Chapter 64: Blood and Iron

The Wall

Sânge leapt forward at an inhuman speed, right over Gajeel's head. Gajeel braced for a hit, but was surprised by the sensation of the other man's hands hooking under his arms.

"What the hell?!"

Sânge's claws dug hard into his pectorals as he lifted the iron dragon-slayer into the air. Wings of blood struggled to maintain the weight of both of them—nonetheless they rose into the dark sky.

"PUT ME DOWN!" Gajeel flailed helplessly in the grip.

"I intend to," Sânge said, as he rose higher and higher. "Tell me, Black-Steel, have you ever seen a hawk prey upon a tortoise?" Wind buffeted them as they lifted, nearly as high as the tower. "The hawk is wise! It knows it cannot reach the delicious flesh of the tortoise while it is protected by its hard shell. So the hawk lifts its prey into the air and drops it, to shatter the shell and expose the soft flesh beneath." He laughed, a cackling and distorted sound, not too different from the screech of the hawk in his analogy. "Let's see if your defenses break like a tortoise, Black-Steel! If I am particularly lucky, this fall will make you splatter!" He trembled with excitement.

"You're a creepy bastard, you know that?!" Gajeel tore one of Sânge's hands off him, then clasped the other man's shoulder, turning in his hold. Just enough so that the two slayers were face to face, wind whipping black and white hair between them.

"Iron-Dragon Roar!"

Sânge cried out in surprise and pain as he took the metallic blow at point-bank range. His wings were shredded by the tornado of steel, causing both of them to spin to the ground. A cloud of dust and debris exploded into the air when they collided with the earth, beside the wall they had started from.

When the dust cleared, the men faced each other once more. Sânge's face was littered with cuts from the attack, his lip bleeding profusely—his skin shredded by shrapnel. Gajeel popped his shoulder back into place, which had suffered from the fall.

"I ain't a turtle," Gajeel said through heavy breaths.

"So it would seem."

Yet again, no time was spared before the battle raged on. Sânge raised his hands toward the sky. Blood gathered in a cloud above Gajeel, who stared up with an expression of disgust.

"Blood-Dragon Boiling Rain!"

It was the same attack he had used on Jezran and Macbeth—droplets of blood hot enough to burn skin instantly. Only now, with his newly charged powers, the rain was more of a torrential downpour. It showered on Gajeel with such heat and ferocity that steam rose from the earth, shrouding the image of the iron-dragon slayer.

Sânge smirked and lowered his hands. There was no sound from inside the cloud of steam—no denying that his attack had obliterated the other man. He licked his lips in anticipation, hoping to find a pool of blood where Gajeel's body would lay.

But when the mist began to clear, an image stood out starkly against it.

"Impossible…"

Gajeel stood completely unscathed. His skin was solid iron, a protective shell of scales. The few blood drops that continued to fall, plinked uselessly off the metal—unable to penetrate these iron defenses.

"See if you can break this shell, hawk." he bared a canine with a smirk.

Before Sânge could recover from the shock, Gajeel made the next move. He was upon him in a moment, delivering blow after metallic blow. Sânge took the hits like a rag doll, unable to find a moment to defend himself. Somehow, with the growing of these iron scales, Gajeel's strength had increased exponentially. He gripped Sânge's throat with a vice hold before flinging him as hard as he could—directly into the stone wall.

The wall of the ruins crumbled. Mossy bricks and rusted metal collapsed down, crushing the blood-dragon slayer beneath them. The collision caused the entire structural integrity of the wall to deteriorate. It fell apart in a domino effect, scattering dirt into the air.

When the dust cleared, there was no movement. The last of the fallen stones rolled into place. There was silence.

"Cocky bastard," Gajeel grumbled. He waited—eyes trained on the unmoving pile of rubble. After a moment, he took a heavy step forward.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him, along with the swoosh of air that accompanied flight. He jerked around in time to see a pair of blood wings folding down against a snowy white back.

"Good, he's running away." Gajeel scoffed. That saved him a lot of trouble. Now he could go be by Macbeth's side while they faced Resmond.

He watched Sânge a moment longer. Watched as the blood-slayer surveyed the battlefield below him. And as Gajeel watched, he felt a rock drop into the pit of his stomach, the moment he realized…

"Shit."

Sânge had lunged directly into the battling crowd of slaves and thugs. The spilled blood from the fight that had seeped into the earth, all began to rise from the ground. The wounds of the fighters drained as well, all collecting into a floating pool of red.

Then there was the unmistakable gurgle of a dragon-slayer having a meal.

Slaves and thugs alike screamed in terror and ran. When Sânge had eaten his fill, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and rose back into the air.

"Yes!" He roared into the night sky, arms outstretched. "I can feel the life-blood flowing through me! Great lacrima, lend me the strength of Kobolse! Lend me the power of a blood-dragon!"

The lacrima in his chest cavity flashed a blinding red light. A thick gush of blood poured from the wound, to be swept into the air around him. It swirled like a tornado, slowly, then faster, cloaking his visage in an orb of spinning red. A raptor-like screech erupted from within the whirling cocoon—an agonized, demonic cry.

The blood tornado stopped spinning all at once. The collected blood dropped, splattering the ground below. Now, revealed under the harsh light of the cold moon, was Sânge.

If it could be called Sânge.

The newly emerged demon that now hovered before Gajeel could hardly be considered human. It was grotesque—a skinless beast, raw and red. Pulsing tendrils, veins, arteries, stretched from the glowing lacrima in his chest. Purple scales were scattered unevenly over his dripping form. From his head rose two spiraled horns. Four elongated, razor sharp fangs and canines jutted from his bared teeth. Thin red mist surrounded him. His eyes glowed as sharply as the lacrima, pulsing ominously in sync with one another.

"This is my new form, Back-Steel." His voice was hellishly distorted, deep and twisted like the guttural sound of devil. "The Ultimate Blood Dragon."

The Courtyard

Piper stood back, waiting for Sorano to make her next move. She took a deep breath and lifted her hand into the air. Shimmering light came from her palm as coins materialized again.

"For the cost of thirty, I call upon you, Barakiel!" She shouted toward the stars. "Eradicate this repulsive mortal with your holy light!"

Piper shielded his eyes as her next angel appeared. It was a three-headed being with wings, completely white and shrouded in blinding light. The angel gathered an orb of the light in front of it, before sending it forth in a massive wave.

The light was so strong, that its effect was physical. Piper cried out as the burst burned his skin and sent him flying back. Even with his eyes closed and guarded by his arms, it felt as though his pupils were melting. When the attack was over, he couldn't see. He couldn't move for pain.

Surprisingly, his cry of pain was matched by a scream from Sorano, released when her summoned entity returned to the place from whence it came. When Piper had finally gathered himself enough to stand, he winced and opened one eye slightly, trying to focus on her through a sudden migraine.

"Every time one of those angels leaves, you's get a hell of a shock, don't you's?"

Sorano panted slightly, but righted herself quickly, maintaining a posture of arrogance. "I am being purified by the holy beings. The transformation into an angel, the eradication of sin, it is a painful process."

He gritted his teeth, and fought to open both eyes. "Not'in you say makes sense, you's know?" He brushed dirt off of his pants.

"It's your turn," she snapped. "Hurry up. You're wasting my time." She huffed. "Typical selfish man."

"Typical naggy woman," he said right back. He blinked several times, finally able to see her as more than a gray blob in his vision. "Goddamn, you're as bad as my ex-fiancé." He rolled his dice around in his palms once more.

"You had a fiancé?" She threw her head back and laughed out loud. The halo shaped cowlick bobbed in the air. "A degenerate like you? I don't believe it."

"Hey!" Piper crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I don't know what 'degenerate' means, but I ain't lying! Damn, am I really that unattractive?" His bottom lip jutted in a pout as he unfolded his arms and glanced down at his torso and defined muscles. "I gots an eight pack, lady! Is it my face? You's sayin' I gotsa ugly mug?"

Sorano's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You're a mortal man, which means you're ugly down to your rotten soul. I will cleanse you of your transgressions."

"Cleanse me? What, like you's gonna get in the shower wit' me and scrub me down? Geez, angel-cheeks, we ain't even had that burger yet!"

"Repulsive," she rolled her eyes. "Take your turn before I grow bored."

"A'right!" He rolled the dice. They bounced once and landed on a four and a three. "Seven! That means we gets ta play the shell game!"

A table materialized in front of him. On it were three red cups. He picked them up one at a time to show her they were empty, before he slid one of his die under the middle cup.

"Watch closely, doll. If you's pick the right cup at the end, you's avoid the penalty."

She yawned dramatically.

Piper began to shuffle. He started off slow, then picked up speed until his hands were moving at an insane rate. Finally, he stopped and met her eyes. "Which cup has my die, babe?"

Sorano gave a heavy sigh. She went as far as to pick at a burnt spot on her glove before bothering to glance back up at him. "Do you take me for a fool?" She raised her hand and flicked her wrist to point at his pocket. "You cheated. It's right there."

"Good eye, doll…" He winced, then tensed his body as if in preparation for something. The table and cups dematerialized, and Piper was suddenly struck with the same kind of electric burst he'd hit her with before.

"Hypocrite!" she accused sharply, after the lightning had deposited him back on the ground. "You dared to lecture me about being injured by my own magic?"

"Hey…" he coughed, on all fours. "In all fairness… That's the only dice roll I gots that kicks my ass…" he tried to stand, but fell back to his knees. "And it's… worth the risk."

"I hope it was worth signing your death wish," she raised her hands again. "My angel, strike this man down!"

A ghost-like creature with no eyes, blue lips, and rows of sharp teeth, soared from the sky to hit Piper directly in the chest. The blow threw him several feet back, causing him to cough up blood. It left him even worse for wear, tattered and bruised on the ground.

"Damn…" He groaned in pain.

Sorano smirked sadistically down at him, but then gasped as sharpened casino chips sliced through the skin of her stomach.

"Y-You cheated!" She touched her bleeding side.

"Did not." He stood, leaning heavily on one leg, and clutching a now useless arm. "It was my turn, angel-face."

"Fine!" Her pale eyes began to look wild. She gritted her teeth, eyes flicking up and down her opponent's burnt and broken body. "It's time to finish this!" She put her hands together in a prayer, summoning light and coins once more. "For the cost of 100, I summon Raguel!" She tossed ten coins in the air.

Piper closed his eyes, bracing for the potentially fatal attack that he knew he was too weak to avoid.

But instead of an angel appearing, the coins flickered out. Sorano's high pitched scream echoed off the walls of the ruins. She was being jolted by another zap of agony, delivered by the unholy magic she wielded. She writhed in pain, arched her back, completely helpless until the burst receded.

"I—I don't understand! I didn't have enough magical energy to summon you? Am I still not yet worthy?!" Tears rolled down her face—brought on by the pain or by the betrayal, it was unclear.

Piper gritted his teeth and rolled his dice again. His odds had been dramatically decreased since her attack. He only managed to roll a 3.

"3-Match Payoff."

Sorano stared up in horror, completely unable to protect herself from whatever this attack would be. Her knees shook and she fell to them, succumbing to both weakness and fear. Bright lights flickered all around her—the chaotic sound of winning slots—flashing neon lights. She waited for pain, the finishing blow.

But it never came.

An arm closed around her. She gasped at the unexpected sensation. The lights stopped flashing, the confetti settled around them. She blinked to make sense of it, of this enemy wizard on his knees at her level, his uninjured arm closed around her in a near crushing embrace.

Their magical energy was totally depleted, their bodies physically exhausted. All Piper could do, was grab onto her, and collapse with her to the ground.

"Well… damn." He lay panting, still wincing in pain—his arm was still tucked around her.

"Get your filthy hands off of me," she snapped, but weakly. She made no effort to roll away from him. Her body was useless. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was thinkin' I'd knock you out once I got over here, but…" he chuckled and dropped his good arm to the dirt. "I ain't the kind of guy who could knock an angel like you's out cold, you know?" He grunted as another fresh wave of pain came from somewhere in his chest. "That and, I'm just too damn weak to do anything else. You's got me good, angel-face."

Sorano put the back of her hand to her forehead, her face toward the stars. Her lip quivered as tears rolled down her cheeks, trailing down to her ears before nestling in strands of white hair. "Raguel… rejected me." She shuddered violently. "All I want… is to fly away. I just want to become an angel…"

"Yo…" Piper smiled wanly at her. "This is just the opinion of a degenerate sinner, but…" his emerald eyes sparkled. "You's already look like an angel to me."

Sorano blinked at him, pale-purple eyes as wide as saucers. With a strangled sob, she suddenly threw her arms around him and wept against his bare chest. He awkwardly patted her back.

"Damn… If Cana finds out about this, I'm a dead man."

Neither of the two wizards could go on. After a moment like this, laying on top of one another in a battle-scarred courtyard, they were both overtaken by unconsciousness.

The Tower

"Are you ready, Jezran?" Pantherlily asked, as he held the old man over the metal walkway that led to Syllestra.

"Yes, dear me!"

Pantherlily released his hold, dropping Jezran onto the walkway. The man ran the remaining few steps to the child. His face blanched at this up-close view of her. He sent a silent prayer of thanks that Dreamer was not here to see this. It would have been too much to take. In fact… it was almost too much, even for him—a man who had seen many a disturbing thing in his years of life.

Her hands were strapped to a metal rod. Needles, at the ends of thin cables, pierced her wrists. Strings and electric components were attached to stickers on her skin, an IV penetrated her arm. And all around them was the static sensation of thick magical energy, as the black diamond absorbed her magic and channeled it through rods into the laser mounted on it.

"My dear Syllest…" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He rose a hand to brush a strand of black hair away from her pale face. When he looked at her, he remembered a toddler in an alleyway—bright pink eyes looking up at him… He would see to it that those eyes opened again.

He scanned her over several times. The cogs in his brain spun and worked, as he tried to understand the function of this device, what each piece served for, and as he calculated how to remove her from its mechanical grip without killing her.

There was a particularly loud groan from the white diamond. A gigantic shard of it cracked and split off the side, revealing the entire right half of the Nikolana Device.

"Can you get her out?" Pantherlily asked from behind him.

"Yes. But it will be difficult, dear me. The dark magic in Resmond's diamonds is… it is as if it is hungry. As if it thinks for itself. It will not be willing to release its food source so easily."

"I've got your back," Pantherlily promised, as Jezran finally stepped forward, and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

"I can clip these wires, but first I must disable the electric current running through this part of the—"

Pantherlily looked down at the cracking diamond as Jezran mumbled under his breath. The diamond gave another loud crack as a chunk fell off. A few more shards of that size, and the device would be completely exposed.

The exceed narrowed his eyes at a shape on the ground below. It looked as though someone was approaching the Nikolana device. Someone who clearly did not comprehend that standing under a fracturing diamond was a death wish. He closed one eye as a shard of diamond plummeted toward the person. Instead of being hit, however, there was a flash of black, as the figure dodged the shard with inhuman speed.

"Jezran, it appears we have company." Pantherlily's tail twitched. "Can I leave you hear to free Syllest?"

"Yes, dear me. Do not allow whoever it is to do anything to the device, Pantherlily." Jezran's lips turned into a mustached frown. "The result of this device being activated would be cataclysmic."

"I understand. Best of luck, old friend."

The black exceed dove off of the metal walkway and tucked his wings to dive toward the figure below. He landed on a hunk of diamond, several yards away from the figure.

"You there! What do you think you're doing?"

The man in front of the device was tall and gangly, in a skin-tight black suit and glasses, with electric yellow hair atop his head like lightning bolts. Yellow lines on his black suit resembled the lines on a magi-vehicle racer.

"None of your business, pussy-cat," the man sneered, lip pulling back under a sharply pointed nose.

"Do you intend to activate the Nikolana Device?" Pantherlily asked, little paws crossed over his chest.

"Maybe I do. What are you going to do to stop me? Scratch me?"

Pantherlily narrowed his eyes. He uncrossed his arms and began to morph into battle-form. His opponent was clearly not expecting this, by the furious scowl that followed.

"I will not allow you to activate that monstrosity," Pantherlily declared, as he wielded his red blade. If you so much as move an inch, I will stop you."

The man smirked.

"If you can catch me."

Up, up, up, up the stairs—endlessly.

"Macbeth, what if something goes wrong? What if they can't get her off of that thing?"

Macbeth narrowed his eyes and tugged her harder in response. "Shut up, Dream. She's going to be safe. You have to focus on our task."

She nodded, though the thought of what lay ahead made her stomach churn. Part of her wished these stairs would last forever. Then she would never have to face him.

At long last, they reached the top of their ascent. Before them was a long hallway. There was only one door, far at the end of the hall—and it was cracked open, inviting them in. Welcoming them to the final confrontation.

Dreamer looked at him one more time. Her lips trembled. Tears shimmered under rosy-pink irises. Macbeth looked back at her, sharing a final moment—one last pocket of peace, the tiniest splinter of time. He squeezed her hand once more, both to remind her that he was there—he hadn't let go, and to burst the pocket, shatter the splinter. They nodded, agreeing to the unspoken contract. They would fight this demon, and all of Dreamer's internal demons, together—hand-in-hand. Two strangers, bound by fate from the moment she'd dug him from the wreckage of Nirvana, now joined together for this common cause—as teammates, as friends… Joined together by the wood of time, a bit of charm magic, and love.

Macbeth and Dreamer held their breaths as they ran to the end of the hall and through the open door…

To face Resmond, The King of Diamonds.