Author's preamble:

This story starts at a retelling of events from Episodes 258 onward. On the off chance you've gotten through the Tartaros Arc but want to watch/read the rest of Fairy Tail, be warned: I'm going to be spoiling the hell out of it. The point of no return lies in this very chapter.

Natsu grinned from ear to ear as he raced across the surface of Tartaros's floating base, the Cube.

Or rather "stumbled," as the fight with the Mad Gear King or whatever his name was had really done a number on him. He could hear the jerk sprawled out behind him, coughing and sputtering from the mouthful of fire Natsu fed him. How his lungs hadn't melted, Natsu didn't know.

What he did know, though, is that he had the Book of End in his hands and his dad Igneel was back in town and the dragon was going to tell him everything he wanted to know! Sure, he was busy brawling in the sky with the baddest dragon of 'em all, Acnologia. Sure, the rest of Fairy Tail was picking itself up from fighting these Tartaros freaks. For once, though, Natsu decided to be a little selfish.

I've been waiting my whole life for these answers, he thought, and no life-or-death fight with a black dragon is gonna stop me!

Vaulting over what used to be a stone wall on the Cube's bottom surface (man, this Cube thing was weird), it occurred to him that a life-or-death fight was all the more reason to ask his dad now.

As he ran, spying the lip of the Cube that indicated its corner, Natsu couldn't help but wonder: why did Igneel tell him not to read this thing? He'd practically forced Natsu to read books, all the time, from the day they'd met to the day Igneel vanished. Fat lot of good it had done for his vocab, but the dragon had tried. Now Igneel was back, and he says no more reading? Either Igneel had become a whole new dragon while he… did whatever he was doing for the past fourteen years, or there was something in this book he wanted to keep secret.

As Natsu neared the corner of the Cube and braced for gravity to go really weird on him, he heard a clash of metal on metal as Erza kept up her fight with that demon bird lady.

Natsu snorted. Erza's got this in the bag. Always does. ...I bet Igneel would let her read this stupid book.

Then Natsu stopped, and looked down at the tome in his hands. It definitely looked like a spellbook, with a hard wooden cover and a leather strap keeping it closed, the letters "E N D" carved diagonally along the cover. Mad Gear had mentioned something about a demon owning this book, and Natsu recalled thi thing was supposed to be a fire demon. Maybe it was meant for summoning the guy? Nah, couldn't be: no spell would need a whole book to write down, especially the size of book people used to prop up their furniture or hold a door open. This thing was thick!

Natsu listened for a moment: he still heard Erza, and the demon bird lady. Up ahead, towards the sunset and down around the corner (that still made his head spin), Igneel was roaring fire at Acnologia, literally. His dad was, as Elfman had put it, "One manly dragon!"

Natsu looked down at the book again. He'd waited his whole life to get the answers Igneel had…

...so what was another twenty seconds? A minute, tops. One little peek. Otherwise, he told himself, he'd be up all night tonight thinking about it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Down in Magnolia, around the wreckage of what used to be the Fairy Tail Guild Hall, citizens had gathered to sift through the rubble, looking for bodies or buried wizards. The members of Fairy Tail were a rowdy lot, so much that their town had nearly been wrecked by multiple members, multiple times. Even so, they were always livening up the day whenever Gildarts came around or when the Fantasia Parade was in motion. They were the best and worst thing to happen to Magnolia, much better than those glorified racketeers at Twilight Ogre.

So this time, it fell to Magnolia to clean up a mess that Fairy Tail hadn't caused, for once. The last anyone had seen, the three Exceeds were flying up towards the giant cube in the sky, decks of magic cards in their paws. Maybe that accounted for the wizards, but as one pedestrian pointed out, they shouldn't bet on miracles when the power to help was available.

All rescue efforts halted, however, when the underside of the cube erupted like a volcano. Blinding light exploded from a point on the cube like a newborn star. Blue-hot fire, so hot it was felt on the ground, spiraled away from the surface. Accompanying the plume was a strange, peculiar sound: not the explosion of gases, but a lone voice screaming into the air before it was chokingly cut short.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Acnologia's claw smashed into Igneel's armored skull, knocking the red dragon for a spin. Righting his flight path, Igneel heard the scream and saw the fallout light from the blinding flash reflect off the ground.

His reptilian eyes widened, spots in his vision left by the light as it died down.

"He didn't..."

Below, Acnologia flew at him, mouth wide as magic energy gathered behind his teeth. Snarling, Igneel folded his wings and dove in a spiral, his whip-like tail clocking Acnologia and turning his breath weapon away from the Cube. The dusk-tinted clouds parted before the black dragon's attack, knowing better than to impede it.

His teeth bared in anger, Igneel unfurled his wings and stalled his plummet just as he passed the lip of the Cube.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He stood, vision slowly returning to his eyes. The first thing he saw was a book, open on the ground between his hands. The words were a blur; he couldn't make sense of the pictures, either. Did he know how to read? He thought so. He closed the cover and read the title: E N D. "End"? Of what? Wait…

He sat back on his knees, his head bobbing back and forth as his neck muscles reactivated. Where was he? How did he get here?

"Nat-SU!"

Natsu… That was his name. Except… No, it wasn't. He was… Maybe that really was his name.

Rubbing his eyes, he-

…

-had scales.

He felt around his hairline, and lo, there was a distinct spot where skin ended and hardened scales began. Tracing them, he found they descended along his temples, his cheeks, before skin resumed beneath his jaw. Lowering his hands, he-

…

-had scales on his arms, too.

Drawing his sleeves back, on a black jacket he didn't recognize, the one who assumed he was Natsu saw his muscular arms were covered in dark, dark red scales. Some were like charred meat, utterly blackened at a glance; only the soft glare of light revealed their deep crimson pigment.

A wind buffeted his back and he fell down. Above him… Why was there ground above him? Between the ground and himself, a massive, muscular red dragon swooped past, colliding with another, less expressive, slightly bigger black dragon.

"Once I'm done with Acnologia," the red dragon seemed to snarl, "you are in so much trouble, boy!"

Shaken, the still-confused Natsu (which he would wear as his name until someone told him otherwise), found himself returning to this mysterious book. Was this the… Yeah, something about the book. He'd had it, opened it, done something with it, and that's why the dragon… That's why Igneel was mad at him. So why did he sound like a disappointed parent? Urgh, Natsu was so lost. His body hurt, his hair itched, he stank of fart-flavored sulfur, and his head felt strange, in a good way in a bad way, both at the same time. He couldn't figure it out.

An arrogant snicker reached his ears. Whirling around, he saw a man standing a good ways away in the ruins of some stone walls, black robes billowing in the unnatural wind of the twin dragons. He was snickering at Igneel, specifically. Natsu didn't know why, but the sight of him filled his gut with fire, and not literally.

Which, yeah, he just remembered: he could eat fire… somehow.

An image flashed in Natsu's head: that guy, standing in front of a throne, holding the book, smiling like he knew something. Natsu's memory didn't like that smile, the same one he wore now.

Grabbing the book, Natsu raced towards the man, vowing to get some answers or punch him. Probably both.

As he got close, he could hear the guy monologging to himself.

"Do you fear him, Fire King?" the man asked. "Or do you fear what would come next, should he awaken? What you would have to do?" The man shook his head. "It makes no difference. By the time he is truly awakened, after the Faces are triggered and magic is purged, Acnologia will surely have finished you off. The role of futile resistance shall hence fall to other, lesser beings. And Zeref, of course."

"YOU!"

Five black fingers, talons protruding from their scaly tips, seized the man by the throat and held him up in the air. Natsu waved the book in front of his smug face.

"Tell me everything you know about this," he demanded.

The smile grew. "Why bother? Given what I've seen, I'll likely have to tell you again, once you're fully awakened."

Natsu's emotions ran cold. A vicious logic asserted itself in his brain, one which compelled him to say, "That depends: do you wanna be around to see it?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Erza's sword rang off of Kyoka's long talons, the shockwaves shaking her bones. Her muscles burned while droplets of sweat trickled into her eyes. A shallow cut trickled blood down her left shoulder. Every movement she made was pain, augmented by the bird-woman's Curse. Yet, for the sake of her friends, her family, and all those in Earthland who practiced magic, she would persevere. No, more than that: she would win.

"Time's running out," taunted Kyoka, the side of her mouth blackened from a hard knee that Erza delivered earlier. She pointed in the air, where the orange countdown timer hovered over the ruins of their control center. "I can feel the Faces powering up, readying to activate. They're anxious, sucking up my life force-"

Erza didn't let her finish. The green-haired bird-woman danced back from Erza's slash, a flurry of blows forcing Erza on the defensive. If only her armor was stronger; she wouldn't have to resort to the minimalist sarashi wrap and pants of her Clear Heart Clothes to keep pace with the demon. She felt exposed without her Requippable magic armor, but more so after Kyoka sliced through three different sets. Only by attacking faster, smarter, and harder could she keep pace.

"Conserve your breath," Erza warned, redirecting a slash to slice one of Kyoka's metal fingers. Kyoka screeched and skipped back, angrily staring at the stump where her right pinky used to be. Making Erza's task all the harder was the fact that, unlike herself, Kyoka had armor, albeit not fully. Her face was protected by a black mask; only her eyes and mouth were exposed. A silvered helmet protected her head, with thick horns running from her cheeks to her crown. Green feathers flowed from where her hair once did, from which sprouted a ponytail that ended in a tuft. To Erza, it looked like a morning star, and that paranoia of a sneak attack had cost her precious half-seconds in this fight.

Gritting her teeth, Kyoka charged again. Erza gave ground, assessing her foe once more. Kyoka's head was armored, as were her shoulders, thanks to her feathered pauldrons. The black, rubber-like substance of her body armor, which did nothing to cover her chest and stomach, was surprisingly durable, even withstanding a glancing blow from a sharp sword. That same substance covered Kyoka's arms, ending at the wrists, so they were out. Her claws were hard enough to match Erza's sword, save for the lost finger. Getting a better look, at the segmented plating that protected Kyoka's fingers, Erza realized her sword had gotten between the plates and forced its way into the skin. There was a heartening thought: beneath her armor and magic, the sadistic Kyoka's flesh was soft like anyone else's.

That meant, since her thigh-high boots were likely made of the same substance, Erza's best chance to defeat Kyoka was her groin and midriff, where a clean stab or cut would bisect her like butter.

Squaring her feet and shoulders, Erza skidded to a halt and bared her sword. Her guard was neutral: tip forward, hands back, favoring neither the left or the right flank. Now she merely had to wait.

Kyoka mirrored Erza, halting pursuit about twenty feet away. Her eyes ran up and down Erza's form, looking for an opening or a telegraph. Erza gave her none.

Kyoka haughtily huffed. "You're giving up?" she asked, a sharp talon tapping her helmet. "Can you see the timer? There's little more than a minute left before the Faces fire and magic is obliterated from the continent. I'd speed it up, but what's another minute of your life spent in pointless struggle?"

Erza's left foot slid forward while her weight remained balanced. She said nothing, waiting for Kyoka to shift a little too far to one way or the other.

Kyoka's eyes widened, as did her smile. "Or maybe…" She ran her tongue along the back of her talon. "Maybe you'd like to go back to your dungeon, where only my claws, whips and chains tormented you."

A scattered series of Erza's memories arose, less than a day old: the weights on her arms like mountains crushing her bones, every cut on her back like a thousand sandpaper blades sawing into her flesh. Her anger rose, and her concentration started to slip as she remembered yet another reason to fight.

Kyoka's talon now pointed at Erza. "Surrender won't save you. Even though I'll die, I'll ask The Underworld King to torment you, break your very soul, as a final favor to me. He disapproves of my fascination with humans, but I know he'll agree to it."

Erza was boiling. Her blade began to waver as she fought to remain composed, preparing for the pain she was about to endure. Just a little bit longer, she thought. Come on...

Kyoka's hand stroked the chin guard of her mask. "You'll be nothing, nothing but his-"

Erza swung.

Kyoka tipped forward, eyes wide in shock, before they closed and she hit the ground, knocking her helmet loose. Blood pooled beneath her where Erza had carved a bloody diagonal crevice from her collar to her hip, passing perfectly through her cleavage. Kyoka's finger talons clanged to the ground around her, victims of her block attempt, though perhaps the only reason she hadn't been cut in half by the blow.

Erza, refusing to give Kyoka the satisfaction of hearing her scream, grit her teeth and slowly, painfully, pivoted around. Through her haze of sweat and reddening eyes, she saw Kyoka smile and heard her chuckle, her half-lidded eyes open.

"You're too late," she whispered.

"And you're lying," said a nearby tan-skinned ragdoll as she crawled to her feet, leaning on the jagged black sword given to her by Tartaros.

Erza blinked, burning her eyelids. Minerva…

"Twenty seconds," Minerva wheezed, bringing the sword to bear, "That's nineteen more than I'll need."

Poor Minerva. Her body was beaten just as badly as Erza's, if not more so. For all of Tartaros's meddling, melding her into a half-demon, warping her innards and growing two demonic horns from her head, giving her the unnatural augmentations that all Etherious possessed, she still took a thrashing from Erza. Erza beat her so badly she'd come to her senses and realized that pursuit of power for its own sake was a path that led nowhere, for Erza's conviction was what gave her the edge in both of their encounters. Her one remaining eye now saw what her first two couldn't, but that hardly helped her battered body.

Kyoka vanished briefly as a pink-topped black blur came out of nowhere and pounced on her, kicking up a cloud of dust. Erza collapsed, wary but too exhausted to fight the black-clawed, pink-haired…

Wait a minute…

"Turn 'em off," he said. Kyoka struggled beneath her captor, but he'd picked his position well: one knee pinned her arm to the ground, while its same-side hand clutched her hair and horns. Her other arm was levered off the ground, her wrist caught in a black-taloned death grip. Her legs weakly kicked at the stony ground, but all that accomplished was disturbing the dust.

Still struggling, her limbs weary from hours of fighting, Kyoka could only ask, "Why should I? We've won, little-"

Her pink-haired captor growled, then grabbed a fistful of her green feather-hair. "Who's the boss of your guild?"

"That would be Master Mard-"

Natsu yanked her head back and put his mouth so close to her ear, she could probably hear the fire in his belly. "Wrong. I mean the real boss of your guild."

For a moment Kyoka didn't answer, though her pathetic struggles ebbed a little.

"Take a look, Kyoka," said her captor, yanking on her hair and turning her head with his claw. "I'm already here, in the flesh, so there's no need for the Faces anymore. Turn 'em off."

Kyoka's jaw dropped. Her face turned white as the moon, like she'd just seen a ghost. Erza, knowing it was pointless to reason with her, tightened the grip on her sword. "Natsu, step away from her."

Natsu did not. Instead, he grimaced and jerked Kyoka's head back again.

"Turn 'em off," he said through gritted teeth.

This time, Kyoka dumbly nodded and closed her eyes, blood dribbling from her mouth. A few seconds later, she opened them again. "It's done."

Erza leveled her sword at the demoness. "And you expect your word to be enough?"

"Good point," said Natsu, before glaring into Kyoka's eyes again. He dropped her levered arm and twiddled his talons. A thorny vine broke through the rock next to her face, hovering in front of her like a coiled cobra. "You wouldn't… Lie to me… Would you, Kyoka?"

Restrained though she was, she shook her head. "Never."

Dropping her head, Kyoka finally passed out. Natsu curled his fingers into a fist. The black had receded to his wrist, his hand a normal human hand again. That didn't explain the scales on his forehead, sloping down as they did to frame his face, nor the ones on his chest. Blue fire burst to life in his hand, which Natsu shook out.

"No, c'mon now… Fire Dragon…"

He lifted his arm in the air. "IRON FIST!"

That fist burst into familiar orange flames as he smashed the ground. Skeptical, Erza closed her eyes and channeled her magic. Light engulfed her body and she felt the familiar weight of her gold-colored Giant Armor.

"My magic," she uttered. "It's still here."

"Of course it is."

Igneel, the fire dragon, hovered high upside-down above the group. Parallel claw marks bled on his titanic torso, falling up towards the ground.

"The Faces are never going to threaten anyone again," said Igneel. "Listen."

The gathered mages and demons all heard it: the roar across the horizon. Everyone there knew it, because it was the same sound that heralded Igneel and Acnologia. Across the land, where the massive stone Faces once pulsated their Anti-Magic, four dragons flew across the sky, destroying the stone abominations with ease. They spared no thought for the structures; once struck, they meant nothing to them. Even if the Faces were active, their anti-magic could do little to slow the might of dragons.

Igneel leveled a glare at his son. "Now, you have some explaining to do, Natsu."

Natsu looked up at his father, for that's who he was. "You first."

Igneel snorted. "Very well. One question at a time."

Natsu reached into his deep vest pocket and pulled out the Book of E.N.D. "What's the deal with you and this thing? What did it do to me?"

The dragon pointed a claw at Natsu. "You are a demon, Natsu," Igneel said. "Etherious Natsu Dragneel, the most powerful and final demon of Zeref."

"WHAT?!"

A roar came from below, causing Igneel to look up. "I didn't think you were through, Acnologia."

"Hold on," Natsu said, stepping forward. "I'm not done with you."

"Nor I you," said Igneel, glancing to Natsu's right. "So, we'll have to multi-task."

Igneel flew down before falling up again, locked in a dragon-sized wrestling match with Acnologia. Natsu wondered what he was talking about, until he noticed Minerva within reach, her sword raised above Kyoka's neck.

Natsu caught her at the wrist before prying the sword free. "The Faces are finished," he said. "Don't need to kill her."

Minerva's face remained exhausted and neutral. "You can't be serious. After all she's done, all Tartaros has done, you're going to let them go unpunished?"

Natsu put a hand to his jaw and thought about it while the dragons de-faced the Faces. When the frequency of crashes and crumblings grew less frequent, he said, "Not hardly. Just don't think we should kill 'em for things they can't do again."

Natsu looked down at Kyoka. "No more trouble, right?" He then remembered she was bleeding magic, and so turned her over and slashed her with his blue fire, cauterizing her wound. "Hopefully she can still wake up."

Erza was bemused, befuddled, by this uncharacteristic display of mercy from "the most powerful of Zeref's demons". Why would Natsu care what happens to a fiend like her? Letting her live was one thing, but saving her life was another. He might've been too late, but in this case it was the thought which counted.

Then Natsu's nose picked up a familiar scent.

"Mgh… Heh heh…" The battered form of Mard Geer Tartaros, Underworld King and de facto leader of the Tartaros guild, slunk close to where the mages gathered. He clutched at his chest, where a fist-sized burn had seared a hole in his black robe and singed his demon flesh. "This won't do, not at all. You're not yourself, not yet."

Natsu got off of Kyoka and squared off against him. "Not what you imagined? Tough."

Mard Geer shook his head. "Master E.N.D. is a god-slaying, unstoppable demon of the apocalypse, the most powerful of all of Zeref's creations. He is a merciless killer, a conqueror, a ruthless tyrant."

Mard Geer gestured to himself. "The fact you let Kyoka live means you are not him. She tried to kill your friends and very nearly succeeded, yet you guarantee her survival. That goes for myself, as well. I harmed your friends, and yourself, yet all you did was punch me. By Zeref's designs, Tartaros was never meant to survive the birth of E.N.D."

Natsu cranked his arm around, growling. "That's all I did so far. Like you said, I got a score to settle with you."

"So do we," said a new voice.

Two forms crashed down to the ground, flanking Natsu's rear and forming a triangle. Natsu didn't need to look; his nose told him everything.

"You still wearing that feather snake, Sting?"

He heard a snort. "You have your neck warmer, I have mine."

"Sting," Minerva whispered. "And Rogue."

"We've come to take you home, milady," said Sting. "To Sabertooth."

"You two…" She sounded like she was about to weep.

"A noble effort, but pointless," said Mard Geer. "Suicidal, even."

Natsu narrowed his eyes and grinned. "Says the guy whose curse is mine now, mostly."

The three Dragon Slayers charged. Mard Geer waved his arms and a swarm of thorny vines erupted from the ground, twisting and knotting into a thick wall. Natsu splayed his fingers as he ran.

"FIRE DRAGON…"

Fire bloomed around his body. He looked like a comet.

"SWORD HORN!"

Natsu crashed into the wall, blunting the thorns on his new scales. The wall shook but didn't fall; that came from the follow-up, when Natsu's billowing fire exploded forward and annihilated the vines.

Sting and Rogue bared their hands as they ran past Natsu. White and black energy, the native power of their Dragon Slayer magic, swirled into existence. The two orbs of power began to tangle themselves in each other, overlapping and mixing. A third color, the color of a violet nebula, began to emerge where the conflicting energies collided the most.

Sting was the first to close his fist. "White Shadow Dragon…"

Rogue did the same. "Flash Fang!"

Together, the two hurled the newborn nebula at Mard Geer. The Underworld King, for the first time all day, looked the slightest bit worried. He nevertheless calmly moved aside, until he was tackled to the ground by Natsu. If Mard Geer had a spine, it would've been broken, for Natsu's claws sank into his back and pulled him around, holding him out like a human shield and a human sacrifice to the incoming attack.

Sting and Rogue both looked on in horror.

"Natsu!"

"No!"

Mard Geer, panicked, began moving his arms, but his diminished Thorn Curse was too slow. The Flash Fang struck his chest, and he and Natsu disappeared in a blinding explosion of white, black, violet and blue.

The Twin Dragons of Sabertooth were dumbstruck, even as they shielded their eyes. They didn't have much time to be, as a new form caught them both in its massive forearms and threw them back. The two blinked away the spots in their vision just as two tanned hands grabbed their heads and drove them into the ground.

"You should've stayed with the weaklings in Sabertooth," growled the knife-eared demon. "Then again, you saved me the trouble of killing Mard Geer."

From beneath massive fingers, Sting looked up at the bare-chested, musclebound thing that held him. The pointed ears and beard were new, as was the scar on the titan's chest. But the eyes? They were as cold and reptilian as Sting remembered.

"Jiemma," he spat. The man's name was a dirty word to him.

Minerva's eyes widened as she recognized him, fear and abject dread pouring forth. "Father."

"To think," Jiemma said as he lifted Sting above his head, "you're the uppity little shit who cost me my guild. One sneak attack makes you stronger than me? Bunch of losers."

Growling, white energy gathered in Sting's fist, but Jiemma threw him aside before he could use it. He then smashed his hands around Rogue's head, but the Shadow Dragon Slayer had already gone incorporeal. The black fog slipped down and slithered to where Sting lay.

Rogue reemerged from it, rubbing his head. "I thought we'd seen the last of him."

"I'd hoped," Sting scowled.

"Of course you hadn't," Jiemma grunted, stomping towards them. The two slayers split up, Jiemma going after Sting. "You convinced Sabertooth I was weak, and I couldn't prove them wrong without wiping out the whole guild, everything I'd worked for."

Catching Sting by the neck, Jiemma took a blast of white to the face but shrugged it off. "It wasn't till I came here, and grew even stronger, that I realized I was wrong."

"What?!" cried Sting, before he was bloodied by a punch from Jiemma.

"Once I take over Tartaros, I'm going back to Sabertooth and wiping it out. Every man, woman and weakling, even the guild hall itself, all gone." Jiemma punched Sting again. "Let 'em see how strong they are. They'll die realizing they were wrong, and that you, Sting, made them weak. The few that survive, I'll bring 'em here and make them part of Tartaros."

Sting took two more punches to the face, blood streaming from his broken nose and busted brow, before a roar and a torrent of black matter slammed into Jiemma. On the other end of the torrent stood Rogue, frenzied and fanged from the fury he felt.

Shielding his face, Jiemma threw Sting at Rogue, the Shadow Dragon remaining corporeal so he could catch his friend.

Hosting him up on a shoulder, Rogue grimaced at the damage Jiemma had done, then at their tormentor as he marched towards them. "We need more potent magic. He's too tough."

Spitting blood, Sting nodded. "Yeah. His skin is like iron. Simple breath isn't going to work. We need something that can get through it."

Rogue raised a brow. "Something that can pierce it?"

Sting's teeth turned red as blood ran into his grimace. "Let's do it."

"Take your time, cast whatever spell you're going to try," Jiemma said. "I'll crush you all the same."

Jiemma paused his march and pointed at Minerva. "Then I'll deal with you, Minerva. Tartaros gave you power and you rejected it. You still believe that 'strength in numbers and feelings' garbage that cost you the Grand Magic Games. Weakness like yours has no place in my new guild."

Sting and Rogue could hear her tearing up. Her father's words bit deep, and for good reason: he'd ruined just about every day of her life, sans the one where Sting blasted him in front of the guild. Now he was aiming to ruin another; her last, if he got his way.

Rogue scowled at the approaching demon, letting go of Sting. "To think I ever took orders from an abomination like you."

"It's natural that the weak hate the strong," said Jiemma. "I never hated either of you, even after what you did to me. It's not in the nature of the strong to hate the weak, only to prey on them."

Away from the fight, watching her two rescuers spread out, Minerva's wide eyes leaked tears down her cheeks. She wouldn't sob, nor wimper, nor do anything to confirm her evil father's opinion of her. She-

"Hey," said Natsu, sounding suspiciously close. Unable to believe it after what she'd seen, Minerva, along with Erza, both turned to see Natsu, singed but standing, offering a hand to Minerva. His overall expression was unreadable, but there was a sly twinkle in his eye.

Minerva looked at Natsu's hand, now the color of flesh as his black scales had receded, then up at him. Hesitantly, she curled her fingers into his own, only to be yanked off the ground and into a kiss. Not a gentle one either, for Natsu had a hand around her head, feeling the locks of her hair as he growled hungrily into her mouth.

"So bold," Erza uttered, shocked and wide-eyed.

Minerva was surprised, too, until a wonderful feeling of smoked meat and spice flooded her throat before spreading to her body. Her muscle fatigue lifted a little; she was no longer draped over Natsu, instead standing on her own power. And power was what she felt next: her muscles tensed as Natsu's tongue fed her his energy, while his hand fell down and lifted her leg to his hip. She wasn't thinking, lost in this glorious feeling, so she didn't notice her thigh moving stroking his pants. She did notice Natsu's hand feeling the contours of her glute, she just didn't mind.

Natsu popped his mouth off of hers, leaving her panting and flushed. Her tongue hung from her mouth and she ran it along her lips, her half-lidded eyes returned to that sultry, calculative look she'd worn throughout the Grand Magic Games. Hers or someone else's, she had power again, and she felt like using it.

Natsu must've known that, because he nodded towards Jiemma's battle with the Twin Dragon Slayers. To Minerva, he gave one simple request.

"Beat that bastard down."

Nodding and smiling like a cat, Minerva slid away from Natsu. Her hand lingered on Natsu's bare collar, touching his scaly musculature. She'd be back; there was more than one way to power besides personal strength.

"One thing."

She found her hand caught in his again. Looking into his eyes, she saw that the twinkle remained.

"You give it back when you're done, you hear me?" He wagged a finger at her, grinning. "Curse or no Curse, I'm still fireproof."

That spark of mischief invaded Minerva's remaining eye. "We'll see how things play out."

When he let her go, she was a little disappointed he hadn't tried to kiss her again. Not that she'd let him; one bold move was all she'd allow before taking back the reins.

Stepping away, Minerva reached for that spicy feeling within herself, located it, and forced it into her arm. Blue fire bloomed at her fingertips, so hot that Minerva reflexively held her hand away from herself. Strutting towards the battle, she saw that Sting and Rogue had her father pinned down. Rather, Sting did. Rogue was laid out in front of him, no doubt a decoy while Sting had gathered his magic.

And what effective magic it was, for Jiemma was on his knees, pierced and bound by tens of white and black threads. Sting's arms had turned colors respective to the threads they held; he'd probably eaten Rogue's Shadow Magic to become a White Shadow Dragon.

"You can't keep this up," Jiemma stated, sounding no worse for wear. "Once you slip, I'll kill Rogue, then you, then the rest of Sabertooth."

"I'll take that bet," Sting muttered through clenched teeth. White energy began fomenting in his throat.

"So will I," said Minerva, stepping up beside him.

Sting was surprised, to say the least. "Milady, you're on your feet."

"What can I say?" Minerva smirked. "That was some kiss Natsu gave me."

Jiemma stood, snapping some of the threads that pierced his thighs. "I'll put you back in a molding tank, and sculpt you into something strong."

Her smile vanished as she looked upon Jiemma. "That's all I ever was to you, isn't it? A project. You tried to make me like you, Jiemma."

"And it seems I'm not done," he said, snapping some strings on his arms.

"Actually, you are," Minerva said, pointing her fire at him. The blue nova flared, making her close her remaining eye. "You succeeded, Jiemma. I was like you, and only today realized how weak I am. Power as you see it is empty. That's why I lost at the Grand Magic Games. That's why you lost to Sting."

Jiemma snorted, reaching up and pulling out the threads attached to his neck. "You're wrong, Minerva. Power, strength, is all there is. You either have it or you don't. That's all that matters."

"And you," Minerva said as she raised her hand, "don't."

With a growl, Jiemma broke the strings and lumbered forward, his wounds starting to close even as crimson blood spurted from the holes in his body.

"Sting," Minerva said sweetly, "be a good boy and speak."

"Speak?" he asked, then realized. "Ah. Gotcha. White Dragon…"

He put his hands to his mouth like he was holding a blowpipe. Rogue, prone behind Jiemma, took the hint and dematerialized away.

"ROOOAR!"

A spell circle bloomed before Sting and white light surged forth. It disappeared quickly, however, into a Territory bubble.

"Nova Curse," Minerva said simply, before opening a new bubble above him. Sting's spell blasted out as Minerva blasted fire from her hand. She felt the power leaving, traveling up her body and out her arm, disappearing along with her tormentor as the twin novas ripped him apart. She felt so alive, so liberated, watching Jiemma's body blacken within the conflagration.

She thought she heard him say something before he burned up. She didn't care; that man spoke nothing but poison.

When the last of his visage burned up, she ended her spell and dropped to her knees. Out of breath, she nevertheless felt energized for the first time in… She didn't even know how long. Jiemma was dead. She'd killed him. She'd finally surpassed his power, and all it took was a little help from her friends.

Licking her lips again, Minerva looked over to where Natsu stood, flashing her a dark smile and a thumbs-up.

"Milady," Sting said, rushing to her side.

"Are you all right?" Rogue asked, emerging from his spectral form behind her.

"Never better," she replied. "Although…"

She touched the flesh-like patch over her right eye. "I do miss my depth perception."

Sting chuckled at that. "We'll get it back for you, milady."

Minerva allowed Sting to help her up, but let him go once on her feet. Unsteadily, she walked back to where Natsu stood, shouting at the sky.

"Well why couldn't ya do this sooner?!" He tapped his skull. "A little dad advice would've… Wait…"

A blush settled on his cheeks. "Were you awake the whole time? Were you watching me?"

"No. I was only aware when you were fighting."

Natsu's hands leaned on his knees. "Phew! That would've been… so awkward."

Igneel sailed past, Acnologia following.

"As to why I couldn't do this sooner… Urgh…"

"Dad?"

Igneel plummeted down to the ground, bad beyond repair. The entire left side of his torso missing, steaming dragon blood gushing from his shredded heart. With only one wing, he couldn't have flown anyway.

"DAD!" Natsu raced towards the mighty dragon. In the sky, Acnologia was retreating, his left arm ripped free from his body. That didn't matter to Natsu, though. "No! You're fine! Walk it off, old dragon!"

"This was inevitable," Igneel grunted as the pinket reached him. "We dragons who lived within your bodies did so because of the great war 400 years ago. Our bodies were destroyed by Acnologia; only our magic remained. I could only emerge by condemning myself to oblivion."

"No!" Natsu shook Igneel's remaining claw. "NO!"

"Natsu, listen to me," said Igneel, his mighty boom growing weaker. "Zeref created you, Tartaros, all of his demons so that one day, you might destroy him. That purpose is carved into your very being. Nevertheless, I did my best to show you there was more to life than… than that, so that one day…"

Igneel was starting to fade, literally. His body was losing opaqueness, magic energy floating off of him. "Demon or no... you could be… be one… I'd be proud… to call… my... son…"

Natsu, strangely, seemed to be calming down as his father slowly ceased to exist. Or perhaps not, because he sprinted to Igneel's skull and hugged the dragon's horned nose. Igneel inhaled and blew soft, gentle flames over Natsu, bathing him in warmth.

"And…"

Natsu fell forward as Igneel's body lost its mass.

Igneel smiled a big, toothy dragon smile as Natsu stood back up. "I am…"

Natsu, who despite his composure was tearing up, gave a single nod. "Thanks. Thanks, Dad. For everything."

With those last words, the Fire Dragon King, Igneel, departed this world, fading into the ethernano.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're WHAT?!" Erza cried.

Natsu nodded, to the assembled group of Sting, Rogue, Minerva, Erza, and a still-unconscious Kyoka. "I'm quitting Fairy Tail. I'm the Master End-"

"E.N.D," Minerva corrected.

Natsu waved her off. "Whatever. I'm the guild master of Tartaros. Sooner or later, some magic council stooge would come snoopin' around and find out the truth." Natsu held up his book. "Gotta keep this safe. Gotta stop people from finding out. Whatever kind of Magic Council forms now that Tartatos wiped out the old one, enough people shouting in their ears might get them to go after Fairy Tail. If I'm part of Tartaros, then you can say I went crazy or something after the book opened."

Erza sighed, then nodded. "If that's your decision, I won't dissuade you, Natsu. Though, forgive me if I find this harder to accept than sparing her…" She pointed at Kyoka's unconscious form. "... and if I doubt discretion is your only reason."

She glanced at Minerva, who less than a minute ago had returned Natsu's Nova Curse to him, the exact same way she'd received it.

"Are you sure we can't change your mind, milady?" Sting asked. "Sabertooth's a lot different now that I'm in charge."

Minerva shook her horns. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I was part of a Dark Guild even before Tartaros abducted me. As Natsu said, whatever Council forms from the ruins of all this, I don't want them to have any excuse."

She smiled, more genuinely than she ever had when Jiemma was Sabertooth's master. "You stood up to my… to Jiemma when I never could. You were always stronger than him, and me. Sabertooth will be a fine guild without me."

"Then the invitation remains open," said Rogue.

"Hey, who's the guild master here?" Sting playfully interjected.

"Maybe someday," Minerva said. "The best place for me is here, helping Natsu reforge Tartaros. And when that day comes, be ready for me. I don't want to find you've let the guild slip behind Fairy Tail again."

Sting grinned at Erza. "You hear that? Watch out, fairy."

"One more thing," Natsu said, as Erza Requipped into her Farewell Armor. "The stuff that happened here? Keep it to yourselves. A lot of people had a bone to pick with Zeref before all this craziness. I wanna tell my friends about me… Y'know, being me, on my own terms. You can tell Gramps, though. Wouldn't want him kickin' the door down to come rescue me."

Erza, radiant in her ornate Farewell Armor, jammed her banner spear into the ground. "I accept your terms, now accept ours."

Erza thrust a gauntleted finger at Natsu. "When the time comes for someone to part Fairy Tail Guild, there are three conditions they must abide by."

Natsu smiled. Like I didn't give this speech to Mystogan.

"First," said Erza, "never reveal sensitive information about Fairy Tail to others for as long as you live.

"Second, never use former contacts met through being in the guild for personal gain."

Minerva rolled her eye at that one.

"Finally," Erza said, "though our paths diverge, you must continue to live out your life with all your might. Never consider your own life insignificant, and never forget about your friends for as long as you live."

"Will do Erza," he said, hugging her. She Requipped out of her armor and into her plain white blouse, hugging him back. "Will do."

With that final farewell, the six parted ways: the wizards to return to their guilds, and the demons to take stock of their new home.

Except for Kyoka. Natsu had to carry her.

Author's note:

Sooo, yeah. This is going to be my fic to cut loose and not worry about Machiavellian plots or years-long character arcs, or the usual things that eventually pile up to delay my output. Just a nice, simple story about Natsu in charge of Tartaros.

This will also be my fic to cut loose and write lemons. Lots, and lots, of lemons. So if you're looking for lemons, see Chapter 2.