Yeah there's going to be at least one more chapter before Day 8.

Day 7: Distort

Lahar was no fool.

Something had happened, beyond what Doranbolt told him. His head ached, and he had the niggling feeling that he'd forgotten something important. It wasn't much more than that – just a feeling. A suspicion. Doranbolt's smile was stretched a little too thin, there were a few too many injuries on the competing mages, and a little too much destruction. Knowing Doranbolt's magic like he did, there was only one conclusion Lahar could come to.

Doranbolt had erased, or altered his memories.

But why? Why would he do that?

Could he be protecting someone? Fairy Tail, perhaps? It was possible. He seemed to have developed quite an attachment to the guild, and it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for Doranbolt to feel like he owed them a debt of honor over what happened on Tenrou.

How far back had they been changed? What in his recent experiences could Lahar trust as reality, which had been crafted for him?

The only way to break Doranbolt's magic was to be aware that it was being used, and to force oneself past the mental block imposed by the spell. It wasn't a pleasant experience by any means, but it was doable.

Lahar's skull ached as he tried to think back past his distorted memories. He remembered… setting up the security for the Grand Magic Games, and being invited as a guest judge for one of the days. He still had his invitation as physical proof, so that much was at least the truth. Lahar struggled to recall anything on what had happened the first two days of the games, although that wasn't any great surprise. He would have been busy ironing out the wrinkles in his security plans, smoothening over upsets and altercations.

He thought he remembered the third day, when he was judge, clearly. The awe of Pandemonium and its wholescale demise, the overwhelming power displaying during the MPF testing, and Raven Tail's attempt at disrupting the games. None of these felt manufactured to Lahar. He even thought he'd seen Doranbolt in the stands, sobbing throughout the Pandemonium event. Doranbolt wouldn't have changed these memories, Lahar felt. They were too important to the man himself.

It was immediately after, that Lahar became unsure of himself. There was… some kind of security breach after the games' conclusion. He was sure of that. Lahar also thought he recalled talking with Yajima… but he couldn't remember for the life of him what he'd discussed with the former council member. Anger tinged those memories, further clouding them. What had happened?

The next thing Lahar could recall… turned his stomach. The Naval Battle. He'd been an observer in the crowd for day four, and not a judge. The cruelty put on display by Minerva of Sabertooth had been horrifying to watch. She played with her final opponent, like a cat would with a mouse. Lucy Heartfilia – to her credit – had endured it all, with a determination that would put a number of Lahar's Rune Knights to shame.

Had this been the expression she'd shown to Gajeel and Phantom Lord's Master Jose, all those years ago? Had this been the face she'd turned up to the sky, as the black dragon roared?

Then when Minerva had finished with her fun, she'd dropped her opponent like baggage.

Lahar hadn't felt so utterly powerless in years. Not since Tenrou. If he'd been a judge, he told himself, he could've done something about it. He knew he was lying to himself, but it was the only way he could accept what had just occurred in front of his eyes. Nothing Minerva had done was against the rules of the Grand Magic Games.

This, too, had to be genuine. And despite how ill it made him, Lahar clung to it.

Most of the rest of his memories were in pieces – like grainy footage, torn at the edges or missing entirely.

There was one, however. One that stood out clearer than the rest. In it, he'd visited Lucy Heartfilia in the medical bay. Had apologized for how badly she and her guild had been failed in this competition, not only with Flare and Minerva, but also with Raven Tail. As one of the guest judges, he apologized. But also as an individual, he apologized.

She'd given him a half-smile, and thanked him.

Lahar wanted desperately to believe that that memory was a true one, amongst all of the static in his head.

The rest of his memories were garbled beyond recovery. Despite knowing the trick behind Doranbolt's magic, Lahar couldn't seem to pry anything else out.

It was as if he didn't want to remember the rest.

That had to be it, Lahar realized. Doranbolt's magic had found purchase in Lahar's own desires.

With that, Lahar dropped his pursuit of the truth. Doranbolt was protecting someone, certainly. But that someone was probably Lahar himself. One day, Lahar would get the truth out of his friend.

But for now, he was content with the memories he'd managed to retain.