Prologue
The Legend of Sparda.
100 years. Humans have short lifespans, in this era filled with war and strife humans consider it a miracle to even make it past fifty years.
The only ones who can possibly live that long are those who have perfected the art of magic, Wizards, witches, sorcerers. Even then only the greatest of the greatest have been able to live even ninety years.
Zeref is neither: rather, he was neither before this damned curse was forced upon him. His punishment for messing with the balance of life and death.
This damned curse. Zeref does not regret bringing back his brother, even if it caused the world to fall— he can and will gladly say this.
"My brother deserves a beautiful life."
Something he does not. This curse won't allow him to enjoy life. So for that very reason he keeps walking. He keeps traveling with no apparent goal in mind, only with the wish of death.
He keeps moving because if he stops to admire the beauty, it will be stripped away from him in a blink.
Which brings him to the land west of Ishgar, the continent known as Alakitasia.
To the north of the land that will be soon known as Alveraz there was a major city, one that effectively became the capital of Alakitasia.
A city known as Fortuna.
The young-looking boy covered himself with a cloak, hiding his face from the world. The Renaissance buildings were beautiful in his eyes, even the castle that stood in the middle of the city casted a comforting shadow and light over the entire land.
The architecture was beautiful, but he forced himself to ignore it. He didn't want his curse to activate in such a peaceful city.
"You okay, young man?" An old voice asked. Zeref turned to stare at a priest that stood by the side of the road.
"I am." Zeref replied simply. He turned to walk away, but before he did he made a decision. One that might be bad but he took the risk anyway. He turned back to the old priest and asked something that riddled his mind since he got here.
"What deity do the citizens pray to?" He asked
He knew his fair share of gods, it was a god that gave him this curse after all.
"Ah, why it's Sparda of course." The old man began to explain a tale told hundreds of times since the cities creation.
It was in this city that Zeref discovered something new about the world.
Thousands of years ago the world was once ruled by the malevolent. Humans were nothing but animals to Demons. Unlike with the dragons, humans had no way to possibly defend themselves from total extinction.
Yet all that changed with one demon.
The Dark Knight Sparda.
The most humane demon, the warrior that betrayed his malevolent kind and fought for the sake of mankind.
The demon who sealed off the underworld from Earthland, forever protecting mankind from the terrors of hell.
"Is the Dark Knight still around?"
The priest gave a sigh. "It is unknown, though he used to rule this city many centuries ago, he has long since vanished from the human eye."
The old man leaned forward with a glint on his eye, and he whispered, "but if you ask me, there have been legends of a white haired knight traveling the continent, I'd like to believe Sparda is not fully gone just yet."
It was in this city that Zeref had gained a new goal.
Find the Dark Knight, and find a way to get the demon to kill him.
A millennia old being who is worshiped as a god. Zeref believed that if anyone could kill him, it was Sparda.
He spent fifty years looking for the stories of a white haired knight. Whenever he thought he had something it turns out to be something completely different.
It was a goal that was near impossible. Yet he still looked. The results were the same every time, but after fifty years he finally found it.
The dark knight sat by a river, feeling the wind blowing through his hair. His facial features looked more human than what one would expect from a demon.
"The Dark Knight." Zeref whispered. He did not intend to be heard, but it seemed as though he was anyway.
The demon turned his head to the side, one eye staring at Zeref. Evaluating him.
"Isn't it dangerous for a child to be this deep in the wilderness?" The Dark Knight said after fully turning.
His dark armor covered the entirety of his body with the exception being his head.
A very human face stared forward at the Dark Mage.
Even though he tried to hold his emotions in, Zeref couldn't help but stare in awe. Then—as if on instinct— he kneeled. He did not want to anger another deity. In fact, he was surprised the man(demon) did not deny the fact he was the Legendary Dark Knight.
"Stand up. There is no need to kneel."
Zeref did so carefully, keeping his eyes staring straight at the Dark Knight's own.
"I sense something familiar in you."
So Zeref told him everything. As if he had to throw a boulder off his shoulders, he threw it off himself. He told the demon about his youth, he told the demon about his studies of magic–he spoke of his research about the boundary between life and death, of his magic that can break those boundaries. He mentioned the R-System and Eclipse Gate.
Then he told Sparda of Ankhseram's curse, and his attempts to revive his brother.
"This is my punishment, I broke the rules of life and death and this is the consequence. Even so…"
He kneeled again, his head hanging down, and with as much emotion he could use he cried.
"I beg you! End this miserable existence!"
He did not receive any response for a minute, the breeze being the only thing keeping the area from being completely silent. Zeref took these seconds to contemplate, this was his last attempt at death, the odds of Sparda actually complying with his wish was near zero, but even so Zeref believed there was a chance— no matter how small.
Zeref finally looked up after a minute or two, looking for any reaction, what he got was silence.
Sparda stared at the cursed young boy with a thoughtful gaze. His arms crossed and his eyes shut. Zeref was planning on rejection right then and there, instead he got something else.
"You've truly put me on the spot here."
Sparda sighed, unfolding his arms. "I made a promise to not interfere with his plans, but…"
The story struck a sore spot on him, he did not emphasize but he did pity. So, with that in mind.
"I cannot kill you." Sparda said, "Instead I believe there is something you must know."
Sparda looked towards the river behind him, staring at the fish that swam by.
"To truly break the boundaries between life and death constitutes eternal punishment. In fact, if I knew nothing about your story, I would assume he went easy on you."
This is eternal punishment! Zeref thought, keeping himself from saying that aloud.
"But instead of sending you to a separate realm, he kept you here, stuck with a curse that you can control."
"I can't–"
"The fact that nothing around us has died means you can control it, subconsciously as well. If the curse activates when you grow bonds, then avoid bonds at all costs. Smart, coming from a cursed soul."
Zeref knew that if he withheld his emotions he could keep the cursing from rampaging, but to do even that took a huge toll on his psyche. If what Sparda is saying is true, then, could he truly and completely control this curse?
"He would not enjoy me saying this, but he has a plan for you. His motives are unclear even to me but if there's one thing about him that I know, it's his skill with plotting." Sparda finished his thoughts.
They haven't been there long; nightfall was already arriving when Zeref first found the legend. Sparda looked towards the setting sun.
"I believe I must go; I hope you take my words to heart."
Zeref did not respond, his mind trying to recover from this new information. He didn't even say anything when Sparda walked right past him, nor did he say anything when the Dark Knight walked out of view.
So, I'm merely a pawn? Zeref was left there, drowning in his own thoughts.
Meanwhile Sparda was thinking to himself as well. The conversation interested him. A tale of a young boy who went into something he wasn't prepared for.
Although perhaps he was prepared for it. To control the fabric of life and death usually drives the human mind into chaos. The fact that the boy can still plot, can still use logic, can still think as a human, means he is something else entirely. Perhaps he was born to be a mystic in the dark arts.
But there was another thing that caught Sparda's interest even more.
Curse of Contradiction. Do my horrid brethren truly interest you that much? Or perhaps are you that afraid of them?
Sparda walked forward with resolve, his feet stomping into the ground.
I believe we need to have words, Ankhseram.