August 31, X784, Magnolia, Fairy Tail Infirmary
In the dim light of the Fairy Tail Guild Hall infirmary, the air was thick with the scent of herbal ointments and the faint rustle of bandages. The soft sounds of whispers—low and hushed—drifted through the room like stray embers from a fire. Though the echoes of the lively guildhall were ever present. Yet, no one had much energy to talk, or leave. They had a lot on their minds.
Wendy Marvel stood vigil, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum in the stillness. The room was filled with an aura of tension and unease. Bandages adorned the forms of her comrades, who had fought valiantly, but in the end were left to wallow in their pain. His name sent ripples of dread through the guild, a whisper of his power reverberating in the minds of the injured.
Wendy sat on a small cot, her eyes wide with worry as she glanced around the room. Cana Alberona was sprawled in a chair with her arms crossed over her chest, a frown etched on her features, while Lucy Heartfilia, pale and weary, leaned against the wall, her brown eyes flickering with concern. Gray Fullbuster was nursing a bruised everything, grimacing every time he moved, while Gajeel Redfox leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the others with a scowl that hid his own pain. Mirajane Strauss was tidying up a stack of bandages, her ever-present smile replaced with a rare somberness. Erza Scarlet sat silently on another cot, her armor slightly tarnished, while Juvia Lockser stood beside her, clutching her hands nervously. Happy, unable to sit still, floated and perched himself above them all, his blue wings fluttering restlessly.
Yet among all the voices, one was conspicuously absent. The silence of Salamander loomed over them like a haze, his enigmatic presence a shadow that lingered, unspoken yet felt.
Wendy's attention flickered from one ally to another, her worry weighing heavily on her youthful shoulders. "Get well soon," she whispered softly, as she walked around the room using bits of her magic to heal her friends. It had been a brutal encounter. She had seen him, his crimson eyes burning like molten lava, flames dancing at his fingertips. It was clear he belonged to a different league—a dragon in battle, fierce and untamed.
As Wendy applied the final touch of her healing magic to Mira's forearm, Juvia, her eyes glistening with curiosity, turned to her. "Wendy, what do you really know about Salamander?" she asked, her tone blending concern and intrigue. The others quieted, their attention snapping to the petite healer.
The shadows cast by the flickering lanterns danced across the walls, much like the echoes of battle that had thrummed through the air mere days before.
She opened her mouth to say something just as the door creaked open, and the familiar rumble of voices echoed from the hallway as members of the guild began to gather downstairs, their whispers pushing into the infirmary like an insistent wind. The tension thickened as the the master, Makarov, approached Wendy, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. He shut the door behind them forcing them into a private moment.
"My children…" His voice trembled with emotion. "I'm so sorry."
Eyes turned to him, a mixture of anger and disbelief swirling in the air. Wendy felt a lump rise in her throat; it wasn't the first time they had faced dire enemies, but the fallout from their fateful encounter with Salamander felt decidedly heavier.
"You knew more than you let on, didn't you?" Erza's unwavering resolve sparked a fire in the room—she was disappointed, and she had the right to be. "You knew something and you didn't tell us!"
Makarov sighed, his brow furrowing deeply, as he chose to sit on a cot close to the door. "He—after everything you've all been through I thought he could have been reasoned with, and maybe been given a second chance. I didn't have the heart to share everything with you. I'm sure you all saw how young he was... No older than any of you, yet has been active for a long time."
The weight of his words seeped into the soul of the room. Armored fists clenched, faces flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief. If Salamander was indeed a mere child, a rogue mage capable of extraordinary destruction—how could he justify such actions?
"How do you know what he looked like?" Gajeel glared at the master, venom lacing his voice.
"A friend told me. Years ago. I guess it never really went anywhere. I failed." Makarov rubbed his tired old eyes.
"I want my friend back," Wendy whispered, her voice cracking as tears welled in her blue eyes. "I don't want to fight him. I want to help him."
"Help him!?" Gajeel shot up from his seat, "After that monster put us through the ringer? Nearly killing us? Kidnapping you!?"
"He wasn't going to hurt me!" Wendy shouted back, her voice rising in defiance.
"How do you know?" Gray interjected, his brow furrowed with skepticism.
"Because he saved me! Before I met any of you, he... saved me! He was different then," she insisted, the memories swirling back in her mind like the embers of a dying fire.
Flashbacks danced behind her eyes, the warmth of Salamander's fiery glow illuminating the darkness that had once surrounded her. She still remembered their brief exchanges—the way he smiled, the way he listened to her fears and dreams. He believed in her.
"It's not fair. He wasn't always like this!" Wendy cried, her heart aching with the unbearable truth. The others' silence seemed to amplify her distress, the very air around them heavy with despair.
"You don't understand, Wendy." Erza's voice softened, her expression still firm. "Whatever he was before, he's not the same now. He's dangerous."
"And he's a rogue mage," Gray added, his tone more sympathetic than accusatory. "He's made enemies and left destruction in his wake. You saw the aftermath."
Wendy took a breath, steadying herself against the tempest within. "He thought you guys kidnapped me…" The words spilled from her lips unbidden, sharp and revealing, and an uneasy quiet fell upon her friends. The realization washed over them—Salamander's impulsive wrath had been tied to protectiveness, misunderstanding the situation from a distance, guided by the rogue mage's instincts.
They exchanged glances, the weight of her words sinking in, challenging their preconceived notions. Wendy remembered how Salamander had burst through the door with a look of sheer determination, arms aflame, eyes ablaze with both fear and anger. It had been terrifying yet awe-inspiring—a force born of loyalty.
Gray studied her, his usually confident expression now tinged with concern. "And you think he really cares about you?" he asked, his voice careful, as if afraid of what the answer might reveal. The weight of the question hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Wendy met his gaze, her emerald eyes shining with clarity.
"More than anyone ever has," she affirmed, a tremor breaking her steady tone. The memories rushed in waves—dark nights filled with terror, endless days spent searching for safety, and then, the spark of a flame that ignited hope. "He helped me when I thought I was alone. He saved my life."
Her voice barely above a whisper, she continued, "I know he's made mistakes, but there has to be a reason for that. He's not just a rogue mage; he's someone who's had to fight for everything he cares about." She could feel their skepticism rolling off them in waves, but her conviction was unwavering.
Mira shook her head, golden locks spilling across the table as she faced the young healer. "You must understand that the world sees him differently, Wendy. After everything we witnessed—"
"What happened?" Makarov's somber voice cut through the conversation, calling their attention. The guild master leaned in closer, a fatherly concern etched on his face. "I need to hear the whole story."
Erza retold what happened. When the part of his transformation came forth everyone was more than shocked. To think that he easily put the fear of death in someone as strong as the Fairy Queen.
"Wendy, what do you know about him?" Makarov pressed, his gaze piercing through her as if he expected her to unveil a hidden truth.
Wendy, shaking slightly at the weight of his gaze, took a shallow breath. "You first." Her voice was steady but laced with uncertainty.
Makarov hesitated, eyes drawn to the mysterious figure recently brought into their sanctuary. "Hmm, it's worse than I thought. The fire he wears, it's not armor, but a veil," he murmured, and the air seemed to siphon away with his words.
Cana leaned in, her brows knitting in confusion. "What do you mean?" She tilted her head with a frown as she grasped her cards nervously.
"There have been stories from people who survived his assaults," Makarov continued, his brow furrowing in painful remembrance. "About a ghost, or a flame spirit that could take any hit that was thrown, how some of their attacks would pass right through him. You were right, Erza. Salamander's name was— is like calling a curse. You saw him, those scars." His voice trailed off, and the silence swallowed the room. "His attitude? It all paints a very disturbing picture. He took certain hits, allowed it to happen. But why?"
"Phoenix," Erza whispered, her normally confident voice trembling. It was rare for this fierce warrior to show vulnerability; perhaps this was a testament to the dread they all felt.
"Sorry?" Makarov sought clarity.
"One of his monikers. Much like the legend behind it, you can't kill it. It would simply rise again and again and again—a living flame. My dragon mentioned it from time to time." Gajeel, the mysterious and rough-edged mage, folded his arms, an unusual worry clouding his brow.
"Moltensorrow?" Juvia threw out, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No, that name is misleading," Makarov shook his head. "It's not about him, but rather the victims he left behind."
A hard sigh slipped from Makarov's lips as he looked around at the weary expressions. "You see, even after years of not coming in contact with Salamander, they still fear, wallow, and live in constant regret. The fire bore a hole so deep inside them that they are simply… broken." His gaze turned distant, reflecting the memories of too many battles fought and lost. "I thought he was a lost soul, believed he was, maybe still is, after hearing his willingness to protect Wendy."
Lucy, perched on the edge of her seat, forced herself to break the tension. "It's strange, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Gray, ever the straightforward one, frowned at her.
"He saw Erza, Gray, Cana, and Mira but immediately thought Wendy was in danger. All four of them are well-known mages throughout Fiore with stellar reputations for helping people, even if they make a mess in the process. He didn't recognize them at all, and they're very recognizable."
"Has he been living under a rock?" Gajeel scoffed, though his tone was less mocking and more guarded than usual.
"Up until a few days ago, he hasn't encountered any light mages that we know of, and has been quiet for a long period of time so..." Makarov explained, the weight of secrecy closing in on them. He shook his head and shifted to look at the youngest of the group, "Now, Wendy? Carla?"
Wendy shifted in her seat, her innocence betrayed by the growing heaviness of the conversation. She bit her lip, as if wrestling with something inside her, before finally speaking. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, but after hearing what he's been up to, I had to be sure it was the same person…"
"Was he?" Juvia pressed, her eyes wide and pleading for reassurance.
Wendy hesitated, taking a breath that filled the silence. She nodded slowly, "Same salmon hair, same scarf, same scar."
"The big one across his chest?" Erza's heart raced, captivated how one could have gotten such a wound a lived. "Do you know how he got it?"
"No… He never told me. I met him before I met any of you." Her voice trembled, nostalgia wrapped delicately around her words. "It was a few weeks after I lost Grandeeney. You have to understand, I was all alone, terrified, and thought it was all over. I was running all over the place looking for her. That was when I… well, ran into him, literally."
Lucy could almost see the scene play out in Wendy's mind—an image of a lost girl colliding with an immovable force.
"Smashed my nose into his back," Wendy chuckled softly at the memory. "He didn't even budge. He was wearing practically nothing, just torn ragged pants and that scarf. When he turned to look at me, he smiled big and bright..."
The atmosphere shifted, and Lucy felt a knot form in her stomach as Wendy's memories darkened.
"Bright, huh?" Gray said, chuckling, though a shadow lurked in his eyes. It doesn't sound anything like the person they fought. He was cold and calculating.
"What else?" Erza inquired, captivated by Wendy's memory.
"I can't believe it now, but the way he looked over me with his massive sunny grin, I almost didn't catch it. The scar—it was a wound, gory, deep, and barely healed…" Wendy's voice softened, her breaths becoming shallower as she recalled his blood leaking against his muted skin. "I could tell he was in a lot of pain, but he pushed that aside and looked after me... until I found Carla and Caitshelter. He looked after us for a month. I tried to heal him, but he just laughed and said that my magic wouldn't do anything."
A soft gasp escaped from the corner where Mira sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, anticipation written across her face. "Then one day, he left," Wendy continued, her voice tinged with regret. "He said he was looking for something and that I couldn't come. Too dangerous, apparently. I didn't even know he was a dragon slayer."
Wendy's voice trailed off, and Carla leaned closer to her, giving silent support.
"The next time we saw him, I think it was a year later… he came back to Caitshelter to make sure everything was alright, but something was off," Wendy continued, her voice steadier now. "He couldn't couldn't focus; his eyes jumped from tree to tree, like something was there, lurking in the shadows. But nothing happened, so we thought he was just tired. He could never really rest."
"Did you see him again?" Cana's voice cut through the tension, shifting the weight of the conversation.
"...It was actually during our mission against the Oración Seis. After they captured me, he rushed in, fought them, then carried us out. And vanished."
A heavy silence draped over them, interrupted only by the distant sound of rain tapping against the windowpanes, punctuating the truth of their discussion like an ominous drum beat.
"But you said Jellal saved you!" Mira exclaimed, and her disbelief filled the small room, echoing against the sterile walls.
"I lied," Wendy confessed, the weight of her earlier words now pressing heavily upon her.
"Why?" Erza's query brought all eyes back to her, probing, searching for understanding in the echoes of deception.
"I don't know," Wendy murmured, voice fragile. "It just felt like the right thing to do. And Jellal was so confused and scared, I thought he needed a bit of reassurance. Especially after what he did for me."
Juvia murmured, her tone laced with longing. "What about that time you said he fought them a few weeks prior?"
"That part is true," Wendy said, certainty fueling her voice now. "He wanted information. They had it, and he fought them for it. In the end, he got what he wanted. That is all I know about that, I swear."
They lapsed into silence, each wrapped in their thoughts, their imaginations conjuring fleeting images of a boy turned fighter, of wounds borne and scars earned. Her heart raced as she thought about whether she should say it or not.
"When he carried me away, he said something," she announced quietly. It didn't make any sense. She even heard what he said to Erza and it is far different than what she remembers.
"What?" Cana encouraged softly, leaning closer, her interest piqued.
Wendy swallowed hard, recalling the fires of the battlefield and the moments in between. "He apologized," she finally announced, the admission breaking like a fragile bubble in the room.
"For what?" Gray interjected, his tone a mix of annoyance and intrigue. He had never known a rogue mage to express remorse; it was uncharacteristic, like a dragon shedding tears.
"Abandoning me like my dragon," Wendy replied, her voice trembling. The words left a weight in the air, heavy and stifling. The mention of her dragon, the deep bond of trust and love they shared, ignited a spark of anger in the room.
"She didn't abandon you!" Erza and Carla exclaimed simultaneously, their voices echoing like a battle cry. Their expressions were fierce, ready to defend the honor of the dragons and the family they had lost.
"Who does he think he is!?" Cana's indignation rose like the tide, her fingers curling into fists resting on the table. "You can't just apologize for someone else's mistakes! Dragons don't abandon their children. They fight for them!"
The disagreement hung thick in the air, the tension palpable as Gajeel sat quietly, the usual brashness absent from his demeanor. He studied the faces of his comrades, their anger and frustration diverting attention from an underlying truth.
"Do you really believe that?" Mira's voice cut through the chatter, softened by her empathy. She, too, understood the pain of abandonment in varying forms, buried deep within her.
She shook her head, "He also said that unlike them, he'd come find me," Wendy said, her gaze dropping, a mix of defiance and sorrow. That thought had plagued her since the moment she had been rescued from the brink of despair. There was something terrifying and intoxicating about the idea of someone—someone like him—who would defy the world to seek her out.
The sound hit them first—a cacophony of voices rising from the guildhall downstairs. It was an unusual sound, one that both excited and terrified the Fairy Tail wizards. Before they could exchange wary glances or question the sudden change, Makarov's authoritative voice rang out, urging them to their feet. They rushed together toward the guildhall, curiosity and paranoia swirling in their chests.
As they burst through the doors, the scene before them was one they would never have expected. The guild was abuzz with energy, a stark contrast to their earlier lethargy. At the center of this fervor stood a mage, a formidable figure draped in a dark cloak, a sack slung over his shoulder. Lighting crackled slightly around him, creating an electric atmosphere, fitting for the guild's tempest-in-residence.
"Makarov! What are you doing here?" Laxus's voice boomed, both defiant and playful as he acknowledged the guildmaster. Makarov's gaze was razor-sharp, unyielding, and protective. He continued, "I heard a rumor about some Fairies getting burnt." Laxus's smirk faltered as he observed the aftermath of the fight, the bruises on their faces stark against their spirits. The bandages that, in most cases, would have already been torn off. However, the reminder for all of them is enough.
As he spoke those words, a wave of tension washed over the gathered crowd. Erza stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to defend her family. "That may be, but we have plenty left in the tank to take you down, too."
"Don't be so harsh," Laxus replied, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't come to fight."
"Then why are you here?" Mira narrowed her eyes, her instincts screaming at her to remain vigilant. It is a good thing that the thunder legion isn't around.
"I, too, fought Salamander," Laxus declared, and the murmurs that erupted were filled with shock and disbelief. It was as if the world had shifted on its axis.
"When!?" Gray shouted, incredulity etched across his features. Memories of the chaotic fight flooded back to the group, and they instantly wondered how involved Laxus had truly been.
"I guess you can say your victory over me can be attributed to him," Laxus said, his voice laced with grudging respect for the rogue mage.
"What!?" Gajeel's outrage echoed like thunder, drawing mumbled agreement from the crowd. "That was months ago!"
"You beat him!?" Gray's eyes widened, though doubt colored his tone.
"…No." Laxus's voice trailed off, an unexpected glimmer of sincerity in his eyes.
"Then why come here? Why say anything? Why now!? You and your trio nearly destroyed the guild!" Cana pressed, her frustration palpable. She pointed an accusing finger, desperate to grasp at the meaning behind Laxus's admission.
"To warn you," Laxus's voice dropped, its weight carrying every member of the guild into a realm of uncertainty. "...and if you're willing, to help."
The guild erupted into outrage, voices overlapping in confusion and anger as they processed the dire implications of his words. Laxus's past actions as both a friend and foe played through their minds. Mostly foe.
"Cool it, you brats!" Makarov commanded, his voice shifting between his giant and normal forms, demanding attention. The chaos quieted, but unease lingered like smoke in the air. He shifted to a gentler tone, the leader of the guild addressing them with calm. "Why?"
As the questions hovered in the air, Laxus's gaze swept across the gathered wizards, lingering on the pain in their eyes, the scars readily visible. "Because there's more to Salamander than you know."
A shroud of silence descended, each guild member absorbing Laxus's words. The thought of fighting Salamander again—of facing a foe who wielded fire like a second skin—sent chills down their spines. The specter of defeat loomed large, and they knew time was not on their side. Not anymore.
"Infirmary. Now. All of you." Makarov ordered, letting the rest of the guild mull over the words of the expelled lightning user.
Laxus Dreyar leaned against the cool stone as everyone else around made themselves comfortable, the past echoes of laughter and camaraderie swirling around him, but his heart was heavy. He had fought many battles, faced numerous foes, but none had left him more unsettled than the encounter with the rogue mage. The very name conjured images of fire, intensity, and an odd loneliness that mirrored his own.
"Care to explain?" His grandfather asked, hoping.
Laxus nodded, considering the day their paths had crossed.
It had started on a calm afternoon; the sun was bright, and the guild was alive with energy. Fairy Tail was preparing for the Fantasia parade, but he had needed a break from the chaos as the thunder legion prepared for what would be a killer encounter. He found solace in the tranquil outskirts of Magnolia, a place devoid of the guild's usual excitement—a stark contrast to what he would soon encounter. But that wasn't enough, there echo was everywhere and he wanted to escape it all and let lose some of his frustration. Perhaps some demolition was in order, so he took it by ear as he walked.
As he strolled, whispers were heard from around him of a dark rogue causing chaos near the outskirts of town, a threat he felt needed to be extinguished immediately. To flaunt the strength he so ferociously believed in.
His initial search didn't take long. A nearby village had been razed, its inhabitants left in a state of fear. Amid the ruin, whispers of a lone figure with flames dancing in his wake reached Laxus's ears. The rage sparked within him, but he also felt a twinge of curiosity. But no rogue, just rubble. So he ventured on.
As he wandered through the forest, Laxus heard an unusual commotion—the sharp crackling of fire and the muffled sound of voices. Curiosity piqued, he moved closer, cresting a small hill, where he spotted a figure surrounded by flames. What caught his attention wasn't merely the fire that danced around the mage but the almost fey-like presence he exuded.
Salamander stood there, a tempest of flickering orange and crimson, his visage obscured by an aura seemingly crafted from flames. He was not merely using fire; he was one with it, embodying its ferocity and unpredictability. Laxus, though regarded as the strongest in Fairy Tail, felt an unexpected jolt—a challenge coiling in his gut.
Without hesitation, resolve burning thoroughly in his chest, Laxus approached.
"Who are you?" he called out, his voice steady, revealing none of the intrigue unfolding within.
Salamander turned, and for the first time, Laxus caught a glimpse of his eyes—deep, dark pools though tinged with an unsettling, fiery glow. "Just a traveler," Salamander replied flatly, a voice expelling from within the flaming armor. "What do you want?"
"Do you normally walk around like that," Laxus questioned, narrowing his gaze.
The rogue mage's expression shifted momentarily, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Are you not put off by this?" The rogue asked gesturing to the obvious.
"You're not the weirdest thing I've seen. What are you doing here?" The lightning user asked with genuine curiosity. Something rarely felt within the S-Class mage.
"Perhaps I'm just passing through… but it seems like you're interested in taking a piece of me."
With those words, a silent agreement formed between them. Laxus had experienced countless skirmishes, yet none had ever felt as precarious as the battle that ensued. Fire and electricity clashed like titans, each magic competing for dominance. Laxus pushed against Salamander's flames, summoning power drawn from the very lightning that crackled within him, yet Salamander's fire morphed and danced, elusive as smoke.
Laxus unleashed a barrage of lightning, each bolt crackling with ferocity. But he evaded his strikes with remarkable agility, dodging through the electrified air with ease. As they fought, Laxus noted how the rogue drew energy from every fire spark nearby, seemingly empowered by the very flame that could consume him.
'This is different.' Laxus thought, determination coursing through his veins. The intensity of the battle surged as the two mages clashed on the blackened earth. Shockwaves rippled across the battlefield, carving craters into the ground with each spell unleashed.
As their fight escalated, Laxus began to feel the weight of his own attacks. Although he was powerful, this battlefield seemed to exist by a different set of rules. Salamander absorbed the lightning like a sponge soaking up water—the rogue was feeding off his power, growing stronger with each strike.
"Don't get cocky," Laxus had shot back, feeling the thrill of competition surge through him. He had unleashed his lightning magic, bolts crackling at his fingertips, eager to be set free.
He, however, exhibited a fluid grace that surprised Laxus. With a single motion, he danced to the side, evading the lightning strikes with an ease that was almost uncanny. It was as though he had a sixth sense, anticipating every move Laxus made.
They traded blows, each strike reverberating through the air with an intensity that sent waves of energy spiraling outward. But it wasn't just about the physical power; it was also the fire within Salamander's eyes that unsettled him, a fierce determination that echoed Laxus's own desire to win.
When he summoned his full power, enveloping himself in a storm of crackling electricity, he witnessed his opponent channeling an elemental power of his own. Fire Dragon's Roar! He shouted, unleashing a torrent of flames that illuminated the clearing in shades of burning orange and red. Lightning Dragon's Roar! The two attacks collided in a fireworks display of power.
In the heat of the battle, every clash resonated through the air, every spell fired with intent. It was exhilarating. Laxus hadn't anticipated the rogue would match him blow-for-blow; it was as if they were two sides of the same coin—one representing the untamed force of nature while the other illustrated raw might.
Within moments, another surge of flame erupted from Natsu's hands, a moving inferno that Laxus barely dodged. The heat washed over him, singeing his skin and igniting a primal instinct to survive. Laxus summoned his thunderous roars and sent an unwavering storm of energy at him, but it barely hindered the guy. Instead, he countered the spell with a torrent of flames.
Laxus's heart pounded furiously as he realized the extent of his error. This was not just a rogue mage; this was someone who lived and breathed magic, dancing along its edges in a way Laxus had never witnessed.
Desperation surged within him, igniting a spark, and Laxus roared again, Lightning Dragon's Roar!
As the furious crackle of energy collided with Salamander's flames, the resulting explosion shook the ground. For a moment, all was chaos; Laxus was blinded by light and sound, caught in the maelstrom of magic.
When the dust settled, Laxus stood again, panting heavily. Salamander was on one knee, sweat glistening on his brow. The Salamander's flames had diminished, but in that moment, it became glaringly clear that victory was not guaranteed.
As the fight wore on, fatigue began to seep into Laxus's bones. Salamander, despite his apparent solitary nature, moved like someone who had honed his skills through relentless struggles. Laxus found himself growing increasingly aware of his surroundings; the trees around them were charred and the air was thick with ash. This lone wolf had transformed the tranquil setting into a battleground draped in smoke and embers.
For a moment, Laxus found himself standing in the center of that storm, lightning and fire colliding. He hadn't felt that level of danger in years—the raging fire threatened to consume him, even as he poured every ounce of his strength into the next attack.
"Not bad for a rogue!" Laxus complemented causing the other to laugh, the sound infused with a warmth that contrasted sharply with their clash. "But let's see how you handle this!"
Realizing he was on the edge, Laxus had dug deep, drawing on every ounce of strength and resilience. But rather than securing a victory, he found himself nearly overwhelmed; Salamander was relentless, fighting like a dragon with a spirit that seemed unbreakable.
Ultimately, with one more surge of resolve, Laxus had unleashed a massive bolt of lightning, aiming directly at the flame user, but instead of ensuing pain, he found himself deflected, sent spiraling backward.
The moment he stumbled backwards, driven into the ground by the force of a spiraling fire, he knew he was in danger. Laxus could feel Salamander's presence looming over him, flames swirling, an infernal tempest. Instinct kicked his heart into overdrive as he summoned the last vestiges of his power.
Thunder Palace! he roared, electricity surging forward, battling against Salamander's encroaching flames. The clash lit up the landscape—the air crackled with sheer force.
Then, it all slowed. For one brief moment of reckless clarity, Laxus saw Salamander's expression—a fleeting flicker of earnestness that struck him to his core. This mage, like him, traversed life as a lone wolf, bound to no one but himself. Within that brief second, Laxus realized this fight transcended victory; it was an understanding.
But it was not enough to save him. The sheer ferocity of Salamander's flames broke through his defenses, consuming Laxus in an explosion that lit up the forest's canopy. He had nearly lost—not merely that day but the very principle of what it meant to fight as the strongest.
Laxus stumbled back, the heat of battle cooling. Something inside him shifted; perhaps the rogue was right. His perception of strength as a means to dominate everything had broken like a fragile glass shattering against the stone.
"I might've lost," Laxus said as he recalled the day, his voice merging into the quiet noise of the sobering room. "But meeting him changed something in me. We fought out of principle, two mages refusing to yield."
Curious eyes focused on Laxus. "You mean… you actually lost?" Erza asked since she and Gajeel were the ones who finally managed stop his dangerous game.
"Yes. I hate to admit it, but yes. Like I said, your victory wasn't exactly your own. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that is what happened. I don't know your story, what you dealt with when you fought him, but in my clash it felt like I was fighting myself." He shook his head and recalled the wordless argument he had. How power dominates, but in the end that power has to come from somewhere, for something.
Mira's eyes sparkled with a mix of awe and concern. "What was that like?"
"Lonely," Laxus admitted, his voice softer than before. "I think we're the same. He carries a burden in that fire, a connection between himself and the world around him. He thrives in solitude, and yet I felt—no, I saw his heart in that battle. A heart like mine that has learned the weight of its solitude."
Makarov, ever the wise leader, placed a hand on Laxus's shoulder. "We are all seeking connection, even when we think we are alone."
"You can say that again, old man. But I think he was fighting a different kind of lonely. Either way, if you plan to go after him again, which I know you are. Let me come with you." Laxus said in an attempt to persuade them. Though their weary glances were telling a different story.
"Why?" Erza asked, well demanded.
He started, "Because-"
"I smell him." Gajeel grunted rising from his seat.