Hi guys! I'm back with a new chapter! But before we get started off, I want to say a few things, so PLEASE READ:

1) I would like to thank Arawn D. Draven, author of The Bloody Ashikabi for helping me with this chapter. Nevertheless, I still need a Beta that can do spell checking, both in grammar and structuring, to help me make this story better than what it is currently. The position is still open and I hope one of you can help me. This position is especially important for fight scenes since I want to write them in the best possible way.

2) Reviews are important to me. They not only show that people read my stories, but they help me improve them. It doesn't have to be very long (although reviews of that type are VERY much appreciated), even a "good job" or "great chapter" will do.

Hope you all enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome! BETA NEEDED!


I do not own Harry Potter or Fairy Tail.


Chapter 5 – Blood, Sweat and Tears

March, X774

"Bahamut!" Acnologia snapped. "Are you paying attention!?"

The green-eyed mage snapped his head up at his father's yell. They were sitting in the cave and the Dragon King was just lecturing his son about proper combat stances. However, Bahamut had decided to try (in a rather foolish attempt) and practice channelling his magic behind his father's back.

Unfortunately, despite his intelligence, he was still seven years old and seven-year-olds tend to get rather distracted and have a short attention span; that, and he seemed to forget that his father was a dragon, whose senses were far sharper than that of any living creature, so its needless to say that he caught on the situation pretty quickly.

So there he sat, frozen in his meditative position, giving his father a sheepish look as the Dragon King crossed his arms and gave him an emotionless stare.

"Umm…yes" he said, trying to salvage the situation.

Acnologia merely raised an eyebrow, as if he was saying 'you are not fooling me'. Bahamut sighed and lowered his head; when his father did show some form of emotion in his eyes, it was as though he was able to relay entire sentences with a single stare alone. In addition to that, the Dragon King always picked up on his actions and intentions, no matter how much he tried to hide them.

"I was just…"

Acnologia grunted. "You were trying to work on your magic, were you?"

Bahamut nodded dejectedly in response. Acnologia let out a huff of exasperation as he looked at his charge. He was an eager and attentive student, no doubt about that, but his tendency to focus on subjects other than the lesson at hand was annoying.

"I…understand your desire, but there is a time for every lesson; right now, we are focusing on physical combat. You can return to practicing magic after this lesson."

Bahamut raised his head and asked wearily "Why? What good is fighting with your fists when you can use magic to do it?" The memories from Greegham Town flashed in his mind as he said that. Flames bursting all around him, Kazuto lying broken and bleeding near the man with the flaming axe…

Acnologia shook his head. "That is a saying for fools and weaklings. No son of mine will ever utter those words, understand!?" he asked, raising his voice slightly.

Bahamut flinched at his father's tone but nonetheless nodded. "To answer your question, the power of one's spells is directly proportional to their physical attributes and status, especially strength and endurance. Not only that, but a good mage fights with everything he has: mind, magic, and body. Those who do not become lazy and too reliant on their powers, thus creating weakness. I have seen many a mage who have wasted their lives learning powerful spells, only to have something as simple as a falling branch or a wild boar kill them within seconds. Even dragons abided by this rule; they were not only feared for their powerful flames and ancient magic, but also for their raw power and intimidating size. A mere flap of their wings could rip out trees from the earth, a single roar could shatter mountains."

Acnologia saw the awe spark in his son's eyes and knew he had his full attention. Mentioning dragons always seemed to do that. A little show could help in bolstering his resolve; after all, actions speak louder than words.

"By increasing your physical strength and endurance, you will gain an advantage over such weak people. Observe."

Acnologia turned and walked to the entrance of the cave, where he then proceeded to jump down and land near the mountain's base. He then started walking along the mountainside, eyes searching until he found a nice large boulder. He picked it up with the greatest of ease and leaped up to the height of the cave and scale the edge with one hand, the other lifting the boulder effortlessly.

He reached the mouth of the cave in little to no time at all and rolled the boulder in so that it sat in front of Bahamut, who simply looked at it with a confused expression.

Acnologia rested his hand on the boulder and spoke, not turning to look at Bahamut as he did. "It takes the strength of at least ten men to lift a boulder this big, let alone carry it up a mountain with the ease I have just demonstrated; while I did use a bit of magic to enhance my jump, it would mean little if I did not possess the capability to do so without it, furthermore…"

Acnologia cocked back a fist slightly and threw a punch, so fast that Bahamut barely saw his arm move. The boulder instantly shattered, with only small pebbles and a thin cloud of dust remaining. The Dragon King then turned to Bahamut, who's jaw practically fell through the floor, and resumed talking.

"I just smashed that rock with a single blow – and I didn't even use so much as a drop of magic. If you can attack your prey with similar strength and speed, then you can defeat them without you or them casting a single spell."

Bahamut just kept staring at the remains of the boulder with the same awe-stricken expression. What kind of strength was that!? "Will…will I become that strong?"

"If you follow my teachings? Eventually. Keep in mind though that I am a dragon, and as such, I have the raw physical strength of one, despite me taking the shape of a human. You however, are still human and your body is recovering from your past experiences. While you may not do exactly what I just did, you will be capable of performing similar feats on a lesser scale."

While the comment did slightly offend him, Bahamut nonetheless ignored the insult and matched his father's gaze with a determined look: he will become as strong as his father one day.

"I'm surprised you even asked such a question; did you not perform several hunts before you started learning magic? Or have you simply forgotten everything I just said did up till now?"

Bahamut let out an embarrassed chuckle as he realized he did briefly forget what he had done and what his father said before. "Heh-heh. Right, I'm sorry. It's just that –"

"We will focus on magic in our next lesson" Acnologia said, cutting him off. He kept looking at Bahamut and slowly started to smirk.

"While your enthusiasm is appreciated and shows I am not wasting my time on you, you still must be punished for not paying attention to the lesson at hand. Push-ups. NOW!"

Bahamut jumped from his position and started to do push-ups. That day he learned never to ignore his father's lessons, lest he receives a painful workout that would leave him a dry heap on the cold stone floor.

-OBW-

June X774

Four months later and summer had come. The days were longer and warmer in the Mt. Zonia region, although the snow never seemed to melt. Bahamut had taken Acnologia's words to heart, as always. He kept up with his physical training to the point where his body filled up nicely, now looking like a proper seven-year-old instead of a semi-malnourished street rat. There was nothing on his body to indicate any muscle though, as he hadn't trained enough for that. His knowledge grew with every book he got at Kilika Town – not a lot, but he treasured each one, especially the one he received from his father after one of his trips.

In parallel, Acnologia had taught him the basics of using magic, which mainly consisted of channelling magic power through his body in order to strengthen himself and his attacks. The Chaos Dragon had set up a training regimen where Bahamut would not use any magic during his physical training sessions and during his magic combat lessons, he was to maintain a constant flow of magic power through his body without letting it falter. While this proved difficult at first, Bahamut soon enough took to the art like a fish to water. He couldn't perform the feats Acnologia had demonstrated, but he was at a level where he could jump a meter and a half in the air and put a spiderweb crack on a similar boulder.

All the while, the young mage-in-training had never felt happier. Not only his father was training him in magic but was actually giving him advice! Sure, it didn't come often and was usually followed by an aggressive quiz or physical beatdown, but he nonetheless revelled in the attention his father gave him.

Despite all that, there were still a few issues that arose in Bahamut's training: Acnologia had to sometimes adjust his training exercises to fit his son's level, as he usually thought about a slightly weaker version of himself when preparing them – and Bahamut was much weaker than that in his current state. The other issue lay in Bahamut himself; while he could focus on whatever task was given to him, more often than not his attention was drawn to other matters. The problem also extended to his ability to multitask – he could not focus on more than two situations simultaneously. That problem however, unlike the previous one, was easily remedied by a swift spar which kept reminding him to not wander off. With Acnologia's…persistent…reminders, the problem slowly improved; the young mage still had a way to go, though.

Such was the case when Acnologia decided to test him by conjuring three Phantom Adversary spectres and have them simultaneously attack the green-eyed child. Whenever Bahamut blocked a strike from one of the spectres, the other two would hit back twice as hard. The force of the blows sent him flying into the snow with very little time to stand up and recover.

"Be vigilant!" Acnologia instructed. "Focus on one of the targets, but always be aware of your surroundings and use them to your advantage!"

'Use them to my advantage? What does he mean?' Bahamut thought as he parried a side punch from Spectre #1 while trying to dodge a swipe kick from #2. He kept alternating between blocking, dodging and landing the occasional hit while trying to understand what his father said. Regardless of the situation, he always took solace in Acnologia's wisdom, even if he had to decipher it first.

He had just dodged a powerful swipe kick when the attack hit the flank of another spectre (#3), causing it to stumble. Bahamut's eyes widened in realization; that was what his father meant! He could trick the spectres into attacking each other!

He side kicked an incoming Spectre #2, causing it to fall over. He turned around to see that the other two were charging him, with the closest one - #1 – cocking back a fist. Wasting no time, he dashed towards #1 as he charged his fist with magic, causing a faint blue aura to engulf it. He jumped slightly and punched #1 in #3's direction, causing them to crash into each other and collapse into the snow, where they dissipated promptly.

Bahamut had no time to enjoy his victory, for he heard #2's footsteps in the snowbank. He quickly turned around, fist still charged with magic and leapt at #2's faceless head, where he delivered a powerful blow that made the spectre vanish in the wind. The young mage landed feet-first in the snow, panting as a satisfied smile crept onto his face. He turned to his father, who kept staring at him with his now-familiar emotionless gaze. Half a minute later, he spoke.

"You seem to have some capability of listening to advice. Not only you tricked your prey into attacking one another, but you also remembered to aim for the weak points – in this case, you aimed for the head."

Bahamut's smile grew bigger at his father's words. That was as close to a compliment that he could be given without actually saying it.

"You performed this in an adequate amount of time for someone of your meagre skill level. It seems that you are ready to learn the next step in magical combat - projection. Observe."

Acnologia raised his arm to the side. A small sphere of magic formed in his open palm before flying towards a distant, solitary tree with a soft bang. The sphere hit its target and the tree exploded in a burst of light.

Once more, Bahamut was awestruck by his father's power – even though to Acnologia, that act was the equivalent of flicking a finger. He was broken from his reverie by Acnologia speaking again.

"Before I start explaining to you how this very simple act is achieved, you can stop the magic flow to your fist."

Acnologia watched in slight amusement as his adoptive son's face turned beet red as he hurriedly cut the flow. 'He channelled it unconsciously too. This is rather…intriguing.'

Over the past several months, the Dragon King observed Bahamut's magic as the practice sessions grew more challenging. Just as he had seen on the day he had explained to the whelp about magic, Bahamut's "core" (he decided to call it that since it was nothing like a container) was adapting to the boy's needs and desires. The core now absorbed ethernano from the air exactly like a normal container and, dare he say it, better. Not only that, but it's magic-generating capabilities allowed Bahamut to maintain a longer and more powerful flow of magic than a regular mage-in-training would. The fact that he channelled it unconsciously was not only a testament to the boy's potential, but also to his lack of focus – his multitasking needed to be worked out. The slightest slip-up on the hunt caused the demise of many a hunter (or at least lose their lunch).

'Regardless, if all goes well, I plan on not only ironing out his problems, but I will pound these lessons into his head so hard that by the end of the year, he'll be able to do them in his sleep. Oh well, no pain no gain as they say. Besides…' he grew a predatory smirk as Bahamut looked at him with confusion and now growing dread.

'…all the more fun for me.'

-OBW-

July 31st, X774

'There is something off with Bahamut's behaviour today' Acnologia thought as he sat cross-legged in the cave. Indeed, throughout most of the day, the Dragon King's son seemed slightly distant. He showed no signs of this during today's lecture (as he should), but during combat exercises his blows came slower, he reacted with less speed than usual and didn't seem to focus on the spectre he had conjured – unusual since it was only one spectre.

Currently, Bahamut rested against the walls of the cave, reading one of his books. One thing that remained constant throughout Bahamut's stay in the cave was that whenever he didn't meditate on magic during his free time, he could be frequently seen with an open book. Thanks to the trips to the human town, he had a small collection of books near his fur bed. Most of them consisted of fairy tales, myths, and legends with the occasional history book thrown in.

'Pfft. History my foot. I've taken a look at some of the 'history' in these books and half of them are exaggerations, a quarter of them lies and the other quarter genuine – and that is only if you read between the lines. I've seen several of those events happen with my own eyes so I know better.'

The book Bahamut was currently reading was one of the only books he could acknowledge as real history. It was a journal, that depicted daily life in Dragnof before his ascension. He had taken it at random from the library under the ruins after searching for spell tomes (he didn't let Bahamut touch those tomes). The whelp grew starry-eyed and latched onto it, reading it and handling it as though it was a delicate and precious gem. Which it was, in a way.

But today, sometimes his eyes would glaze over as he read, as though he was recalling something that was particularly vivid.

Seeing as how this could prove hazardous in the future (and deep, deep in his mind, his own curiosity was piqued), Acnologia decided to address the issue in the most effective and straightforward way possible:

"You were sloppy today with your fighting, whelp."

Bahamut froze in full attention as Acnologia asked: "Why?"

The boy looked at him with a look that held several emotions: confusion, embarrassment, pain and some other emotion that he couldn't recognize. He kept looking at him like that until Acnologia continued. "Well? I'm listening."

The boy looked down at his book still holding that same look on his face. Eventually, he answered in a soft voice tinged with…fear?

"It's just…today is…my birthday."

Bahamut's (or rather, Harry Potter's) birthdays were an uncomfortable subject for the young mage. He had never known when it was during his early years under the Dursley's "care", only discovering it when he went to school. It wasn't any different from any other day of the year, save for the fact that his Aunt Petunia gave him a sock or some extra food. To Harry though – and subsequently, Bahamut – it was the only time of the year when someone ever gave him something, and thus had left an impression on him. A reminder of his days back when he was practically a slave. When he was weak.

He had hoped to try and forget about his past when he was adopted by the Dragon King, but his birthday had made a bigger impression on him than he thought. He had hoped to get something special as a gift today, despite knowing that Acnologia would never do such a human thing and he didn't wish to be ungrateful for everything that he gave him.

How did he know it was his birthday? He was reading at the bookstore in Kilika when he saw a calendar open on the "July" month. After asking the shopkeeper what the date was, he mentally counted how many days were left. He didn't expect to actually remember though.

Not knowing this (despite having some inkling of an idea based on accounts of the boy's past and his performance today), Acnologia just grunted in acknowledgment before closing his eyes in meditation. He couldn't understand why humans celebrated birthdays. It was just a reminder that someone was a year older than last time and nothing more. Any effort put into that reminder was a waste of time and an indulgence in useless frivolity. Granted, enough of those meant that you've lived a long life and if you were a mage you were considered a master, but that was beside the point.

Bahamut expected for his father to not care so he wasn't offended by his dismissal. Yet some part of him still felt hurt. He tried to ignore it by going back to reading. It didn't last long though because a question arose in his throat and he blurted it out without thinking.

"When is your birthday?"

When was his birthday, Acnologia didn't remember or care. He had lived for so long that he didn't remember if he was 401, 402 or 403 years old, as the difference between them was inconsequential.

Bahamut didn't hear an answer, so he tried again. "Um…"

"I don't remember, nor do I care. I've outlived such things."

That shut Bahamut up and made him return to his book. But as he kept reading the journal, he couldn't help but start thinking.

'He doesn't remember when his birthday is? That's…sad. Your birthday is something you're supposed to be happy about. I was always happier on my birthday, I got a gift then.'

He took a discreet peek at the meditating Acnologia. 'Maybe I should give him a gift sometime? He's done so much for me, I should give him something to show I'm grateful. But if he doesn't when his birthday is, how can I give him a gift?'

He was about to dwell on the matter more when he came to one of his favorite sections in the book. All current thoughts were shelved as he started reading again. 'Maybe I should just forget it. If he doesn't care, then he won't mind.'

Try as he might, the thought stayed in the corner of his mind, leaving him with confused emotions…

-OBW-

October 31st, X774 – first human kill

"Don't lose focus whelp."

Bahamut nodded and kept channelling magic into his outstretched palms, all the while looking at a large tree. As he did, a bluish-white sphere slightly bigger than his head formed in between his open palms, spouting sparks that flickered in the setting sun's light.

He almost had it. Just a little more…

"Fire!"

At his father's command, Bahamut gave the mental/magical equivalent of a powerful push that sent the sphere flying into the tree's trunk at high speeds. After it impacted the trunk, it went in a little deeper before bursting in a flash of light, leaving a large and deep circular imprint on the trunk.

As he surveyed the damage he had done, Bahamut nodded to himself in satisfaction. He had come far in terms of magical combat, now able to form magic spheres in a few seconds and fire them with enough force to kill a wild boar. In addition, his control over his magic channelling – which Acnologia had named Reinforcement – had improved to the point where he could reinforce both his arms and legs simultaneously. There were still a few issues, such as his Reinforcement being weaker when used on multiple appendages simultaneously or the fact that he still forgot sometimes to turn it off, but Acnologia said that enough training and experience would iron those out.

He turned to his father who alternating between looking at the damage and looking at him with the usual emotionless gaze. While used to the gaze, the young mage saw something different in his father's eye. He seemed to be contemplating something, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what.

The fact that he managed to glean something different was a testament to how much time he had spent under that gaze since even now he could never tell what passed through Acnologia's head.

This continued for a minute when his father nodded and stepped back a little. A familiar bluish-white aura enveloped his cloaked form and a crack of thunder later, the Black Dragon appeared and extended an open clawed palm to him.

"Come."

Bahamut stood back in momentary surprise and awe at the sight of his father's dragon form, but quickly shrugged and climbed onto the palm. With a strong wingbeat, they were high in the sky.

The snowy plains of the Zonia region were soon replaced by rolling hills and grassy plains. Every few minutes or so Acnologia would sniff the air before slightly veering in some direction. As the green-eyed child looked in wonder at the passing scenery, he couldn't help but wonder where was Acnologia taking him.

The sun had nearly disappeared under the horizon when Acnologia landed near the base of a small cliff. On top of the cliff was the beginning of a small forest. He dropped Bahamut on top of the cliff and transformed back into his human form, this time with a faint sizzle. A second later, he appeared next to the young mage with a powerful jump. To his credit, Bahamut barely flinched. Acnologia then headed into the woods, his son following him.

The last rays of the sun illuminated the autumn leaves of the woods with a fiery glow. The trees were packed closely together, leaving little room to walk between them and cast long, eerie shadows on the ground. The sky had turned dark, with a faint orange hue where the setting sun was. As the father-son duo delved deeper into the sea of trees, the sun's light slowly started to fade. On the outside, Bahamut's expression was emotionless as he walked behind his father, but on the inside, he was growing a little nervous as the shadows of trees and leaves seemed to form strange and mysterious shapes in the dimming light, with only the muffled sound of their footsteps against the ground and the occasional soft whisper of the wind.

At some point, they had reached a small stream which they followed. As the stream led them into the very thick of the woods, Bahamut saw a faint light in the distance, along with very faint laughter. The two headed in the direction of the light until they reached a pair of trees and a bush, which hid the source of the light and noise.

Acnologia motioned the young mage to step closer and after he did, he parted the bush slightly and motioned him to peek through. With trepidation, Bahamut slowly peered through the bush.

What greeted him was the sight of several humans sitting around a campfire. They were seven in total, with six of them wearing tattered grey clothes, each with a weapon beside them and the last one (who seemed to be the leader) wearing a black hood and cloak, with a jewel-capped staff by his side. The five were either drinking, eating meat from a spit that hung over the fire, or laughing with rough, rocky voices. The cloaked man simply rested against a tree, fingering his staff.

Bahamut didn't understand why Acnologia brought him here. There was something off about those men. He was about to turn and give his father a questioning stare when one of the men spoke up.

"We sure got lucky, runnin' away from those knights."

"You got that right! Did ya see the looks on their faces? They were pathetic!" another man said before he chugged on a bottle.

"Yeah, yeah" a man with a thin moustache replied. "But you all gotta give credit to the boss here." He gestured to the cloaked man, who sat there silently. "He's the one that tricked those knights!"

"Right, right, thanks boss!"

"Better yet…" a fat man with a bandanna over his right eye got up and went over to a curtain of vines. "Look at all the loot we got!"

He parted the curtain to reveal a cart that had three large sacks, all opened up to reveal gleaming gold coins. Attached to the cart was a giant cage with wheels. It was the contents of the cage that made Bahamut freeze in shock.

Inside the cage were a dozen people – six children, four men and two women – all dirty, chained by the legs and huddled together, faces alight with fear.

As Bahamut looked at the scene with growing alarm, the bandit kept talking in a joyous and avaricious tone.

"Priceless gold coins from the Royal Treasury itself! Not only that but a nice-looking batch o' cargo!" He walked to the cage and leered at the women, who scrambled back in fright. "Now these are fine-lookin' specimen. Hey boss! Mind if I take one of them out for some fun?" he asked while reaching to grab the ankle of one of the women. Just as he touched her though, a cold voice spoke up and silenced the whole camp.

"Do not touch the cargo."

Bahamut quickly turned his head and found out that the voice came from the cloaked man. The fat man froze for a moment before slowly retracting his arm.

"Our client requested that we bring them alive and unspoiled. He has ways of knowing, so if you cannot control your urges, leave us.

Just know that if you do, you will not get even a jewel of the share."

The fat man scowled before spitting to the side and walking back to the campfire. "Tch. Fine. Sorry boss."

"Hmm, while we're at it," the moustached man said, drawing the attention of the camp. "Who is our mysterious client and why would he need this…cargo? As far as I know, you've never seen him before, haven't you boss?"

The leader grasped his staff and held the gem-tip in front of his face. "That is true. I tried digging around, but I have no solid information on who our client might be. A courier asked to do business with me in his name – not that he gave me one, but that's irrelevant. But from what I have managed to glean, there seems to be some sort of construction project that our client doesn't want the Magic Council to know about, hence the…alternative means for labour."

The man 'ahh'ed or nodded in understanding, bar one who just looked at the boss with a confused expression. "Huh?"

"Someone's building something secret and we don't know who." That man 'ahh'ed as well before returning to his bottle.

"We rest for a few hours. I will stay on guard. We must leave this forest by first light."

The men grunted and muttered 'yeah, yeah' before going back to their business, albeit with no laughter.

Bahamut observed the scene with growing confusion and resentment. He didn't know why but the sight of those people in the cage made him angry. He was about to keep watching when Acnologia slowly pulled him back, the bush rustling faintly enough for no-one to hear.

He looked at his father and whispered: "Who are these people?"

Acnologia crouched down slightly so that the child could hear him. "These are some of the lowest forms of life among humans: bandits. They prey on and steal from other humans, serving their own twisted pleasures."

Bahamut nodded in recognition while breaking down the sentence in his head: They're called bandits, and they are thieves and bad people.

"What about the…people in the cage?"

Acnologia looked at him dead in the eye and answered without a shred of emotion: "These are slaves. Humans who were taken from their homes to work for rich or powerful humans until they die, for nothing."

'Until they die? For nothing?' Bahamut thought as the dread and anger within him grew. That sounded suspiciously like what he had gone through before Acnologia came. The Dragon King picked up on his thoughts by the horrified and angry expression on his face and answered the unspoken question:

"They will become what you were once, but worse."

His suspicions confirmed, Bahamut clenched his fist in anger. They were going to become what he was!? Broken, sad and beaten to work for more bad people!? "We've got to do something!" he said. He couldn't let such a thing happen to those people.

"You will."

Some of Bahamut's anger faded and was replaced with confusion. "Huh?"

"If you want to save these humans from bondage, you have to fight the bandits."

"W-what? I have to…to –"

"Why do you think I brought you all the way here? If you want to save these humans, mere words will not suffice; you must take action yourself."

Bahamut stared at his father slightly open-mouthed before dropping his gaze to the floor. "Do you think that I can…beat them?"

"I would not have brought you here if I didn't think you possess the necessary skill level to do so."

'Although…' Acnologia shifted his eyes ever so slightly in the leader's direction. 'That human is most definitely a mage. I have not trained him enough on fighting mages despite our target practice sessions. That will have to be remedied later; for now, I shall dispose of this insect.'

He returned his gaze to Bahamut, who looked at the ground with a conflicted expression. A few seconds later, he lifted his head and made eye contact.

"I'll…I'll do it."

Acnologia couldn't help but smirk as his son peered through the bush once more.

'Show me, Bahamut. Show me that I made a good choice by making you my son.'

-OBW-

Six-year-old Kagura Mikazuchi shivered as she shifted away from the bars. She could hear and feel the others around her shivering in fright, along with a woman's choked sob.

She didn't blame her. In fact, she was nearly ready to cry at the futility of the situation. It was only the fear that the fat bandit could come back and try to do something with her made her stay silent.

'Why is this happening?' she thought. It wasn't like she did something horrible to deserve this fate. Until she was five, she lived with her brother Simon in a small village called Rosemary Village. Despite the fact that they were orphans and poor, the villagers treated them like they were family and they led a very happy life.

But then the bad men came. The black-haired girl shivered even more as she recalled the memories of that awful day. Bad people in black cloaks had come into the village and razed it to the ground. Not only that, all the children in the village were hauled into cages like this one and taken away, including her brother. It was only thanks to an older girl pushing her inside a crate that she escaped them.

After they left, Kagura left the ruined village to find some food and shelter. Once she had marginally recovered, she started searching for her brother. In the year between then and now she had trained slightly, stealing food and hiding so that she could fight back. It was all for naught though – she was travelling on a forest-side road with some kind strangers when those bandits attacked. After they had killed the strangers, she was dragged by her head and thrown into the cage, knocking her out. When she came to, she found herself with all those poor people.

She started to feel drowsy from the stress and felt her eyes slowly closing. 'Brother…I'm sorry but…I don't think I'll find you.'

But just as she was about to fall asleep, a loud bang and a flash of light shook the camp. She looked over to the fire where the bandits were sitting and saw that one of them – the short man with a large bottle – had slammed into a tree, with a large and nasty-looking burn mark on his back. The men shouted in alarm as they scrambled to get back up, clutching their weapons. But before they could fully regain their bearings, two spheres of blue light ('magic' she thought) shot out of a bush and impacted – one on another bandit which sent him falling and the other on the ground near the fire, sending dust flying all around them.

A small form jumped from the bushes and dashed to the moustached crook, where it punched him in the leg, causing an audible crack. The bandit screamed in pain but didn't have time to fall as the figure jumped up and punched it sideways on the skull. Another crack was heard and he fell over, unconscious and with a broken jaw.

The figure dropped down from his small leap and turned its face to the other bandits, and subsequently, the cage. Kagura was shocked as the figure's true visage was revealed in the fire's light.

It was a young boy, barely older than her by the looks of it. He wore blue closed sandals and grey baggy pants that didn't look too big on him, along with a black shirt slightly torn at the sleeve edges. He had messy black hair that reached down to his shoulders and vibrant green eyes that hid behind a pair of glasses. An emotionless expression was on his face, but as he looked around him his brow and nose wrinkled slightly in what seemed to be revulsion.

The fat bandit grasped the handle of a large axe. "Who are you, brat!?"

The boy didn't answer, but he did turn to him and parted his lips slightly in disgust.

"Did you do that, brat!? If you don't talk now I'm gonna gut you like a fish!"

Again, there was no answer from the boy. He bent his knees and slightly raised a clenched fist, which was revealed to be faintly glowing. At this point, the leader decided to speak up.

"Hmm, so you were the one in those bushes. I'm guessing that you overheard everything, right?"

The boy remained in his position, but then he slightly tilted his head down and back up again.

"Then it looks like we have some opposition. I will give you one chance, child. Leave now and forget what you saw and nothing will happen."

Kagura thought that he would leave, especially since he was outnumbered, but instead, he bared his teeth in anger and the glow around his fist increased.

The leader sighed. "Very well." He raised his staff, which started to glow an eerie purple, at the boy. "At best, we will have more pay when we arrive…"

The leader was suddenly cut off when something blew past the whole camp, leaving a powerful gust that made the cage-carrying wagon rock from side to side and made Kagura shut her eyes. When she opened them again, she (and everyone else, bar the boy) was shocked to see that the leader had vanished.

"B-boss!"

"Where did he go!? What was that!?"

"I don't know man! This forest is starting to creep me out! First this kid and now this!?"

The boy then dashed across the camp to one of the bandits – a tall thin man with a small beard – and attacked him, jumping once more and delivering the bone-cracking head-blow that made his moustached comrade fall. This time however, the top-left part of the face seemed to be blown off, leaving a small pool of blood and brains to leak out onto the ground.

The remaining slavers (including the one he had knocked over earlier) turned to him with shock and horror at the sight of their fallen friend. The only sound that was heard crackling on the campfire. Even her fellow inmates fell silent – they stopped shivering and seemed to wait with bated breath at what would happen next.

The silence was then broken by a scream. "RUN!"

-OBW-

Bahamut cringed in further disgust as the revolting men started to run away at their comrade's scream. Not only were those people horrible by selling…slaves (the word still left a bad taste in his mouth), but they were blubbering cowards that ran at the first chance they got. A normal man – especially someone his age – would let them run, but he had to make them pay. Besides, his father taught him better than that.

'If you are certain that your prey is weaker than you, NEVER let it escape. We are hunters, predators, and we do not let go of what we choose to hunt.'

He was about to run after them when fat bandit roared in rage and leapt at him with his axe. Acting completely on instinct, Bahamut cocked back his fist and charged it with as much magic as he could, while sending some to his legs. A bright blue aura formed around his fist – enough to illuminate the trees beside him – and he leapt at the man, sending his fist flying towards his prey's torso. But instead of simply hitting him and knocking him out on one of the trees, both of them were sent flying in the same direction, crashing into a tree.

Bahamut shook his head as he tried to clear the haziness that had just popped up in his head when he felt something hot and sticky envelop his arm. His eyes slowly trailed up from the ground only to widen in horror at the sight before him:

His fist was buried in the chest of the bandit, who had fallen limp against the tree, his uncovered eye blank and his mouth open and leaking blood from the side.

The young mage quickly tried to pull out his arm, only for it slowly come out, making squelching sounds as it did. Bile rose in his throat and his vision became hazy as he stared at the appendage, which was now covered in blood and muscle tissue. His clean hand covered his mouth as the realization of what he had just done hit him like an avalanche.

'I…I killed him…'

His eyes darted back and forth from the corpse to his hand, a heavy feeling in his stomach growing with each second. The sound of his heartbeat and his breathing seemed to intensify and he took a few steps back, trying to ignore the smell of the body – if it was pungent before, it won't be long before it would get worse.

As his eyes darted, he caught sight of the fallen moustached bandit, the bandit with the seared back and the thin bandit out of the corner of his eye and the sight of blood trickling from their skulls caused the same realization to pop up once more, intensifying the bile in his throat: he had killed them too.

'Why…why did I kill them? I meant to just knock them out…they weren't supposed to die…they didn't deserve to die…' he thought with growing distress as the world seemed to tilt a little.

A sudden sob drew his gaze to the slave cage, where all of its occupants stared at either him or the corpses, fear and some relief showing in their eyes against the light of the red embers. In particular, a girl with yellow eyes and a white ribbon tied around her head gave him a look with a myriad of emotions, but he was too distracted to tell.

'But…they were about to sell those people…they would've given them away and they all would've been b-beaten or worked to d-death. I saved those people…those bandits deserved to die. Then why…? Why am I feeling sorry for them…I shouldn't feel sorry…they were bad people…they were thieves and killers…but I killed them, so does that make me a killer? Am I a…bad person now?'

Approaching footsteps drew his attention but did not snap him out of his internal questioning. Out of the shadows stepped Acnologia, expression stoic as always. As he stepped closer to him, Bahamut noticed some stains on the edge of his cloak, probably blood.

Father and adopted son soon stood in front of each other, the flames illuminating the camp in a dreadful, prophetic red glow. The Dragon King simply stared at the young mage, who could not even bring himself to look back at him. The silence stretched on for a few minutes, disturbed only by the crackling of the wood as the flames consumed them. Even the slaves didn't dare make a sound; it was as though they were witnessing a sacred ritual, one that should not be disturbed by onlookers.

Finally, Acnologia broke the silence, his voice both silent and echoing.

"So, you did it."

(Naruto OST – Itachi's Theme)

His voice held no tone of either approval or disapproval; just factual statement, as though one was talking about the weather.

A slight stirring from within the cage caused it to squeak, attracting Acnologia's attention. He stared at it for a few good seconds before sighing and flicking his finger at one of its corners. A spark of magic shout out from the finger and at the corner, causing the cage to open its doors. The slaves silently stepped out of the cage, giving the duo looks of gratitude and caution.

Acnologia motioned sideways with his head. "Go."

Within several seconds, the slaves had left, the clanking of their chains fading in the background. He returned his gaze to Bahamut, who remained as still as before.

"Speak."

The young mage twitched his bloodied fingers for a moment before speaking in a quiet, shaking voice. "Th-those men…I k-k-killed them."

"You did."

"They were b-bad people. They pro-p-probably k-killed other people b-before, right?"

"Most likely."

"Th-they were g-going to s-sell those s-slaves, t-they were going to k-kill more p-people."

"Yes."

"T-they deserved to d-d-die, right?"

"Yes." Even though Acnologia was a complete apathetic to humans and their affairs, there were some things that even he would consider repulsive; slavery and rape among them. (It further worsened his opinion of humans, but that was beside the point).

"B-but I k-killed them…j-just like that…I didn't even give them a ch-chance."

He raised his head to look his father in the eye, his own eyes full of confusion, horror, and despair as tears started to drop. He raised his hands – one covered with blood and death, the other clean and untainted – and asked in a voice filled distress:

"Does that make a k-killer? A-am I a b-bad person?"

The ancient Dragon Slayer said nothing for a few moments, his sharp eyes staring into Bahamut's own. Then, he turned his gaze to the dying fire and started to speak.

"In life…there are no such things as 'good' or 'bad'. Those are just terms that one side gives to the other to justify their own actions. While there are some acts that are considered universally wrong and should never happen – what you saw just now a prime example – the line between those two terms is very thin and faded."

He turned to look his son in the eye once more. "In life, every being, be they sentient or animalistic, struggle to survive in the harsh existence that is the world. If you are strong you live, if you are weak you die. You survived all that has happened to you before we met because you possessed strength, although not in the way that most think of.

To survive, you must become strong, to become strong you must let nothing impede you and you will sometimes have to commit acts that at first thought will go against what you believe in. Men conquer, fight and slay their own brethren to survive just as animal hunt each other to live; even dragons are not exempt from that rule.

You killed those men, and by doing so you proved they were weak, not only in body but in mind. By killing them you have gone up a step in your strength. You believed they were bad when I told you what they were, and you let that belief guide your actions. You have proven that your beliefs are correct when you ended their lives. If you let your morals hinder you, your strength will falter and you will fall.

I brought you here today to test your resolve. From what I have gathered you performed well until you let your guilt attack you. Let this be three new lessons I pass unto you:

The first, never feel guilt or remorse towards the enemy, for it may one day be your downfall.

The second, you must be willing to do whatever it takes to survive, but not at the expense of yourself or your beliefs.

The third, strength does not just come from physical capacity, it also comes from an indomitable will. You survived your trials and tribulation because of your will, and you shall do so again in the future."

Silence reigned over the camp. Bahamut kept staring at his father as he tried to fully understand the meaning of his speech. Yet every time he thought he had come close, a feeling in the back of his mind kept popping up; what it was he wasn't sure.

Acnologia broke eye-contact first and looked around the camp, only to stop and sniff the air slightly. "It seems as though those vermin are trying to flee. Wait here for I will return momentarily."

With that, he vanished in a blur of speed, leaving Bahamut in his inner turmoil as the dark shadows of the camp seemed to envelop him, as though the Grim Reaper himself was watching, silently observing the event that would leave a mark on the young mage's soul forevermore…


What did you all think? I would especially like thoughts about Acnologia's speech at the end; I feel it was the most important part of the chapter.

I will also add dates from now on whenever there is a scenery shift to avoid confusion about timelines and age.

The omake challenge from Chapter 3 is still open! How would a conversation between Acnologia and Bahamut go when discussing "the birds and the bees/ the facts of life"? PM me for a response and the best one will be posted next chapter!

Go and check out my other stories and the challenges on my profile and show them the same love you do to this story!

Read and Review!