"Project Chimera," Headmaster Doma began, his voice a low rumble that filled the otherwise silent chamber. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken dread. Erza shifted her stance, her hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of her sword, though she knew brute force wouldn't solve whatever mystery lay before them. Gray stood stoic, his usual nonchalant demeanor replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. Elara, the Headmaster's assistant mage who had initially brought them here, observed them with an unreadable expression, her earlier sternness now tinged with something akin to pity.
"Twenty years ago," Doma continued, his gaze distant, lost in the corridors of time, "the magical world was… different. We were riding the crest of a wave of innovation, of discovery. New spells were being unearthed, lost techniques rediscovered. But also a different kind of awakening, one of a darker nature. There was a fervent belief that we were on the cusp of unlocking magic's true potential. But with such ambition comes… a certain blindness."
He paused, allowing his words to settle, the silence amplifying the unease that gnawed at Erza and Gray.
"Among the Magic Council," Doma resumed, "and within certain independent magical circles, a faction emerged. They were driven by a singular, almost obsessive goal: to transcend the limitations of magic as we understood it. They believed that magic was not a static force, but something malleable, something that could be reshaped, amplified, even fundamentally altered. They called themselves… the 'Ascendants'."
"Ascendants?" Gray repeated, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Sounds like a bunch of power-hungry crazies."
Doma offered a weary smile. "Perhaps. But at the time, their ideas, while radical, held a certain allure. They appealed to the desire for progress, for pushing the boundaries of what was possible. They argued that by understanding the very essence of magic, they could unlock abilities beyond our wildest dreams. They envisioned a future where mages could wield power on a scale previously unimaginable."
Elara interjected, her voice laced with a bitter edge. "They conveniently forgot the whispers of caution, the ancient warnings about tampering with forces beyond our comprehension. They dismissed the wisdom passed down through generations, the understanding that some doors are best left unopened."
"And Project Chimera was their grand experiment?" Erza inquired, her mind piecing together the fragments of information.
Doma nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling in the air. "Project Chimera… it was the apotheosis of their ambition, a monument to their staggering hubris. Imagine," he began, his voice taking on a somber tone, "twenty-four of the most brilliant minds the land possessed, yet each warped by a certain... flexibility in their ethics. They were meticulously selected, headhunted from the far corners of the kingdoms. We're talking about individuals like Anya Petrova, the elemental prodigy who could coax flames to dance and command the very earth to tremble – a prodigy that didn't need power, but had near perfect control. Or Kaelen, the incantation scholar, who'd spent decades deciphering glyphs carved into ruins older than recorded history, fluent in tongues that whispered secrets of creation itself. And let's not forget Master Theron, the rune weaver, his workshop a chaotic tapestry of glowing symbols, capable of binding magic to reality as easily as a weaver threads a loom. They even brought in the secretive Coven of the Scarred Hand, body modification mages whispered to have unlocked the secrets of flesh and bone, willing to reshape the human form with unsettling ease."
He paused, letting the gravity of the assembled minds sink in. "Their sanctuary, their crucible of madness, was nestled deep within the Serpent's Tooth Mountains, far from any civilized settlement, swallowed by peaks that clawed at the sky. Envision a fortress carved into the living rock, concealed not just by distance, but layered with wards so potent they warped perception itself. Illusions shimmered around the mountainside, painting false trails and phantom cliffs, leading any curious soul astray. Powerful silencing enchantments muted the sounds of their experiments, and wards of pure magical energy crackled beneath the stone, a silent promise of annihilation to any who dared trespass without invitation. It was a vault of secrets, built on the very edge of the world as they knew it."
Gray shifted, the term "unorthodox" still hanging between them. "Unorthodox hardly seems to cover it," he muttered, a hint of steel in his voice.
Elara's lips tightened, a flicker of disgust in her eyes. "'Less than scrupulous' is putting it mildly. They weren't merely pushing boundaries; they were obliterating them. They plundered forbidden libraries, unearthing grimoires bound in flayed skin, texts that whispered of rituals outlawed millennia ago for their sheer depravity. They resurrected practices like blood alchemy, fueled by sacrifice and fueled by the stolen life force of innocents. And they dabbled in magic specifically proscribed by the Council, ancient forms deemed too volatile, too corrupting, too dangerous for any sane mage to wield. Their obsession wasn't just to amplify existing magic; it was to twist it, to reshape its fundamental essence, to weld disparate schools together in ways that the very fabric of magic seemed to recoil from."
Doma continued, his voice laced with a deep, resonating regret. "They plumbed the depths of soul magic, seeking to unravel the very spark of consciousness. They experimented with life-force manipulation, attempting to drain and transfer anima, the vital energy that fuels all living things, like water from one vessel to another. Some even whispered of theories bordering on the creation of artificial magic – conjuring it from nothingness, bypassing the natural flows and channels of the world. They dreamed of dissecting magic to its core components, its fundamental building blocks, and then reconstructing it according to their own deranged blueprints. They saw themselves not as mages, but as alchemists of magic itself, seeking to transmute the base elements of arcane power into something… new, something more than gold."
He paused, his gaze hardening, a shadow passing over his features. "Their initial forays… they were barbaric. They started with creatures they considered lesser – wild beasts, caged animals. They sought to infuse them with unnatural magics, to graft elemental affinities onto beings of flesh and blood, to force incompatible energies to coexist within a single living frame. The results… they were abominations. Imagine a wolf, its fur crackling with uncontrolled lightning that burned its own skin raw, its eyes glowing with chaotic fire, its howl a tormented shriek of discordant energies tearing it apart from the inside. Or a bear, its body swollen and distorted by earth magic, limbs twisted into grotesque shapes, stone-like growths erupting from its flesh, trapped in a perpetual state of agonizing petrification, yet still alive, still suffering. These were chimeras in the truest, most horrific sense of the word. Deformed, unstable, agonizing existences born of stolen magic and twisted ambition."
Erza swallowed hard, the gruesome images painted by Doma's words solidifying in her mind. A cold dread coiled in her stomach, tightening with each detail. "And they progressed from animals to… humans?" she asked, the question hanging heavy with unspoken horror.
Doma nodded, his silence a heavier confirmation than words. "The ethical lines blurred, then vanished entirely. The promise of breakthroughs, the seductive whisper of ultimate power… it corrupted them. They began to see living beings not as individuals, but as raw materials, as vessels for their experiments. They convinced themselves that the ends justified the means, that their grand vision for the future of magic outweighed the suffering they inflicted in the present."
"And they thought they could control something like that?" Gray scoffed, shaking his head. "Playing god never ends well."
"Indeed," Doma sighed, a profound weariness etched into his features. "Hubris, Gray. It's a potent poison, especially for those who wield magic. They believed they were masters of magic, but they were merely children playing with fire. And fire, as we know, is a fickle and dangerous element."
Elara added, her voice low, "The Magic Council, in its early days, was… less unified than it is now. The Ascendants operated in the shadows, exploiting loopholes and political maneuvering. By the time whispers of their true activities reached the higher echelons, they were too deeply entrenched, their research too advanced, to be easily shut down without causing a major scandal and potential chaos within the magical community."
The air in the dimly lit chamber hung thick with unspoken accusations. Erza stood rigid, her scarlet hair a stark contrast to the stone grey walls. Her usual vibrant armor felt like a cage against her rising fury. "So, the Council knew?" she repeated, each word sharp as shattered glass. "They knew about these… experiments, and they let them continue?" Her voice was low, dangerously smooth, the kind of tone that promised retribution rather than mere inquiry.
Doma, a man etched with the weariness of too many secrets, met her gaze unflinchingly. His eyes, the color of faded parchment, held a swirling tempest of guilt and resignation. He was a scholar, more comfortable with dusty tomes than clandestine plots, yet here he was, caught in the vortex of a conspiracy he'd seemingly helped to perpetuate by his silence.
He sighed, the sound like air escaping a punctured lung. "The Council was… fractured, Erza. Deeply divided. Imagine a council table, split down the middle by a chasm of conflicting ideologies. On one side, there were those who saw the abyss yawning before us, the ethical precipice we were teetering on. They advocated for immediate action, for a swift, decisive shutdown of Project Chimera. They wanted the researchers brought to justice, the whole sordid affair dragged into the light."
He paused, his gaze drifting to the flickering candlelight that cast dancing shadows on the walls, as if re-living the debates in his mind. "But on the other side… ah, the other side was blinded by ambition, by the glittering promise of unchecked power. They argued for restraint, for… guidance. They spoke of breakthroughs that would redefine magic itself – cures for incurable diseases, unimaginable power enhancements, the very fabric of reality reshaped by our will. They feared the political fallout, the whispers of weakness if they were to shut down such a potentially groundbreaking project. They convinced themselves they could control it, steer it towards… 'less controversial' avenues. They wanted to walk a tightrope of ethics and ambition, Erza, a tightrope strung across a chasm of madness."
A bitter, humorless chuckle rasped from his throat. He shook his head, the candlelight catching the silver threads woven through his dark hair. "Fools. Naive, arrogant fools. They thought they could tame a tempest in a teacup, guide a wildfire with a gentle hand. Inevitably, the rope snapped. Project Chimera… it spiraled. It devolved into something monstrous, something far beyond their control. And the consequences…" He trailed off, his gaze settling on some unseen horror in the distance, "the consequences are what we are dealing with now. For twenty years, Erza. Twenty years this has festered."
The weight of Doma's words landed in the room like a physical blow. It pressed down on them, a suffocating blanket of revelation and complicity. Project Chimera wasn't just some obscure, failed experiment tucked away in forgotten archives; it was a festering wound in the very heart of the magical world, a wound that had been silently poisoning them for decades. And now, it had ruptured. The Salamander, Natsu, his fiery nature… it was all tangled in the putrid mess of Project Chimera.
Gray, who had been leaning against the wall, his usual casual slouch completely replaced by an unnerving stillness, straightened abruptly. The ice mage in him, usually so flippant and laid-back, was now all sharp edges and focused intensity. "Okay," he said, his voice tight, devoid of its usual teasing lilt. "Crazy mages, crazy experiments. We get it. But where does the Salamander fit in? What the hell does any of this have to do with Natsu? He was adamantly saying he was taken by Acnologia fanatics! Not some Council-sanctioned, ethically-challenged researchers."
Before Doma could respond, a voice, clear and calm, cut through the tension. "He wasn't entirely wrong, Gray." Elara stepped forward, emerging from the shadows near the doorway. Unlike Doma's worn features, hers were sharp and intelligent, her eyes holding a fierce light. "Natsu's confusion is… understandable, given the circumstances."
She turned to face Gray fully, her expression serious. "Project Chimera wasn't about Acnologia directly, not in its initial stages. But their research… it delved into the darkest corners of magic, the forbidden texts, the very origins of Dragon Slayer magic. They were obsessed with power, with unlocking the secrets of ultimate magical potency. And in their warped pursuit, they began to mimic, unknowingly at first, then intentionally, certain… theories, whispers, even rituals associated with Acnologia's power. They were chasing forbidden knowledge, and in doing so, they stumbled into the shadows Acnologia cast."
Elara paused, choosing her words carefully. "The researchers, in their fervor, their almost fanatical dedication to their work, developed methods that were… extreme. They experimented with elemental manipulation on a scale never before attempted, pushing the boundaries of magic in ways that were both terrifying and, frankly, blasphemous. For Natsu, a child ripped from his family and subjected to these intense procedures, these volatile energies… the researchers' single-minded obsession likely felt akin to a religious fanaticism. And because they were delving into the origins of Dragon Slayer magic, linked in some twisted way to Acnologia's legend, it's understandable that he would associate their actions with 'Acnologia fanatics'."
She sighed, a hint of weariness entering her voice. "It's a distortion, born of fear and trauma, perhaps fueled by the researchers' own veiled rhetoric. But it's not a complete fabrication. Project Chimera, in its descent into madness, mirrored the very darkness they claimed to be trying to understand and control. And Natsu… Natsu was caught in the heart of that darkness."
Doma and Elara exchanged another silent glance, a communication passing between them that was both subtle and profound. It was as if they were confirming something unspoken, bracing themselves for the next revelation.
Doma sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years of suppressed secrets. "Fullbuster. Before Natsu they never knew where to start, they had clues and dots that came from implanting lacrima, but to understand the why of Dragonslayers, the why of that dark dragon... To understand Natsu, you must understand the circumstances of his… discovery. About sixteen years ago, Project Chimera was reaching its zenith, or perhaps its nadir, depending on your perspective. Their experiments had become bolder, more reckless. They were pushing the boundaries of what was magically and ethically permissible, and they were beginning to see… results."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "One of their primary areas of research was Dragon Slayer Magic because they knew that Acnologia existed and thus he served as a conduit to many depraved ideologies. They were fascinated by its inherent power, its unique nature, its connection to ancient forces. They believed that by understanding Dragon Slayer Magic, they could unlock the secrets to amplifying and manipulating elemental magic on an unprecedented scale... I pray you don't get the chance to witness something as raw and deadly as that beast."
Erza's breath hitched slightly. Dragon Slayer Magic. It was a rare and powerful form of magic, one that Fairy Tail knew intimately through Wendy, Gajeel, and, formerly, through Laxus. The thought of it being twisted and experimented upon sent a shiver down her spine.
"They sought out practitioners, or any information related to Dragon Slayer Magic," Doma reiterated, his voice carrying the weight of the clandestine project. "Their resources were virtually limitless, and their desperation even greater. They delved into forgotten libraries, deciphering crumbling tomes written in dead languages. They chased whispers of reclusive magical lineages, traversing continents to seek out hermits and scholars rumored to possess even the faintest fragment of knowledge. And yes," he paused, a hint of unease coloring his tone, "they even ventured into places that most sane individuals wouldn't dare approach – areas where the very air thrummed with the echoes of dragons, where legends breathed and stirred in the shadows of ancient peaks. It was during one such perilous expedition, driven by the slimmest of leads, that they stumbled upon something… unexpected."
Elara took over, her gaze drifting to some distant point, as if reliving the recounted events in her mind's eye. "A small, elite scouting party – chosen for their exceptional combat prowess and resilience – was assembled. Six of Project Chimera's most formidable combat mages. Think of them as the sharpest blades in our arsenal. They were dispatched to the some northern peaks, a remote, perpetually snow-laden mountain range far from any village or outpost. Legends clung to those peaks like the glacial ice, whispers of a dragon's lair hidden amidst the treacherous terrain. Their team's mission was clear: investigate a recent, albeit shaky, report of a sighted dragon. The directive was to secure a live specimen if possible, a monumental task, but even if capture proved impossible, they were to collect samples – scales, blood, anything that could yield insight into dragon magic. It was a high-risk, high-reward gamble."
She paused, a grim line etching itself onto her lips. The air in the room seemed to thicken with unspoken dread. "They found a dragon alright. Or rather, what remained of one. Not soaring through the skies as they'd perhaps envisioned. They found a dead dragon."
Gray's brow furrowed, his usual nonchalant demeanor momentarily forgotten. "Dead? Dragons… they're practically immortal. From what we gathered from our guildmates."
"'Practically' is the operative word, Gray," Elara corrected, her voice laced with a somber understanding. "Even dragons, beings of immense power and longevity, are not entirely immune to the ravages of time, or fate, or…" she trailed off, choosing her words carefully, "other forces. This dragon, ancient from what the reports told, its age could have measured in centuries, perhaps millennia, had succumbed to… something. Illness, some catastrophic injury, or perhaps even a conflict with another of its kind – the precise cause of death remained shrouded in mystery. What mattered, from Project Chimera's perspective, was that its colossal body was still remarkably intact, frozen in the biting mountain air, a veritable treasure trove of raw, potent dragon magic."
Erza leaned forward, her crimson armor subtly gleaming in the dim light. "And Natsu… was he there? That's when you found him, isn't it?" Her voice held a mixture of dread and an almost painful anticipation.
Elara nodded slowly, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "He was. A child, no older than five or six, nestled against the flank of the fallen behemoth. He was practically dwarfed by it. A mountain of ice and scales, and at its base, this tiny, frail-looking boy. He was clinging to the dragon's cold hide, his small body wracked with sobs, the sound swallowed by the vast, silent landscape. He seemed lost, abandoned, utterly broken. But even through the grime and tears, even in the depths of his grief, there was something… different about him. An almost palpable aura of raw, untamed magic. It wasn't something you could see with your eyes, but you could feel it, a tremor in the air, a prickling on the skin. Even the most seasoned mages in the scouting party, men and women who had faced down mythical beasts and wielded devastating spells, sensed it immediately."
Doma resumed the narration, his voice regaining its clinical precision, yet still tinged with an undercurrent of awe. "They approached cautiously, as protocol dictated, weapons drawn, spells at the ready. Their initial intent was to secure the dragon's body, of course. But the child… he was an unknown factor. The directive was to assess, and if deemed necessary, to take him into custody for observation, and perhaps… more. They were, however, utterly unprepared for what happened next. No amount of training, no tactical briefing could have prepared them."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, the flickering lamplight casting dancing shadows across his face. "As they drew closer, their intentions, no matter how clinically justified, were perceived by the child. Perhaps it was the hostile stance of the mages, the weapons glinting in the weak sunlight, or perhaps… perhaps he simply possessed an innate, almost instinctual understanding of their approach. Whatever the reason, the child… reacted. It wasn't a tantrum, not childish defiance. It was a… a primal release. A raw, untamed rage erupted from him. Fire… unlike anything they had ever witnessed, engulfed his small body. Not the controlled, focused flames of a trained fire mage, not the disciplined incantations of magical fire. This was something altogether different. Wild, chaotic, untamed, as if the very essence of fire had been unleashed in its purest, most destructive form. And then… he attacked."
Gray scoffed, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. "A kid, attacked six mages? Come on. Even if he had some latent magic, six experienced mages? That's… ridiculous"
"Is it? These were not ordinary mages, Gray," Elara interjected sharply, her voice brooking no argument. "These were highly specialized, battle-hardened veterans. Masters of their chosen disciplines, handpicked from the most rigorous academies and combat legions. Each one was capable of facing down entire platoons of regular soldiers. They were masters of barrier magic, elemental manipulation, close-quarters combat enchantments. Yet… they were overwhelmed. Completely, utterly overwhelmed. The child moved with a speed and ferocity that defied his apparent fragility, that belied his tender age and diminutive size. He wielded fire with an instinctual, almost terrifying mastery, not as a learned spell, but as a visceral extension of himself, as natural as breathing."
Doma picked up the narrative thread, painting a vivid, disturbing picture of the ensuing chaos. "Gray, these six mages, initially confident, perhaps even arrogant in their superior numbers and training, moving in formation, casting shielding spells, preparing capture nets imbued with nullifying magic. And then, this… whirlwind of fire erupts from the still form of the child. He moved like a blur, a flickering, incandescent phantom. His small fists and feet, wreathed in flames that crackled with unnatural energy, struck with impossible force and pinpoint precision. The flames he unleashed were not merely intensely hot – they were corrosive, almost sentient. They licked at magical defenses, dissolving energy barriers like paper in a bonfire. They seared through enchanted armor, and where they touched exposed flesh… well, the descriptions in the mission logs are gruesome, even for veteran observers."
"He fought with the ferocity of a cornered snow leopard, the desperation of someone protecting the last fragment of their shattered world," Doma continued, his voice taking on a strange, almost reverent tone, laced with a chilling awe. "One by one, the soldier mages fell. Their meticulously crafted spells, their years of rigorous training, their superior weaponry… all rendered laughably useless against the raw, untamed power of this child's grief and rage. Spells meant to bind him shattered upon contact. Barriers erected to contain him melted and evaporated. Enchanted weapons meant to subdue him were reduced to slag."
Elara concluded, her voice somber, heavy with the weight of the recounted tragedy. "By the time the fiery tempest subsided, by the time the echoes of screams and the crackling flames faded into the frigid mountain air, all six mages lay dead. Burned beyond recognition, their magic extinguished, their lives snuffed out in a horrifying, almost impossible massacre. By a child. A child fueled by grief, by loss, and by a power they could scarcely comprehend. It was a testament," she finished quietly, her gaze chillingly direct, "to the terrifying, unpredictable potential that lay dormant within that small, grieving boy. And it was the event that fundamentally reshaped Project Chimera's approach, driving them down a path… that led us here today."
Erza and Gray stared at Doma and Elara, their minds struggling to process the image of a child, a mere boy, single-handedly decimating a squad of elite mages. It was almost unbelievable, yet the gravity in Doma and Elara's voices, the chilling detail in their descriptions, lent it a horrifying credibility.
"And the dragon?" Gray finally asked, his voice hushed. "What happened to the dragon's body?"
Doma's expression turned even more grave, a shadow passing across his face. "That… is perhaps the strangest part of the entire story. When reinforcements arrived, summoned by the sole surviving mage – injured but alive enough to send a distress signal before succumbing to his wounds – they found the scene of carnage. The six mages, dead as reported. The child… gone. Vanished without a trace."
He paused, his gaze meeting Erza's directly. "And the dragon's body… it was gone too. Disappeared. As if it had never been there at all."
A chill ran down Erza's spine. A dead dragon, powerful enough to attract the attention of Project Chimera, vanishing into thin air along with a child prodigy who could incinerate elite mages with his bare hands. It was a puzzle box of impossible elements, and the pieces were only just beginning to emerge.
"They searched for him, of course," Elara continued, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the chamber. "The entire region was scoured, every village questioned, every shadow investigated. But the child, and the dragon's body, were simply… gone. It was as if they had been swallowed by the earth itself."
"Project Chimera, understandably, was thrown into chaos," Doma added. "The loss of six of their most skilled mages was a significant blow, but the implications of what they had witnessed were even more troubling. A child wielding such raw, untamed fire magic, capable of overpowering trained professionals… it was unheard of, unprecedented."
"They became obsessed with finding him again," Elara said, her voice laced with disdain. "Not out of any concern for the child's well-being, mind you. But out of pure scientific curiosity, and a desperate desire to understand the source of his power. They saw him not as a victim, but as a specimen, a key to unlocking even greater magical secrets."
"And they eventually found him again?" Erza prompted, her heart pounding with a growing sense of unease.
Doma nodded grimly. "Three weeks later. A stroke of luck, or perhaps a curse, led them to him. He was discovered in a remote village, scavenging for food. He was weak, malnourished, clearly exhausted from his escape and the ordeal he had endured. He put up a fight, of course, but this time, he was facing overwhelming numbers, mages prepared for his fiery outbursts. They subdued him, contained his magic, and brought him back to their hidden laboratory."
"And then the experiments started," Gray stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.
"Yes," Doma confirmed, his voice heavy with regret. "Project Chimera saw him as their ultimate subject, the culmination of their research into Dragon Slayer Magic. They believed that he held the key to understanding and replicating its power. They intended to dissect his magic, to unravel its secrets, to harness it for their own purposes."
Elara detailed the horrors of Natsu's captivity. The scientists subjected him to a battery of invasive procedures, attempting to analyze and quantify his magic. They probed his body with enchanted instruments, attempting to map his magical pathways, to identify the source of his fire magic. They exposed him to various magical energies, trying to trigger reactions, to understand the limits and capabilities of his power.
"They tried everything," she said, her voice hardening with anger. "They tried to extract his magic, to siphon it off, to replicate it artificially. They attempted to force foreign magic into him, to see if they could alter his magical constitution, to create a hybrid mage. They even delved into forbidden soul magic, attempting to manipulate his very essence, to control his will."
"But none of it worked?" Erza asked, sensing the futility in their efforts.
Doma shook his head. "No. Everything they tried failed, often spectacularly. His magic was… resistant. It rejected their attempts to control it, to manipulate it. It was as if it possessed a will of its own, a fierce, untamed spirit that defied their every attempt to subdue it."
Elara elaborated, her voice filled with a strange mix of frustration and admiration. "Their attempts to extract his magic were met with violent backlashes, explosions of raw fire magic that incinerated equipment and injured researchers. Their attempts to force foreign magic into him resulted in chaotic surges of conflicting energies, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. Even their forays into soul magic proved disastrous, triggering unpredictable magical outbursts and weakening his physical and mental state."
"He was a force of nature," Doma said, his voice tinged with awe. "A miniature tempest trapped in a cage. The more they tried to contain him, the more violently he resisted. They underestimated the sheer power, the untamed will that resided within that small frame."
"Three weeks," Elara stated, her voice low and intense. "He endured their torturous experiments for three weeks. Three weeks of pain, of violation, of relentless probing. And then… he broke."
"Broke?" Gray repeated, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest.
"Not in the way they expected," Doma clarified. "He didn't succumb to their will, he didn't become docile or compliant. He broke free. He unleashed his full power, the raw, untamed fury that they had so foolishly tried to contain. It was… a massacre."
Elara described the night of Natsu's escape. The laboratory, usually a hive of controlled experimentation, became a raging inferno. Natsu, fueled by weeks of torment and a burning desire for freedom, erupted in a torrent of fire magic. He moved through the facility like a living wildfire, incinerating everything in his path. Security wards shattered, containment spells dissolved, and the carefully constructed laboratory was reduced to smoking ruins.
"He fought like a demon," Elara whispered, her voice still carrying the echoes of terror. "He tore through their defenses, overwhelmed their spells, and incinerated anyone who stood in his way. The screams, the explosions, the inferno… it was chaos unleashed. By the time it was over, half of Project Chimera's personnel were dead. Burned to ashes, their bodies unrecognizable."
Doma leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, adding, "And the damage wasn't just limited to personnel. The entire facility… it was obliterated. Reduced to rubble and ash. They lost years of research, countless resources, everything. Project Chimera, ceased to exist that night. It was a catastrophic failure, a humiliation in the eyes of their shadowy benefactors."
Opposite him, Elara, her face etched with a network of fine lines that spoke of long exposure to harsh realities, picked up the thread. Her voice, previously laced with a dramatic flair, was quieter now, the theatricality replaced by a weary flatness that suggested years of bearing witness to grim truths. The flickering firelight danced in the depths of her usually bright eyes, now dimmed by shared sorrow. "The survivors, only twelve of the original twenty-four, those that remained of the 'Ascendants', scattered like cockroaches fleeing the light. Some went into hiding, burrowing deep into the shadows, fearing retribution for their abject failure, or perhaps… perhaps fearing the boy himself, the unleashed chaos they had birthed. Others… they became even more obsessed. Driven by a volatile cocktail of vengeance and scientific hunger, they dedicated themselves, body and soul, to finding him, to recapturing their lost 'specimen'."
Gray, usually an immovable pillar of stoicism, shifted in his seat. A barely perceptible tremor in his hands, resting on the wooden table, betrayed the inner turmoil that even he couldn't completely suppress. "And they never found him again?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like a shroud.
Doma sighed, a puff of air that seemed to carry the weight of years of unanswered questions and a lingering, bone-deep unease. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames in the hearth as if searching for answers in their capricious movements. "Not… definitively. There have been whispers, rumors carried on the wind, sightings glimpsed in the periphery. Unconfirmed reports, whispered in hushed tones in back alleys and dimly lit taverns, of a figure cloaked in fire, appearing and disappearing like smoke in a gale, leaving trails of devastation in his wake. Someone… or something… systematically targeting dark guilds, those depraved organizations who are probably the only ones morally bankrupt enough to work with fools like those behind Project Chimera. Eliminating them with… brutal efficiency. But concrete proof? A photograph, a verifiable witness, a solid piece of evidence? No. Nothing solid. Just… smoke and echoes."
Elara leaned forward, the weariness momentarily banished, her gaze sharp and intense as she locked onto Erza's. Her voice was low but resonant, each word carefully weighted. "For years, these whispers have circulated amongst those who operate in the shadows, amongst those who deal with the underbelly of the magical world - informants, bounty hunters, even the darker elements within legitimate guilds. And they have given this figure a name. A name whispered in fear and awe, a name that crawls from the darkest corners of the magical world. That is where his name came from… Salamander."
The name hung in the air, thick and heavy, each syllable resonating with unspoken implications. Erza felt a chill crawl down her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms despite the comforting warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth. Salamander. The name she had heard bandied about, usually with a mix of dismissiveness and intrigue. But this story, this tragic and horrifying origin, cast a starkly different, disturbingly poignant light on the legend. A legend now tinged with the bitter ash of tragedy.
Gray finally broke the silence, his voice low and gravelly, the question laced with dawning comprehension. "A rogue mage… targeting dark guilds. Cloaked in fire. Is that why you wanted guilds to hunt him? Put a multi-million jewel bounty on his head?" He was referring to the fragmented mission, the fleeting, almost mythical 'once-in-a-lifetime' job Fairy Tail had been tentatively offered weeks ago – to capture the elusive Salamander. They had dismissed his strength, in the boisterous heart of Fairy Tail, as an exaggerated rogue, just another one of the fantastical stories that sprung up around powerful, mysterious figures. But now… now they had a context, a horrifying and compelling origin story that turned dismissiveness into a chilling realization. It is no wonder they failed.
Doma and Elara shared a look, ashamed that they that route in a foolish attempt at stopping something that gained far more momentum that they believed possible. A grave error on their part.
"The fire," Erza murmured, more to herself than to the others, her brow furrowed in deep thought. "An uncontrolled, almost… sentient fire." It wasn't just magic; it was a signature, a brand seared into the very fabric of this Salamander's being. A constant, raging testament to some deep, internal pain.
Doma nodded slowly, his gaze somber. "I can only surmise why the cloak of fire, why he so vehemently denies any real view of his face. If my theory is correct, about the nature of Project Chimera and their… methods… it only makes the situation far, far worse."
Elara added, her voice laced with a profound sadness, "A kid… taken in by a dragon, raised by him, likely his only connection to anything resembling love or family for years… to watch that dragon die at his feet. Then, his first horrifying experience with humans is magical torture, brutal experimentation, and cold apprehension? I... I can't even begin to imagine the scars that would carve onto a soul." Tears welled in her eyes, and she hastily wiped a few stray drops away, the professional mask momentarily cracking to reveal a well of empathy.
A heavy silence descended again, broken only by the snap and pop of embers in the hearth. Erza found herself picturing a small, vulnerable child, ripped from a life with a dragon, subjected to unimaginable horrors in a sterile laboratory, twisted and transformed into this fearsome, enigmatic figure cloaked in flames. The stark contrast was jarring, viscerally heartbreaking. The burning rage of Salamander, the destructive fire that followed him, it was born from the ashes of innocence, forged in the crucible of unspeakable trauma.
"Why are you telling us this?" Erza asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence. Her voice was steady, firm, a counterpoint to the turmoil churning within her. "After all this time, why reveal this now? Why to us?"
Doma exchanged a long, meaningful look with Elara. It was Elara who spoke, her voice regaining some of its earlier urgency, the weariness fading into a steely resolve. "Because we believe Project Chimera is stirring again. Not in the same overt form, perhaps, not with the same brazen facility, but the same ambitions, the same morally bankrupt methods, the same chilling darkness… it's resurfacing. We've intercepted coded messages, whispers on secure channels, picked up on certain unsettling magical signatures that send shivers down the spines of even seasoned sorcerers, sensed a familiar… stench of unethical magic… in the air."
"And you think Salamander knows?" Gray asked, his eyes narrowed, his mind already racing, piecing together the fragmented information, the implications dawning with chilling clarity.
"If he's still active, still waging his silent war against the darkness, then he would be the first to sense it," Doma confirmed, his voice grim. "He is, in a way, a living sensor, attuned to their kind of corrupted magic, their twisted ambition. And if Project Chimera is indeed reforming, if the Ascendants are crawling out of the woodwork, then they will be hunting him again. To finish what they started. To reclaim their weapon… or to finally silence their failure."
Elara's gaze intensified, focusing solely on Erza, her intensity burning through the space between them. "We need to find him, Erza. Before they do. Not just to warn him, though that is crucial, but to understand. To understand the full, horrifying truth of what happened that night, to understand the depths of his pain, and to perhaps… to perhaps help him find a different path, a path away from the fire and destruction."
Help him. The words resonated deeply within Erza's heart, striking a chord of empathy she hadn't anticipated. Beneath the fearsome reputation, beneath the terrifying cloak of fire and destruction, she sensed a profound suffering, a caged torment that mirrored, in a different way, the darkness she herself had battled. She had seen the cruelty of the world, had fought against its corrosive influence, but this… this felt different. This felt profoundly personal, a call to action that vibrated deep within her soul.
"And you think we can do that?" Gray questioned, a practical skepticism in his voice, yet a flicker of nascent empathy softening his usual hardened edges. "Why would he listen to us? Why would he trust us, after everything he's been through?"
"He might not," Doma conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly with the weight of the unknown. "But we have to try. We owe it to him, to all those who have suffered at the hands of Project Chimera, to try. And you, Erza, Gray… you are not ordinary mages. You are strong, yes, incredibly so, but more importantly, you are compassionate, capable of seeing beyond the surface, of understanding the darkness in a way few others do. If anyone can reach him, can pierce through the fire and find the boy within, it's you. After all," Doma added, a faint smile gracing his lips, "Makarov has a wonderful reputation of taking in strays, of helping those lost in the dark. He helped you too, after all, and countless others in your guild. Perhaps… just perhaps… he can do the same for Natsu."
Erza looked from Doma to Elara, their faces earnest, pleading, then to Gray, whose usually impassive face now showed a flicker of something akin to empathy, a shadow of understanding. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting dancing, elongated shadows on the guild hall walls, shadows that seemed to whisper of secrets and lurking dangers, of a boy lost in flames.
"Where do we start?" Erza asked, her voice firm, resonating with a newfound resolve that hardened into steel. The unease she had felt earlier, the chilling mystery, had transformed into a steely, unwavering determination. She wouldn't let this child, this Salamander, be hunted again. She would find him. She would understand his pain, the source of his fire. And if possible… she would help him find peace, or at least a path towards it.
Elara's face softened, a hint of fragile hope flickering in her eyes, a flicker that mirrored the embers in the hearth. "We have some leads, fragmented reports, whispers carried across borders, locations where Salamander has been sighted in the past. They are scattered across the kingdom, mostly near areas where dark guilds have been particularly active, areas scorched and left barren in his wake. But…"
"But nothing," Erza finished, her gaze unwavering, locked onto the path ahead, the mission already forming in her mind. She stood up abruptly, the firelight reflecting in her determined, emerald eyes, turning them into twin points of focused light. "We leave at dawn. Inform the Master and the guild, we need to prepare."
Gray nodded, rising with her, his usual laconic demeanor replaced by a quiet, focused intensity. "We saw his face," he stated, his voice low, almost a confession, the words hanging heavy in the charged air. "His scars." He trailed off, the unspoken weight of that encounter, the brief glimpse into the boy beneath the flames, settling between them.
Doma and Elara watched them, a mixture of profound relief and stunned shock etched across their faces. They had carried this burden, this dangerous secret, for far too long. Now, they had passed it onto two mages they deeply believed could carry it further, could perhaps even resolve it, could bring light to this shadowed corner of the magical world. "You saw it!? He… he let you see his face? After all this time, he let someone see?" Elara asked, her voice filled with incredulity, tinged with a hint of awe.
"Yeah, but I bet you knew that already, seeing his face yourself not too long ago," Gray countered, not as an accusation, but as a quiet observation, knowing they were more connected to this story than they let on. "But I digress… The scar across his chest, from cheekbone down to the opposite side of his hip – a jagged line of burn scars, do you know how he got that, specifically?" Gray asked, his gaze piercing, seeking answers to the mysteries that still swirled around Salamander. He didn't get an answer, just exchanged glances between Doma and Elara, silent acknowledgements that some truths were buried too deep, or perhaps too painful to unearth right now. He thought so, and without waiting for further clarification, Gray nodded once, a silent agreement passing between the two Fairy Tail mages, and thus they turned.
Erza paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle. "One more thing," she said, turning back to Doma and Elara, her expression sharp with inquiry. "Echelon. Why Echelon? Why break into a magic council prison of all places? And then… why stay? Two weeks, you said? Before breaking out with two children?"
Doma and Elara exchanged a heavy look, the flickering firelight reflecting in the moisture welling in Elara's eyes. The relief that had momentarily illuminated their faces seemed to dim, replaced by a shadow of something darker, something akin to shame and grief.
Doma sighed, the sound heavy in the sudden silence. "Echelon…" he began, his voice low and gravelly. "Echelon was… meant to be our victory. A trap, if you will." He hesitated, as if the words themselves were bitter on his tongue. "A crab trap for the Ascendants. The leaders of Project Chimera."
Erza's brow furrowed. "You were trying to catch them?"
Elara nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth. "We knew they were powerful, elusive. We built Echelon, supposedly a high-security prison, but specifically designed… to draw them out. We believed they would try to infiltrate it, attempt to extract captured assets, whatever resources we could bait them with. We were going to be waiting."
Gray remained silent, absorbing the information, his analytical mind already piecing together the fragmented puzzle.
"But…" Erza prompted, sensing the shift in tone, the unspoken tragedy hanging in the air.
Doma's shoulders slumped further. "But we were wrong. Terribly wrong. Echelon… it became something else entirely. Instead of a prison, it became… another lab. A more insidious, more hidden one. Whoever we caught, whoever we apprehended, they didn't stay prisoners. They were… turned."
Elara choked back a sob, tears finally escaping and tracing glistening paths down her cheeks. "We were so focused on the Ascendants, on the grand scheme, that we failed to see what was happening right under our noses. Echelon, meant to be our cage, became their breeding ground. They… they infiltrated it. Corrupted it from within. And we were too slow, too blind to recognize it until it was far too late."
The silence in the room became thick with unspoken horrors. Erza's steel resolve faltered for a fraction of a second, the weight of their confession pressing down on her.
"The children," Gray murmured, his voice barely a whisper, understanding dawning in his eyes. "They were… test subjects?"
Elara nodded, her voice cracking. "We… we found evidence after Salamander broke out. Hidden chambers, records… horrifying experiments. Children, mages, anyone they could get their hands on, subjected to… unspeakable things. Echelon wasn't holding prisoners; it was creating monsters."
"And Salamander?" Erza asked, her voice regaining its strength, hardened now with a different kind of resolve, fueled by righteous anger and a profound sense of injustice. "He went there to… to destroy it?"
Doma ran a hand through his greying hair, his face etched with weariness. "We believe so. He must have sensed the darkness, the corruption emanating from within. He went in to tear it down, to free whoever he could. And then… he stayed. We don't know why he stayed for two weeks. Perhaps he was searching for something, someone. Perhaps he was trying to understand the extent of the damage."
"And the leader of Project Chimera?" Gray pressed, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "What became of them?"
Doma and Elara exchanged another grim look, a silent admission of their failure. "We don't know," Doma confessed, his voice heavy with defeat. "After Echelon fell, after Salamander's rampage, we lost all trace. We don't know if they were captured, killed, or… if they escaped. The chaos was immense. We were too busy trying to salvage what was left of Echelon, trying to contain the fallout, that we lost sight of… everything else."
The fire crackled, the sound a stark contrast to the chilling silence that followed. Erza felt a cold fury ignite within her, a burning need to right this wrong, to bring justice to the victims of Project Chimera and Echelon, and to find the lost boy engulfed in flames, not just to understand him, but to protect him.
"They won't get away with it," Erza stated, her voice low but filled with unwavering determination. "Not anymore." She turned back towards the door, her emerald eyes gleaming with a fierce light. "We leave at dawn. Tell the master we have a new direction. We're not just tracking a phantom anymore. We're hunting down monsters."
Gray nodded, his usual cool demeanor replaced by a grim intensity that mirrored Erza's own. "Monsters create monsters," he murmured, his voice laced with a chilling understanding. "And we're going to stop them."
They stepped out into the night, leaving Doma and Elara bathed in the flickering firelight, their faces a mixture of hope and trepidation. The secret they had carried for so long was finally out in the open, entrusted to the mages of Fairy Tail. The hunt for Salamander had just become something far more dangerous, far more personal, and far more desperate. It was no longer just about finding a legend, but about confronting a darkness that threatened to consume them all.