AN: Hi guys! thanks for reading :) to address some things: no, I will not be making Natsu overpowered. Igneel raised him to be a son, not to be a super soldier. How strong do you think he could've been trained by a dragon as a literal toddler lol.

The fact that he has memories of Zeref doesn't change the fact that he grew up at a normal human's pace, mostly influenced by the guild instead of demons.

As for why he didn't react to Lucy in the guild-- he hasn't actually seen her yet! he was a bit distracted by Gray that time.

Mirajane is called away to news that they'd found Gray.

She rushed into the tent to find them hurriedly fixing his stitches— Natsu's scarf was drenched in blood, laying aside as someone worked on Gray's wounds— but Natsu himself was nowhere to be seen. "What's going on?"

"The pink-haired youngster came to drop this young man off, and then he went back out," someone says. "I don't know where he went after that…"

Mirajane spins. "What?!"

That reckless buffoon! They're supposed to regroup now to determine their next move!

But Natsu left his scarf behind, for some reason. He never does that— hell, he snarls , usually, when someone outside of the guild touches it without permission. And yet…

One of the villagers picks it up, and Mirajane reacts.

"Wait!" she calls, stopping them, taking the scarf. "I— I'll take this," she says. "Where's the nearest sink?" We have to wash this out before it stains too badly. Then, looking toward Gray, she nods. "Please take care of him. I'll be back."

And then she steps out.

Natsu must have a plan, so she'll ignore him for now. She drenches the scarf fully under running water, taking full breaths to calm herself. Mira didn't know why, but when she held this scarf, she seemed to feel calmer.

(Like a weight was being lifted off her head, just a little.)

When she was finally satisfied with that, she made her way back out toward the three enemies, all who were tied up by the trees.

Something was wrong.

These three were Isvan natives, former Lamia Scale members, and they've been in direct contact with the moonlight for the past three years.

And yet, they were fully, entirely, human.

Mirajane frowns. But that mystery aside, they'll need to find out what's really happening in the situation, so she continues her interrogation.

"So you're all trying to revive Deliora so this Cold Emperor guy can defeat it? Is that literally it?"

"Is that literally it, you say?" Yuka sneers, "you're trivialising it?"

"It's always like this," Sherry says, bitter.

No one ever takes their efforts seriously.

Mirajane stares at him, eyes cold. "It's not that I don't understand," she says. It's just pointless, she doesn't say. It's the same thing she's been telling herself, for so many years. It's pointless to hate and cry and seek revenge. "Honestly, I'm envious."

They lift their heads.

"You guys have a chance to get your closure and revenge," Mirajane says. "I'm envious."

But…

"But you know," Mirajane bites her bottom lip, taking a breath before she willed the courage to finish her sentence. "What have you guys done to this village? To that poor girl? You guys are just as terrible as the monster you claim to despise."

They fall silent.

People are still crowded around Lulu's tent. They're not sure she'll make it through the night, and people are sobbing, pleading, praying.

"Yes, it hurts to lose everything. It makes you want to hurt everything else, too," Mirajane chokes up, "but then, the chain of hurt is never going to end. And one day, someone you hurt will come back to you for their vengeance, and you'll be nothing but another criminal."

(There have been people. Villagers. People whose faces Mirajane will never forget.)

(There have been people who came up to Elfman and screamed and shouted, because people knew that The Beast lay in him.)

(There are days where Mirajane can't bear to look at her own brother.)

(There are days where Elfman needs to sleep in the main hall of the boy's dorm instead of his own home, under the hourly shift of the night watch, because he's convinced there's only one way to ensure nothing ever happens again.)

"It's never going to end," Mirajane says, a tear falling from her eyes. "How many graves do we need to build for people to understand that?"

Toby's fist tightens, he growls, low and rumbling— and then, he explodes.

"Shut up!" he yells. "Shut up! Who cares?!" He struggles, but the ropes are bound too tight. "Do you think we want to be here? Do you think we want to be stuck on this annoying island, doing all this?!"

"Toby!" Yuka hisses.

"We have nothing else!" Toby ignores him, yelling. Tears are streaming down his face, and his words are muffled by his own stuffed nose. "We have nothing else! All our lives we've been angry and guilty and we've been useless ! Let us have this!"

Almost as if his outburst had been contagious, Sherry scoffs, looking mildly away, her eyes watering.

"If I don't do this, I can't be useful," she says, tearful. "I won't be loved. I can't be loved. There's no reason for me to be here, then. What's the point?"

Yuka cringes at them both, stubbornly looking away. "Oh for fuck's sake…"

Mirajane pauses, surprised.

How young had they been, when Isvan was attacked? How helpless have they felt when their own loved ones died? How long have they stewed on their feelings, hating themselves for being unable to find their own closure, being unable to do anything but run ?

(Being unable to do anything but watch as the beast destroyed all they loved?)

She wants to scream. But she doesn't. Mirajane steps closer, bringing her arms forward, cradling them in and pulling them toward her chest.

Toby and Sherry freeze, but they lean in, resting their heads on her shoulder. Yuka bites his lip, unable to say anything for or against.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, the tears coming to her eyes, too. And she hugs them closer, tighter– fuller. "I'm so sorry," she cries. "I'm so sorry."

There was never anyone to tell them that it wasn't a crime they survived.

There was no one to tell them that it was a good thing they lived even when their parents didn't. There was no one to tell them that they'd done nothing wrong by running away, surviving.

"We don't deserve your apologies," Yuka says. "Curse us. Kill us. That's what you and the villagers want, don't you? Then get it over with already!"

"...I'm so sorry," she repeats. "But I won't."

They wail. And sob. And they continue to cry.

It's morning when Natsu has shattered the tent of the Zeref cult's residence, burning it down with everything inside. The people run out, screaming loud and fearful.

Terrified, they tell Natsu the entire story.

"Unbelievable," he mutters. "So you're not even real cultists?"

With a scoff, Natsu shoves aside the elder, a little too roughly so she ends up sprawled across the dirt. The others hurry to her side, bringing her further away, way of the dragon slayer, begging for mercy.

Natsu keeps a firm glare on them for a long moment.

"Well then, it's over. So get out of here. Build a new home somewhere, wherever," he says. He turns, walking away, knowing that every single one of them breathed a sigh of relief at his indication that he was leaving.

Then he turns back around and they all straighten.

"Don't ever use Zeref's name for your nonsense again," Natsu warns.

The tent is still burning.

Gray awakens, and he rushes straight out.

"Gray!" Mirajane exclaims, and he freezes.

"Ugh, Mira, I—" he trails off. "If this is about us running off without…" Mira is staring, firm and resolute. Gray forces himself to continue. "Sorry."

Mirajane smiles fondly. "Let's put that behind us," she says, Natsu's washed and dried scarf in her hands. "I heard the rest of the story from those guys."

She'd set Sherry, Yuka, and Toby free in the morning. She had to. If they haven't gone back to the temple, they were probably hiding around.

"Wha— don't tell me Natsu, that bastard…"

"He hasn't been back since last night," she says, "and…"

Gray's eyes landed on the biggest tent, where the entirety of the village was crowded around. Some were crying.

"...what happened?" he almost seemed afraid to ask.

Mira's lips purse. She looks like she'd been through a whole night of crying too. "Nothing much," she says. "The truth is, one of them got hurt… she's through the worst, though! She'll survive. It's just… the wounds are bad, and the scars may never fully heal."

Gray's eyes widened. The plot to destroy the village. This location probably wasn't the real village, it looked more like an emergency setup, too. "...Lyon, that bastard!" he whirls around, turning in the direction of the temple.

"Gray!" Mirajane snaps, and Gray stops. "Look– I know this is personal and all, but…"

The right thing to do was to stop him. This was an S-class quest, risks and all. If it were Erza, she would definitely stop them. Mirajane thought she'd grown past the stage of wanting to stop them. Every cell in her body that remembers Lisanna smiling at her is telling her to stop him right now, threat or not.

(She needs to stop him. She needs to stop them. They should go home and assemble a team. Bring Laxus along, the Thunder Legion. Maybe even Master.)

But then she remembers that Lulu, Lulu, she was just a single village girl. She smiled at her and she gave her a glass of water when Mirajane asked. She was young and diligent and helpful and adorable, too, just like Lisanna, and…

…and she was almost dead, too. Just like Lisanna.

"That guy is yours to fight, but," Mirajane says, "after you win, let me smack him once."

Gray looks taken aback. And then, resolved, "yeah, mince him or boil him, do all you want. Just get in line."

"Moonlight down to the basement, huh," Natsu mutters. "Well, let's see how you get the light to shine down now."

Natsu destroys half a pyramid before he's found by an infuriated Lyon.

"You're Gray's friend," he hisses.

Natsu scoffs. "I wouldn't say so."

Abruptly, Natsu ducks, a crystal ball swiping past the area his head used to be. He lifts his head in surprise only to be smacked anyway when the crystal ball whirls back again , right into his nose.

He sputters, crashing into the ground, he jerks upright. "The hell was that?!"

An older man in a tribal mask laughs. "Just a little prank. Now, I'd prefer if you didn't do all this… it's a lot harder than it looks to get it back upright."

"Zalty!" Lyon mutters. "Great timing. You deal with that fool."

"Yes, yes," Zalty responds, dismissively.

Natsu clicks his tongue. Lyon glares from above, but Natsu didn't think he had time to focus on both of them.

"What's with you, weirdo," he steps back, alarmed. His nose twitches, and it wasn't just because of the new bruise. "Not to judge the smell of women's perfume on you, but…"

He frowns.

"...you smell like medicine."

Zalty grins. "Oh dear, I was trying to hide it, too." He lifts a hand, and Natsu spots bandages peeking out of the corners of his shawl.

Momentarily distracted, Natsu barely dodges when the crystal ball brushes past his head again. This time, he spins, a flaming foot smashing it to pieces.

To his surprise, the crystal reforms, nearly instantly, and whirls right back, knocking harshly into his shoulder. He sucks in a sharp breath, reaching for it— but the orb spins back instantly, nailing him in his calf, earning a loud yelp as he howls, tripping back.

Zalty laughs, approaching Natsu's fallen form. He's cradling his leg, teary-eyed. Seriously, who hits people there?

"Amusing, isn't it? My magic, I mean," he taunts, and Natsu curses. He can't figure out what the hell this magic is, but—

—Natsu's eyes widen.

He lunges up, trying to grab Zalty, but Zalty leaps back.

"You…" Natsu clambers upright, his voice a low growl. "Your wound. It smells like Loke."

Zalty freezes.

Loke doesn't usually attack anything, much less with magic. Loke's always had a subversion for fighting people. Sure, sometimes he would throw a joking punch or cause a messy whirlwind in the guild for no reason other than to exacerbate the chaos, but Zalty's wound was heavy and bloody , and that was Loke's doing.

Loke would never seriously injure a human being on purpose. Unless it was self-defence. But that was recent. When would they have met?

(The case with the Lullaby?)

"...Who the heck are you?"

(This guy, whoever he is, has been involved in two consecutive events featuring Zeref's creations, barely a week apart.)

(Could it be that this guy is a real Zeref Cultist?)

Zalty steps back. "Well, this is turning into a rather unpleasant situation," he says, dryly.

Fire burns in Natsu's throat. "I asked you a question!" he roars, fire drooling forth. If Loke, the guild's most cautious, has marked this person as an enemy, then… "you're not getting away! Fire Dragon's Roar!"

Gray finds Lyon, and punches are thrown, violent and feral.

Gray's fights with Natsu are like this too— strong, relentless, and painful. Though after they broke Natsu's jaw and Gray's shoulder that one time they were forbidden from fighting again.

So being able to get into another no-holds barred brawl was liberating. It hurt, sure, and shouting at Lyon didn't feel good at all— but at least they weren't frozen in the past again.

Loud and bloody as it was, this was the first fight Lyon and Gray have ever truly been in, other than that one time after Ur died.

Gray locks up Lyon's ice beast in a prison of ice, and he sighs.

"Just like you," he taunts. "All style, no substance."

"Speak for yourself, you made that cage ten times more elaborate than it needed to be!" Lyon snaps, pointing accusingly. "This is ridiculous! Why can't I break out of it?!"

Gray sighs, dropping down, ice forming between his hands.

"Forget that beast. Fight me yourself, or are you unable to stand up to me without a big lion on your side?"

"You're testing your luck."

"So you're waiting for it to run out before you take me seriously, or something?"

"Shut the fuck up, Gray!"

The crux of Caster magic is composure. That's why, in their previous battle, Gray lost. But this time, Lyon is the one that panics, the one whose magic doesn't work.

Once your composure is lost, your ice, your form, and your solidity— it all crumbles, too.

Mirajane finds Gray standing by an ice statue of Lyon.

"...it's not safe to freeze someone alive like that," she says, frowning. It'll only last until Gray's out of range, too. It won't solve anything except cause someone severe frostbite.

Gray sighs, looking out the broken wall to the night scenery.

"I'm just cooling his head," he says. He leans back against the statue. "We're ice wizards. He'll break out when he's composed again. Won't even have any lasting damage."

The only ice that can freeze someone eternally is Iced Shell.

Mirajane leans against the wall at the entrance, looking mirthfully toward them.

"You're cooling his head, or cooling your own?" she questions. "Are you ready to actually face your problems, instead of running from them?"

Gray doesn't dignify that with a response.

From below, a beltingly loud roar shakes the earth.

"There are ways to control even a monster a Deliora," Zalty says. "Of course. Imagine the fun I could have, if I could gain control of it!"

Natsu scoffs.

"And what will you do?" he taunts. "Try to get on Zeref's good side? Go up to him and say, hey, Lord Zeref, look at the destruction I caused, make me your disciple! Or something?"

Zalty's face falls.

"You're mocking me," he says, a statement, not of realisation but of dry exasperation.

"Of course I am," the snarl comes out with more bite than Natsu intends it to sound, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care. Behind him, Deliora breaks out, roaring with desire, the dungeon rumbles with the force of its anger— and Natsu feels nothing but sympathy. "These monsters? They're just monsters. They don't have autonomy, they don't have any sense of self. You can't control something like this."

Zalty scowls. "That's because you're not a believer," he says. "The demons of Zeref all have one thing in mind. They serve Zeref's will for destruction. They will—"

Natsu's fist lights up with flame as he cranes his head back up, to the hulking godzilla of a beast, groggily crushing its way out of the ice.

"Is that what the Zeref cultists think?"

Zalty pauses.

Natsu laughs, incredulously. "That's like, the stupidest reason to be evil, ever."

Zalty clicks his tongue. "You're just a pompous brat that doesn't know his place," he hisses, his pair of crystal balls spinning back around, gyrating right for Natsu. "You don't yet understand the wonder that is Lord Zeref!"

Natsu winds around with a flaming fist, shattering the crystal ball to pieces.

"You idiot! I've told you many times that it won't work!"

Natsu ignores him, reaching for a shard before it falls, letting the bits sink into his palm, cutting into flesh and soaking it in blood.

Zalty gathers the crystal ball once more, but it doesn't respond. "What–?"

"Is that why you use a ball?" Natsu asks. "Draw too much blood and it'll be regarded as human parts, so you don't use blades. I guess it makes sense."

Zalty curses loudly.

Natsu spins back around, braces his foot on the ground— and pitches the bloodied shard of crystal toward him.

Zalty turns, gasping when he doesn't manage to dodge it fully. It ricochets off his mask, shattering the right side, scraping dangerously past his temple.

Natsu doesn't attack again.

Zalty stumbles, sending Natsu a final glare with red eyes. In the next second he vanishes, taking off with a teleportation spell that Natsu knows he's too far away to stop.

(He'll worry about that later. He knows that person's smell now, it shouldn't take much from here to find out what exactly he's dealing with.)

(But for now, he has to focus on Deliora.)

Natsu turns back to Deliora, who groans weakly, and furiously— and Natsu frowns. Something was wrong with it… but it didn't matter.

It roared, with an unmistakable desire , and Natsu couldn't understand its words, but somehow— somehow, he just understood. He knew, after all, what Deliora wanted. What Deliora was searching for, the only thing he yearned for.

"HEY!" Natsu yells, and the demon turns to him.

He raises his arms, taunting it to come at him.

"You're looking for Zeref, right? Sorry, but you've got to get through me, first."

He has no attachment to these creatures, nor any desire to let them run. He wants to protect the cities, and he doesn't care if it dies. As long as it's one of Zeref's accursed creations, he'll destroy them. All of them.

The only one worthy of killing Zeref is me.

(Because in this world, there's no one that loves him more than I do.)