Central Oak Town
Under the new scars lining the streets, a familiar name flashed above town, creating a moment of distraction.
Boze Kane: Eliminated
The two combatants looked up for less than a second, noting the name within instant recognition, before returning to their fight.
"You look unfazed," Siegrain mentioned as he used water magic to douse the ground, lightning in his right hand. He was still in his testing phase with her magic, so he could afford to be a little curious.
"Wasn't that your partner?"
"And? Boze knew what he was doing." Sue grinned as her mirror flipped. She jumped onto the back of the mirror, sliding under her feet. She used it as a flying board and soared over the electrified ground. In an instant, she rushed back into close range, and Siegrain retreated, continuing their little game of cat and mouse.
"Boze is a warrior." Sue grinned, "If he lost, then he lost. Vera must've been a better one. Nothing else to it."
Siegrain would have to pace himself.
"I'll just use his loss as fuel for when I beat you."
So far, the most problematic thing he'd learned about his opponent was that she never seemed to quit.
West Oak Town
As conflict raged eastward, under the silence of ash, an old store burned down in the background, and a boy dragged an unconscious man out into the street. The boy's breath was heavy and labored, sweat dripped down his face as he laid the man out, next to the group that had chased him hours on end.
"That was a cheap shot, Boze." Vera chuckled tiredly as he rubbed the new bruise on his cheek. The intact one. He glanced at Boze and the two lackeys lying there. Unconscious in the street. They were injured.
Better shape than him, but still. Injured.
Rest and recovery were probably recommended.
"Oi are you gonna take them? Or what?" Vera asked finally, blood dripping from his ruined cheek. He turned towards the shadows of a nearby building as a man with a scarred cheek, what a coincidence, and black hair walked out with his arms crossed.
Raising an eyebrow, the man asked, "How do you know I'm not a participant?"
"Cuz then you wouldn't be waiting so goddamn long to do something." Vera scoffed, touching the hilt of his sword with a hand shaking in pain. His fingers were torn, and bleeding and his mind was a little foggy. He was so unbelievably tired.
"So you're either helping Aria out or an idiot."
And the day wasn't even over yet. Fuck.
"So which is it?" Vera asked, watching as the scarred man chuckled slightly. He smirked, walked to Boze's group, and kneeled quietly beside them. If Vera remembered right, the man was Doronbolt, a spy for the council. Vera watched as he touched Fruit Stall and Bullseye, as Vera dubbed them, and disappeared with the two in tow.
He returned a few seconds later.
"Here," the man said, tossing Vera an adhesive patch and medicine. Pointing to the jagged hole now in Vera's cheek, he mentioned, "Apply that to stop the bleeding for a little bit. You'll need surgery to get it fixed so it doesn't leave a scar, or healing magic if you have it, but it should stop it from getting any worse for now."
"Thanks, it was getting a little drafty," Vera said, following the steps as the man kneeled by Boze, placing his hand on his shoulder.
Slowly, the man glanced up and said, "You should be careful, kid. You're already injured, and it's only day two. S class isn't worth ending up with a scar like mine."
"Never said it was." Vera shrugged with the patch plastered on his cheek. Watching as the man shook his head and vanished with Boze in hand. Leaving Vera alone as the building behind him burned.
"S class isn't all that important," Vera sighed, falling to his back, arms splayed out, and relaxed. His sword lay flatly by his side.
He looked at the projections above and laughed tiredly, "The irony."
17 participants remaining
It felt like Vera had finished running a marathon, and it wasn't over even then.
"Boze put up a better fight than I thought he would." Vera sighed, ignoring the memories as he looked at the list of names in the sky. His eyes lingered on the one he finally managed to cross out, nearly burning himself in the process, almost dying afterward.
Boze Kane: Eliminated
It took a lot longer than he would've liked. It was messier than he would've liked. And it was against a weaker opponent than he wanted to admit.
"One step at a time..."
But victory was victory, and bloody was the only way he could afford to do it these days.
"Keep moving one step at a time."
He'd be foolish and arrogant to think otherwise.
"Until I get what I desire," Vera whispered, almost hypnotizing himself with the words Jose had uttered months ago. After the first battle with Boze, Vera saw the prick for the first time since he was dropped from his apprenticeship.
Boze didn't know it. Those assholes in town didn't know it. No one in the guild besides Siegrain knew it, but Vera had been punished for trying to kill Boze. Jose snuck him out of town the day after, kidnapping him because he was 'dreadfully bored' as he phrased it, and gave him a nearly week-long lesson. One last lesson.
It nearly killed him.
"Five left," Vera murmured as he stood on weary bones. He'd check the train to see if it was functional. Motion sickness was the easiest way to beat Gajeel, but he wouldn't place all his bets on it. He'd come up with a backup plan if it didn't work.
"There's only five left."
On the second day. Amidst the chaos of the trials rampaging across town. Beneath the watchful eyes of a white bird soaring high in the sky.
"What a pain."
Vera got his first break since the trials began.
South Oak Town
Tired...
Tired couldn't even describe how Mest Gryder felt after being loaned out to Phantom Lord for a weekend.
"Crazy kid," Mest muttered as he teleported across town. Carrying his last quarry before his shift ended. Boze Kane. Defeated by Vera, last name unknown. An Infamous pupil of the wizard saint Jose Porla, and a controversial figure following the Eisenwhalde Incident. He was... something.
"Did Jose raise a freaking bloodhound?"
Yeah, something was the right word.
"How'd he notice me?" Mest wondered.
He was a spy, the best the council had. His job required him to fly under the radar, and it had been a while since someone noticed his gaze—his presence.
It was surprising. Even if Mest wasn't in perfect condition because of how much he'd used his magic recently, it was the first time a kid had noticed him.
Then again, said kid had burned down a building, treated a ravaged cheek as an inconvenience, and reportedly racked up a bill the size of a tower.
So yeah, Mest wouldn't classify him as normal.
"I really need a vacation after this. I'm losing my touch." Mest muttered as he got to the camp. Teleporting into a new tent, scaring a nearby nurse by accident.
"Sorry about that," Mest chuckled as he handed Boze over. Although he and his crew looked banged up, a day or two of rest should be sufficient for recovery.
"It's okay. Thank you." The lady said, treating the boy as Mest walked out of the tent. Wiping a bead of sweat under his chin as he tried to keep his breath steady. He'd been using magic for hours at this point, and right now, he was tired. Way too tired.
He was tired enough that he was willing to walk when he usually would've just teleported to where he needed to go.
I need a nap. Mest yawned as he walked around the bustling campsite. If there was one saving grace, the only saving grace, it was that he wasn't expected to do this nonstop. He and Phantom Lord's giant ace were splitting the workload. So whenever Mest's Magic container was low, he'd just switch with the big guy and take an hour or two to recover.
And by gods, it was humbling to watch the air mage work as efficiently and quickly as Mest, a teleport mage. Whose magic was designed for this kind of stuff. It had been a day and a half and their tallies were looking dead even. Damn monster.
Every shift, Mest was getting gladder and gladder that the council scrapped the idea of planting him as a spy inside Phantom Lord's walls. Hoping he could pose as a guild member and use his memory magic to pretend like he was always there. All in the hopes of assuring Jose Porla wasn't planning to drag Fairy Tail into a guild war after the Clover incident.
At the time, they scrapped the idea because Phantom Lord's track record was just so much better than any other guild's, and taking such 'drastic' measures for a first offense would be a political nightmare.
For public sentiment, they decided to treat the incident as a slip-up. Jose was booted from the guild conference but kept his rank as Wizard Saint. Punished but not condemned. It helped that Makarov wrote a letter claiming equal responsibility for the incident.
Still, looking back, if Mest had tried to sneak into Phantom Lord's ranks, he would've been caught. Within a few days probably. Spending time with the Wizard Saint and his ace over the last day and a half was enough to show him how outclassed he was. Mest had to watch his every step when those two monsters were about, watching his every move without a hint of struggle.
Out of all his time as a spy for the council, all his missions as one of three S class operatives under their command, he'd never felt this helpless. This seen before.
It was... a learning experience to say the least.
I'll have to be careful if that Fairy Tail mission passes. Mest thought as he walked through the encampment, passing seamlessly by disgruntled Phantom Lord Mages without drawing attention. Only two people noticed him. A samurai with white and black hair, peeking open a lazy eye before returning to his nap against a makeshift wall.
The other was a thin man who approached him and asked if he wanted to place his bets: green hair and a monocle. Mest declined, and headed to his tent.
It was Mest's first chance to see the 2 S class mages on Jose's payroll.
They were pretty decent.
Or he wasn't performing at his best since he was tired.
Probably both, now that he thought about it.
"Guild of Monsters," Mest grumbled as he got to his guest room. He was set up at the edge of camp to be unbothered. He entered and moved immediately to the bed. His eyes were closed before he hit the sheets.
It only took ten seconds before the ring of his communication lacrimal ruined his rest.
"Fuck," Mest groaned as he pulled out his lacrimal, sitting up and making himself presentable on the chance it was a council member. He checked the caller ID and furrowed his brows, answering the call with a questioning glance, "Lahar? Aren't you in Midi?"
Mest could count on one hand the number of times he'd gotten a lacrimal call from his fellow S-class operative. Being two of the three S-class mages under the council's command, one would think they'd communicate better.
But Mest usually dealt in espionage, covert operations, and intelligence gathering.
And Lahar was an enforcer through and through.
His only purpose was to act as the punishing hand of the council. Enforce their rules and laws.
All to say, they worked in different fields. So, a sudden call like this was unexpected.
But not unwelcome.
"How's the rain?" Mest smirked as he heard the pitter-patter in the background. That was Midi for you—land of eternal storms and thunder.
Mest had one mission there, and it was hell.
Lahar sounded like he was having a similar experience.
"It is... obstructive," Lahar said a tad too professionally for it to be genuine. Mest laughed, and Lahar ignored it thoroughly.
"Regardless," Lahar said, "I was recently informed that you might be taking a job for Phantom Lord. At the request of Jose Porla himself. Is that offer still on the table, or did the council scrap it?"
"Oh, it's on the table." Mest snorted. "I'm on it right now, actually. I still have a day and a half before I can leave. Why? Does the council want a progress check?"
"No, this call is solely from me," Lahar said, surprising Mest. "Do you remember the Owl case a few years ago? After the Circus Night takedown."
"Yeah, I remember." Mest said, "I never checked the details for the Owl case, but Circus Night was hard to forget. It was Seven's top dark guild. The council raided the guild hall when most of their heavy hitters attacked Fairy Tail."
Mest scratched his head, trying to recall the specifics since he hadn't been assigned to that case. He was in Pergrande at the time.
"You took care of one of their Night Riders, right? Codename: Lion." Mest tilted his head thoughtfully, "I heard he was the guild's ace. Tough fight?"
"It was." Lahar said, "But besides that, I was also in charge of damage control. Transferring the criminals to the Lighthouse and ensuring all the logistics with Fairy Tail got sorted out. Handling Owl's case was part of the process. I monitored his detainment and eventual sentencing."
"I didn't know that." Mest said, tilting his head, "That's cool and all, but what does that have to do with me? You wouldn't call just to tell me that."
"I just didn't want you to be blindsided." Lahar sighed. "I'm assuming you didn't see what the council settled on for Owl's sentence. Did you ever look into it?"
"No. I figred he was sent to the top level of the lighthouse." Mest shrugged, "Like the rest of the Night Riders. Why?"
Mest perked up at the guilty silence and asked, "Wait seriosuly? Did he not? What'd they do with him?"
"They-"
"Did they make him an operative?" Mest asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Is he the third S-class operative on the council's payroll? The mystery rookie? Fuck, no wonder I've never been allowed to meet him. Past criminal and all. They probably wanted to build his profile first before word got out."
"No, he wasn't made an operative. Although I did offer to sponsor him for such a position." Lahar said, glossing over the fact that he nearly sponsored someone, which never happened, "And I must say, Mest, the fact that you're supposed to keep quiet for a living never ceases to amaze me."
"Well fuck you too then," Mest's eye twitched in annoyance.
So what? Mest ranted a bit. Maybe that's because he had to keep to himself for months at a time. The hell does Lahar know—insensitive bastard.
Mest was starting to remember why he never talked to Lahar outside of work.
"Whatever, blame me for being curious." Mest grumbled, "So what was it? If he wasn't sent to the Lighthouse and wasn't brought in, what happened? Did he get Black Voxx? Execution? He was the weakest member, wasn't he? Seems harsh considering they left the guild master alive."
"They let him walk," Lahar said, and Mest nearly dropped his lacrimal orb.
"Sorry," Mest laughed weakly, "They what?"
"They let him walk," Lahar reiterated. "With community service and a tweaked record to hide his past... occupation. He walked. Freed of all charges."
"I don't believe you." Mest said flatly, "If this is your first attempt at a joke, you have a long road ahead of you."
"Makarov advocated for him." Lahar elaborated, and Mest realized, "Ah, that makes sense. Never mind."
Few things meant more than a Wizard Saint's words. And Makarov rarely asked for anything from the council. With how much his ace liked to rack up Fairy Tail's damage bill he was actually one of their highest financial supporters, one way or the other.
If he sent a letter advocating for someone's release, it made sense they got off lightly.
"So where'd he go?" Mest asked, "Fairy Tail? Did you want to warn me for my next mission?"
Mest raised an eyebrow, "That's cool and all, but what's that got to do with my current one."
"The council marked Phantom Lord as the guild he joined." Lahar said, ignoring Mest's obvious shock as Lahar seemed to pinch his nose over the line, "No, I don't know why either. When he rejected my offer, I thought he would join Fairy Tail, too, but whatever the reason, he's under Phantom Lord's roster. That's why I called you. There's a chance you'll meet him while you're there."
Mest blinked, his shocked silence extending as his lacrimal flashed. An image was projected above its surface—a picture of the details of the Owl case. Stamped classified, meaning the specifics of his case would be hidden, and a dummy profile given to the public archives, Mest got to take a good look at Owl—their magic, height, age, weight, background, and... suspected medical history. Based on the physical examinations they did after he was detained.
"Word of advice if you end up dealing with him," Lahar mentioned as Mest closed the file, bitter taste in his mouth, and glanced out the window. A white bird circled high in the sky, right above the town's projections with the list of names on it—every member of Phantom Lord.
"Don't bring up the past."
Mest hadn't been this tired in a long time.
"I heard he's doing a lot better these days."
Still, Mest gave up on sleep, and decided to find the name he was looking for.
North Oak Town
A few moments after her sister vanished, taken by Aria, who congratulated her on a fight well done, Mira felt the town go silent. The wind blew through town as she looked up and closed her eyes. A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the projections waiting above town.
Lisanna Strauss: Eliminated.
It was bittersweet, to say the least.
They did great. Mira smiled softly as her eyebrow stung and glanced at her right hand.
The cracked plates of her demonic transformation were like a chink in her armor. The thin trail of blood trickled down it.
It wasn't significant, not even inconvenient. It just stung a little, like cutting one's knuckles after punching wood for too long—or, in her brother's case, scales.
Still, it was more than anyone else had been able to do since the trials started. So, for that, she was proud of her little siblings.
Even if she had to beat them up because of it.
"I'll have to treat them to dinner," Mira chuckled as she glanced at where Aria had vanished with Lisanna. Shaking her head, she sat atop the rubble of the fallen roof. She panned her ears in case anyone was in the area. Once she confirmed that her sector was empty, she finally released her transformation, giving a breath of relief.
"Maybe a fancy restaurant this time..."
For a moment, under the silence of her side of town and the end of her first real battle, since the trials started, Mira relaxed—a few seconds at most.
"Might as well break in that S class budget." Mira chuckled, before her laugh stopped in its tracks. Her ears were prickling as she reactivated her magic. Pink demonic scales and armor coated her skin.
She snapped her head to a nearby rooftop, blinking surprised when she noticed a large white bird—landing atop one of the old shingles with a large head and big round eyes.
It was a strange bird, one she wouldn't expect in this area, but a closer look stunned her more than she would care to admit. The bird looked directly at her, and she saw what looked to be writing on its wings—lines and lines of small, indiscernible scribbles.
It doesn't... it doesn't have feathers...
One second was all it took for her to make the connection.
It's paper... a paper owl.
One second was too long.
Glasses? Mira thought in alarm, her eyes widening slightly upon the sight. It was only an instant. Less than a second. The time between her finalizing the end of her sibling debacle, and spotting the animal. In the instance between relief and confusion.
"Sorry, Mira."
She heard a solemn voice and turned to see a meek boy sitting on the edge of a nearby rooftop. He wore a long-sleeved black vest, brown cargo pants, and black snow boots. His eyes were low, and his black pupils were nearly hidden behind his short gray hair and glasses. He looked resigned, or guilty, almost sad.
"I can tell you wanted to be S class."
A large book filled with papers sat in his gloved right hand, and he looked off to the side. One of his stupid scarves covered his mouth as he spoke quietly.
"But I don't think that's possible anymore."
Mira's body moved on instinct.
"You'll probably have to wait till next year."
She lunged, instantly closing the distance as her fist sailed toward Pause's glasses. Her eyes slit and narrowed as his sad black eyes met hers. She expected him to dodge or to brace, but instead, he just sat there and waited. Quietly. For a second, she wondered why he did so.
"Because you're the target I settled on."
The next second, her fist, whose power had lowered enough that it should've just knocked him out, splattered through Pause's left eye. Mira felt the connection, the smush, and for a second froze in horror. Her fist still stuck through Pause's eye. Her eyes flashed back to the forest before she noticed white instead of red and saw sheets of paper splatter out of Pause's wound.
"Take it from someone who's done this a lot longer than you." He said, his right eye staring at her while her fist remained lodged in the other. She recoiled backward, yanking her hand out with enough force to send her falling back off the roof. She was stuck in a free-fall descent as she saw his magic fade and reveal a paper clone of Pause looking down at her.
"You should give up," the copy said before bursting into a million pieces. The tiny white pages broke apart into smaller sheets until they folded into tiny white butterflies, flapping their wings around her in a storm of white noise. She landed in the center of a hurricane of paper and looked around desperately, her vision smothered by the tiny origami.
"Fucking make me!" She growled, darkness magic polling around her body as she condensed it around her chest. Snapping her arms out as her dark magic roared in an explosion, she blasted the hurricane of paper gnats into a million pounds of confetti and leveled the area. She heaved a deep breath, leaving a crater in the middle of the street and scars along the surrounding stores. Her eyes red with anger as she looked around, waiting for the next attack.
Instead, all she got was silence.
"Well!?" She shouted, looking around at the empty houses and battered street. She clicked her tongue, eye twitching as she tried to catch her bearings.
"Are you sure about this, glasses?" Mira sneered, her taunt echoing through the empty air. "Did you think I was the weakest or something? Big mistake."
"No, that's Vera," she heard him say from behind a nearby wall. She shot her hand out, a ball of dark magic at her fingertips. It shot forth like a beam, blowing apart the wall. His voice came behind and revealed more charred paper—nothing else.
"It's just that out of all the others." She heard his voice echo again, turning back to see Pause standing in the open. Just down the street.
Mira instantly raised her hand, debating whether to blast the clone, before he took out his giant book and opened it in his gloved hand. He took out a thin piece of parchment. Holding it between his two fingers, he flicked it, and it folded into a tiny snake.
She watched, her eyes widening slightly as he let it bite his cheek, the thin trickle of blood telling her all she needed.
"You were the only one..."
This was the real Pause—no other copies or tricks.
"I couldn't see myself losing to."
And he was standing there, taunting her with that fact and giving her a stationary target.
He didn't even look at her. He just closed his book. She watched in growing fury as he looked away, almost sullenly. Not even bothering to keep an eye on her after revealing his real body was there. He looked resigned.
"And I can't afford to lose this, Mira."
It was humiliating.
"PAUSE!" She roared furiously, charging with her fist reared. She could only see red. And before she knew it, she was closing the distance, punch aimed at Pause's head as paper seemed to crawl out of his book and plaster itself into his face. Covering his entire head like a paper mask glued to his skin.
"When you first joined." She heard his voice, ignoring it as she aimed at his armored head. Her knuckles trembled with anger as she watched the paper helmet start to change, shift, and move like it was being colored in real-time.
"I read your article."
She narrowed her eyes, readying herself to follow up if one punch wasn't enough.
"Unfortunate girl saves her family from assassins."
She was prepared for the paper helmet to be stronger than she anticipated.
"They called you a hero."
She wasn't prepared for the helmet to transform—plastering a hauntingly familiar face on overtook Pause's. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She forgot to think. She stopped. Her fist followed just an inch from its intended target. She froze.
"But I recognized it instantly..."
Because Kageyama's face was staring back at her.
"That fear."
The woods, the blood, the scent of iron, and the fading light from his eyes made Mira's vision hazy and her breath faint.
"You're scared of killing people..."
It was enough to make her fist hover right before Kageyama's nose. Unable to push forward.
"Aren't you?" Pause's voice echoed from Kageyama's mouth like a Hallow mask. Mira's fist trembled, her eyes tearing as she backed away, startled by how paper snakes exploded from his giant book. They shot towards her torso and climbed up her legs before she could react. The paper felt as strong as chains coiling around her, rooting her in place.
"It was obvious," Pause said as his mask peeled off. The vision of Kageyama's face returning to paper and falling to the ground softened her panic. The tightness of her bindings cleared her head slightly as she saw a paper tiger leap out of Pause's giant book and prime itself over her injured hand. Unmoving like an offering.
"Because I used to have the same one," Pause said, almost tiredly. Resigned. His voice sounded like an alarm in her head, waking her from the panic that had gripped her a moment ago. It was the first time Mira had seen that look on his face. Or on the face of anyone she'd fought before. It was worse than Blue's goddamn expressionless gaze. He looked regretful.
"I don't want to fight you."
In the sudden encounter between Pause and Mira. The eldest Strauss realized two things.
"I don't want to fight anyone anymore."
First was that her fist, already cracked by the prior battle with her siblings, wouldn't withstand the pressure of the paper tiger's sharp fangs. She felt her theory was proven correct when its fangs sunk into the opening left by her siblings and dug into it. Shattering the plates on her knuckles and leaves her right hand to be crushed under the weight of its hungry jaw.
"It sickens me."
That was the first realization she felt amidst the pain of rearranging the bones in her right hand. The transformation on her right hand was canceled as she felt her skin puncture and bleed. She bit back a scream as her hand was broken. Instantly and without mercy.
"So please..."
And amidst that flash of pain and adrenaline, sheathing anger and frustration, she realized something else. Under the weight of Pause's haunting gaze, reflective pools of swirling dark ink, she realized something—Something scarily simple.
"Just give up."
She didn't know anything about Pause. Not a single thing.
"Your chances of winning no longer exist."
And he seemed to know everything about her.
A/N: Welp, this marks chapter 100 of Lost in Fairy Tail, and it seems like the perfect time for me to go on break. Lol. Seriously though, spring breaks coming up and I have to start getting things ready for after graduation so this'll probably be my last post in a while. A month most likely. Maybe three weeks if I'm lucky, but yeah, this'll be a stopping point for a little while. I know it sucks stopping in the middle of the arc, and sorry for that, but I'll try to be back as soon as I can. For those wondering I don't have all the chapters written out for the rest of this trial arc, but this is probably somewhere around the halfway point, or at least like 60%. So it'll be done before summer starts.
So yeah, that's all. Thanks for reading, sorry for the break, and hope you enjoy. Let me know what you thought of the chapter and the arc so far, and all that. And yeah, see ya :)