the other side, "Da—?" The word died in his mouth as the dragonslayer turned to find no hide nor hair nor scent of his fellow pinkette.

Another loud thump drew Natsu's attention back to the steel hatch, where the three bumps had joined into a large outward warp. As a result, the right side of the door no longer touched its frame.

Natsu lit his fists, preparing for a fight.

The door was struck again, and the iron rent. A hand in jet black armor reached through, followed by a grey iron vambrace with thick, black spikes as it reached up towards the wheel.

Natsu moved into position.

The black gauntlet grabbed the wheel lock and pulled. After a second of resistance, it spun, squeaking in protest as the six steel bars were pulled out of their slots in the frame. It let go and made its way back through the hole in the door.

"Fire Dragon Talon!" Natsu shouted, performing a rocket-powered fiery cartwheel kick into the unlocked door. The hinges busted, sending the wheel-lock door and whatever stood on the other side of it across the new chamber of night black rock. The dragonslayer's fire provided the only light, glaring harshly off the jagged walls and similarly-spiked form under the two-inch-thick steel door.

The pinkette leaped forward, spiky floor digging into his sandals as he pushed off the ground. The door that he aimed for shifted, before being violently flung into a nearby wall. Natsu's leap turned into a dive at his armored opponent, one fist pulled back to strike.

His opponent had other plans. In a blur of black, they moved to the side and slung an armored fist at the dragonslayer as he passed, sending him careening into a wall.

Natsu rose, minor cuts all over the front half of his body. He shook the black dust out of his hair and looked up at the advancing figure in spiked armor. More particularly, at the long, red hair that belonged to his most violent guildmate.

Utter terror warped his face into something reminiscent of a talking blue cat.

Another night-black gauntlet decked the pinkette.

"NATSU!" she bellowed, hefting her imposing mace above her head.

Natsu was frozen with a broken nose as Erza Scarlet in her most petrifying armor towered over him.

The enraged one.

"GIVE ME MY CAKE!" she roared, bringing her mace down for a splitting strike.

Not a fan of death, the small part of Natsu's consciousness that wasn't swamped in fear decided to roll away and try to run. He wasn't fast enough, as the mace snagged his scarf on its way deep into the stone. This stopped his flight much the same as a clothesline, stopping his neck and letting his body spin around that fulcrum. Natsu struggled with the life-saving gift that was now contributing to his untimely death as Erza worked to free her mace.

Realizing her advantage, the 'Queen of the Fairies' forwent the stuck mace for armored limbs and a trapped dragon. Her scary form advanced on the choking pinkette, and she delivered a savage kick to his midsection, forcing any air in his lungs up through his constricted neck.

Her kick had the secondary effect of moving the bleeding dragonslayer closer to the massive mace, granting his scarf a little give that his hands quickly found.

Erza drew back for another kick as Natsu unwrapped the scarf from his neck. She struck, hitting the pinkette's side as he rolled away, adding more torque to his spin. The glancing blow offered less resistance than the redhead expected, unbalancing her and sending her to the ground.

Natsu's boosted torque sent him up the spiky wall, and he met the ceiling as Erza's fall shook the floor. Seeking to take full advantage of his altitude, Natsu fired up his foot thrusters to drop onto the recovering requip mage.

"Fire Dragon's Iron Fist!" the dragonslayer shouted, aiming for the least protected part of his opponent—her head.

His fiery fist met her face with all his force behind it, generating soot and sand from the explosive and concussive forces.

Natsu took the dust cloud as an opportunity to set his nose back into the proper shape, which he had learned how to do after his first fight with Gray. He winced at the pain and dropped into a defensive stance, searching for the sounds of his opponent since his other options weren't available.

"Requip: Flame Empress!" the warrior shouted, giving away her present location in the dust.

The dragonslayer sprung, tracking the clanking of plate and scratching of its claws on the stone.

Erza was prepared. When the pink of his hair entered her vision, she slashed with her stylized sword, sending the pinkette flying.

Not stopping to wonder why her blades never drew blood, the requip mage strode towards the dazed dragonslayer.

Black iron met skin when Erza slugged the downed fire mage, embedding his skull deeper into the rock. A pained groan broke the silence, which was rewarded with another heavy-handed blow and Erza's speech.

"DON'T!" A punch.

"TOUCH!" Another punch.

"MY CAKE!" Erza thundered, laying into the limp pinkette again and again and again, each blow with more force than the last.

The armored mage rose when her opponent was sufficiently pulped and calmly walked to the opening. The only indication she gave of having fought was the blood dripping off her clawed gauntlets.


"Come on, Natsu," a voice growled deep within the dragonslayer's mind "Get up!"

Natsu recognized his surrogate father at once. "Igneel?" he mumbled through the blood dripping down his face as his vision slowly shifted from nothing to blurry mahogany and beige.

"I know you can do better, Natsu."

"But no man can beat Erza!" the pinkette internally spluttered. The dragon before him drifted in and out of focus.

"Do not forget who you are, Natsu Dragneel," Igneel rumbled, "You are more than just any man. You are my son, Heir of the Fire Dragons, and Fairy Tail's infamous Salamander. Fire itself bends to your will. Who can stop you?"

"E-Erza?" the dragonslayer supplied, "The Master?"

"No, son. You stop yourself. Your fear of hurting friends keeps you from surpassing them! How can you improve if you put others' opinions above your proficiency!?" the red one boomed. The dragon paused, letting Natsu think, before cutting deeper. "How can you protect what is yours when you don't improve?" he asked, deathly quiet.

Natsu was silent.

"You need to be strong without assistance," the great dragon said, the gravity in his tone growing as he spoke, "to wield the power to defend alone, for that is exactly how you will face your greatest foe."

With that, the dragonslayer's vision became unfocused again and slowly faded back to darkness.


When the pinkette's vision returned to him, he was in the same black-spiked chamber as he had been when Erza beat him. One sniff told him that Erza was gone, and a human that smelled like nothing he knew stood outside the doorway. He rose shakily, before stumbling across the chamber and tripping and falling out of the doorway.

"You're a little more out of it than normal, aren't you?" an unfamiliar voice drawled to the dragonslayer's left. Natsu climbed to his feet and turned to the stranger. He was a little shorter than the pinkette, with short dark-brown hair and a patchy shave. In his hands was a thick book Natsu couldn't read, for it was in a different language, and a granola bar. He wore a thin crimson jacket, unzipped, over an even thinner green shirt, which had a mountain and more words Natsu couldn't read on it, a pair of khaki cargo shorts with bulging pockets, and a worn pair of dusty, once-gray tennis shoes.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get here?" the dragonslayer asked.

The stranger cracked a smile and chomped his granola bar. "Who I am doesn't matter. What does is what I've come here to show you, Natsu Dragneel, and the truths that you'll soon learn," He lectured around the chunk of his food.

"Will it help me defeat Erza!?" the dragonslayer asked, all suspicions gone.

The stranger blinked at the pinkette, a little miffed, before rubbing his stubbly chin with the granola bar and frowning. "It isn't meant to help defeat Miss Scarlet specifically, but you should start beating higher-tier enemies afterward, so…" he trailed off, shrugging, "Yeah, I guess."

With that, the stranger turned and marched off into the stone warren. Natsu stumbled erratically after him, shaking off a concussion.


It was not long before the duo entered a gigantic cavern. Approximately 100 feet away from the tunnel mouth stood the Fairy Tail guildhall, nestled in the gap between two large boulders. The squat wooden bar proudly flew Fairy Tail banners, and a stretch of Magnolia roadway extended from the entryway. The great doors stood upright, not having had their weekly kick.

"Now Natsu," the stranger began, "Even though it looks normal, we have only ventured deep— where'd 'e go?" he asked, turning around to find that Natsu was no longer following him.

The dragonslayer stood at the guildhall doors, grinning from ear to ear as he instinctively thought of what he would do if Gray was inside (and Erza was not). Probably deck the ice prick until he admits I am the superior mage, Natsu thought, picturing the ice mage crying "Uncle" in a headlock. His smirk somehow got even bigger. Natsu reared back for his signature kicking entrance.

"Wait!" the poorly-shaven stranger yelled, but he was too late. Natsu's foot swung forwards, and the doors swung open.


[A/N: Readers beware. I intentionally made this horrific, and my own stomach is still turning. I recommend you scroll down to the next Author's Note if you consider yourself "squeamish". You can't miss it. Consider yourselves warned.]


Natsu did see Gray, but it was grueling to discern the ice mage from the pile of disemboweled, mutilated corpses which he lay in, a pool of fly-dotted blood surrounding the macabre ziggurat. The shocking, sickly-sweet stench of decay struck Natsu, its truck-like impact magnified by his draconic senses.

Natsu felt gore-soaked wooden planks hit his knees, but did not register falling. He heard the great wooden doors close behind him with a resounding boom, but did not remember leaving their path. His eyes looked away from the ghastly corpses, only to find another gruesome curiosity. The battle-scarred, burgundy-scaled head of a dragon leaned against a wall, its skull caved in and cranial fluids leaking out to join the pool of blood and gore that leaked from its severed neck. The scars were familiar to Natsu. Too familiar.

With a start, Natsu realized that it was Igneel's head he was looking at, and his stomach rebelled. Acid burned the pinkette's throat as his lunch escaped into the revolting mix already soaking into the floor.

Everywhere Natsu looked, a new carcass laid in an ever-growing pool of blood. His entire guild, dead and dismembered, maggot-eaten and scavenged upon, and there was not a single thing he could do about it.

Lucy, head lopped off and missing, twitching as her own blood coagulated around her exposed vertebrae. He didn't want to know.

Erza, hung up in a corner with her skin flayed from her body. Blood soaked the floor surrounding her as, one by one, her dead muscles visibly snapped.

Macao, in gristly chunks here, and there, and there, and there. And there.

Laxus, a broken-boned blob leaned against the upper-floor railing.

Elfman, hacked to pieces on the counter, his bones snapped to match the flesh.

Gildarts, squashed flat, missing an arm and a leg, in a pool of bone shards and blood. Bites had been taken out of him.

The list went on, from impaled on a table to half of a head.

As the dragonslayer's eyes roamed the corrupted guildhall, finding everyone he knew, his body stayed rooted to the spot next to his own vomit, as if paralyzed.

Natsu's eyes found snow-white hair in a bob cut, framing a pale, unblemished face in the back of the hall. His eyes widened.

"No," the pinkette whispered. As if freed from a trance, he unsteadily rose to his feet. His sandaled feet stood in blood, gore, and vomit, but he either did not notice or did not care.

"No," Natsu demanded, taking slow, unbelieving steps through the gruesome spectacle.

"No!" the dragonslayer snarled, his eyes thinning to furious slits when he registered that the beautiful blue eyes that should be in her face were gone. Claw marks ripped across her chest, her legs, her arms, her neck, ripping skin and muscle and exposing the bone. Empty sockets stared back at him, and a broken jaw hung from her skull. Bruises covered everything on her that was not sliced, save her face, as if reminding him of the beauty ripped from his life. Her thighs were further stained a mix of red and white with the scent of male, and Natsu knew that she'd been raped.


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Natsu reached the girl's corpse, and he could do nothing but seethe in impotent rage, for someone—

—No—

—something

Had done this to her.

To Lisanna.

To HIS Lisanna.

Natsu ignited, twitching like a madman, and the dragonslayer released a furious howl—

—Nay, a roar—

—of pain and fiery wrath fit to make Earth shake and Death run.

The flames raged around him, pulsing and ebbing, consuming everything in their growing grasp. The fires expressed the burning, murderous, undying hatred unique to young men and dragons far better than any sapient being could. They were not Natsu's usual flames, however, for they burned hotter, but not brighter, black instead of red-orange, and lent none of a fire's homely comfort. The only things offered by this inferno were ruin, retribution, and the cold embrace of death.

Natsu's Flames of Emotion had discovered his Wrath.

The black blaze grew, consuming the bodies and the desecrated guildhall. The supports buckled and the roof came down, but everything burned before it hit the ground.


The dragonslayer's flames sizzled and popped around him as they slowly died. Natsu clung to a blackened skeleton, which was warped and melted by the dark conflagration. His shoulders shook as he sobbed into it, but his tears evaporated as soon as they formed. His hair hung as limply as his shoulders, and he seemed to have aged 80 years.

Ashes crunched underfoot as the stranger walked toward Natsu, his green eyes scanning the area for any piece of wood that was not on fire. Finding none, he came to a stop thirty feet from the pinkette, wincing at the heat that radiated from Natsu's fire. "Do you understand what truly terrifies you now?" the stranger asked.

Natsu looked up, hearing him even though it was just a whisper, and nodded yes. "I will never be helpless again," he vowed, and a new fire of determination appeared in his eyes.

"Good," the stranger replied, "Do as Igneel says but do not just increase your power—master it. If you don't, use of those flames will kill everyone you hold dear. For now, though, you have a battle to win." With that, the stranger snapped his fingers.

"Wh—" Natsu asked confusedly as he disappeared with an audible pop. Lisanna's skeleton fell, settling in a bed of ashes.


So, what'd you think? Love it? Loathe it? Do I not need a beta as much as I think I do? Did I go overboard on the deathly details? Not Enough? Review to let me know!

And remember, to this Fanfiction author, there are ONLY TWO earthly delights better than Dr. Pepper: Barq's Root Beer and REVIEWS!?

11/25/18: I only got back around to this after Thanksgiving, but you guys' support (*cough hack* reviews, faves, and follows *cough cough* nudge) helps me keep cranking things out, and the praise is well recieved, with a grain of salt, mind you, because I wouldn't describe my writing as fantastic. The TurboPack, my officially unofficial (Can I trademark that?) honor society, is being relocated to my profile.

12/15/18: Nevermind. The officially unofficialTurboPack will be continued in the ending Author's Note of my primary story. I also posted a new poll on my profile to help me figure out exactly what I should do with my OC. But first, review replies!

To Moshiyari: I have plans for her...

To assorted guest reviewers: I put up a pairing poll, but I've taken it down now. I don't know if you've voted in it, but I must assume you have. Please stop leaving reviews of who you voted for, as I cannot take such reviews into account when I have a poll set up. I don't plan on making a harem story.

Without further ado, I give you the December 2018 pack:

Myself, the one and only TurboWolf

Puck100

EazyFade

xPug99x, whynot3993, REiNozomi, txenpai, Moshiyari, , ZKARYX, BiggerOnDaInside, DaedricSlayer1337, ZebraLord23, EarthDragonArnighte, and OpSmile

I made an excel spreadsheet to figure this out, and have graphed the emotional support of my reviewers. Maximum membership is 15. [*cracks whip* Appreciate me more, slaves!]