Oh, not a lot of happy campers with the last chapter.
Anyway, a longer chapter for the wait. Another favorite of mine~ Resbang has been an experience so far. Like, I've met two great artists and omg I am so excited to be working with them. Why have I not done this sooner?!
Ahem, back to the task at hand.
~Soprana
The fires that burned had no effect on her cool skin, her only priority to defeat the man currently stopping her from seeking out her beloved Gray. Her blue hair was frizzed, short bangs annoyingly tickling at her nose and eyes, but the ponytail remained intact.
Juvia had no time for her hair to blind her in battle.
Keith began to pace back and forth, those empty eyes skimming her in search of a weak point, licking his lips when he came across a possible opening. What a revolting looking man, with hollow cheeks and bony limbs. Juvia likened him to a body exhumed out of a shallow grave in the deserts of the far west. A walking corpse was before her and if she made a mistake, she would become a corpse too.
"You will never find whom you seek." Keith drawled ominously, twin swords still held firm within his fingers. His voice was that of an organ toll, sending chills through her body just at the tenor. The Reaper of Death was among them and his scythe awaited the first unlucky warrior.
"Juiva will find Gray. Juvia must keep her word to find him anywhere." She replied evenly, nervousness nettling at her wrists and burning at her chest. This felt different from other battles. Here, she could die, the realization sending waves of anxiety through her skin.
That time as a servant to Phantom Lord, a prideful branch of the Templar, still haunted her dreams. The jeering, the beating, the torture. If Gajeel had not kept an eye on her, she would have been lost before Gray could even start to plan her rescue.
She owed them both her life. A life to fight for those like she had been: defenseless and unable to obtain tools for protection. That was her creed.
Gray needed her. There would be no time for this clown.
"I see." The bony man replied softly, altering his feet slightly, but his opponent did not miss it. "Well then, time to start."
Juvia did not wait for a golden invite, charging forward with no sound and twisting her upper body as she had trained. Keith was ready, but her force was something the man never accounted for. She sent him sliding across the dirt, her own feet in hot pursuit after his retreat. He hardly had the chance to block before her blade was cleaving down upon him, sending showers of sparks sprinkling along their faces.
Teeth bared, the calamity around only a hindrance to the battle at hand, Keith sneered as Juvia hissed at him from behind crossed blades. "A woman fighting? This smells of the Dragon Lords. Everyone can fight in their eyes. Still-" He shifted, a booted sole lashing up to clobber Juvia's ribs like a pendulum hammer, sending her toppling off the man with a yelp.
"Still, a woman's feelings are a tricky trap. Tell me why you so desperately seek the son of Silver?"
The woman rolled, dragging the flat of her sword along as she hoisted herself to her knees before the Templar, hissing at the grinding of her bones and the ache of her muscles. Precious energy had been wasted in her dash towards Gray, and now she had little to defend herself long enough to reach him.
A novice mistake.
"Juvia's world would be cloudy without Gray. He took the rain away-" She breathed, using her weapon as a crutch to help her rise back up. Arms quivered as she struggled, all the energy sapped away with one strong kick to her side. It was like the air was stolen from her very lungs.
Keith waited for her, a small shred of decency compared to the massacre he had helped make, tilting his head as he regarded her like a curious tome to dissect.
"Gray...saved Juvia from a life of everlasting tears that fall like rain. Every day before him was a day Juvia cried. So, Juvia promised to protect her Gray...for saving her from the tears."
The crafted iron blade rose up to point at Keith, blue eyes of the wielder steely and sure. "And anyone that gets in the way...will answer to Juvia's feelings."
The bony man chuckled haughtily, his head cocked curiously. There was not an inch of him that showed mercy, but then again Juvia was not interested in mercy today.
Just keeping her creed and her promise.
"Humans are weak. Feelings and bonds are what hold us back from becoming great. The great divinities of our past never succumbed to such weak emotions. So, to surpass them, we must purge humanity of this anchor." The man replied evenly, eerily even, as he stalked closer to his barely standing prey. "This is the task of the Templar. True freedom in the form of sacrificing bonds and feelings for order."
His arms rose, weapons in hand, acting like divine hammers of judgment, waiting to send victims to the gates of Hell.
Juvia held no fear, meeting the dead gaze of her foe evenly. "It that really what you believe?" She whispered, no louder than the confession of a sin.
Keith answered with a maniacal grin. "Die."
Swords curved down, but the assassin had no intentions of obeying the orders of a Templar. Juvia lundged to the side, twisting on the balls of her feet as she screamed. "Juvia believed in the power of feelings and that bonds make us stronger!" Her voice reverberated off the crumbling walls and broken buildings, searing through the fires and over the bodies.
Her voice may have even reached the heavens.
Keith only had the time to turn his head, gasping "Impossible-", before Juvia's blade of tempered metal removed his head from his shoulders, ending his shock and the battle. The blood hardly bothered the woman as the corpse crumpled into a heap at her feet.
After all, when she was enslaved in Phantom Lord, her own blood had lost its value to her. What was the blood of an enemy, compared to protecting the blood of one she loved?
The blue haired woman allowed a moment of rest, her knees buckling but holding her up. With a crinkle of her dainty nose, she cleaned her soiled blade on the back of the fallen Templar's cloak, already calculating her next path to find Gray.
This battle had cost her time and energy. Precious resources that Gray might need.
Straightening, she carved a path onward, her pace a tad slower than before due to the stitch in her side.
"IGNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL!"
Sound disappeared as Igneel's face flickered with pain and shock, his sword slipping from weak fingers to clatter to the rocky ground. Time slowed, the hands of time stretching this moment out as far as possible for maximum effect. Suspended in this moment, Natsu watched numbly as his father's knees buckled and the man tilted backwards to crumple to the dirty ground.
The head of red hair laid to rest, eyes locked on Natsu with sorrow and regret. Without words, man to man, Igneel apologized with a mere glance, life slowly fading from his mortal container.
Acnologia huffed in triumph, dampened by the dead arm that dangled at his side, deliberately slow as he dragged the sides of his sullied blade on Igneel's clothing to clean it. Then, with a sniff, he stepped over Igneel's body to leave.
Time churned again, feeding shock into rage that burned hotter than the densest of volcanic magma. It clawed up the young assassin's chest, burning everything as it flowed through his veins. Never before had Natsu tasted the chemical burn so strongly, his emotions near nuclear in intensity.
"You Bastard!" He roared, his throat burning from the sandpaper words tearing from him. He was infuriated, and his common sense betrayed him as he drew his blade before charging with reckless care towards his footing or energy conservation. He was thirsty for vengeance, for blood to be payed in full, for this bastard to beg Igneel for forgiveness. Nobody degraded a great man like Igneel and walked away.
The black haired man paused and turned, raising his brows in interest at the pink haired man barreling at him with a near purple face and pupils shriveled to pinpoints. Veins protruded from the boy's temples, teeth bared like a wild and territorial animal.
Angry men tended to quiet with a noose around their necks. However, Natsu was an angry man...with Dragon Force.
Natsu darted around Igneel, swinging his sword with none of the aim or practice he learned from his father and Erza. Nothing of his training clicked in his thoughts. Only the need to make this enemy bleed.
Acnologia dodged with ease, as if avoiding a slow motion attack, following up with a swift blow from a kick to Natsu's torso. With an agonized grunt, the assassin dropped his blade as the kick gave him the sensation of broken ribs, curling over to dry heave. His enemy took that time to drive an elbow in Natsu's shoulder blade, sending the younger man into the ground with a yelp.
Senses overwhelmed with pain, Natsu lay face down on the ground, fingers digging trenches in the loose dirt as he clenched his fists. "You fucking bastard. I'll grind you into dust!" He snarled into the dirt, unable to look up as Acnologia leaned over to peer at him.
"Zeref will not be pleased if I kill his only salvation so soon." The war lord murmured, glancing to the fallen red head that was struggling for life. "It seems that the Indomitable Igneel failed to kill the one true threat to the free world."
Natsu's vision of his father was blocked with a single black boot, drawing his eyes up as far as he could see.
"My fight with you is not for this time, brat of Igneel. I, Acnologia, will kill you next time...when everything is in motion." He kicked dirt into the pink haired assassin's face for good measure, stepping away and out of Natsu's vision. "You are weak. Killing you now will spoil the sport."
The assassin could feel Acnologia's footsteps fading away, and rage cooled to sorrow and mourning. In the time he charged Acnologia, Igneel managed to turn his head back, eyes locked on his son once again with dazed eyes. "Na...tsu-" He wheezed softly, just enough for his boy to hear.
Gritting his teeth to ignore the aches, the young man clawed at the ground, dragging himself closer to his fallen father. Inch by inch, he neared the man, managing to bring himself up to his knees beside the body.
Igneel watched him with slow breathing, a humorless grin on his face as he reached his right hand out, weakly clasping his son's hand. "Natsu...remember what...I have taught you." He rasped, every inhale pausing as blood began to bubble from his lips. "Look to the future...I am with you-" Every breath came slower than the last, and Natsu trembled at the cold fact that his father was dying from a wound that cannot be treated.
He had been too slow, unable to save his father.
"...speak of your future...let it be your will...to...live." Igneel whispered, his chest unable to fill with air any longer. Eyes locked on the blurry image of his boy, the former assassin knowing his strength was at an end. With is final power, he fingered at the hilt of his crated sword, dragging it over his belly and pushed it into his son's free hand."T-Thank you...for teaching me...how to...love again."
The hand fell limp as dark eyes lost focus, the fluttering pulse that Natsu felt in the large wrist silent and still.
Igneel Dragneel lay broken on the battlefield, robbed of life and dignity.
Natsu felt his face was wet, but as tears dribbled to coat the dust covered ground. Everything was unreal. This had to be a horrible nightmare.
But Igneel remained still as stone, not a breath of life from the great man. Even in death, he looked proud and strong, a dragon till the end. Lifeless eyes stared up towards the sky, much like he did when he took Natsu on hikes through the mountains. The wonder that had been in the past was gone, replaced with cold mortality of the present.
Nevermore will Igneel stare at the stars and tell Natsu of the divine beings that created the world or of the stars that protected the now.
With trembling fingers, Natsu tenderly closed Igneel's eye lids, passing him off as resting. He had that familiar look during naps along the path of the vineyards, escaping from meetings with his sons in tow.
Igneel had been a great father, one that Natsu could have never hoped to be. He had so many teachings of life and love, many of which flew over the pink haired head of his son. A man strong enough to take in two children off the streets, teach them to fight, and trust them to follow the right path.
"I...h-had so much to tell you...so much to s-share." The man blubbered, tears burning his eyes and carving down his cheeks. "I wanted you to see how much I had grown!" He shouted, fists pounding the dirt, his forehead resting on his father's still chest.
The smell of Igneel's cologne stained his face, still fresh even after battle. Crisp, light, but still Igneel.
Natsu felt the quivers of his body lessen, the trembling of sorrow slowing down and reforging into something else. It was not like the blind rage. No. This was something deeper, hungrier, more dark.
It was thirst. Thirst for revenge. Igneel was dead while his murder walked free. That was something that could not work.
Natsu had a name: Acnologia. Now, after the name...came blood.
"Do not worry." He hissed through his clenched teeth, carefully folding Igneel's arms across the still chest.
"I am going to grind his ass into dust." He promised, taking his sword and the sword Igneel passed to him: the twin blades forged from the same sheet metal.
Blades of the Dragneel family, made to fight side by side.
"I promise, he is going to pay." Natsu said finally, pushing himself to stand and stare down at his father's smiling face.
"He is going to regret ever crossing blades with a Dragneel."
Juvia expected many things upon her reuniting with Gray. A heartfelt kiss, a loving smile, maybe even a question of children. Oh, blessed the day he would propose to her with the scenery of war in the background.
Finding him laying prone with a blade at his throat was not on that list. The man holding her beloved at sword point looked achingly like her beloved, thought much more aged and rugged.
Almost like a sire. However, her attentions were much more narrowed at the moment.
"No! Gray!" She screamed, the sound tearing up her throat painfully as her eyes began to burn with the terror that he was going to die. He was going to die and she was too far and too tired to save him.
The older man snapped his head around to stare at her, bewildered.
Gray seized the chance, drawing up his legs and kicking the man in the chest, knocking Silver back. The tides changed quickly, the Templar stumbling back and falling...impaled on a jagged spike of wood jutting out from the debris.
The weapon fell from his hands as he gagged, wide eyes falling to the pillar protruding from his chest. Gray watched in horror as his father fell limp, a pained smile on bloody lips.
It was a turn of events that nobody saw coming. Juvia stayed rooted to the spot at the brazen display of brutality from Gray, watching the man that held her heart stand and walk up to the dying man with a frown. He held no weapon, merely crossing his arms as he stared at the elder man with something akin to curiosity.
"I know you, Pops. I sure as hell know you never sold out to Deloria, so stop bullshitting." The black haired man ordered calmly, only mildly upset by the slowly approaching death of his father by his hand.
Juvia, however, stiffened at the word 'Pops'. This man that held Gray at sword point...was his sire after all?
Silver smirked, blood trailing from his lips as he regarded his child.
"S-Should have known...you were too smart f-for that." He wheezed, shakily reaching into his trouser pockets for a small leather bound booklet of significant age. The edges were frayed and the cover scratched, but Silver took care to make sure it stayed blood free as he offered it to Gray slowly.
"I p-played to Deloria...f-for one thing-" The old man broke out in a cough, splattering his front.
The younger assassins tensed, but held still as Silver controlled his wheezes. "-Zeref...and his creation, END."
He sharply inhaled over Gray's questions, dark eyes fluttering with a struggle to stay conscious. "I...s-searched for END...to k-kill it before it awakens. M-Mankind will not survive a monster l-like..." The dying man trailed off with a fluttering exhale, crows feet crinkling at the stabbing pain dragging his thoughts to oblivion.
"Hey...Hey!" Gray said, stepping close to grasp the shoulders of his father harshly.
"Gray-" Juvia whispered, but he ignored her as Silver blinked hazily.
"The...Assassin O-Order...the world...will be slaughtered by END...G-Gray...s-son...kill END...then Zeref." Silver whispered, his voice faint and wispy. One trembling hand rose to rest on Gray's head, ruffling sweaty hair gently.
Juvia had the mind to look away as both father and son shared a moment of silent tears. Teeth worried her bottom lip as she looked around, scanning for enemies and avoiding intrusion on the final moments.
She kept her eyes away...until she heard Gray's shouting curse that no doubt signaled the end of his father. Blue eyes snapped to witness her beloved, fist clenching the journal so hard his fingers bleached white, teeth bared in rage at the sight of his father dangling from the spike.
"I will find END." The man hissed hatefully, dark eyes drifting to stare at Juvia. "And then Zeref."
His voice was drone and dead, the rage and anger buried deep beneath the sorrow. Juvia felt the bitter curl of apprehension in her gut, an instinctual warning towards the unfamiliar stare of her lover.
Though, her heart beat warmly, reminding her Gray would never dare harm her.
"Juvia will follow you." She simply replied, sheathing her sword and sending one respectful glance to the deathly still corpse. "Shall we give him a proper send off?"
After all, this man was part of Gray. Without him, she would have never met the assassin.
Gray seemed to think on her question before he turned away, eyes closed. "He died like a true assassin. Let nature take him now."
"What about Fairy Tail?" Juvia piped up again, falling into step beside him.
Gray frowned, brows lowering. "They will manage. For now, I will find END before it finds them."
Lucy almost did not make it around the corner, her feet skidding for footing as her sword shielded a downward swing from Jackal. The clang of metal nearly burst her eardrums, drawing her attention solely on the frizzy blond man.
"Stop running, girl! Let me cut you up into teeny tiny pieces!" Jackal cackled, executing a very audacious swing that had her ducking to keep her head attached.
The running forgotten, Lucy twisted and focused her offensive, dropping and swinging out her leg to sweep Jackal off his feet.
He leaped up like a cat, roundhouse kicking her and sending her tumbling down a hill of cobblestone and stray parts. Little rocks tore at her skin, bruising her and taking her breath away. When the chuck of mortar stopped her descent, Lucy suddenly wished she as still rolling.
The fall from the parachute was bad...but rolling down a hill of rocks and nails into a giant chunk of rock and wood felt awful. Her body screamed with agony, exhaustion, and defeat. For once, the woman wanted to lay down, give up, and rest. She wanted to sleep and let Jackal and Franmalth figure out what to do with a downed enemy.
Natsu would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself either.
With a groan, she forced every muscle into action, pushing herself up and rolling back over the chunk of rock, narrowly avoiding the swing of a blade where she had been resting.
The woman thought about the life Fairy Tail fought to give her, the world Natsu opened to her. As long as she breathed, she would enjoy the life they worked so hard to give her.
She could feel him, Jackal, right on her tail. His boots nearly clashed with her heels as she sprinted, the alarming feeling of caution spreading along her spine. Months of practice warned her that Jackal was attacking from behind, and her reflexes clicked into overdrive. She stopped and whirled around with expert change of momentum, dancing around the pursuing Jackal like a ballerina with thorns made of tempered steel.
Tempered steel that bit into the backs of Jackal's legs, cutting him down to crash to his knees. Only, Lucy hardly gave him time to curse her existence. Fingers working to twirl the blade around, Lucy brought the blunt hilt down on the back of Jackal's exposed neck, knocking him out and letting him crash face first into the hill. His momentum dragged him down the hill farther, undoubtedly leaving road burn along the Templar's entire front side.
Ouch.
Lungs burning with exertion, Lucy shifted to step around the body, only to scream with absolute agony. A trail of white hot pain seared across her side, branding her with an open wound that stole her survival haze enough to remind her that there was one more pursuer. One that she had forgotten about.
Struggling to breathe, Lucy clutched her side and twisted to attack, only to flinch as a boot met her square in the chest. The blonde careened over Jackal and crashing down the rest of the hill, her body curling to a cartwheel.
A skillful cartwheel that met an abrupt end at the base of the street, when her back crashed flat on a pile of rubble, blinding her to excruciating pain she had never known. She wanted to stop existing for a moment, as long as the pain ended. The blast of torment raced up her spine quick enough for her to fear permanent damage, the little punctures hardly a concern while the muscles contracted to stop the ache.
All the while, Franmalth, the one eyed wonder, stalked down the street with a grin. He had her down, and Lucy was certain she could not force herself up this time. Even her legs were affected by the blast of shock to her back, jelly filled and limp.
Her shirt curled up, revealing her tool belt for the world to see. The ring of keys, free of the veil and the leather pouch, glittered in the fire light and the rays of the sun. At her side, the pistol that Natsu gave her lay ready, just out of reach. The impact must have knocked it from beneath her belt, Lucy thought hazily, whining as she forced at least her right hand to reach for the weapon.
Franmalth noticed her struggle, but his attention was far more attuned to the ring of glittering keys.
"At last." He breathed, his blade lowering to his side as he blatantly stared at her belt tightened at her bare hips, his stare less than respectful. "The keys. Lord Zeref has been searching for the keys to begin END."
Lucy's pinky hooked the trigger guard, dragging the firearm to her hand. Before the man noticed her successful retrieval, she hardly aimed as she fired at him, hitting him in the left shoulder.
He reeled back with a cry, the keys now forgotten in favor of teaching her to fear his judgment. The bullet bit into him, but hardly stalled him enough for her to escape.
"Hand over the keys." He hissed, stepping closer, sword raising high above his head.
Despite the fear of death, Lucy clutched the keys with her free hand. "I would rather die." She whispered with loathing, wincing as the wound to her side gave a throb for attention. The pistol slipped from her fingers, and Franmalth sneered.
"One measly bullet cannot kill me. Now, girl, this chase is over" The arm holding the sword tensed, preparing to cleave downward and sever her into two pieces.
Lucy flinched, drawing back into the rubble as if to meld through it. Her heart pounded painfully, sending more blood oozing through her burning wound. Her vision was blurring, everything fading in the prospect that this was is.
She was going to die.
The gunshot awoke her, drawing her back to the clear sight of Franmalth dropping his blade with a choke, a hole over the center of his heart. Hands moved to clutch at it, but the life was already fading from the single eye.
"Two bullets should do the trick then." A familiar voice growled from behind the rubble as the defeated man fell back to rest on the ground, a threat no more.
Looking around, Lucy felt the flush of relief at the sight of Natsu striding over to kneel beside her, face stern and cold at the sight of her wound. He said nothing, using his teeth to rip at his sleeve and place the scrap fabric over the cut, brows furrowed and mind undoubtedly angry.
Never mind that he just shot a man...that he killed a man.
He only spoke after he covered the injury, yanking her into his embrace and snarling, "I told you to run." Oh, the anger was there. Maximum anger enough to make her insides curl in fear.
Instead, euphoria of being alive drew out her more sarcastic self. "You told me to evacuate civilians. You are welcome." She quipped softly with a snort, flinching as he buried his face into her neck, smearing blood and sweat along both of their skins.
His hands came to grasp fists full of her clothing, nearly clinging to her as he hissed, "You really need to learn to listen." The trembling of his embrace suddenly told Lucy that not everything was alright.
Not anymore.
Thank you for the reviews! They really get me through the slow paces and keep me writing. I wanna thank everyone that has stuck with me so far, we still got a hike to go, with much more in store! Are you ReAdY? *drums beat in the distance*