Laxus' face was on fire. His front was soaked. The smell of blood was in his nose and the taste of iron was on his lips. People screamed in his ear, bodies thrashed against one another. Beyond them was that marching force, much closer than they were seconds before. The woman before him, the blonde with the sword and the ever-present smile, wasn't smiling now. She was on the ground, shivering so badly her teeth clacked. Her sword was loose in her hand, the metal mangled by what looked like heat; her eyes were focused a million miles away.
In the second of reprieve, Laxus allowed himself to touch his face. His hand came away bloody, his skin burned. With the movement, the woman seemed to come unstuck. She got her to feet, her eyes found his and refocused. "I must help Master END." She sidestepped him and started away.
END? Laxus' heart beat hard despite himself. That's fear. It was anger, too. "Don't turn your back on me!" Speaking was agony. His head spun. Is that pain? Blood loss? Both, because you're bleeding too much. Not that he could remember why. She must have gotten a hit on you.
The woman kept on her course, stepping around her fallen soldiers remorselessly on feet that were mostly exposed in ruined boots. Her skin was badly damaged, bleeding and raw. Laxus didn't remember her having those injuries a second ago. Anyone that tried to attack her (a startled looking Lisanna for one) was slashed at, pushed back, kicked until they retreated and then she was moving again.
"Hey! Did you hear me?" Laxus lurched after her, feeling slow and dazed.
She did not.
She's the one that killed Gramps. Are you just going to let her walk away? He used his fury as a magnifier of his magic and his determination. His foot caught on a rock, dragging him down to his knees; Laxus allowed it to happen, planting his palms on the ground and using a vein of copper to deliver a heart-stopping bolt of lightning.
Somehow, it went awry, spreading into a wide radius rather than focusing as Laxus had hoped. Several men and women in the blonde's vicinity fell to the ground, dead. The unintentional victory went uncelebrated, there were more approaching soldiers to take the fallen's place, coming at a run with their swords drawn. How did they get so close? There wasn't any time to wonder, though. The woman ahead stopped in her tracks.
"You are very, very stupid, Makarov's grandson." She turned on her heel and faced him again. Laxus felt at a disadvantage there on the ground with the woman towering above him, even if she was several meters away. "My name is Dimaria Yesta. I am a member of the Spriggan 12, Emperor Spriggan's elite force."
"I don't give a fuck what you're called," Laxus said. Get up. It felt like his head had almost been cut off. Fuck. He wanted to touch it again but didn't dare for fear of showing a weakness. Get the hell up. Stand. Miraculously, his feet planted beneath his body; he got his bulk vertical and didn't even stagger. Fucking bully for me.
"You should. There is a lot in a name." She adjusted her grip on her malformed sword. Laxus wondered if it had always been that way. No. He felt like he was missing something very, very important.
"A name defines you. Yours, for instance, finds its roots in Lux, light." She approached, her bare heels digging into the gravel, leaving behind bloody footprints. "And Lexus, for law. During his time in Alvarez, Makarov spoke a great deal of his grandson Laxus. Proud, conceited, but not without cause, I've been told. I'm sure there were times you felt you were Fairy Tail's law, correct? Judge. Jury. Executioner." She got more frantic with every inch of space she closed between them.
Laxus pressed his magic down into his palms, not giving himself an opportunity to balk. "And what does your name mean?"
"Dimaria? Nothing too biblical." Her mouth quirked. "My second name, though, is much more interesting. Chronos. Do you know what that is, Makarov's grandson?"
A sudden influx of power made his balls shrink up into his body. Laxus' mouth was too dry to answer.
"Time, Laxus. Let me tell you something, when the Gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers, and you pray for the same thing as anyone else: time. I will deliver." She stopped her approach and closed her eyes. Her body glowed. "God soul."
Laxus watched in numb awe as a false god walked amongst men. When time took him hostage again, he had no defense.
Wendy blinked, feeling like she was coming from a dream, and expelled a short, panicked breath, expecting to feel a sword sink into her heart, or a magical attack wreak havoc on her body. Or flight, because Happy had shown up just as a man was gearing up to cut her naval to chin, and lifted her into the air. Peculiarly, she was on the ground now, standing on her own two feet. She felt no cold press of blade on skin, heard no cry of battle. She could smell blood and sword oil and leather and burned skin. And she could smell…
Turning, she saw the group of soldiers that had been closing in on her position. They were absolutely stationary. One's mouth was open, a cry on his lips so vicious, he spat. The spittle was frozen in the air. Across from him, another soldier was in the process of realizing Wendy wasn't where she was supposed to be, angry expression making way for confusion.
Sound—the squeak of leather, the draw of breath—encouraged Wendy to keep looking. It didn't take much effort. Turning, she found her. "Ultear."
Ultear Milkovich, placing a frozen Happy to the ground, Ultear Milkovich who turned to an equally frozen Cheria and touched her face gently. Ultear Milkovich that was supposed to be dead. Cheria came alive, picking up exactly where she left off: drawing a huge breath for a god slayer's roar. The magic faded almost immediately as she perceived something had changed.
"What—"
"Ultear," Wendy cut in. "How—"
"We have seconds," Ultear said shortly, interrupting them both. "This is the only place I exist. This woman," she turned and pointed a neatly trimmed nail to a blonde that had been approaching Laxus but was now, too, trapped in time's clutch, though Wendy could feel her breaking out of its hold with an excessive amount of magic. "Is a takeover mage abusing Chronos' power. She has no regard for time or its intricacies."
"Chronos?" Cheria echoed.
"Yes."
"The god of time."
Ultear's voice was clipped. "Yes."
Wendy wrestled to catalogue everything Ultear was saying. "She has god soul."
Ultear winced, feeling something neither Wendy nor Cheria could besides a sudden flood of power. "And an unprecedented control over time. She's breaking from my hold. Listen closely. As soon as that spell is completed and she mimics Chronos, there won't be anyone that can stop her. She will flatten Laxus Dreyar, she will tear Mirajane apart, she will—"
Wendy channeled Erza one more time, not interested in feeling any more fear than she already did. "We get it."
Ultear nodded. "There is a way to stop her. Third origin."
"Third origin."
"Allow me to unlock it and it will make you powerful enough to defeat her," Ultear explained.
Wendy was the first to forget the pain of discovering her second origin and volunteer—anything to keep the people she loved safe. "Do it."
That flood of power came again. Ultear's already pale face got sweaty. "There is a catch. Releasing your third origin comes at a cost."
"Anything."
"You'll never be able to use magic again," Ultear said.
Wendy's stomach churned; she faltered, conviction shaken. "Ever?"
"Only one of you need do it," Ultear said. "Quickly. Yes, or no."
"I'll do it," Cheria's voice was as quiet as a whisper.
Wendy felt her reservations go up in smoke. "No. I'll do it. It's my guild in trouble, let me."
"Don't be stupid, Wendy," Cheria replied. She pushed Wendy back and stood tall in front of a waning Ultear. "Please."
"Cheria—"
"We don't have time to bicker!" Ultear said. Her hold on her spell slipped; over her shoulder, the blonde woman inched more into her takeover form before the spell caught again and she stopped.
Wendy pushed past them both. "It's decided. It's my family that needs to be protected. I'll do it. Besides." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Everyone is going to need a healer, Cheria. You're better than me."
"That's not true," Cheria complained.
Wendy stopped listening. Ultear's hold on time completely disintegrated and Chronos came free. The dragon slayer called on her dragon force and attacked before anyone could object. She had surprise on her side, and a year of training with Erza Scarlet. She hit the woman with everything she had, summoning air powerful enough to tear an average person apart. It blew Laxus to the ground, along with several other clashing bodies. The god-imposter not only took the attack but withstood it.
Without drawing breath, Wendy went after her again, wishing for Carla's wings but making due with her own two feet. Air gathered beneath her body and lifted her from the ground; she used it as a battering ram to hit the takeover mage in the chest.
There was never a connection. Two hands clamped around Wendy's arm and then she was flat on her back on the ground, looking up at a sky too blue to be true. Her vision hazed.
"Another dragon slayer." The woman's takeover was complete; she even sounded godly, cruel and temperamental and unforgiving. Wendy shivered despite herself and tried to rise. She was hurt; her head ached and was wet. Her vision blurred more. Not again. The darkness of days past felt close once more. "A god slayer, and a time manipulating wraith." She never took her eyes off Wendy. "A surprise, I thought I'd be tearing Makarov's favorite apart, but I adapt quickly. In here, where I control every passing moment, there is time to take care of you all."
Wendy felt Ultear's magic rise and waited to feel empowered. Come on, come on. By the time the energy faded, she felt no different.
"You're wrong." The woman's face was ingrained in Wendy's memory, she didn't need to see Ultear to perfectly picture her as she spoke. "Time is never something to be controlled. You can hold it for mere moments, but it will always move forward again, and with a vengeance."
"Wise words from someone that has never held true power."
"On the contrary," Ultear said, "I'm someone that has held true power and lost everything."
Wendy felt fingers press into her temples. Cheria appeared overtop of her. There were tears in her blue eyes; the edges of her mouth was lined with worry. "Please stop getting hurt, Wendy. This is the last time I can help you."
Magic rolled into her body before she could ask what Cheria meant. Her head stopped hurting, though her hair was still wet with blood. Cheria came into sharp focus. Her skin was luminous. Wendy found her voice. "What have you done?"
"Please don't be angry." Cheria brushed her fingers over Wendy's cheekbone. "I am a god slayer; this is what I was born to do. Let me protect you."
Wendy was still processing the feeling of betrayal when Cheria stood, resigned, and faced the realest god she'd ever seen.
"Interesting swords."
Erza squeezed the hilts and slashed at the woman turning dragon. All she could think was I'm not a dragon slayer. I don't kill dragons. No one kills dragons. Certainly no one killed the queen of dragons, former or not. That's just fear, a more stubborn part of her said. She had no fucking time for fear.
Eileen sidestepped her attack rather than deflect it. "Where did you find them?"
Erza cataloged her reluctance to touch the blades, thinking there was a reason. "They were given to me by a travelling priest." Entertaining the woman gave herself some time to focus. "A very peculiar man who told me woe was stepping into my path. He thought these would clear it for me. He called them Orion's swords."
"The blades of a hunter."
"Blades that have known dragon blood." Erza came in with an overhanded swing at the same time as she cut up from below.
Eileen again sidestepped her attack, not so easily distracted. "Some say that since that day, regular blood hasn't been able to satisfy them."
Erza forced herself to smile glibly. "Allow me to verify that myth." The steel hummed in her hand, making her feel like I can do this. She let ancient magic guide her strikes and was rewarded when one blade bit into Eileen's forearm. The skin necrotized immediately. The woman hissed and threw a horrible insult her way. Erza redoubled her efforts.
Rattled down to her very bones, Levy clutched short, dying grass and breathed shallowly. Her stomach was trying to crawl out of her body, her mouth kept watering. She spat again and again until the feeling of disorientation and nausea passed. When she was finally able to, she looked up and found Gajeel. His council jacket was all askew, the collar up and digging into his cheek as he lay on his stomach upon the ground, the sickness worse for him. Beyond his body, Levy looked at the great crystalline expanse of ocean. How? She pushed how out of her head when she saw a myriad of ships at the docking port, men and women pouring out of their hulls in colours Levy didn't recognize, holding swords and spears and axes, daggers and a slew of other weapons. Anyone that opposed them was cut down.
Oh.
So much blood. Lightheaded, Levy watched dazedly as a Magnolia native pushed back a man with a dagger only to be stabbed in the temple. He fell, limp, and was left to be trampled by the invading force.
Oh.
They were getting closer.
Levy scrambled to her feet, feeling faint. When she signed up for the Magic Council, this kind of battle was never on her radar. War didn't come to Fiore, and when it did…
Don't fret. Fight.
She was aware of Gajeel getting to his feet behind her and swearing colourfully. She couldn't take her eyes off the approaching force. There are too many. A silent army, marching mercilessly, killing without thought.
Do something. Anything at this point. Levy felt the tug of Gajeel's magic. Seconds later, iron spikes exploded from the ground, building a barricade. Inspired, Levy gathered as much magic as she could and encouraged a hole to form in the earth. In seconds, more than half of the approaching force had the ground taken out from below their feet. People screamed; suddenly, the army wasn't just a faceless invading force, they were a group of people with voices that could hurt. Are there broken legs, Levy wondered, arms? Anyone impale themselves on their own weapons? She didn't know how she should feel about that possibility, glad because that meant less soldiers to fight, sick because she helped take someone's life away?
Trapped in her own internal war, Levy didn't notice the arrow shot her way until another voice, this one new, though not unfamiliar, yelled her name. She was too slow, so the newcomer pushed her bodily out of the way. The fall to the ground was long. Gravel and cobble dug into Levy's ribs and her elbows, white hair went up her nose and in her mouth. It was a state that lasted seconds, then Carla was standing and pulling Levy up as well. Levy chanced a glance at where she'd been. The arrow pegged into the ground halfway up the bolt. The enemy might have been barricaded. They weren't helpless, though.
A figure towering over all the rest stepped through the enemy forces, a dark cloud following in his wake. Those closest to him fell to the ground, pale and lifeless.
"Are they dead?" Carla hushed. "His own force?"
Gajeel was boisterous to the end. "Who the fuck is this clown?"
Levy felt the power emanating from him and conveyed, "He's an etherious demon."
An etherious demon that traversed the pit in the earth like it wasn't there at all, the very air carrying him over its depths. On the other side, he touched Gajeel's iron; it rusted and fell to the ground like it had been rotting in the weather for hundreds of years.
Gajeel straightened and shucked off his jacket. "Looks like we got some action, Levy." He looked at Carla in her human form. He didn't say as much but Levy knew Gajeel well enough to know he wished for Pantherlily instead.
"We'll stand until we fall," Carla said in that determined way she had.
Some of Gajeel's worry faded. Levy's, on the other hand, skyrocketed watching the dying grass shrivel and turn black beneath the approaching demon's feet. The ground seemed a lot closer, falling a lot more possible, with every step he took.
Swallowing made his swollen throat protest loudly, so did breathing. Gray felt out of shape limping along after an injured Lucy Heartfilia. She was in his field of view now at least, even if Natsu wasn't. He was still easy to find. Follow the trail of burning destruction. Everything he came into contact with was either ash or cinders, the earth barren where his feet fell, trees stripped of leaves and bark, smoking husks now.
"Lucy!" Calling her name hurt like a sonofabitch. Gray forced his voice louder. "Lucy!"
Lucy looked back over her shoulder, hair whipping around her face in the growing wind, eyes large and scared. "Go away!"
"Get back here!" She was a little closer now. Maybe he was still faster than her, she was slow with her bleeding shoulder. And you with your ribs? And a cacophony of other injuries. They seemed to be adding up.
Lucy ran harder. Gray ran smarter. Calling on his maker magic, he froze the ground solid below Lucy's feet. She continued on as she was for another five steps, momentum and good luck carrying her, then she hit a patch of ice that was slicker than the rest and fell gracelessly. It looked like it hurt. Her sob confirmed it. His heart tugged. Always a fool, he slowed to see if she was alright.
"Are you hurt?"
She pushed herself up with her good arm and shook her hair from her face. The glare she wore let him know in no uncertain terms that she was feeling hostile. "Get away from me." She started to rise, feet slipping twice.
Gray grabbed her elbow and helped her up, hoping to redeem himself a little; she looked so awkward with her minced shoulder. Gently, he suggested, "Go back to the school."
Lucy jerked out of his grasp and started on her course again. She almost went down again and threw her arms out to stabilize herself. Her cry of pain made Gray feel sick. "Lucy."
"Get away from me."
"You have to stay here." He could maybe kill Natsu. If Lucy wasn't watching, begging him to stop, crying and breaking all over again. He didn't think she'd give him another chance to console her, not after they both fucked up so hard the first time.
She whipped around, Lyssa personified, all mad rage and frenzy. All she was missing was a menagerie of rabid animals. "You have to stop!"
Gray acted instead of argued. They were running out of time. Ice obeyed his will, stretching from the rink he'd created and encasing Lucy's legs. "I'm sorry."
Her face blanked as she adjusted to this new turn of events. And then she got furious. Her magic came out of nowhere; Loke sprung from a gate without much provocation. He faced Gray, a tense look on his face.
"This is how we're going to do this?" Gray asked.
"If we have to," Lucy replied. "Release me."
"I can't do that, Lucy." He looked to Loke. "You know I'm right."
"And I know what Lucy wants," Loke replied.
Gray's devil slayer magic pushed even harder at his skin, closer to breaking free of Eileen's hold. And to making you mindless. He already felt like he was there. He couldn't control his volume. "And you know what's best for her!"
Loke dropped his gaze.
"I don't want to make you fight," Lucy said. "Let me go, Gray."
Gray's fingers creaked, nails biting into his palm. "No."
Loke looked sick saying, "Then we have no choice."
"I guess not." Gray thought of Juvia and Meredy experiencing everything he did. 'You'll kill us all.' Or not. He didn't think Lucy was a match for him. He set aside feelings and guilt and worry and called his magic. This time, the devil slayer trapped inside gained a little more leeway. The first strike was his, swiping at Loke with a fist full of ice so cold, Loke's forearm all the way up into his fingers turned black. The spirit paled, in pain, Gray pushed down the sickness he felt. Loke will heal. It was Natsu that would not.
Magnolia's bell tower stood proud beside Kardia Cathedral, pillars punched into the earth, man-made taproots huge, concrete cylinders. At the base of the northern-most pillar, Zeref stood. Wind grabbed his toga and pulled it tight against his legs, swept his hair in front of his onyx eyes and carried his scent away from Natsu. Even without the aid of that sense, Natsu would know his brother anywhere. They were so tightly connected now.
Zeref stood alone but his people were nearby. Natsu found them in Magnolia's shadows, ready to wreak havoc at Zeref's command. Natsu hobbled when he wanted to run, rushing, rushing now, needing to be at Zeref's side more than ever when his brother was in view.
Gale force wind grabbed his fire and tugged it away from him; it was always replenished. Because he was born of flame.
Zeref waited patiently for Natsu to close the distance. His face went through a myriad of emotions in those seconds, longing, hope, fear. His magic pushed out from his body, a black wave that buffeted Natsu's skin and pricked. Flowers and trees died, the concrete on the tower pocked, rotting, too.
"Brother." Zeref whispered. Natsu heard him clearly and followed the sound of Zeref's voice when the world was too encased in killing black magic to see. Seconds passed in a blur; Natsu's feet knew where to go. A hand closed around his shoulder and held him in place. Some of the magic cleared, allowing Zeref to come into focus in the gray light, the sun's rays just barely penetrating the black cloud. "You remember."
"I remember." Natsu's voice cracked, throat dry. It's just fear.
"It's okay to be afraid," Zeref said, reading him clearly.
And he was afraid. shuddering like he'd never before. Yet, he was ready. "I have a condition."
Zeref's eyes bore into his. "Name it."
"Call off the attack," Natsu said. "Make all of your people go away."
"Done." Zeref lifted his fist. A man with a huge grey beard stepped from the shadows of the bell tower and disappeared. "August will ensure my will is carried out."
Can it be so easy? He wanted to believe Zeref but didn't know about this newcomer. "How do you know you can trust him?" It was one thing to say something would be done and another entirely to follow through with the action. "Maybe once you're gone, they'll continue fighting." The thought was unbearable. Once he was gone, Fairy Tail was on its own.
"Watch." Zeref turned his eyes toward the horizon. Natsu followed his gaze. A moment passed, two, then as one, the black blotches that coated the coast started moving back toward the ships, and likewise, the force that marched on the guild hall stopped and reversed their course.
"They're here on my behest. No one wants a war," Zeref said.
Natsu expelled a breath that was all nerves and admitted one more time, "I don't want to die."
"I know. We'll do it together, as we did everything together when we were young." Zeref held open his arms.
Natsu hesitated long enough to think of Lucy and Happy and everyone else he loved. When he stepped into Zeref, his eyes were dry; the fire was too hot to allow for anything else.
If Lucy thought Gray would go easy on her, she was sorely mistaken. Loke took hit after hit, dishing out, but never giving as good as he got. Gray was fury. Gray was terror. He was serious. He wanted Natsu's blood and he was going to put Lucy down to get it.
Gods.
She held her breath as Gray wound back, hand coated in sharp ice, and punched Loke square in the chest. The spirit flew back, coming to rest at Lucy's frozen feet. There he gasped for breath, pale, skin black everywhere Gray had hit: his face, his knuckles, his arms, and Lucy was sure, if she could see beneath his shirt, there, too.
"You have to get up, Loke, please," Lucy begged. "Please."
Loke groaned, exhausted and hurt, but still determined to obey Lucy's demands. He rolled on his side and summoned more magic that he directed not at Gray, but at the ice Lucy's feet were entrapped in. The resulting bang was resounding, the shockwave moving up Lucy's legs. Her boots were the only thing that kept her skin from being eviscerated; her muscles still tingled and felt numb. In the aftermath, fine ice particles lifted into the air, almost beautiful. Focus. She moved her numb feet out of their icy cocoon, formulating a plan as Loke got painstakingly to his feet, facing an agitated Gray once more.
"Stop it, Lucy," Gray rasped. "Don't make me finish this."
Lucy squeezed her keys in her hand, scared but determined. "I won't stop until you do."
"And I won't stop until END is dead."
She could cry. Fight instead. She gripped Taurus' gate key and Scorpio's and was stepping into the lion's star dress when a fire on the horizon caught her attention. Black tinged and as red as blood. Her heart didn't beat harder; it stopped. In front of her, Loke's form wavered without his presence in Earthland being constantly bolstered by her magic after all the damage he'd taken.
Lucy couldn't focus on that. "…What?"
Gray followed her gaze. His devil slayer's mark escaped Eileen's cage a little more, turning his skin pure black wherever it touched. He'd never felt END more clearly. His lungs rejected breath, his skin broke out in goose bumps.
"Lucy!"
Lucy couldn't take her eyes off the fire to find Happy barreling in like a bat out of hell. He didn't bother landing, grabbing her up without permission. She felt him shaking as he lifted her into the air, muscles straining. For once, he didn't make a wise crack or complain about her weight.
"Lucy!" Gray's scream chased her from the ground. Lucy didn't look down at him, either. Loke's gate snapped closed. Gray's magic reached for her, pillar after pillar of rotting ice looking to tear her from the sky.
Happy dodged the attacks not without difficulty and huffed out a quick, inadequate explanation that only Lucy could hear. "Natsu is going after Zeref. He's going to kill him and when he does that, he'll die, too, because—"
Because he's END, Lucy filled in the blanks.
"They're connected."
On the ground, Gray started his chase once more. This time, he had fury and urgency on his side. When he asked his magic to carry him faster, slicking the ground in ice, it obeyed.
