Eirik Erwin Scylding had a literal falling out with the gate to the Outer Sanctum, a mysterious location within Asgardia to which only those of Dwarven descent can access. Teena has begun to get impatient with the group, pressing them harder than ever to enter the unknown imposing structure. Erwin has become suspicious of the members, but remains undeterred to explore his previous homeland.


"It's open," I announced, chuckling awkwardly after my fall. The rest of the group save for a few shared in the amusement. I got up, dusting myself off before entering the dark structure known as the Outer Sanctum. The others followed shortly thereafter. With the place being too dark for me to see, I drew Trinket and turned the emerald blade on.

And proceeded to run into the wall. I shook my head after peeling myself off, and looked up to see the wall. We had reached a split in the passage, only three meters in. I was shocked, almost blown away at how sudden this development had come. I immediately activated the Goggles and told them to map out the area when they entered Battle Mode. The purple lenses snapped closer to my face as the thick black frame thinned out and hugged my face all the way to my ears. Due to the pitch black atmosphere, it switched to a sort of magic radar, sending pulses of magic to the surrounding area and building a picture based on the echoes it received. I still had the blade on standby, however due to the proximity I decided that keeping the blade active was not the brightest idea in the world. The light coming from the blade should be enough to light the way for the other members while ensuring that they knew I was armed and dangerous.

"I got left," Greg hollered, leading his group around with his own specialized pair of Magic Seeker Goggles. He had a Light Stick, a glowing rod used by police officers when lighting conditions were dim. He led a group of his own including Teena and her lieutenant down the corridor. I was stuck with Arnold and a bunch of other members.

"Alright, be careful," I warned. "If you have a light source, use it. Try not to get lost, and don't get into trouble that you can't get out of. Stay close."

The group followed close behind as we traversed the labyrinth. And that wasn't a joke, it was becoming more and more of a maze by the second. Numbers on doorways led to rooms seemingly designed to be an armory for singular teams. Skeletons littered the ground, showing proof that the place had been overrun given the number of blast marks, holes, and broken armor. If outside was a massacre, this was a one-sided warzone. The Dwarves might have had high capacities for magic energy, but they had zero resistance to it.

As the small group broke apart to desecrate the bones, one of the members remained behind with Arnold and I, giving us worried glances as she followed.

The corridors eventually met back up at a central chamber. According to my Goggles, we had just gone around in a semicircle, as had Greg when he arrived. The circle seemed rather large, about 75 meters in diameter, and had a singular set of double doors to it. The lock was physical, and seemed a bit primitive. This was done by the invaders, not the inhabitants.

"Stand back," I ordered, angling Trinket in such a way that the blade would cut the lock on ignition. I ignited the blade and sliced the lock right off. The point of the blade was blocked off, almost as if a barrier had been erected around the door. I touched it, hoping the barrier would give way like earlier. It didn't, not even a single ember or crack. Actually, my hand passed right through to the metal circles on the other side of the barrier. Perhaps it was a protected puzzle?

As a matter of fact, it was. I could tell what the puzzle was just by looking at it, as it took the shape of a misaligned magic circle. I took each circle and moved it in such a way that the circles aligned perfectly. The door clicked open with a loud knock, and I pushed the doors open.

Inside was quite a sight. It looked like the internal mechanisms for a turret-based weapon. Of course, it had no power, but the ammunition belts still remained. The gears that would allow the weapon above to turn had rusted and showed signs of dirty grease and misuse, but with some TLC the turret could move again. The trigger mechanisms had clogged and rusted, but they could undoubtedly be restored. The scope just needed to be cleaned, with a few mirrors needing to be replaced. As for the gun itself, I could see above that the battery had been torn out completely. Given the two invaders, it was clear to me just who had been behind this assault. Acnologia was turning out to be more of a threat by the passing moment. And a bit of a nuisance. Thankfully for us today, he's not here anymore.

Teena admired the construction of such a battery, citing it as more advanced than any weapon anyone had at this time. More advanced, I agreed; more powerful, I couldn't disagree more. The Jupiter Cannon was more devastating a weapon, given the smaller caliber shells on the ammunition feed tracks. Speaking of which, I took one and had the Goggles analyze it. It seemed to be a hollow shell with explosive dust implanted in it. The Goggles put the design as Advanced, citing that the dust was still being tested and reproduced and that the shell's sheer size was made less for a gun and more for an anti-armor cannon. It predicted that, given the design of the turret and the shell's design, the artillery could potentially fire these like a machine gun. Just slower, it noted. I almost laughed out loud at its observations. With how big these shells were, I doubted that it would need to shoot more than one round to destroy a threat. Just what were these Dwarves thinking when they built these things? What threat were they trying to protect themselves against?

"Hey, Teena," Greg called. "I get that the emplacement is cool and all, but we do have the rest of the Outer Sanctum to explore."

"We're gonna go ahead and check out the rest of the Sanctum," I informed her. "You guys keep doing… whatever you're doing. I need to figure this place out some more."

Seriously, what were they fighting? I asked Berserker. Why need such big and powerful shells? And why not use them against Acnologia?

I think they did, Berserker answered. Didn't you see it torn off its turret? I think he wouldn't have needed to if they didn't use it against him, don't you?

Fair point. For now, I wanted to keep exploring the Sanctum. I wanted to see if it leads to the massive megastructure. I went to the door and found the same kind of lock. I did the same to it as the one for the turret emplacement and it opened. Oh, the joys of being a wizard. A Dwarven Runic Wizard, but a wizard nonetheless.

The door opened to yet another labyrinth. I groaned in frustration, hating this 'Sanctum' more and more each passing second. Wasn't there a map to this place or something?

Wait a moment. There might have been, and I forgot to ask. I turned to Arnold, the one supposedly with such maps.

"Arnold," I called to the Survey Corps Sergeant looked my way, donning his helmet. Did it have echolocation or something? I kept hearing a rapid pinging sound coming from it.

"Yes," he replied. I strode over to him swiftly.

"Do you have a map to the Outer Sanctum," I asked. He searched through his selection of maps, rummaging through his belongings to find them. He pulled one out labeled 'Outer Sanctum', with Dwarven writing on it. He handed it to me, as I seemed to know the Dwarven tongue.

"Okay, let's see here," I muttered, reading the writing on the map. Sure enough, it told me what I needed to know.

The explorer following me tapped my shoulder and pointed to a room on the map. It was just a janitorial closet, but I agreed. If she wanted to speak, she could speak. I walked over there with her, Greg, and Arnold, closing the door behind us.

"Alright, what's up," I asked her. She took off her helmet, revealing markings on her face. Her hair was cut shorter than I thought would be necessary for an expedition. A scar or two marked her face more, telling me that she had been through some things.

"You three are in danger," she said hurriedly. "You have to leave when you get the chance." Silence erupted between us. Us guys replied with a collective 'huh'.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Arnold folded his arms. "What kind of danger are we talking about?"

"The kind where you could be hunted down by the strongest military empire in the world," she replied. "Teena is not an explorer, certainly not from Fiore. She is a military archivist from the Alvarez Empire, and she is looking for ways to make our empire unstoppable."

The other guys went silent. I had to roll my eyes.

"What kind of ways," I asked, only partially believing her story. The identity part I kinda figured, albeit a bit surprising; about the danger, I had some obvious doubts. "And why are you telling us this? Aren't you with her?"

"I am, but I don't care about the punishments," she responded. "She is looking for powerful weapons and designs to further strengthen her Emperor's army. Once she has the designs, she will return to Alvarez and build an army. Once the army is created, she plans to return to Fiore in force, invade your home, and conquer your continent. But before she leaves, she will have you all killed or locked away, never to be found again."

This is where I went silent too. How ruthless could one archivist be? Greg, however, had questions.

"Geez lady, what are you to her?" Greg questioned, a concerned look on his face. The woman's face fell, clearly upset by the question. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked that, my bad."

"No, you need to know," she remained adamant. She unbuttoned the collar of her shirt and let the left wing of the shirt fall slightly. I wanted to look away, but the burn marks just to the left of her collarbone kept my eyes glued. My eye twitched as recognition set in. The brand wasn't meant for just anyone, and the number of tallies just above it infuriated me to no end. "I am bound to serve her as though she were Emperor Spriggan himself. She did, after all, pay a great deal for my ownership."

Greg fumed. He turned violently and punched the door with enough force that it broke off and shattered against the concrete wall. His fist kept glowing with pure magic energy even after he left the room. Angry howls could be heard coming from his direction mere moments later. Teena's… servant buttoned her shirt back up and straightened it out enough to be seen as messy at best, possibly to seem as though that was her reason for calling me to the closet. I exited the place, eyes burning red with sheer fury. Arnold tried not to notice the Berserker Venting flowing from my eyes, glowing from the intensity of the flames.

"Is that what it's like to get mad," Arnold asked. I nodded, trying to calm down and breathe in the slim circular hallway. "Oh. Well then, remind me to never piss you off." I swatted him upside the head, earning a grunt and an admission of guilt.

"Bidh am bana-bhuidseach sin a 'pàigheadh airson a gnìomhan," I declared in Dwarven. (A/N: for those who want to understand what was spoken, I used Scots Gaelic according to Google Translate. I will also put the words I translated in italics because I don't trust Google Translate to turn what it tells me back into what was asked) That witch will pay for her deeds.

I looked down heavily on slavery. In fact, I nearly killed a criminal for trying to sell someone. That was actually the first time I cut loose with Berserker, as well as the first bounty I ever took. Poor guy had to wait chained to a hospital bed while he waited for his sentence. It just goes to show how much I detest the purchase and sale of human life, no matter who or why.

Greg returned to my side as we checked out more of the doors. Turns out, the Outer Sanctum was full of turrets and artillery, barracks and armories, command centers and Jotun Coordination Rooms. I waited patiently for Teena and her crew to finish their searches and looting before opening the door to the Inner Sanctum. It was nightfall before they finished, leaving me even more annoyed with the Alvarez nuisances.

That night bore no discussion with Berserker, only numerous ways by which I could beat and/or end Teena.


The next morning, I woke up early and, without a second's hesitation, opened the gate to the Inner Sanctum. Greg and Arnold were both awake enough to witness my opening the door, Teena waking up just in time to see me finish opening the door.

"Why couldn't you wait for us to get up," Teena grumbled as she woke up. I glared daggers at her.

"Because I have no patience left," I nearly snarled. I had to disguise my hatred of her as impatience, else she would probably end my life or spring her trap early. "I want to finish exploring so we can do some actual archaeology."

She kept a straight face for a few moments before growing a grin. She muttered something about me being too excited. She bought it. My glare kept on her until she left my line of sight.

We entered the Inner Sanctum to find a massive room, a huge command room, throne room, administrative center, and magic research lab, all of which had second stories with turrets. I climbed up to the second story for each of the turrets to see if any of them were still active. While inactive, none of them were destroyed.

"Hey, Teena," I called. "Greg, Arnold, all of you. Head out to the front and see if this thing fires. I'm gonna shoot out to the mountains."

Once they signaled that they were ready, I spun the turret around. While not difficult, it wasn't easy. These were made to be used by Dwarven soldiers, not children. I was most impressed with how hard it was to move it, as I was about as strong as Elfman. Laxus too, but he also had stronger magic to help him out.

"Man, I can't imagine how strong the Asgardia Infantry could have been had they actually went for it," I grunted, pushing the ancient turret around with all my might.

My muscles were sore by the time I had it turned around. I looked at the levers beside the turret's rotation levers. The one on the lower right read 'elevation', showing an angle for me using hydraulics which had to be getting old. I pulled the lever and heard the barrels rise to the angle. Looking through the scope, I saw that the sights were aimed directly at the mountain in the distance.

Now to find the trigger. I looked around and sought the cannon triggers for nearly a minute before finding them. On the upper left of the levers was a much smaller lever labeled as 'Fire'. I pulled it appropriately and waited. I needed not wait long as the turret used the last of its power to load in a single shell into both barrels. The machine fired two shots before shutting down completely. The turret's blast were so loud that my ears stopped hearing for almost two minutes, knocking me off balance in the process. When it fired, I could feel the shockwaves in my chest before the sounds ever reached my ears.

When I regained my hearing and balance, I heard Arnold and the others excitedly racing towards me, jumping like children playing games. They were apparently in awe from the sheer power of the artillery turret.

"THAT WAS TOTALLY FREAKING AWESOME," Greg shouted, laughing like a maniac the whole time. "That had to be thirty kilometers in fifty seconds. Dude, I have to show you. Take off your Goggles, here's mine."

I donned Greg's Goggles and looked through them. On the lenses was a captured image of the explosion at its biggest. It declared the radius to be a mere 20 meters, but I had been over there while we were coming over to the ruins. That was 15 meters.

"Your instruments need calibration," I declared. He simply kept cackling like a madman as he climbed down from the turret. "As for me, I need ear plugs. Desperately."

In the throne room, I found a bunch of documents regarding diplomatic events dating from as far back as PH594, which meant 594 years before X001. The Magic Council would enjoy seeing these. Among them were details of defending themselves from Dragons and Gods using something called 'Nidavellir'. Specifically, it kept mentioning these '348mm Valhalla Cannons', stating that they were lucky that they and some '1018mm Surtur Cannons' were online. It also mentioned a partially destroyed 'Ragnarök Spinal Mounted 2700mm Cannon', but I had no idea what that could be. The earlier ones mentioned that they still had fuel in this Nidavellir thing, but later on they said that they had to shut off a 'Lacrima Reactor' because they were running too low on fuel. They had yet to even mention Jotuns until they mentioned that they had a bustling city built now that the Dragons and Gods were leaving them alone. The Outer Wall was never mentioned until the year X212.

What really confused me was the fact that they never mentioned a King, let alone a Kingdom. They just called their leader a leader, no fancy titles or anything. Maybe the name was coincidentally similar most of the time, but the leader was never known as anything other than just that: a leader. So why was there a throne room if there was no king? Maybe this was just a room for parlay with other countries at the time?

In the command room, we found a detailed map of the city, sparing no facts. It showed where the Jotuns last were according to the coordinator, where each turret was, where the barracks were, and where the squadrons were supposed to be. There were also designs of the turrets, explaining that Lacrima Reactors were needed to supply enough power to run the turrets. The Jotuns ran off of smaller variants of the Lacrima Reactors. And speaking of those Reactors, there was also a design for those as well. They had Lacrimas lowered into vats of Liquid Etherium, which would provide insane amounts of magic power for any machine depending on the size of the lacrima used. A pearl-sized lacrima might power a small two-wheeled magic motorcycle for years, one the size of a volleyball could give enough energy to power a mansion filled with magic-powered machinery for a few years. The biggest one they claim to possess uses a lacrima 5 meters in diameter and uses a full gallon of Liquid Etherium every minute. The biggest tank of the stuff they ever had was, according to the first commander, well over five million gallons. That would last the largest lacrima almost two months. But where was this Reactor? They had lacrimas the size of beach balls powering the city generators, which fed energy to the city when it was active. I needed to see this reactor real quick.

In the magic research room, we found a broken lab filled with experimental alternatives to Liquid Etherium. According to the journals, the last days of Asgardia yielded only failures. No substance could make a synthetic Liquid Etherium capable of what they required. The Goggles told me a different story entirely, as the synthetic forms seemed to have crystallized over time and become alternative forms to Crystal Etherium. The sheer amount of Mana within each one was beyond incredible. Coincidentally, they seemed capable of alloying with most metals to create more powerful ingots. Maybe the Dwarves overlooked this? I took one or two of the samples, looking for similar compositions as I collected. One of these could go to the Magic Council for replication and research.

I continued my search, ignoring Teena's adamant pleas for me to hurry up and open the next door. Eventually we got bored and left for the administration area. Within that area was a selection of drawers filled to the brim with folders, categorized by year. Each of those folders had a multitude of papers, most of which had to do with trade, economy, production, and research expenditures. Military was its own thing, and kept its things to itself. While not entertaining, the papers did catch a glimpse of trade deals with other cities and nations. It became increasingly obvious that the city was betrayed, as trade deals with a number of other city-states reminiscent of current towns in modern Fiore could be seen active up until the bitter end. Heck, even deals with Dragons and Dragon Slayers could be seen dotted here and there with the research department. Well, the invaders weren't wrong about the deals with Dragons part when they invited Acnologia to the party. Perhaps Metalicana took Gajeel here once after all, seeing the name and description before me. Let's see… Description: make Dragon Magic compatible with humans. Yup, probably did.

"Come on, chop chop," Teena clapped annoyingly. "Don't you want to see inside the tower?" I growled, annoyed at the woman's pushiness. "Come on, we don't have all day."

"Actually, we have two full weeks," I replied. "You said so yourself on the request, didn't you?" She stammered, trying to come up with excuses. I ignored her until I was ready to move on, searching for things of value. I did come across a study as to why Dwarves couldn't use magic. The answer, sad as it was, was quite simple after all. They weren't aware of its presence in the world. This lack of awareness, despite huge reserves for magic and Ethernano, even despite the ever-strange ability to swim in Liquid Etherium for short periods of time, led to the inability to generate magic energy within their body. They felt this way because they would rather their strength and technology be the only things that disrupted the delicate balance that was Nature.

Wardens had no such issues, although they generally required a jumpstart roughly the size of their magic reserves, or their Origin as would be later coined by the archivists in the Magic Council. While both sought balance, only one could reshape it if need be. An untrained Warden's capacity for magic was so high that, if I were reading this correctly, the Ten Wizard Saints would need to train another lifetime and unlock their Second Origin if they wanted to compete. Despite this, a Dwarf generally had twice the capacity to hold magic energy as a Warden. This means that, were it not for my inability to generate magic energy, I could potentially dwarf Makarov's own power, no pun intended. Well, at least I can figure out how to keep up or make up. Besides, I don't need magic; I just want it so I can fit in.

"Come on, I'm getting impatient," Teena chastised. I rolled my eyes at this.

"As if you haven't been impatient for some time already," I returned. She glared at me, which I returned with a Berserker flare. Guess who won that staring contest. "Anyways, I'm ready now. Greg, Arnold, you guys ready yet?"

Greg nodded, carrying the recipes for the synthetic Liquid Etherium. Arnold gave me a thumbs up, holding the maps, designs, and blueprints to almost every structure in the entire city in a Hammer Space Briefcase. Someone really wants souvenirs, looking more at Teena whose buddies and herself have taken almost a dozen 'artefacts' (guns) and hid them away in personal bags as if I couldn't tell. I had to stop myself from facepalming at their sheer stupidity sometimes.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," I declared. It took me a bit to realize that something was off. "Uh, guys? Where's the actual door to the tower?" The whole group, myself included, collectively sweatdropped at our blunder. If we wanted to get anywhere near the tower, which I assumed was the Nidavellir mentioned in the documents, we would need to first find an entrance of some kind.

With that mistake behind us, we split up and searched for an entrance to Nidavellir. They wouldn't be around the Outer or Inner Cities, as we searched there already and found none; had we found one, we'd already have entered the thing.

Just before night fell, we found our mysterious entrance behind a bookcase in the military command center. I nearly died from the cliché, but it got better. Behind the bookcase was not just a passage - it was a painting. A painting of what looked to be an Admiral, but a painting nonetheless. But wait, there's more! Behind the painting was a rather lewd poster, one that was suspiciously close to 3 meters tall, as were the painting and the bookcase. And behind the lewd poster was a vault door, which I simply tore off the hinges. And behind the vault door was yet. Another. Freaking. BOOKCASE! Oh, burn the wilted Shamrock, these guys did not know the meaning of overkill, I could swear it.

Finally, after a lewd calendar, another lewd poster, another painting, another vault door, and a wooden door, we finally reached the actual entrance. Greg was the one who thought of the cliché thing, but I don't think he foresaw just how many we would go through. I mean, how much more obvious can one get? Bless the golden Shamrock, that was rough. And before we even cross that bridge, no I do not worship flowers - it's just the way I curse.

Anyways, cue dramatic music because our 24-strong posse has arrived at yet another area to explore. The metal door looked nothing like a door, but it clearly was our ticket to the tower. It had no hinges, no handles, no strange textures. It just had a panel and a doorframe to it. The panel had no power to it, so activating the door wasn't an option. Furthermore, the door appeared jammed and seemed to be hiding a trap of some kind. However, the trap had no power, so it wouldn't spring even if we hit it. Brute strength it would be, but first I had to cut open the hastily done welding job which sealed it shut.

The air whistled out of the way of the magic blade as I ignited Shamrock. I took the emerald blade and inserted it into the part of the door that was welded together, carefully dragging it along the shape of the doors as I cut through the welds like a hot knife through butter.

The last weld split with emerald glows on each side, and I heard a thunk on the other side. I think I cut too much, could be just me. Regardless, I used my Dwarven strength to pry open the metal doors to reveal a small tripod-mounted turret that was deactivated due to faulty wiring. On the inside was a broken part of the door, still glowing emerald. I let loose a tiny 'oops' and moved on. The inside was a strange combination of shapes and colors, but all of it was metal or padded armor with the strength of metal. Even the Goggles could make no sense of the structure. I think Greg put it best:

"What kind of acid tripping fourth wall hellhole did we just walk into?"


Next time on Fairy Knight: the team has made it to the very epicenter of Asgardia to find a strange place unlike any other. Actually, it might not even belong to this world in the first place. Only minor looking reveals that this tower, Nidavellir, is the home of the Dwarves. Thing is, it might not be a tower at all. Even the weapons expert Teena has no words to explain this place, but Erwin might have one. One he found in the dictionary, with no human equivalent anywhere in the world.

I do not own Fairy Tail, Manga or Anime. Hiro Mashima does, although Funimation did create the Anime adaptation. Greg is just Greg, and everything else is just a fan with a plan because he's a MAN. Sorry, I just had to pull an Elfman. Too funny, that guy.

General Texas, signing out.