If last chapter did not send the message about how the kiddies gloves are off when it comes to writing dark stuff, this one probably will. Also - thank you for the wonderful reviews.

Kindly enjoy the depravity.

Deicide

I was in a chair again.

The room was dark. Dark as it was. Dark as it will continue to be. Until the door opened once more. Opened to a surprise.

"Yo… Jason! How're you doing today bro?"

It wasn't her today. It was him.

"Damn, my mom did a real number on you eh?"

I said nothing.

"Yeah, she can be a real bitch sometimes. She's reeeaaal crazy bro. Like, totally nuts. The problem is, she doesn't even know she's nuts. I mean, that just kind of sucks."

He continued rambling.

"I mean, I'm crazy, but I know I'm crazy. So I can take responsibility for my craziness. But her? Jeez."

He walked around me, sighing.

"By the way, has my sister come to visit you yet? I kinda doubt it. Though, you'd like it if she did wouldn't you? You'd like to ride her hard and raw. Don't be shy – hell, I'd like to ride her hard and raw. Don't tell her that though – bitch has issues. She's hot – but too much issues dude. She bit off her boyfriend's dick one-time cause he shoved it too deep and tried to turn a casual blowjob into a deepthroat in a position that was wayyy not acceptable."

He slapped me across the back.

"I guess that's what you'd call a dick move, right man?" he laughed, "I was watching her through a peephole though. Fucking cocktease probably knows I have one in her room, but pretends she doesn't. Hah! As if she'd really stand in the same spot to wear her underwear every day. She's giving me a hard time on purpose, I just know it."

He walked in front of me and shook his head.

"Speaking of hard times, I kinda feel for you though dude. I mean, you travelled six fucking states just to try and hook up with my mom and get some ass. She was your teacher in elementary school right? Damn. Guess you didn't know how loco she was. You knew she had kids right? Course you did. You wanted that hot teacher MILF pussy and you wanted it bad. It coulda been the greatest fucking achievement of your lifetime."

He shrugged.

"Life has a way of fucking us all up, the least fucking way we expect it. So I say, go out, fuck everything, and go fucking wild. Course, there's the downside of hindering other people, but hey – we hinder people all the fucking time just by existing – so who gives a shit."

"Are you going to hose me down or are you just going to keep rambling?"

He staggered back exaggeratedly. "Whoo! Puppy's still got some fangs. Well yeah, I was gonna hose you down, but since you've still got fangs, I've got a better idea."

I saw him bring out the towel. I saw him line up the hose. "What – what are you doing?"

"Don't worry man, I'm not gonna kill you. My mom would go totally nuts and bonkers if I did. Well, more nuts and bonkers." He grinned, "I'm just really curious man – about this water torture stuff. See – I've always heard about how crazy it is, and that CIA guys and what not couldn't even last five minutes of it. I wanna see how true that is."

The towel was placed over my face and nothing I did would shake it off.

I heard his muffled voice. "I'd say sorry about this dude, but I'm not. Not really. Maybe one day, you'll gain the opportunity to use your power over someone weaker. You'll probably understand just how fucking great it feels to have someone at your mercy… and you'll fucking love it man. You'll fucking love it."

The water came down.

"You'll fucking love it."

XXXX

Where… where was I?

What… had happened?

My mind was hazy. Too hazy. I could barely grasp at concrete thoughts and facts. All except one. One abstract thought.

Pleasure.

I shuddered at the shockwave of pleasure. It was ineffable. Indescribable. I felt as though an angel descended down on me with the tightness of a vice-grip. As if a goddess had wrapped her tongue around me and sucked until I was absolutely dry. I had never felt pleasure this great in my entire life. It was addictive. Maddening.

Slowly, however, it began to recede. Rational thought was taking it's place. My eyes were opening, and my nose was beginning to pick up other scents. I was vaguely aware of something across my neck.

A bloody intestine.

It wrapped around my neck like a scarf.

That was… unusual.

Ah… I remembered. The guard – slaver – he had exploded, had he not?

How had that happened?

Oh, yes. I'd consumed his rage.

Rational thought began to fill my mind as I remembered what had happened. Consuming someone's rage at peak value was comparable to opening a bottle of coke after shaking it for seven hours nonstop, and inserting several mints for good effort. I could sense it happen before it did. All his rage, converted into raw, explosive, fiery magical power in fractions of a second, and all that magical power, pulsing through his body, rapidly demanding an escape. I came along, drawing upon it and expelling that explosive power from his body instantaneously.

The results were clear.

I wanted to feel something for the scene in front of me – for the smell of death and the guts of the slaver that was now around my neck – but I could not. I could not feel anything because my mind was still hazy. Hazy from post-orgasmic bliss. Because I was the cause of this Eris' 'gift' made it so I would feel erotic pleasure from the chaos I had created.

I could not feel disgust. I could not feel trepidation. I could not feel any negative emotions towards the sight before me. All I could feel, was a desire for more.

More.

This compulsion – it was the equivalent to Pavlovian training with drug addiction. Rewards for good actions, negativity for bad actions. Except, in this case, it was the reverse. Part of me had contemplated fighting it. That action seemed less and less possible as time went by.

Has Eris already won?

I found myself asking the question. I needed to gain my freedom from her – to refuse to be her puppet – but this scheme of hers, manipulating my very senses and my sense of what was good and what was pleasurable – it was a tactic that nearly very well guaranteed her victory.

No. No she hasn't.

This power, her power – I would utilize it in my goal of killing her. I would make it merely another tool in my arsenal, another tool to climb further up the ladder to godhood. It was a tremendously useful tool, I would admit. But – it did not guarantee her victory. No – it did not. My goal was still the same. My compulsion and need to feed on chaos and emotions like some sort of emotional vampire was merely a slight hindrance or perhaps, unexpected boon.

My goal was unchanged.

I would kill her.

Still, I could not help but wonder what she would taste like, literally, sexually and figuratively. She was the embodiment of negative emotions… how would she taste to my senses? What sort of maddening pleasure would I receive from consuming her essence?

I would need to find out.

The sound of retching and coughing reached my ears and drew me from my post-orgasmic bliss. Ah – of course, the old man Rob and the children. I had almost forgotten about them. I sniffed the air.

Onions – fear.

Oddly understandable. I closed my eyes and tried to recall every emotion and smell I had experienced till date.

Worry – bananas.

Helplessness – grapes/grapefruits.

Insecurity – gingers.

Anger – peppers.

Rage – spicy curry.

Fear – onions.

Fascinating. The more negative the emotions, the stronger the smell. Emotions were a mix of fruits and vegetables, but raw chaos and misery were complete meaty meals. I wondered what emotions tasted like dessert. Which ones tasted like cake, or perhaps ice cream?

I disregarded the thought. I would find out in time. There was no need for me to be overly curious. Instead –

"So…" my voice cut across the room like a whip, and everyone flinched. It was amusing, to see Erza Scarlet and Jellal Fernandez – jump at the sound of my voice in frightened gestures. Considering that in the future, these would be two of the strongest mages in the world.

Or would they?

The stray thought entered my head. I wanted to disregard it. I didn't. I couldn't help but wonder at the truth of it, actually. What real reason did I possess to make sure that the plot progressed exactly as I had remembered it? What reason did I have to let Erza and Jellal carry out their pre-ordained lives? This dilemma had occurred to me when Eris had ordered me to kill two of Erza's companions, but now, as I thought about it further, I saw no reason. My existence ensured that any 'future' knowledge I possessed was irrelevant, as my actions had most likely already changed the course of destiny.

What was stopping me, from killing Jellal or Erza now?

Why would I? Simple. To severely weaken Fairy Tail who would most likely become my adversaries in future. To ruin Hades' plans for a puppet in Jellal. To eliminate the entire needless Tower of Heaven 'arc' once and for all.

To taste the despair from Rob and Millianna.

Why wouldn'tI? Because I was a good person, and I would be killing innocents.

Why bother being 'good?'

Why indeed. What did I have to gain from such a moral stance?

Eris brought me to this world in a new body. She did not bring me into it with a new mind. My mind was the same before my death. Or perhaps, slightly worse. The fragments of sanity I possessed were not much. I was aware. My thought processes were presumably not normal. My speech even more so. The voice in my head in which I conducted all my thinking was clipped and formal. Cold. Calculating. It had not always been that way. Constant oxygen deprivation, wooden rulers and hardback encyclopedias were to blame for that. Whenever she desired to play the role of the naughty principal, it acerbated the case. My hand moved to my throat. It was strange, not possessing the strangulation marks. I had enjoyed tracing my hand over them.

"Y-you – killed him."

I turned my head up. One of them finally regained their ability to speak. Who was it? My gaze turned – of course, it was Erza. I did not feel surprised.

"Yes." I said simply. Explaining would be a waste of time and effort. Although it had not been my intention, and I had no idea that eating his rage would kill him, I did not care much for his death.

"I applaud you for your confidence in stating the obvious. Was there anything you wished to add to that revelation?"

Sarcasm. Strange. It had been so long since I used it. Normally I'd be slapped or whipped for it. It felt nostalgic.

My voice seemed to spur all of them back to the present.

"Erza – get back," Jellal hissed, "He's dangerous."

"He – he killed one of the slavers!"

"By making him expl –" Jellal seemed to struggle with the word, his face going green. "We don't know how he did it –"

"He used magic!" Erza was more stubborn than I thought. "Y-you – you used magic didn't you?"

I shrugged. "More or less." Admittedly, I was surprised that they could hold this conversation in a room that smelt of so much blood, guts and putrefaction. Of course, I remembered that they were slaves.

"Magic!" she seemed more excited at the concept of magic than I would expect. Excited enough to take several steps forward, towards me.

"Erza –"

"ERZA-NEE!"

"Erza get back!"

Millianna, Simon, and… I forgot what the blond one's name was. They three youngest – they yelled out their concern for Erza, as though she was rushing forward towards a wild, dangerous animal. The old man was quiet, far too quiet, and I did not like it.

"If I wanted to kill you – any of you – I would have done it already."

It was strange for me to utter such an iconic movie line, and actually literally mean it. If I wanted them dead, I could have killed them while Eris gave me the chance. Although I was still debating killing Erza or Jellal – I was uncertain about their fates for now.

Kill them… so much easier… so much more fun… unpredictable…

"Y-you – with your magic," Erza began, slowly, and I could perceive onions and gingers. Fear and insecurity…? No… uncertainty. Interesting. "You could escape! You could help us escape! Take care of all the slavers!"

Interesting how she used take care of instead of kill. My lips twitched.

Unfortunately, it was not that simple. I could only 'kill' people if they were filled with rage, and I ate their rage up. Otherwise, I had no real magical ability to speak of, except, of course, for some slightly greater-than-average strength, constitution, and magical power. This was, however, more than what most of the slaves possessed. The pertinent question, however, remained –

"Why would I?"

Erza stumbled back. "W-what?"

"Why would I?" I repeated. "I can use my power and escape alone, by myself, and leave you all to rot here. Tell me – what do I have to gain from helping you escape?"

It was a testament to her surprising naiveté that this had not occurred to her. It had not occurred to any of them.

"You bast –" I shot Jellal a cold glare, and he froze in place. I forgot he was such a petulant child when he was younger.

"Well?" I repeated. "What will you give me, in exchange for your freedom?"

"I –" she grit her teeth, glaring at me "I don't have anything to give!"

Oh… but she does…

"You do."

"What?" she looked confused.

"You can give me… you."

"I… don't understand –"

My nose peaked up on burning, red hot peppers, and my gaze snapped to their source, the righteous anger that came from the old man Rob as he rose to his feet.

"I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!" he practically roared, and I put my pinky into my ear.

"I, likewise, do not appreciate unripe fruits. My request is for when she is much older, and far riper."

The final word escaped my lips and I stopped to reconsider it. What… was I doing?

Was I really making such demands – extracting sexual favors from a child in exchange for their freedom – what – this was not me –

But it is… it is now…

My mind told me what I was doing was wrong. My nose, picking up on the conflict of emotions told me it was right. My lower member, slowly filling with blood at the thought of Erza Scarlet one day being mine to claim told me it was right. Hormones flooding this puberty driven body and desiring an outlet told me it was right. The mix of spices in the air, conflicting emotions and slowly settling despair which sung to me like a well cooked meal told me it was right.

And He – He was right. He had been right. To have this power, this power over them – this power over someone – to hold their fate in your hands and use it as you wished –

It was intoxicating.

"I. Will. Not. Allow. It." Rob said again, possessing far more energy than a man his age possessed any right to.

"Your refusal has no weight." I said simply. "It is her decision ultimately. It is either she sells her chastity sometime in the future in exchange for her immediate freedom, or she remains a slave, and has it stolen regardless by a slaver with a fetish for young redheads."

Rob flinched. Visibly. I rose an eyebrow.

"Do not expect me to believe that you never contemplated the possibility of these two girls under your care being raped by the slavers?"

He flinched again.

"So you did not. You are far too optimistic and naïve for a man with that many gray hairs."

He gritted his teeth. "What kind of monstrous child are you?!"

"The patient and content kind," I replied, "The impatient and greedy kind would have demanded Millianna as well, and ordered them both to strip here and now."

The younger girl ducked behind the old man, and he snarled at me. "Over my dead body."

"That is not a condition you can afford to make so cheaply. Killing you would be more of a warm-up exercise than a challenge."

I did not understand why I could say the things I said so simply. But it felt good. Their conflicting emotions, their rage, their helplessness, and the high-tensions – I bathed in it – I lavished in it – I could feel it all around me like I was in the world's greatest sauna.

Say what you want – Do what you want – Take what you want –

You'll fucking love it.

Erza was torn between two emotions – ginger – uncertainty and disgust… cucumbers.

Jellal was overpowering with the aroma of peppers, slowly turning into curry, indicating his anger and bubbling rage… and then there was something new there as well… lemons… jealousy.

I was amused. Even now, Jellal held this fascinating crush on Erza. Perhaps I should have demanded to do it here and now, and turn him into a cuckold? I wondered if NTR would have a particularly exquisite taste…

"Well?" I said, turning my attention back to the red-head. "I cannot be bothered to wait all day. What is your answer?"

She seemed to be stewing over the decision more and more, and she looked closer than ever to uttering the magical three-letter word –

"Don't do it Erza!" Jellal insisted, "We don't need this guy to help us escape! Remember, we have that!"

I wanted to burn Jellal. My doubts about killing him slowly faded away with certainty. I would kill him. Erza seemed to remember 'that' and then rapidly shook her head, stepping back away from me with the heavy tinted scent of cucumbers – disgust.

Unfortunate.

"You have made your choice."

They DARE – kill – kill – KILL THEM! MAKE THEM SUFFER!

I made my way to the door, my teeth firmly clenched to stop myself from salivating. Rob stood protectively in front of the children. I was amused. Perhaps, under different circumstances, I would have attempted to befriend the lot. Communicate with them genuinely. Gain them as allies.

This was not under different circumstances. They were children and I was a psychologically damaged young adult from a different world, who thrived and gained palatal and sexual pleasure from negative emotions and chaotic situations. We had no common interests. We could possess no common interests. The age gap was a factor. The knowledge gap was a factor. The perspective gap was a factor. I doubted it would be appropriate to regal children with tales of the time a dildo was put in my mouth. Or descriptions of how your wrist strained to imbed a knife into a skull. Or perhaps tell them about how my thoughts were filled with how delicious their despair would taste if I were to rape or kill one of their friends.

No – the 'heroes' of this world would never understand my perspective, or condone my newfound pleasures.

Feed off their despair –

Even now, it took all of my willpower not to rush at them and do something I might regret later. I needed to focus, think – think – about something, anything except from how juicy Erza's despair would taste if I were to mount her and –

Magic. Think about magic.

"Rob was it?" I said as I stopped at the door. "Tell me – the source of all magic in the world… you believe it is love… do you not?"

The sudden question threw them all for a loop. Rob even more so. It did not stop him from answering however.

"It is."

"That would mean – all magic is fueled by emotion – emotion and intent. We mold this within us, and then the ethernano in the air converts this for us into supernatural feats… is that not so?"

He did not answer. However, he did not need to. I could tell by his expressions, that I was right on the mark. The answer came to me after I had made the slaver explode. His anger and rage, when converted into magic, had manifested itself as heat and explosive force. Emotions and intent, were the primary determiners of how to attain magic, as one's own emotions affected the 'nature' of the spell.

Mirajane's Satan Soul transformation was reliant on emotions, and she lost the ability to use it after believing her sister died.

Natsu's strength rose significantly with rage and anger.

Fairy Tail mages gained more power whenever they fought for 'their nakama' and loved ones.

Mavis once stated that the Fairy Sphere spell which had saved the Tenroujima group from destruction, had not been powered by her, but by the strong bonds and emotions which existed between the members, and she had merely converted that into magical energy.

It made sense. The in-universe reason as to how Fairy Tail could win battle after battle.

Magic was emotion. Emotion was magic.

I could eat emotions. Ergo –

I could eat magic.

I would have laughed out loud had I been the more dramatic sort. Eris did not realize the nature of what she had done – she did not realize just what exactly she had empowered me with.

I turned to the group. I possessed no need for them any longer. I supposed it would be best to leave them with a few departing words.

"You may revile me." I began, turning to Jellal. "You may not understand me." I turned to Rob. "You may fear me." I turned to the children in his care. "I care little for which you choose. However," I stepped out of the cell, dropping my bloody intestine 'scarf' on the floor.

"You will remember me."

XXXX

The clock was ticking.

I rushed through the corridors in the Tower of Heaven, my nose peeled for the smell of anything vaguely resembling food. It did not take me long to realize the benefits of my power. Places that smelled of food were places that were high in chaos and/or misery. These were places occupied with the slavers, and hence, the places to avoid. As an advantage, I sniffed ahead for the smell of any sort of fruit or snack. When I could smell something, it meant that someone was coming – most likely a slaver. I would then do my best to hide behind walls, or duck into areas that would ensure where I could not be seen. When my nose picked up no smells other than the ambient meaty aroma of the Tower of Heaven, I would proceed down the path to escape.

My goal was not to get to the ships. I knew that was where Erza and her band of companions were headed. The group realized with my departure, that it was an ample time to conduct their escape plan. My nose could pick up the general aroma of spaghetti in that area – meaning that it was a place that was a hotspot of activity. They would get caught eventually. Erza would be taken and she would lose her eye. Jellal would be taken and tortured. The rebellion would begin.

Fascinating how my presence had not changed anything. Rather, it accelerated the timing it happened. It made them grasp at that chance for escape earlier than they would have otherwise.

I had a feeling this would kick-start a 'butterfly effect' situation. However, I did not know to what extent it would spread.

I stared at the long, stony hallway. My bare feet were bruised and filled with scratches. My thirteen-year-old body did not feel remotely tired. The very second I felt tired, I would open my mouth, and swallow more of the ambient bacon-tasting chaos in the air, and I would be back to full strength. This allowed me to keep sprinting for as long as I could, occasionally only slowing down to allow my nose to pay close attention to smells.

My feet touched marble, and I stopped. My gaze went upwards. Behind me, the carved, jagged-like rock of the Tower of Heaven. In front of me, smooth, elegant black marble, a brilliant ceiling filled with lights, and three branching hallways.

The living quarters.

Slavers were an extravagant lot. They needed to possess living quarters as well to maintain the slaves on a daily basis. I wagered – correctly – that it would be included in the tower. I did, recall, from the anime, that Millianna once captured the blue cat, Happy, in a large, fancy room that was hers. Although it was likely that the room came into existence under Jellal's supervision, it was more likely that it had existed beforehand and used by the slavers, but was converted afterwards.

There were three paths to follow. I hesitated. My nose would not be of much use here. It was unlikely for something chaotic to be happening in the slaves living quarters.

Freshly baked Cake. Baguettes. Toast.

I spoke too soon.

"Stop squirming you little fucking bitch!"

The voice came from behind me. I scowled. I dashed forward, taking refuge in one of the three passageways. If it was the one the unknown slaver chose to follow, I would be out of luck. I waited. My breath stilled. Then, came strolling in a slaver. Large. Pudgy. Wearing the same mask and robes. I paid no attention to his details. Like the rest of this place, the rest of these people, the details were superfluous. My mind skimmed them over. However, my mind failed to skim over what was held in his hand.

A girl. Small. Young. White hair. Crying.

I turned my gaze back to the slaver. A grin was on his face. A familiar grin.

"Heh – if you're good enough – I'll even let you keep your life bitch. Maybe."

He walked past me. The girl's smell drew me. I felt my mouth water and the aroma of what I now knew to be pure misery.

It smelt like baked goods and desert. Pure misery smelt like an ungodly, mouthwatering desert.

I clenched my teeth down to stop myself from salivating. This was worse. Worse than I expected. There was a reason why bakeries often gained significant amounts of purchases. The reason was the smell – the smell of freshly baked bread or products incited an instinctive desire in the human mind to make a compulsive purchase. To pass by the smell of baked goods and not be tempted to taste it was an impossible feat. This feat was now amplified significantly in me.

It was twisted. A young slave, about to be sexually assaulted. Yet all I could think of was about how delicious her misery would taste. Part of me wanted to let it happen. Let it happen, because the misery would taste sweeter afterwards.

I contemplated my actions. I was under no obligation to help anyone. I saw no need to even attempt trying to do anything that was not in my benefit. Saving a slave girl – it was not in my benefit. I would enjoy the taste of her misery far more. That was in my benefit.

Strange. Despite this, I found my feet silently stalking the man and the girl. Why was I following them? For the girl's despair, or for something more? I was not sure. I made certain to avoid being seen and to avoid making noise. Eventually, they came to a stop at a door.

"Get in bitch!"

She was shoved in. The slaver went in afterwards.

I stood at the door. Indecision tore at me.

The taste… think of the taste…

The girl – think of the girl –

I scowled. Indecision was costing me time. I did not have much time to afford. I would make my decision upon finding the sight inside. I reached for the knob – but stopped. Charmed. I could smell it – dark magic, intent magic – like cookies and milk. Charmed to alert the man upon being touched. Charmed to be locked.

Fascinating. It was time to test out my theory. I opened my mouth, and I drew it in. I focused on the emotions behind the magic rather than the magic itself. The emotion and intent powered it. It was like attempting to swallow a raisin with a mouth full of water. It took me time, time to separate the water from the raisin, and to eventually find it and swallow. It was a suitable snack, delicious, but not entirely satisfying.

Once I was done, I stared back at the knob.

No smells. No traces of magic.

I would have been giddy, if I remembered how to express that emotion. Instead, I settled for a feeling of satisfaction. With it, I turned open the knob. The thick smell of bakeries blasted out from the room like the air from a blow-dryer. The man was standing over the girl. His naked body actually sent waves of disgust into me that I could detect. Clearly something was in front of him, judging by the way he was thrusting his hips.

Then I realized, I had been a fool.

I had been thinking of the girl's misery or her life, when there was easily a third option. Consuming the slaver's own emotions. He was filled with chaos, with satisfied sadistic glee – and I had never tasted it before. Sadistic glee – it smelt like venison.

I needed to be a certain range to consume people's emotions. So, I crept behind him, slowly, silently, and he did not seem to notice my presence. Then, I opened my mouth and took a huge, meaty bite.

All at once, I was standing over someone. There was something pleasurable going down below, and I realized that a small person was apparently sucking me off. What? I tried to make sense of it –

More and more images came flying in. I was using the minor Rune Script magic I had learned as a slaver to lock the door and set a warning when someone tried to enter. I was walking down the hallway, dragging a small girl across from me. I was thinking about how pleasurable she would be.

Then, I was ordering the slaves. I was giving them commands and instructions. Then, I was chatting with some of the slavers. I was in charge of the distribution of food and ensured that none of the ingredients shipped unto the island were stolen. I made sure all the bad looking ingredients went to the slaves, and the freshest went to the slavers –

Then, I was on my ship. A smaller, private vessel hidden on a secret spot on the island. I usually killed slaves there, once I was tired of them –

A startled scream banished the images, sending them all shattering like glass from my vision. I was back in the room. I was behind the stone slaver. The scream had come from the girl.

Wait – stone?

The slaver whose sadistic glee I had consumed, he stood now, immobilized completely. His entire naked body was stone, rock solid stone, from his feet to the last strand of his hair. Gently, I pushed him to the side.

He crashed to the floor and shattered like a porcelain vase.

Realization dawned on me as to what had happened. I was neither the cause nor origin of his sadistic glee, hence, when I had consumed his peaked emotion, I had gained no sensual pleasure from it. Despite this, it seemed that consuming extreme glee and happiness made people turn… to stone. Fragile, easily breakable stone.

Consuming peaked rage made people explode and consuming peaked pleasure turned them to stone.

What I did not understand, however, was why I had received portions of his memory?

"Y-y-you killed him."

It was the second time today someone called me a killer, and I was already fascinated by it.

"Yes. I did."

It was my first time taking the full view of the young girl in front of me. She was naked, and she was young, too young. I estimated she was two or three years younger than Erza. Of course, when you were a slave, such a thing as a concept did not exist. Her eyes seemed familiar, and immediately, I realized why she had seemed so familiar.

Angel.

Of the Oracion Seis.

Yes… the members of that Dark Guild had all originated from this slave tower, had they not? If this was the lifestyle she had endured beforehand, I could not fault them for choosing to join a dark guild. Still, I could not help but wonder if I'd interrupted something. Changed the timeline. Changed her destiny. Had she been destined to be assaulted by a fat slaver in the Tower of Heaven? Had this been a major moment in her life that would shape it for years to come? Was she supposed to have been 'rescued' by someone else?

I could not tell. Information on her was too scarce to know.

Still, this was wasting time. Far too much time.

"Y-you… saved me." She said, her eyes teary.

No. No I did not. I came here uncertain and with half the mind of letting her get assaulted so I could feed on her despair. I only decided at the last minute to devour the slaver instead. I was no savior.

"You need to leave this place immediately." I said briefly. "I am leaving, and it would be unwise for your health if you were caught here and people assumed you were responsible for this slaver's death."

I turned around, and made my way out. Still, something good had come from this encounter. I now had a guaranteed method of escape. A private boat which could be manned by a single person. Hidden from view and the public eye.

More than that however, I had attained something else.

"Rune… Alarm."

The rudimentary rune magic sprung into life, nonsensical dark purple letters floated above my fingertips and I could not stop the widening of my lips and the expression of my satisfaction as a grin.

I can do magic.

From consuming his emotions, to consuming the magic he had cast on the door knob, and eventually attaining the memory of how he had performed it. Those three factors, those three requirements combined, made me capable of learning the magic of someone else as though I had already mastered it. In addition, my own reserves of ethernano grew, and I gained a pleasant meal out of it all. A fairly decent deal.

However, I still did not know why or how I had consumed his memories. Until I figured out that particular trick, I was not going to be a very good Peter Petrelli or Sylar imitation. Regardless though –

I can do magic.

One spell in the runic school utilized by Freed. Just one spell – but it was a start. This was going to be the start of my entire collection of magic abilities.

"W-wait!" The sound of frantic footsteps reached my ears, but it was majorly the scent of ginger that drew my attention.

I turned around, finding the small girl, thankfully, she had grabbed a long bedcloth to cover herself.

"P-Please! Take me with you!"

"What?"

"Y-you're strong! You killed that slaver! You saved me! Y-you're planning on escaping aren't you?" she begged "Please – please – please – take me with you."

Was she not supposed to gain closer bonds with the future members of Oracion Seis? Was she not supposed to escape with them and join that Dark Guild? It was as I suspected – my interference had changed something.

"Why would I?"

She seemed to balk at the question. She struggled deeply, before she dropped into a deep bow.

"I –I'll do anything! Anything! Even – even what the slaver wanted!"

Too young. Way too young.

"I accept that offer."

Her head shot up. I could already smell cucumbers and onions, disgust and fear. Her face looked like I had killed her puppy.

"In approximately eight or nine years, when you're physically mature enough."

Shock, confusion, and then disbelief – before, overwhelming elation.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou –"

I felt that she was going to greatly come to regret her decision.

She would regret it deeply.