Hello there, folks and welcome to the prologue because I couldn't just leave it all bare and barren, right?

Anyway, I am willing to hear out any ideas that you can think of but seriously guys, please be polite about everything.

Honestly, how can I seriously turn the censorship on if you guys would keep on showing your opinions that borders on lambasting and unnecessary, especially some guy who calls himself 'chaosshadow19' in the story, 'The Warrior and the sorcerer' by 'leonardo18anime' who had typed a long profile rant in the review section about Naruto and how it became overrated and horrible that I have no idea what the hell is his problem since what he is saying has nothing to do with the story at all and just rant about something that, while everything he says feels kind of justified, has no bearing to the story as a whole, especially when he makes a seriously messed introduction of urging the author to commit suicide.

I mean, what is up with that?

So, would someone please put your opinions when it is actually deemed necessary and helpful to the story because seriously, I just don't understand the fundamental wrongness of what people thinks in the grand scheme of things and of all the things that I have remembered, that is the worst of it all.

Anyway, that aside, it's time to start the story because really, I am really excited since taking inspiration from 'Terminate the Other World' by 'Icalos' because finally, something that is different and of course, fun to read were it not for most of the chapters being seriously adapted out from the work itself.

Anyway, if you have any critique, at least anything to spice up the story, let me know in the comments below and also tell me if you heard of 'Terminate the Other World'.

If you don't where it is, go read at the website, 'Royal Road' if you want to know what am I talking about.

Well, anyway, on with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail and 'Fairy tail X Male mandalorian reader: A great warrior of Earthland' by 'JustyTurner'. They belong to their respective owners.

Enjoy.

The year 2552 is often painted with broad strokes of technological utopia. Humanity, it is said, has ascended to unprecedented heights, wielding gadgets ripped from the pages of science fiction. Augmentations have blurred the lines of human potential, offering enhanced capabilities and second lives to those afflicted by accident or disease. Tools once cumbersome are now portable and efficient, often integrated into sleek, multi-functional suits reminiscent of a certain armored superhero. Even travel across vast distances, potentially even to the fabled "Point Z," is made effortless by gravity-defying vehicles. This narrative paints a picture of a Golden Age, a testament to human ingenuity and progress.

However, beneath this shimmering surface lies a harsh reality, a stark division that reveals the darker facets of human nature. The very technologies touted as mankind's salvation have become tools of oppression, reinforcing a rigid social hierarchy. Those miraculous cures, advanced tools, and life-altering augmentations are largely inaccessible to the masses, funneled instead to the government and the affluent elite. This has entrenched a brutal caste system, where, as one cynic might put it, "You are either born lucky or born fucked. This is now our future." The supposed enlightenment of 2552 is, in truth, a facade masking a world of rampant corruption and decay.

The concept of "humanity" itself has become blurred. The relentless pursuit of cybernetic enhancements has eroded the boundaries between biological and artificial, leaving a lingering question of what truly constitutes a human being. For the marginalized, the lower classes and the downtrodden, life in 2552 is a struggle for survival. Poverty is rife, and the daily grind is a relentless pursuit of basic needs. These individuals often find themselves drawn to the dangerous world of mercenary work, where the risks are immense, but the potential rewards offer a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak existence.

This desperation fuels a climate of violence and lawlessness. Gang warfare and corporate conflicts are commonplace in cities that have embraced this stark social division. Mega-corporations, each specializing in fields such as pharmaceuticals, military arms manufacturing, and cybernetic technologies, exploit the desperate for their own gain. They operate under a philosophy of profit above all else, their methods and ethics inconsequential in the relentless pursuit of dominance.

When violence escalates beyond the control of local authorities, these corporations deploy their own private armies, the Private Military Contractors (PMCs). These ruthless forces, armed with state-of-the-art weapons, often remnants of a forgotten World War III, act as the enforcers of corporate will. They protect contracts and enforce business interests with brutal efficiency, becoming feared entities in the urban landscape.

Perhaps even more fearsome are the Cyborg Enforcers, cybernetically augmented individuals who have become the elite units of these mega-corporations. Once human, they have been transformed into cold and calculating instruments of corporate power. Often depicted as soulless and inhumane, they are corporate spies, assassins, and bodyguards, their chilling presence and brutal efficiency casting a shadow of fear on anyone who incurs their wrath.

The year 2552, therefore, is far from the Golden Age it is portrayed to be. It is a period of unchecked greed, blatant corruption, and suffocating bureaucracy. Human empathy, ethical science, and spiritual enlightenment are rare commodities in this new world order. Instead, it is a time where the lines of humanity are blurred, human life is often considered expendable, and where power is wielded by the privileged few at the expense of the many.

In this climate of despair, the status quo appears insurmountable. The vast divide between the privileged and the marginalized, the unchecked power of corporations, and the numbing influence of technology seem too entrenched to overcome. Yet, even in the darkest of times, the embers of hope can still spark. The injustice, the suffering, and the sheer inhumanity of 2552 cannot endure forever. The cycle of oppression, fueled by greed and power, must eventually end, giving way to a new era.

The year 2552, despite all its technological marvel, is not the final chapter of humanity. It is a turning point, a moment when the true cost of unchecked progress and societal division has become undeniable. The stage is now set, the pieces in place. Now is the time for change, now is the time for something to break. The seeds of resistance are being sown, nurtured by the very injustices of the age. Whether that resistance blooms into a true revolution will be the defining story of what is to come. But for now, the world holds its breath, waiting to see what will rise from the ashes of this gilded cage.

The neon-drenched cityscape of Neo-Kyoto, 2552, was a symphony of flickering holograms and towering megastructures that clawed at the perpetually twilight sky. Below, in the opulent lobby of the 'Quantum Leap' corporation, a scene of unspeakable carnage unfolded. The polished chrome floor was slick with blood, the bodies of security personnel – once imposing figures in their armored suits – lay scattered in a grotesque tableau of dismemberment. Limbs were severed, torsos bisected, and the air hung heavy with the metallic tang of spilled blood and ozone.

Amidst this macabre gallery, a lone figure moved with an unsettling grace. Her long, cobalt-blue hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, framing a face partially obscured by a metallic cybernetic mask that covered her mouth and lower jaw. Her dark blue uniform coat, bearing the stark logo of 'Nirvana Corporation' emblazoned across the back, moved with the fluid motion of a predator. Most strikingly, both of her arms ended not in hands, but in a crackling array of energy blades that hummed with contained power. This was Unit 47-C, a Cyborg Enforcer of Nirvana Industries, and for her, this was simply another Tuesday.

She stepped over a severed leg, her metallic boots clicking softly on the blood-soaked floor, and approached the elevator. A female secretary, her face pale with terror, cowered beneath a nearby desk, her whimpers barely audible above the residual hum of the room's ravaged electronics. Unit 47-C paid her no mind. She inserted a cybernetic finger into the elevator control panel, the screen flickering to life as she inputted her desired floor. A soft ding signaled the arrival of the elevator, and she entered, the doors gliding shut behind her, cutting her off from the scene of devastation.

"Unit 47-C. Mission parameters. Acquisition of Project Chimera data. Target: Quantum Leap. Resistance anticipated." Her voice was monotone, each syllable enunciated with the precise cadence of a machine. Her internal chronometer indicated a 3.7-second delay until she reached her designated floor. She used that time to activate her tactical HUD, the world around her overlaid with data streams showing floor plans, enemy positions, and weapon configurations. She knew the elevator opened into a large open office space used for research and development. Her scanners indicated several hostiles awaiting her there, positioned with clear lines of sight and armed with high-caliber weaponry. Unit 47-C mentally adjusted her combat protocols.

The elevator doors opened with a mechanical ping, but they didn't just open, they shot out with the force of a battering ram, smashing several guards who had been positioned to welcome her. The metal doors folded backwards, effectively bifurcating some and sending others reeling. Unit 47-C emerged from the cloud of dust and debris, her energy blades already humming with power.

The remaining guards, momentarily stunned by the sudden and brutal entry, scrambled to react, unleashing a hail of laser fire that ricocheted off the metallic skin of the cyborg. Unit 47-C moved with a blinding speed that defied the limitations of her humanoid frame, an almost invisible blur of cobalt and steel. Her energy blades sliced through flesh and bone with surgical precision, limbs flying through the air as quickly as the guards could aim their weapons. She used a fallen guard as a human shield, deflecting laser fire, before launching their body like a missile into another group.

The carnage was swift and brutal. No guard could match her speed, her enhanced reflexes, or her deadly precision. Limbs were severed, heads rolled on the floor, and the screams of terror blended into a symphony of destruction. Her energy shield absorbed most of the laser fire that managed to make contact with her and then she would quickly close the distance with incredible speed. Unit 47-C was a whirlwind of death, a perfect killing machine.

The room was soon littered with the remains of the security force, but then she noticed another group, moving a large piece of equipment into position. Her HUD registered it as an Arc Lightning Cannon, or ALC, a devastating weapon capable of unleashing a concentrated bolt of energy that could incinerate anything in its path. A new set of protocols flickered across her internal display, demanding her immediate attention.

Security guards were shouting at each other, the desperation was clear in their voices. "Hurry up with that thing!" one yelled over the sound of plasma rifles being fired and slicing through the air.

"I am trying!" The one manning the ALC yelled. "This thing is still charging! Why does anyone think using a weapon like this was a good idea!"

Unit 47-C used the scattered remains of the security guards as cover, dodging the laser fire and closing the ground. She moved with a calculated efficiency, her movements devoid of emotion, only purpose. The ALC finally finished charging, a bright blue glow emanating from its cannon. The man manning it readied himself to fire. Unit 47-C knew she had mere seconds.

She launched herself forward, a blur of energy and motion. She dodged another flurry of laser fire, her agility taking her through the chaos of the room as she charged straight towards the man behind the Arc Lightning Cannon. She moved so fast that barely any of the guards could react, she leaped onto the ALC and with a sudden kick, she spun the heavy cannon and its operator around, sending the man sprawling onto the floor, stunned. Before anyone could react, Unit 47-C grabbed the handle of the cannon, her cybernetic fingers locking into the grip. With a guttural growl that sounded like grinding metal, she opened fire.

A beam of pure energy erupted from the ALC, sweeping across the room, incinerating guards, office equipment, and anything else that lay in its path. The laser fire was no match for the overwhelming power of the arc cannon. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air as the room was consumed by the destructive power that she had wielded. The guards were vaporized, reduced to nothing more than ash and scattered remains. The ALC sputtered and died, its power drained.

Unit 47-C stood amidst the smoking ruins, the hum of her energy blades the only sound in the room. Her internal sensors registered no further hostiles.

"Target eliminated. Corporate Project data retrieval in progress." Her voice was flat, devoid of any hint of satisfaction. For her, this was just a job. The carnage, the violence, the death – all were simply parts of the equation. Unit 47-C moved towards the RD server room, her mission still on-going.

The hum was almost deafening, a low thrum that vibrated through Unit 47-C's metal frame. She stood before the colossal ring, its surface shimmering with an unearthly light, confirming the scans: a portal, unstable yet undeniably active. This was the culmination of months of tracking, the location of Nirvana Industries' most clandestine project. Her internal chronometer ticked, a relentless reminder of her mission parameters.

She swept her optical sensors across the lab, a sterile space now littered with deactivated machinery and discarded data pads. Her analysis noted a single life sign tucked away in the far corner - a figure shrouded in shadow, hunched over a terminal.

"Identify yourself and vacate the premises," Unit 47-C commanded, her synthesized voice echoing in the vast chamber.

The figure paused, the glowing screen reflecting in the depths of the hood. "Just a moment," a female voice called back, surprisingly casual considering the intrusion. The tapping continued, a rapid-fire staccato against the quiet hum of the portal. Finally, with a flourish, the figure swiveled, revealing a woman. Her face was obscured by a bone-white mask, its smooth surface devoid of features, but the mischievous glint in her visible eyes was plain. She wore a dark green tunic over black pants, the cloak adding an air of theatricality.

Unit 47-C ran a scan, her internal systems whirring. No cybernetic enhancements, no implants, nothing that explained her presence here. "Your biological composition is…unremarkable," 47-C noted, surprised.

The woman chuckled, a melodious sound that seemed out of place in the stark environment. "Like what you see, tin can?" she purred, tilting her head.

Ignoring the taunt, Unit 47-C straightened, her energy weapons activating with a soft hiss. "Surrender immediately. You are in violation of Nirvana Industries protocol."

The woman shrugged. "Protocol. Pah. I'm waiting for my ride home." Her gaze shifted to the portal, which was now emitting pulses of light. "And it looks like its about here now."

"Deactivate the portal immediately," Unit 47-C ordered, her voice hardening.

The woman's grin widened, and she flipped her middle finger at 47-C, "Why don't you make me?"

Driven by her programming, Unit 47-C charged, her energy arm blades extending with a crackle. She intended to slice, to disarm, to subdue. But the woman, with startling speed, placed her bare hand in the path of the glowing blades. The energy dissipated on contact, leaving no mark on the woman's skin.

Unit 47-C's optical sensors widened in shock. The woman grasped her wrists, her grip surprisingly strong. She spun the cyborg enforcer around and hurled her upwards. As Unit 47-C fell, the woman launched a kick, sending her crashing into the wall. The impact created a spiderweb of cracks.

Unit 47-C recovered quickly, standing and facing the woman, her internal processors working to make sense of her abilities. "Because of your actions," Unit 47-C declared, her voice tight with cold fury, "You are now an enemy of Nirvana Industries. You will be hunted down for your transgressions."

The woman feigned a shiver. "Ooh, scary." Then, with an almost inhuman swiftness, she closed the distance, launching a flurry of attacks. Unit 47-C fought back, her cybernetic enhancements allowing her to parry and counter, but the woman moved with an agility that defied logic. Her strikes were powerful, almost magical, and she easily avoided Unit 47-C's energy blades.

They fought, a chaotic dance of metal and flesh, of technology and raw power. Unit 47-C deployed energy shields, only for the woman to shatter them with well-placed strikes. Every attack was met with a counter, every advance with a retreat that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The battle was a blur of punches, kicks, blocks, and dodges.

The portal, meanwhile, was growing rapidly, the swirling vortex expanding and intensifying, casting the lab in an increasingly brighter glow.

The woman, holding off Unit 47-C's blades with her bare arms, glanced at the portal. She let out a joyful laugh. "Alright tin can," she said, her voice laced with amusement, "Clench your butthole, because this is about to get real interesting!"

Unit 47-C attempted to process the cryptic statement, about to demand an explanation when suddenly, a blinding white light engulfed the entire lab. Her vision was overwhelmed, her sensors overloaded. All she could perceive was a pulsating, all-encompassing brightness. The hum of the portal reached a deafening crescendo, and then, everything went silent.

Well, here it is...

Hope this is enjoyable...

Now, as always...

Ciao...