The question hung in the air, thick and heavy as dragon breath, clinging to the dust motes swirling in the ruined guild hall. "What... are you?" Salamander's voice, though barely audible through the roaring inferno that cloaked him, cut through the tension like a shard of obsidian. His gaze, unseen within the fire, burned into Laxus, dissecting him with an unnerving intensity that made the very air crackle.
Before anyone could unravel the riddle, before Laxus could even register the subtle shift in Salamander's posture, the rogue mage moved. Not with the chaotic, untamed fury they had witnessed moments before against the dark guild members – this was different. This was a calculated, terrifying precision. He was a blur of crimson motion, a living comet launched from the heart of the disrupted guild, propelled by an unseen and ominous purpose.
The impact was catastrophic. Not the searing kiss of flames they instinctively braced for, but raw, concussive force. Laxus, the Lightning Dragon Slayer, a bulwark of Fairy Tail's power, was physically thrown. He became a ragdoll hurled by an unseen giant, crashing through the thick, reinforced stone wall of the guildhall with a thunderous roar that echoed through Magnolia. Debris rained down – shattered stone, splintered wood, and the dazed disbelief of the onlookers.
Salamander was on him in an instant, an implacable force of nature. He didn't pause to gloat, didn't offer the courtesy of a challenge, didn't waste breath on a taunt. He simply followed the path of destruction he had carved, exploding through the newly formed hole in the wall like a living inferno unleashed. The once vibrant guild hall, a sanctuary of camaraderie and chaotic energy, was now a gaping wound in the heart of the town, a scene of utter pandemonium.
"Hold! Fairy Tail, hold!" Makarov roared, his voice amplified by magic, yet barely audible over the panicked shouts and the ominous groaning of the crumbling masonry. But Fairy Tail was already surging forward, a tidal wave of magic and righteous fury intent on both halting Salamander's rampage and aiding their fallen comrade. Erza Scarlet, Titania herself, led the charge. With a flash of light, she donned her Adamantine Armor, its diamond-hard plates gleaming under the moonlight. In her hands, those double shields, a wall willing to protect those she deems her family. Ready to jump into the fire, even for someone like Laxus.
Gray Fullbuster, his face grim, followed close behind, conjuring jagged spears of ice that crackled with freezing energy. He launched them at Salamander, aiming for the legs, hoping to slow the fiery onslaught. "Ice-Make: Lance!" But the moment the ice projectiles entered the searing aura around Salamander, they vaporized into steam, leaving no more impact than a breath in a furnace.
Wendy Marvell, despite the tremor of fear in her young heart, pushed to the forefront, her Sky Dragon Slayer magic pulsing with desperate urgency. "Heal! Troia!" she chanted, extending her hands, trying to offer aid to Laxus through the inferno. But the wind magic, usually so soothing, was shredded and dispersed by the sheer heat radiating from Salamander, proving utterly ineffective. Cana Alberona flung cards imbued with magic, hoping to create a barrier or distract the rogue. Mira, in her Satan Soul form, launched demonic blasts of dark magic, each attempt met with the same futile resistance – Salamander's flames devoured everything in their path.
They burst through the gaping hole in the wall, pouring out into the moonlit night, only to be confronted by a scene ripped straight from nightmare. The landscape before them was ravaged. The once-peaceful guild garden was now a scorched wasteland.
Salamander, wreathed in roaring flames that painted the sky an ominous crimson, was relentlessly attacking Laxus. The lightning mage, normally a bastion of arrogant, almost untouchable power, was on the absolute defensive. He blocked and parried with desperate movements, each strained grunt echoing his precarious position. His face, usually etched with confident smirk, was a mask of strained concentration, beads of sweat trickling down his temples even in the oppressive heat.
But something was profoundly wrong. Terribly, chillingly wrong.
Laxus wasn't using his lightning. Not the crackling, overwhelming power they knew so well, the power that could shatter mountains and split the sky. He wasn't unleashing his signature bolts, wasn't bathing the battlefield in blinding golden light. He was fighting with a purely physical prowess, dodging and weaving, his movements precise but strangely…muted. Almost…hollow.
Fairy Tail pressed their futile assault. Erza, in her Adamantine Armor, charged forward, De-Malevolence leading the way. "Stop this madness, Salamander!" she yelled, her voice amplified by the armor, but lost in the roar of the flames. She swung the spear, aiming for a gap in the fiery cloak, but even the legendary weapon faltered against the intense heat. The air rippled and shimmered, deflecting the magical thrust as if it were striking an invisible wall.
Elfman, watching Laxus take blow after blow, his usual bravado replaced with panicked urgency, bellowed, "Gramps! Do something! That's Laxus! Stop him!"
Makarov, his face etched with grim concern, finally reacted. He began to channel his magic, his diminutive form swelling with immense power, preparing to intercept the rogue mage. But he was too late.
With a guttural roar that was almost inhuman, Salamander unleashed a final, devastating strike. It wasn't a blast of fire, not this time. He moved with impossible speed, his fist a blur, and connected with Laxus's face with a sickening crack.
Laxus's body went limp, his eyes rolling back into his head as he crumpled to the scorched earth, unconscious.
A stunned silence fell over Fairy Tail. They faltered, their momentum broken. The initial surge of righteous fury against a perceived aggressor wavered and cracked. Had they misjudged Salamander? Had they been wrong to immediately defend him? A seed of doubt, cold and unwelcome, began to sprout in their hearts. The delusion they had built – of Salamander being a destructive force, yes, but having a good heart– began to shatter. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than they understood.
Salamander then raised a hand, and the flames around him intensified, shifting in color. They pulsed with an unnatural, malevolent purple hue. A chilling incantation, spoken in a language none of them recognized, echoed from within the inferno, each syllable sending shivers down their spines. " Obliteratio Animae Ignis…" – Soul-Burning Fire of Obliteration.
From his outstretched hand, a column of purple fire erupted, engulfing Laxus's unconscious form.
Outrage, pure and incandescent, exploded within Fairy Tail. This wasn't justice; this was execution! "No!" Erza screamed, charging forward again, followed by the rest of the enraged guild members. Gray launched a massive ice hammer, Natsu even managed to push through the heat with a roar of his own fire, a desperate, confused fury fueling his advance.
They reached the spot where Laxus had fallen, the air still shimmering with the residue of purple flames, smoke curling from the scorched earth. But Laxus was gone.
In his place, sprawled amongst the burnt grass, lay someone else entirely.
It was a young man, unfamiliar and unremarkable, with mousy brown hair and a thin, almost gaunt face. He wore simple, worn-out clothes, a stark contrast to the powerful, confident presence they associated with Laxus. He remained unconscious, utterly vulnerable.
Confusion, thick and suffocating, clamped down on Fairy Tail. They stared from the unconscious imposter to the retreating form of the Salamander, still wreathed in his crimson fire, disappearing into the darkness beyond Magnolia.
What had just happened? And where was Laxus Dreyar? The questions hung heavy in the air, unanswered and terrifying. The night, once disrupted by chaos and fire, now held a deeper, more unsettling darkness.
A wall of magic slammed into Salamander. Not a coordinated attack, but a raw, chaotic surge of Fairy Tail's collective power – a tempest of ice shards, earth tremors, gusts of wind, and raw magical pressure. He didn't flinch. The crimson flames that encased him pulsed in response, swirling faster, hotter, pushing back against the onslaught as if it were a mere breeze. He remained unmoved, a fiery monolith amidst the bewildered and furious mages.
"Salamander!" Makarov's voice, usually booming with jovial authority, cracked with strain and disbelief. He stood at the forefront of the enraged guild, his diminutive form radiating an almost palpable aura of disappointment. "Explain yourself! What is the meaning of this? Where is Laxus?"
Questions, accusations, and demands rained down on Salamander, a torrent of sound echoing in the aftermath of the chaotic burst of magic. Erza, her crimson hair a wild halo, advanced, her hand instinctively hovering near the hilt of a sheathed sword. Gray, eyes narrowed in fury, conjured ice spikes that dripped condensation in the already oppressive heat radiating from the Salamander. Even Mira, her own demonic magic momentarily dwarfed and overshadowed, circled warily, a low growl rumbling in her chest.
But Salamander's gaze remained fixed, not on them, not on their anger, but on the unconscious figure sprawled on the scorched earth. The imposter. He seemed almost oblivious to the tempest of fury swirling around him. He knelt slowly, deliberately, beside the body, ignoring the magical pressure that threatened to crush him, ignoring the shouts that tore through the night. He reached out a gauntleted hand, not to harm, but to… examine?
He tilted the imposter's head slightly, his fiery silhouette momentarily obscuring the young man's pale face from the furious eyes of Fairy Tail. Then, he straightened, and a single word, heavy with a strange mix of weariness and grim satisfaction, finally broke through the cacophony.
"Finally," Salamander said, his voice a low rumble, seemingly amplified by the crackling flames, yet strangely devoid of malice. It wasn't directed at Fairy Tail. It was… to himself? To the night? To the unconscious man at his feet?
Confusion momentarily silenced the guild's outrage. "Finally?!" Erza's voice was sharp, laced with incredulity. "Finally what?! Finally you've dealt with Laxus?! Is that what you mean?"
Salamander didn't answer Erza directly. Instead, his fiery gaze swept over the unconscious imposter again, lingering on the side of his neck, hidden beneath a collar of simple cloth. He seemed to see something only he could perceive in the dim light of the receding flames. "They're coming after me." The words were soft, almost a murmur, yet they carried a chilling weight, a sense of inevitability that permeated the tense air.
"Who is coming after you?!" Makarov pressed, his voice regaining some of its strength, though the disappointment still lingered. "What is going on here, Salamander?"
Again, Salamander seemed to bypass their questions, lost in his own grim thoughts. "They want revenge," he continued, the fire around him flickering slightly, the crimson hues deepening momentarily to a shade of bruised purple before returning to their vibrant red. "Revenge for what I did."
A new wave of outrage washed over Fairy Tail. "What you did?!" Gray exploded, ice crystals sharp as razors forming around his hands. "You attack our guildmate, you use some dark magic to… to switch him with this… this nobody! And you talk about revenge? You're the aggressor here!"
Salamander remained unmoved, his attention seemingly fixed on some unseen point beyond Fairy Tail's immediate vicinity. He muttered something under his breath, too low for most to catch, but Gajell, straining his dragon slayer senses, heard a faint whisper carried on the heat, "…should have known… too soon…"
"What did you say?!" Gajeel demanded, stepping forward, his own fists clenching, a familiar fire igniting within him. "What did you do, Salamander? Tell us!"
Salamander seemed to register Gajeel's question, but his response was oblique, as if speaking to a different question entirely, or perhaps lost in a memory only he could access. "They stole me from my father," he stated, the words stark and devoid of emotion, yet carrying a profound undercurrent of pain.
A stunned silence descended upon Fairy Tail. "Father?" Wendy whispered, her eyes wide with a dawning comprehension. Gajeel, standing beside her, his outburst and gruff demeanor replaced by a flicker of something akin to shock, shifted uncomfortably. They were dragonslayers.
Wendy, her inherent kindness and empathy overriding the fear and confusion, took a hesitant step forward. "Natsu-san… is that… is that you?" she asked softly, almost afraid to break the fragile silence. The name hung in the air, a whisper of a possibility, a name only she knew. The others only momentarily caught the name, but forced it to the back of their minds.
Salamander's fiery head snapped up then, turning towards Wendy. For the first time, his attention seemed genuinely focused on Fairy Tail. The flames around his head shifted slightly, parting just enough for a sliver of his face to be visible in the flickering light. It was still shadowed, obscured by the dancing fire, but there was a hint of… something familiar. Something that resonated with the fragmented whispers they'd heard in the past.
"The unconscious one," Salamander finally said, his voice now clearer, directed at them, though still devoid of warmth. "He is a Mimic. He can copy magic, or bodies. Not both. Laxus was never here."
The revelation hung heavy in the air, a cold stone sinking into their simmering anger. Laxus wasn't attacked? He wasn't… replaced? This… imposter… was simply an illusion? But the magic felt real. The switch felt tangible.
"Mimic?" Erza repeated, her voice regaining a sharper edge, though tinged with uncertainty now. "What kind of Mimic magic is this? And if that wasn't Laxus… where is he?"
Salamander finally turned fully to face them, the flames swirling around him like a living cloak. He looked at them, not with hostility, but with a strange, detached weariness. "You have questions," he stated, his voice echoing in the relative silence. "I will answer one. Choose wisely."
The offer, spoken in such a stark, almost regal tone, silenced the immediate clamor of questions that threatened to erupt again. One question. Among the swirling vortex of confusion, anger, and burgeoning fear, they had to choose.
Makarov stepped forward again, his gaze steady on the fiery figure. He looked from Salamander's hidden face to the unconscious imposter sprawled on the ground. He thought of Laxus, his arrogant, powerful grandson, vanished without a trace. He thought of Wendy's hesitant name, of Gajeel's uncharacteristic stillness, of the cryptic pronouncements echoing in the night.
He took a breath, the weight of his guild's safety and understanding pressing down on him. He chose the question that burned brightest in the confused chaos of his mind.
"Who stole you from your father, Salamander?" Makarov asked, his voice resonating with the gravity of his position and the desperate need for answers.
Salamander sighed, a sound lost in the crackling flames, yet somehow palpable, a sense of deep, ancient weariness emanating from him. He shifted his weight, his gaze drifting towards the dark edges of the Magnolia forest, as if looking beyond the trees, beyond the town, beyond the horizon itself.
"There are those who worship Zeref," he began, his voice low and deliberate, drawing them in despite their lingering anger. "You know of them. But there are others. Others darker, older, more… primal." He paused, and the silence stretched, thick with anticipation. "There are those who worship Acnologia."
The name hung in the air, a name that sent a shiver down the spine of every mage present, even those who had never faced the Black Dragon directly. Acnologia. The Dragon King. The embodiment of destruction and chaos. A name whispered in nightmares.
"Acnologia… worshipers?" Gray breathed, his ice spikes faltering slightly, a new, colder fear replacing his anger.
"The ladder," Salamander affirmed, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I was taken by the ladder."
"But… why?!" Elfman exploded, his confusion and fury battling for dominance. "Why would Acnologia worshipers steal you? What do they want with you?!"
Salamander's fiery gaze shifted back to Fairy Tail, his hidden face inscrutable. He stood as silent and unyielding as the ancient trees of Magnolia, the flickering flames around him a constant, enigmatic dance. He had answered their question, but in doing so, he had opened a chasm of even deeper mysteries, leaving them adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and a terrifying glimpse into a darkness far greater than they had ever imagined. The night, once filled with the localized chaos of a misunderstood attack, now throbbed with the ominous promise of a much larger, more dangerous storm gathering on the horizon. And Fairy Tail, for the first time in a long time, felt a chilling premonition of fear, a fear that went beyond mere anger, a fear that whispered of a threat they might not be able to comprehend, let alone fight.
Salamander turned, the fiery cloak around him intensifying, the licking flames now higher, more voracious, as if eager to consume him and whisk him away. He was becoming a walking inferno, the air shimmering with heat, distorting the very space around him. "Wait!" Gray yelled, ice instantly forming in his hands, jagged spears of frost materializing to intercept him. "Don't you dare just walk away after dropping a bombshell like that!" Cana threw cards, enchanted to bind and ensnare, their sharp edges glinting in the firelight. "Hold it right there, fire freak!" she shouted, her voice laced with a frustrated urgency. Even Mirajane, her usual gentleness overridden by the mounting tension, shifted into her Satan Soul form, demonic wings unfurling, ready to restrain him with her dark magic. Gajeel, shaking off his earlier paralysis, roared, metal scales erupting on his skin as he lunged forward, a metallic fist aimed to slam into the fiery mage. But it was like trying to grasp smoke. The flames pulsed outward, repelling the ice with a hiss of steam, melting Cana's cards before they could entangle him, and forcing Mirajane and Gajeel to recoil from the sheer heat. Their magic, usually so potent, was rendered almost useless against this living blaze.
Wendy, small and usually timid, found a strength born of desperate hope. "Natsu! Please!" her voice cracked, raw with emotion, cutting through the frustrated shouts of the others. "Just one more question!"
The name, a whisper of a name that resonated with something deep and buried, seemed to pierce the fiery barrier. Salamander faltered, his fiery stride halting mid-step. He didn't turn his head, but the intense heat emanating from him seemed to lessen just a fraction. In that sliver of hesitation, Erza, acting on pure instinct, on years of honed battle reflexes, moved. Her blade, Requipped in a flash of scarlet light, was already drawn. It was not an attack of malice, but a desperate measure to stop him, to hold him there, to force answers from this enigmatic figure. She lunged, her sword aimed not to kill, but to impede, to strike a glancing blow, anything to keep him grounded. But Salamander didn't move. Didn't dodge. Didn't even flinch. The steel of Erza's blade, imbued with her magic, bit deep, sinking into his side, just below his ribs, the point emerging gruesomely at his flank.
Erza froze, her eyes wide with horror. She hadn't meant… not like this. Her intention had been to restrain, to stop him from vanishing, not to inflict mortal harm. The crimson stain blooming on the ground beneath Salamander's feet was a stark testament to her impulsive action. She stood paralyzed, her hand still gripping the hilt of the sword, her mind reeling with the unintended consequence of her actions.
Salamander finally turned, slowly, deliberately, his fiery head now facing Wendy. He looked at her, and only her, his hidden face obscured by the dancing flames. He gave a barely perceptible nod, a silent, almost weary consent. "Ask," he rasped, his voice strangely unaffected by the blade piercing his flesh.
Wendy's breath hitched. Her eyes, wide and brimming with tears, darted between the sword protruding from Salamander and his unseen face. She stuttered, her carefully prepared question fracturing under the weight of the moment. "D-did... did your... dragon... disappear... on... July... seventh... seven... seventy-seven?" The familiar date, the day etched into the hearts of all dragon slayers, trembled in the air, thick with unspoken grief and shared mystery.
Silence descended once more, heavier this time, punctuated only by the crackling flames and Wendy's shallow breaths. Salamander remained motionless, the sword still embedded in his side, his fiery gaze unwavering on Wendy. He didn't answer immediately, letting the weight of her question hang in the charged atmosphere. Then, he moved. He walked. Right past Erza, still frozen in shock, past Gray, Gajeel, Cana, Mira, past the unconscious imposter, past Makarov whose face was etched with a mixture of concern and dawning understanding. He walked until he stood directly in front of Wendy, so close she could feel the oppressive heat even through the distance. He looked down at her, the sword still protruding from his abdomen, a gruesome and unbelievable sight.
"He did not disappear, not on that day, sooner," Salamander said, his voice low, resonant, and laced with a profound, heartbreaking sorrow that resonated deep within Wendy's own dragon slayer core. "He died." The word hung in the air, stark and final. "And I… I killed him." The confession, raw and unexpected, was delivered with a quiet devastation that belied the fiery power he wielded. It wasn't a boast, but a lament, a self-accusation echoing with unimaginable pain.
Gajeel snapped out of his stupor, his metallic gaze narrowing, his dragon slayer instincts roaring to the surface. "You killed him?" he growled, his voice rough and disbelieving. "But… they stole you from him? How in the hells is that possible?" The timeline twisted, logic fractured. If this Salamander had killed his own dragon, how could they have been stolen from him?
Salamander sighed again, that same weariness palpable even through the flames. "They pried me from his corpse," he stated flatly, the words painting a horrific and disturbing picture. "They came… after. After it was done." He finally shifted his gaze, letting it drift downwards, and Wendy's eyes followed, drawn to a massive, pale scar that bisected his chest. It was a jagged, brutal mark, starting high on the left side of his neck, arching across his collarbone, diagonally slicing across his chest and disappearing under the dark fabric of his trousers near his right hip. It was a scar that spoke of a wound that should have been fatal, a wound inflicted by something immense and terrifying. "This," he said, his voice devoid of inflection, yet heavy with unspoken trauma, "This was from a dragon." He paused, the silence amplifying the unspoken name, the phantom pain. He didn't offer the dragon's name, holding it close, a sacred, terrible secret. The horrored looks he received from Fairy Tail were mirrored by the icy fear that was now gripping their hearts. A dragon. This young man, barely more than a youth, carried a scar from a dragon like a brand, a badge of a battle no one should have survived.
With a swift, almost casual movement that belied the deep wound, Salamander reached down and grasped the hilt of Erza's sword. With a sharp, grating sound, he pulled it free, the steel sliding out with sickening ease. He tossed the sword to the side, the clatter of metal on stone echoing in the silence. He glanced down at the wound, the blood still welling, and then back up at Fairy Tail, his hidden face impassive. "Pain like this," he said, his voice quiet but carrying an undercurrent of profound sorrow, "is nothing. Nothing at all compared to that day."
He stood there for a beat longer, the flames around him flickering, reflecting in the wide, stunned eyes of Fairy Tail. They looked at him, this stranger cloaked in fire, this young man who spoke of dragon slaying and corpse theft and worshipped dragon gods, and they were left adrift in a sea of questions, the initial anger and confusion replaced by a bone-deep awe, and a chilling premonition. How could someone so young, so seemingly alone, have accomplished something so monumental, so terrible, as to slay a dragon? And what darkness had he walked through to emerge with such a haunted weariness, such a profound disconnection from the world around him? The storm on the horizon was no longer just a threat, it was embodied in the fiery figure standing before them, a storm of secrets and pain, waiting to break.
Salamander turned, the flames licking higher around him, a swirling inferno that both concealed and amplified his presence. He expected a shout, a magical snare, something to halt his retreat. But the silence held, thick and heavy, trapping Fairy Tail in its suffocating embrace. They simply watched, paralyzed by the revelations that had ripped through their preconceived notions.
He walked past Erza, her scarlet hair still wild, her stance rigid as a statue carved from stone. He paused beside her, not looking at her directly, but his fiery aura brushing against her, a silent, searing touch. "Next time you aim to stop someone," his voice resonated, low and steady, cutting through the stunned quiet, "try not to kill them when they do." Then, without another word, he continued walking.
Each step took him further away from the bewildered guild, deeper toward the shadowed edge of the forest. The flames danced and writhed around him, consuming the last vestiges of light in their immediate vicinity, leaving behind an unnerving darkness in his wake. He moved with a fluid grace that belied the gruesome wound he carried, his figure melting into the trees, until finally, only the faintest flicker of firelight remained, a dying ember swallowed by the encroaching night.
Silence.
It stretched, taut and vibrating, in the clearing. Erza was the first to move, a shudder running through her as she blinked, breaking free from the spell of shock. She looked down at her discarded sword, lying forlornly on the ground, then back to where the fiery figure had vanished. Her hand instinctively went to the hilt of a fresh sword materializing to her side, a nervous tic she barely registered.
Gray stood frozen, ice crystals spontaneously forming and melting on his bare skin, an unconscious manifestation of his inner turmoil. He clenched his fists, knuckles cracking. "Did... did anyone else see that?" he muttered, his voice rough, breaking the spell of silence for the others.
Wendy's lower lip trembled, tears blurring her vision. She looked from the empty forest to the spot where Salamander had stood, the blood staining the ground a stark reminder of the impossible scene. Her carefully constructed question, the hopeful anticipation of finding a kindred spirit, had been shattered, replaced by something far more terrifying and heartbreaking. "He... he killed his dragon?" she whispered, the words barely audible.
Gajeel let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, the sound grating on the tense air. "Killed his dragon? That's… that's insane. Dragon Slayers don't kill their dragons! They're family! They're…" He trailed off, the usual gruff conviction in his voice faltering, replaced by a bewildered confusion. His mind wrestled with the incongruity, the utter impossibility of the statement.
Cana took a long swig from her flask, trying to steady her nerves, her eyes wide and unfocused. "Pried from his corpse… brand of a dragon… and a mimic... What in the hell just happened tonight?"
Mira, her usual gentle smile absent, her expression somber, shook her head slowly. "I… I don't understand. He was so… hurt. And yet… powerful. That scar…" She shivered, a rare display of vulnerability from the normally composed Take-Over mage.
Makarov, who had remained silent throughout, his usual boisterous energy subdued, stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over his shaken guild members. His face was etched with a mixture of concern and something darker, something akin to foreboding. "Enough," he said, his voice firm, though laced with an unfamiliar gravity. "We need to return to the guild. We need to discuss this… Salamander. And grab him." He nodded towards the unconscious mimic, wanting to get answers out of him when he wakes up... If he wakes up.
The walk back to the guild was a hushed affair. The usual boisterous energy of Fairy Tail was absent, replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. The forest seemed darker, the familiar rustling of leaves suddenly sounding ominous in the wake of Salamander's revelations.
Back at the guild hall, the usual vibrant chaos was replaced by an unsettling quiet. The clinking of glasses, the boisterous laughter, the playful brawls - all were gone, swallowed by the weight of what they had just witnessed. Gone into the night that some wished they stayed in bed for. They settled into the large hall, their usual scattered groupings dissolving as they instinctively gathered closer, seeking solace in each other's presence.
Makarov climbed onto the counter, his small stature somehow seeming larger in this moment of gravity. He cleared his throat, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. "Alright, brats," he began, his voice resonating through the hushed guild hall. "Let's try to make sense of what just happened."
He summarized the events, piecing together the fragmented information Salamander had revealed – rogue mage, destroying dark guilds, dragon slayer, slain his own dragon, being stolen from said dragon he killed, scar from a dragon, hunted by the Magic Council.
"He claims he killed his dragon," Makarov reiterated, his voice heavy with disbelief. "And he was stolen from… from his body. By who? Why? And that scar… Wendy, Gajeel, you are dragon slayers. What do you make of this?"
Gajeel scoffed, running a hand through his spiky hair. "It's a load of bull, Gramps. No way a dragon slayer kills their own parent. It's against everything! And the whole Acnologia thing… sounds like some dark magic crap to me."
Wendy, still tearful, shook her head, her voice small. "But… he seemed so sad. And that date… July seventh, seventy-seven… it's the same day… the same day our dragons disappeared."
Erza finally spoke, her voice measured, thoughtful. "He moved with power, incredible power. And that fire… it wasn't dragonslayer magic. It felt… different. And the way he took that sword… the wound… it was as if he felt no pain." She paused, considering. "And his words to me… 'try not to kill them when they do.' He knew I was trying to incapacitate him, not truly harm him. He's… observant."
Gray chipped in, his voice still rough. "He's dangerous, that's what he is. And he's clearly got some serious baggage. The Magic Council wants him. That's never a good sign."
Cana slammed her flask down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence. "And what about that guild he's after? He been taking down dark guilds, but then the way he stopped when he examined the body… a bigger guild? The one that took him after… after his dragon…"
Makarov nodded, his expression grim. "These are all crucial questions, my children. And we need answers. The Magic Council's interest, his past, the guild he's targeting… it all points to something bigger, something darker than we initially thought."
He surveyed their faces, seeing the confusion, the fear, but also a spark of Fairy Tail curiosity. "We need to find out more about this Salamander. About Natsu. We need to understand who he is, what he's after, and why the Magic Council is so interested in him. Erza, Gray, I want you two to discreetly investigate the Magic Council and what connection this Elara character has to him."
He turned to Wendy and Gajeel. "Wendy, Gajeel, I want you to research dragon slayer lore, anything about the relationship between slayers and dragons, especially anything concerning… well, anything that might explain what Salamander told us. It could help us understand his drive or power. Cana, see if you can dig up any rumors about powerful dark guilds operating outside the usual channels, guilds the Magic Council might be overlooking. The rest of you, find any trace of him. Anything about a pink haired... young... boy. Mira, see if you can get a hold of Laxus. If he was replaced by a mimic, I want to know where my grandson is."
"There is one more thing master." Gajeel says, knowing that Wendy is on the same line of thinking. "His wounds, they heal too slowly. Us slayers, our bodies, are harder to break and are better at fixing the damage we sustained. But Sal- Natsu heals at a rate too slow for anybody... He may - I don't know - its just off somehow." He finished. The oddity of it all, sitting with them.
He nodded, looking at them, his small frame radiating a determined resolve. "Fairy Tail doesn't back down from a mystery, especially one that involves a fellow mage who seems to be carrying such a heavy burden. We may have started this on the wrong foot, but we will help him if we can. And if he proves to be a threat… we will face that threat head-on, as Fairy Tail always does."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the guild hall. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, replaced by a familiar sense of purpose. Fear mingled with curiosity, apprehension with a burgeoning desire to unravel the enigma of the fire-cloaked Salamander. The air in the guild hall, though still heavy with uncertainty, now crackled with a renewed energy, the quiet hum of Fairy Tail preparing for its next, and perhaps most perplexing, adventure. The storm on the horizon, personified by the enigmatic Salamander, was no longer just a threat, it was a call to action. And Fairy Tail, despite their trepidation, was ready to answer.