I must have made quite a sight, a young muscular teen as tall as an adult man, walking around shirtless with nothing on but a pair of bloodied pants. I don't even have a pair of shoes on but despite that, I had never been happier.

I am finally free.

Goodbye to the life of slavery, goodbye to deathmatches, and a big fuck you to the slavers and the sick fucks which I had sent down to the afterlife to meet the rest of my deceased tribesmen. May you never receive forgiveness from them because I sure as hell would never give them mine.

I could still remember how my neighbour cried and kept repeating that she is sorry for not being able to protect her baby before taking both their lives. That nightmare still plagues me from time to time, her cries, her voice, and the squelching sound of her own arm spearing through both her and her baby still fresh in my mind as though it had only happened yesterday.

I continued my walk through the jungle, the stars in the dark night sky above pointing the direction ahead as I checked the stars from time to time that I am indeed heading westwards. I had never been so thankful to the village elder's lessons about the moon and the stars that we were forced to listen to when I was still a child. I never thought I would be able to put his lessons into practice. I am grateful to the chief warrior for taking out the time to train us children in our tribe's traditional combat and weaponry, because his teachings were what ensured my continued survival.

My tribe had done so much for me, but they had perished before I could do anything for them. Are there any other survivors from my tribe? Even just one? Or am I truly the only one left?

Shaking my head to get rid of these negative thoughts, I trudged ahead. I managed to learn a useful tidbit of news, that I am currently in Bosco, a place where slavery is apparently legal. It would make a lot of sense, actually, although I'm sure the slave traders who enslaved me get their slaves from all over Earth Land, not just Bosco. They wouldn't be so afraid of being found out by the Magic Council otherwise. After all, slavery is outlawed in certain kingdoms which I'm sure those slave traders had extended their hands into.

Fiore is one such kingdom, and is where I am heading to because I know that is where slavery does not exist, at least legally. Fortunately for me, Bosco and Fiore are neighbouring kingdoms connected on the same piece of land.

The sun rose and fell. I didn't bother to keep track of the number of days that passed while I trekked through the wilderness, killing any beasts that tried to harm me and turned them into my nourishments along the way. It is a lawless land here, something that I am very familiar with during my times as a gladiator. Sometimes when I'm lucky, I might run into a bandit camp or two and take their supplies as my own after getting rid of them. At least I'm properly clothed now.

I finally came across a village, the very first signs of civilization after a long while. Using the money I pilfered from the bandits, I got myself a room in an inn, a nice warm bath in what is possibly the first time in years, and got myself properly cleaned. I tugged at my shaggy green hair and decided that I should probably visit the barber first thing tomorrow morning but for now, a nice warm meal takes priority.

I might or might not have given the middle aged woman who runs the inn a scare when I devoured plates after plates of her sumptuous meals. I could not be bothered to keep up with appearances because this is the first civilised meal I had in years.

Thankfully, I had enough money on hand to pay for my meals.

The feeling of freedom is addictive, especially so when you finally stepped foot into civilisation after what seemed like an eternity. I decided to take a little stroll after my dinner, simply glad that everything is over and that I am finally free.

A quick observation told me that this village, while not as remote as the one I grew up in, is still probably a little cut off from the outside world. Merchants and the likes probably stopped here occasionally during their travels for a quick rest, but that is about it. Public security is obviously lacking. I could see how the villagers purposely avoided certain alleys and streets where the seedy looking hoodlums are gathered. The only reason why I wasn't getting mugged while walking down those streets was probably because of my intimidating build and height. My muscles aren't there for show.

"-of Heaven. Why are we still doing business with those stupid cultists-"

I stopped in my tracks when my enhanced hearing picked up on a conversation that rang quite a few bells in my mind. I followed after the source of the conversation, eventually coming across two drunk men sitting by the stairs and sharing a drink. They were so drunk that they didn't even notice my arrival. At this distance, I could hear their entire conversation with great clarity.

"Some stupid idea about reviving Zeref, some stupid dark mage that lived hundreds of years ago. Bah! I say bullshit! Nobody could live that long! Tower of Heaven. Yeah, right. If building a goddamn tower could bring someone back to life I would had made a killing years ago-"

I heard enough to know what exactly I was hearing about, and I felt the familiar sense of rage upon receiving confirmation about the information which I had just come across. As a former slave, I am very well aware of the kinds of atrocities that could take place at the Tower of Heaven.

It's one thing if I never learned about it, but there's no way I could ignore and pretend this never happened after stumbling into this.

I violently picked up the two drunkards by their necks, lifting them up high and shaking them out of their drunken stupor with immediate effect. They are not mages, unable to put up any form of resistance as I held them with my iron grip. My eyes glowed red in response to my anger as I growled at them.

"Gentlemen, we have a lot to talk about."

"I-It's just right a-ahead."

Drunkard 1 timidly pointed to the half-constructed building that is easily visible, standing erect on the island in the middle of the naval territory between Fiore and Bosco. Drunkard 2 is rowing the boat with all his might, afraid that I might go through with my threat and throw him overboard to feed to the sharks if he's too slow.

Now, I have no fucking idea at which point of canon I'm at. I don't know if Erza is already there, if she already escaped, or what. All I knew was that I must be considerably early in the canon timeline if the Tower of Heaven is still standing. At the very least, Jellal has to be there, it's just a matter if he had been possessed by Ultear yet.

Come to think about it, I never got to know which year exactly I'm in now. Well, time to find out.

"Hey, drunkard 1."

"Y-Yes?" Drunkard 1 visibly shrank when I glared at him, arms crossed, his entire body shivering in fear.

"What year is it?"

"H-Huh?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and he immediately answered.

"7- 775! It's the year X775!"

I closed my eyes and thought real hard about it. My memory about canon is really spotty, never really got a chance to try and recall the facts because I was trying to fight for my life day after day in that hell hole, but there's one fact that is easy to recall. When it comes to Fairy Tail, it's always about the number 7.

X777, 7th of July is when the Dragon Slayers will make the trip into the future. Currently, I am in the year X775, this is two years before then. The main cast are all still children, meaning Erza might or might not already be there at the Tower of Heaven. I don't think it was specifically mentioned in canon how long she had spent her time there as a slave.

Doesn't matter, all I have to do is to just butcher the entire cult.

The island grew larger and larger as we approached the island. I stood up once I felt that we were within distance, allowing the familiar rush of adrenaline and anger rushing through me as Ragnarok signals to me that it is eager to run rampant.

I did a crouch, gathering the strength into my legs before leaping into the air, uncaring if I capsized the boat we were in in the process. Right now, all I care about is freeing the people who suffered the same treatment I once did. I'm not a hero, I don't want to be a hero. I cannot even if I want to I cannot save everybody and I accept that, but slavery is one thing that I can never stand for if I ever come across such a thing.

This is really not a matter of whether I'm acting because I know canon characters are there. I act because the very thought of slavery being commited when I have knowledge of it, and currently have the power and means to stop it, angers me so. I could never live with myself if I learnt of someone suffering from slavery and did nothing while having the means to save them.

I'm jumping right in because I'm angry, simple as that.

I landed with a deafening crash, the colour of my skin darkening as I released a powerful roar infused with the full density of my magic. I narrowed my focus onto the people dressed in those foul cultist robes, allowing my rage to take over while the small part of my mind which can still think logically cannot help but appreciate whoever named the signature magic of my tribe.

Ragnarok, it's a really fitting name for such magic. It's time I bring about Ragnarok for those vermins who enforced slavery upon others.

She's scared.

It's only been two months since her world was turned upside down, but it felt like an eternity for her. She knew that like her, Simon was captured, but she hadn't seen him ever since they were brought to this cruel place. He might have already died for all she knows and she is praying that he is still alive.

She was separated from Simon and placed into a different group with another different bunch of children her age the moment they arrived. She didn't even have the time to get to know them. There were thirty of them at first, but now there are only less than ten left. In just two months more than twenty of them had perished from exhaustion, abuse, and other factors that she doesn't want to know and learn.

She could very well be next. She's scared. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to die in a nameless place. She doesn't want to die with nobody she knows of beside her in her last moments.

She… She just wants to live.

She continued to carry the boulder, swallowing her fears and complaints because she's afraid that the whip of their supervisor would come down harsh on them if she was too slow. She tried to see if she could spot Simon but there's still no luck so far.

Maybe he's really dead after all.

She heard it before she felt it. It was the sound of something colliding with the earth, like a meteor crashing down from the skies above. The ground shook like an earthquake had occurred, causing her to lose her footing. It wasn't just her, many people around them had lost their footing and fell.

She looked up, and she was sure that she wasn't the only one who went slack jawed at the colourful display of magic lighting up the dreary grey skies up ahead. She's still too far to properly observe just what is going on, but she knows that magic is involved.

The slavers were obviously taken aback by this sudden change of events as well if the tone of their voice were any indication. It can be seen from how they were shouting at each other, each of them trying to get an answer from the other on just what the hell is going on up ahead only to realise that none of them had a clue about just what is going on.

Another explosion occurred. This time, the tremor felt more powerful and closer to them. She started to run after seeing some of her fellow slaves taking this opportunity to try and hide because whatever is happening up ahead, it cannot be good and is getting closer to them.

"What the fuck is that?!"

The shout of one of the guards made her turn her head back in curiosity. She finally saw just what is causing all the ruckus. To be more precise, it should be who instead of what, but the source of the disturbance doesn't really give off the vibe of a human despite taking the form of one.

A shirtless muscular man taller than the guards is charging straight in their direction. She would have mistook him for an adult, but the look on his face somehow made her feel that they are closer in age than what she would think. His skin is unnaturally dark, a greyish-black with weird runic-like lines spreading across his entire body. She is unsure why he is running without a shirt or shoes but that question can be answered later. Right now, she needs to get out of his way.

"Get him!"

The cultists are firing their magics at the unknown man, but it doesn't seem to affect or slow him down in the slightest. In fact, it looked as if those magics simply bounced off him. He extended an arm outwards horizontally to the ground, and she watched in a mix of awe and fear at how he clotheslined the cultists with such force and speed that it snapped their bodies at unnatural angles from the blow.

She does not need to be a doctor to know that her torturers are now dead.

A frightened yelp from one of the nearby slaves brought her back to reality. The man is still on his mad charge, seemingly unaware of his surroundings and simply breaking all obstacles apart with his body alone in his unstoppable charge. They quickly dove out of the way but not everyone is fast enough. She could only watch as her feet rooted her to the ground in fear, watch as the man got closer and closer to her and she closed her eyes, waiting for her inevitable end when this madman reduced her into a mere bloodstain on the ground by running into her.

That blow never came.

She carefully opened her eyes, just in time to see him jumping over her, still continuing his charge with large strides. She watched in awe at how he seemingly was able to avoid all of her fellow slaves in his charge while somehow able to accurately kill their torturers with a single punch. He had not slowed down in the slightest. In fact, it seems to her that he is picking up speed and is heading right for the Tower itself.

She was proven right when the man simply crashed himself into the wall of the tower and another explosion of magic ensued.

She knew the wise choice would be to run away from the battle, but her feet brought her closer to the Tower instead. Where her fellow slaves saw their chance to escape as it is and made a mad dash towards the beach she ran in the opposite direction towards the Tower. She ran, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had brought them hope.

She finally reached the hole in the wall, carefully poking her head out to catch a peep. What greeted her was a sight of mangled corpses of the cultists who had enslaved her. She had soon got used to death and gore in her two months here so she wasn't too bothered by the sight of it, but she could barely tell who they were if it wasn't for their distinctive uniforms.

Her legs continued to carry her down the road of death and carnage, hoping to catch up to him. She doesn't know why she is doing something so foolish and doesn't know why she's not using this opportunity to escape. Maybe deep down in her heart somewhere is a desire to see her torturers' demise with her own eyes.

It was easy tracking the madman down by following the trails of broken walls and blood. She finally caught up, watching from afar how he braved through the assault of spells like it was a mere drizzle, none of them capable of leaving a single scratch on his body. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands when an unexpectedly powerful spell managed to injure him but watched in amazement thereafter how the man simply ignored the pain, charging right at the caster and exploding his head with a single powerful punch while his wounds just closed up.

Is that magic?

She doesn't know how long she watched and followed him at a safe distance behind. She doesn't know who he is and why he is doing this. All she knows is that he is the reason why she is now free when she watches him reach the top of the incomplete Tower, releasing a roar towards the heavens while the skies pour to wash away the blood that he is drenched in. Surrounding him are the bloodied and unrecognisable corpses of her former slavers and even when this isn't supposed to be a beautiful sight, she still found it more beautiful than the prettiest painting she had ever seen.

She doesn't know what gave her the courage to slowly walk up and approach him. His back was facing her. It seemed so tall, so insurmountable, and yet felt like a bastion that promised safety. Her height barely reached his waist and with an outstretched hand, she hesitantly tapped him on the back.

He spun around with a growl, startling her as she released a shocked yelp and fell onto her back from the unexpectedness at it all. She was starting to regret getting close at all when she saw how the feral expression on his face softened after spotting her, and she witnessed how his skin gradually turned back into a normal shade, the runic lines on his skins slowly disappearing as the transformation on her saviour receded.

"What the hell were you thinking? I could have mistook you for an enemy and killed you."

She flinched at those harsh words when he pointed out how stupid her actions were. Perhaps her fear was too plain for him to see, but he softened up thereafter.

"You alright?"

She nodded mutely in response, still a little in awe and fear after seeing what he had done but that still did not stop her from blurting out the first question on her mind.

"Was that magic?"

"Yes," He answered with a sigh while running a hand through his messy lime-green hair, then took a look at himself before clicking his tongue and muttering to himself. "I swear, if my shirt and shoes get ripped apart every time I use Ragnarok this is going to turn into a huge problem."

She blinked her eyes, not knowing if she truly understood what he muttered to himself. He turned back to her and held out a hand, which she accepted as he helped her back up on her feet.

"How long was I, uh, fighting for?"

"I don't know," She answered honestly and shook her head. She took one look at the direction of the beach, which is now surprisingly empty save for the bloodied corpses of her former slavers littered around.

"But it must have been a long while from when you first appeared. Everyone was running towards the beach where I was at, but now nobody's there and all the boats are gone."

"Yeah, it probably took me a long while to take out those trash," The man let out a frustrated sigh while putting a hand on his forehead. "So, it's only us left?"

"I… think so?" She replied with uncertainty.

"Do you have anybody you know of here? We can search for them before we leave."

She took a look at the beach before looking back at him, then shook her head.

"I… I've only been here for two months and I haven't seen him since I came here. He's probably… dead, or had already escaped while you were… busy."

"Right, busy," He repeated her choice of words with an amused drawl. She let out a surprised squeak when he suddenly picked her up and slung her across his shoulder like a sack of rice.

"Alright, we are combing this place one last time before getting the hell out of here. If we see any cultists, we beat them up. If there happens to be any more slaves left behind, we set them free before going on our merry way. Sounds good, red?"

"My name's not red," She muttered while subconsciously combing through her long red hair with her fingers from where she is being slung on his shoulders.

"Pardon me, o fair lady, do thou be willing to share thy name with thee?"

She giggled at his joke before telling him her name.

"Erza. My name is Erza."

He stopped in his tracks and froze for reasons she never knew.

"... What?"

"My name is Erza."