Another explosion cracked the sky.

I flinched as the sound hit — sharp, deep, and loud enough to pop my ears. It rolled across the hills and thudded in my chest like it had mass behind it. A moment later, the wind came barreling past me, laced with a tinge of smoke.

I stood near the edge of the ridge, just above the town. It wasn't far — maybe a five-minute walk downhill — but from here, I could see everything. Or I could've, if the air wasn't being torn to pieces.

Something had caught fire down there. Not for long. The flames barely had time to catch before the wind carved through them. Smoke rose in quick bursts, then vanished, ripped sideways by the storm.

I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward just enough to spot the source. Near the far side of the square. A barrier of wind, a full-blown vortex spinning fast around what looked like the train station. Hard to tell from this distance, but the structure was right, and it sat right at the junction where the rails disappeared into the hills.

And then, a flash of fire inside the storm. Barely there, then gone. Snuffed out before it could take shape.

Someone was fighting against that.

I exhaled slowly, tugging at my sleeve as I took another step forward on the slope. Loose dirt shifted under my boot. I adjusted my footing out of habit, mind already turning over the scene below.

Alright. That's a lot to process. And not much of it good.

I wasn't a fighter. Not in the way people usually meant it. My magic was built around construction, reinforcement, design — problem-solving, not problem-breaking. I'd survived a few skirmishes, sure, but most of that was luck and maybe a bit of decent planning. This? This was well outside my comfort zone.

I stayed where I was for a moment longer, looking down at the storm, half-hoping to see someone else already on their way to deal with it.

Nobody.

And then I realized something else was off.

The town was silent.

Even from this distance, I should've heard something — shouts, movement, maybe the clatter of carts or doors slamming shut. But there was nothing. No voices. No footsteps. No one calling for help. Just the wind, howling through empty streets.

I adjusted my coat and started walking.

I didn't remember making the decision. My body just… moved.

The slope into town wasn't steep, but the wind didn't make it easy. As I got closer, the gusts turned erratic, pulling at my coat, pushing back hard against each step. I kept low, working my way between buildings and alleyways, eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

Still nothing.

Signs banged against walls. Paper swirled in the air. Market stalls were flipped, supplies scattered across the road. Carts left half-loaded. Doors hung open like they'd been flung that way in a hurry.

The whole place looked paused. Mid-action, mid-thought, mid-everything.

I really hoped they'd evacuated.

I crossed the last row of houses and stepped into the open, angling closer toward the edge of the storm. Every step took effort now. The wind pushed harder with each inch. Dust stung my face. I raised an arm to block it as my boots scraped against the uneven ground.

Then a whistle tore through the air.

I ducked on instinct, dropping low just in time for a wooden board to rip past my head. It clipped a wall behind me and exploded into splinters. Before they even hit the ground, the wind dragged them back into the storm.

I stood again, brushing off my coat, heart hammering harder than I'd like to admit.

That… was new. And not exactly encouraging.

No people. No help. No one visible inside the barrier either — just shadows, barely distinguishable through the chaos. They moved fast. Clashed hard. But from this side of the wind wall, I couldn't make out any details.

Even if I wanted to step in, I wouldn't make it two feet past the edge.

Then something caught my eye. Up high.

A figure was rising above the storm, slow and steady, completely untouched by the wind. It was almost surreal, watching someone just hover like that while the storm roared beneath them.

I took a few steps back into cover, just enough to get a better look.

He was holding something. A scythe — long, curved, and sharp enough that the light reflected clean off the blade. A scarf flapped around his neck, the ends torn and frayed. His cloak hung loosely around his waist, but nothing about him looked unsteady. He didn't even seem to notice the wind.

Something in his other hand — looked like a branch… Just a literal stick, held loose in his grip.

He hovered there, gaze sweeping over the town without urgency or care. Then, without a word, he turned and drifted higher into the sky. His figure faded into the clouds, but not before I caught the tail-end of a laugh carried on the wind.

Are all creepy people insane in this world?

I stayed where I was, eyes still on the spot he'd vanished into.

That was bad. I wasn't entirely sure what he was, but anyone who can fly clean through a storm like that and walk off laughing probably isn't the good guy. And judging by the state of the town — the damage, the silence, the people still stuck inside the wind barrier — he either caused this, or didn't bother stopping it.

Either way, I wasn't thrilled at the implications.

I took a step back toward the buildings for some cover and pulled a scrap of paper from my coat pocket. Just big enough to draw on. My fingers reached for a pen automatically.

"Okay. Priorities," I muttered, voice low as I crouched and started sketching the framework for a detection rune. "Figure out how many people are still inside. Rule out worst-case scenario. Then maybe panic. Quietly."

The rune took shape under my hand, familiar and simple. I could've conjured one in seconds, but I always preferred drawing them myself. There's something steadying about it. Like hammering in the first nail of a build — the start of order.

"Can't fix a town, but I can definitely make sure everyone got out of town safely," I said under my breath as I finished the last mark and pulsed magic into the paper.

The rune flared, warm and soft, and sent a ripple outward. I watched, waited.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Then—signals. Dozens. Maybe more.

I straightened up, staring as the map built itself across my vision. All of them inside the barrier. A few moved in slow, erratic patterns. The rest? Stationary.

"…Yeah, that's not great."

I tapped the edge of the paper with one finger, brow furrowing. "So that barrier's still up. People are trapped. Fighting's still happening in the middle of it. And the guy who most likely caused it just dipped."

The paper caught fire in my hand, magic burning through the fibres. I dropped it, and the wind took the ash in seconds.

"Alright, think. What do I know?" I turned and paced a short circle near the alley entrance. "He didn't look in a rush. Didn't even glance back at the storm. No reaction to the people fighting, or the town, or—anything really."

I rubbed at my temple with one knuckle.

"Either he's not worried about being followed, or he wants to be followed. Which… doesn't help. Either way, he's my best lead."

I turned back toward the ridge. From here, I could barely see him now — just a distant shape drifting above the hills.

"If he made that barrier, then he can take it down. And if I can stop him—" I paused, then corrected myself. "—talk to him, maybe get something useful. Stopping might be pushing it."

But I needed to try.

"Okay," I muttered, swiping my hand through the air. My storage interface opened, glowing softly in front of me. A list of tagged components, tools, test builds — everything I've been working on since my time with Hugh.

"If I can get ahead of him. Get in the air. Get above him. I can rig something up. Maybe a weighted net. At the very least, I might be able to slow him down long enough to find out how to break the barrier…"

I nodded to myself as the beginnings of a plan formed.

"Now I just need a way to fly. Silent and fast."

An old idea popped to mind, something I had played around with while I was living with Hugh, while I never got around to sketching it, I've had the idea bouncing around since.

I flicked to the schematic builder and began sketching.

"No jets. Too loud. No wind-based lift — he could mess with that too easily. Gravity modulation, maybe. Repulsors for momentum. Compact frame. Keep the noise low. Keep the build light."

The lines of a hoverbike came together piece by piece. Familiar work. "Hmm… Clean, if a tad simplistic. A shame I didn't have more time to sketch it out, this actually looks promising for something I designed on the spot." Mumbling to myself as a glanced over the cursory details, making sure I didn't miss any important parts.

"Right," I said, setting the blueprint into memory. "Catch the guy with a scythe and a magic stick. Using a prototype Hoverbike..."

I exhaled and cracked my knuckles.

"This is either going to work really well and I'm going to look cool as Fuck, or it's going to be the dumbest thing I've ever done."

And I've done a lot of dumb things.

I closed my eyes, exhaled once, and brought the blueprint to the front of my mind.

Frame first — narrow, lightweight, reinforced along the spine to keep it stable in crosswinds. I pictured the way it would look from beneath, how the supports would lock together. The image sharpened, and as it did, soft blue light began to gather in front of me. Lines traced through the air, building outward from nothing.

Then the repulsors — twin rotors embedded under the chassis, set at a slight outward tilt. Good for lift and balance, with just enough angle for momentum control. The blue light pulsed as the parts began slotting into place, guided by the shape in my mind. The whine of magic hummed in the air.

Steering came next — compact handles, clean rotation, with dual control runes set into the grip. I adjusted the angle slightly, visualizing how it would feel beneath my hands, how the weight would shift when turning midair. The handlebars formed with a low flicker and locked into place on the frame.

Seat, shield panel, stability fins. All of it pulled from the blueprint, all of it piecing together under my direction.

The entire build settled onto the ground gently, glowing softly from the pale light of my magic. Blue lines snaked across the structure as the final sections locked into place. I opened my eyes again.

There it was. I kept the color a light blue, the sky was rather bright today and I figure it might help it blend in.

It was crude, untested, but it looked stable enough for what I needed.

I stepped around it once, tapping my fist along the stabilizers. A low thunk responded. Good. No integrity faults.

"Well," I muttered, "no time like the present."

I swung a leg over the seat, settled in, and flipped the activation switch mounted under the control panel.

Nothing happened.

I blinked.

"Wait—no, no no, c'mon…" I flipped the switch again. Still nothing. The panel stayed dark. Not even a flicker.

And then it hit me.

"Is there no power source?"

I sat back and reached for my Storage Implant. A swipe through the air pulled the interface into view, glowing faintly in front of me. Tabs and files drifted past my vision as I dug through the clutter.

"Come on, there's gotta be something in here I can use…"

Most of what I had was parts. Tools. Half-assembled components. Nothing with a ready charge, and I really didn't want to spend the rest of my magic on an untested prototype. I needed that to trap the wind barrier guy — or at the very least, defend myself if things went south.

Then my fingers paused over a labeled entry.

Prototype Ethernano Battery MK 3

It was a tad more stable than the first two, but the thing had a worse temperament than its predecessors. If I'd thought ahead, I wouldn't have reabsorbed the others.

I stared at it for a second.

"It'll have to do."

It was the prototype I'd been working on the other day — the one Makarov had stopped to examine at my stall. I hadn't gotten around to testing the upper limits, but it should hold more then enough charge for the bike.

I pulled it into reality. A small, capsule-shaped core buzzed into my hand, cool to the touch with a faint glow pulsing at the center.

"Please don't explode." I whispered as a slowly got off the bike and opened the side panel revealing an empty slot where I should've had a battery.

"I really need to practice making complicated things more often…"

I reached into the chassis, found the power slot, and thankfully since I had designed this with a universal battery in mind, it was easy enough to rig a simple connection with some scrap pieces to hold it in place and connect it to the machine.

The moment it connected, the dashboard flared to life. Gauges lit up. A soft, satisfied hum vibrated through the machine.

I grinned.

"Now we're in business."

I kicked the throttle gently, and the bike lifted a few inches higher, hovering with surprising ease. Smooth lift, no vibrations. Controls felt light, responsive. I leaned slightly left and the frame followed without lag. Right? Same result. Balanced. Better than expected for a first-time test.

"Well damn," I muttered, easing it into a slow upward climb. "Might actually put this one into the workshop list."

As the bike rose above the rooftops, the wind swept harder around me, but the stabilizers held strong. Not bad. I leaned forward a little more, shifting my weight, letting the repulsors carry me over the street.

I was mid-smirk when I started to feel a pull.

It started subtle. A slight drift, just off the intended angle. I corrected with a flick of the handle — but the bike kept drifting as I hovered.

My smile slowly dropped into confusion.

"…What is…?"

I glanced sideways, and my stomach dropped.

The barrier was pulling at me. Slightly stronger every moment, I'd been around fifteen meters back when I built the bike. Now I was closer to ten.

I hadn't factored in evil dude's magic when I built the damn thing.

"Nononononono—!"

I yanked hard on the right stabilizer, trying to break the pull. The bike shuddered, wobbled midair, and dipped forward slightly. The wind roared louder in my ears now — too loud. Debris spun below me, just meters away.

"Too close—too close—!"

I twisted the front grip, overriding the orientation lock, and jammed a pulse into the right repulsor. The bike kicked sideways, hard, nearly throwing me off — but it worked.

I shot sideways and up, wobbling like an idiot on a first flight, and finally cleared the pull zone. My breath caught in my throat as I steadied the frame and hovered higher, just outside the barrier's influence.

"…Okay," I muttered, glancing back over my shoulder at the swirling air below. "Note to self: don't get cocky next to an airborne death trap."

The bike leveled out under me, humming softly like nothing had happened.

I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow and adjusted my grip.

"Right. Let's go catch this guy before he causes another weather event."

And with that, I leaned forward and kicked the throttle again — this time, steering well clear of the storm.

I leveled out, wind rushing past my coat as the town dropped behind me. The train tracks stretched ahead — thin, silver lines cutting straight through the hills towards what looked like a giant stretch of bridge? That was the path he'd taken… I guess that makes my choice of air travel a bit better. Definitely wouldn't want to drive over planks on a normal bike.

I throttled up, and the hoverbike surged forward. Not bad. The repulsors kicked smoothly, though there was a faint delay between thrust and steering. Not enough to crash, but enough to notice.

"Might need to tighten the sync for the steering in the next iteration though…" I muttered, leaning slightly as I curved to stay with the tracks. "Feels like I'm riding a really well-behaved soap bar."

The ground blurred beneath me, passing in streaks of rock, brush, and broken patches of rail-side fencing. The bike wobbled slightly on the next incline, a gust catching under one of the stabilizers, and I had to lean harder to counter it.

"Stabilizer's shifting under crosswinds… another thing to fix for the next version… maybe I should add some sort of gyroscope as well? Less likely to flip then." Mentally noting that down, my hands were too busy with keeping the bike straight in the winds to write it down.

I shifted slightly on the seat my butt started to go stiff. The cushioning layer wasn't working properly… "I know I just made you, but can you please act like I designed you well?"

Still, for something thrown together in ten minutes with partial schematics and more then half my magic pool, the thing was holding up surprisingly well. The pull from the wind barrier was long behind me now, and the bike was gliding steady above the rails, the horizon wide open.

Far ahead, I caught a flicker of movement. A dark dot, way too high off the ground to be a bird.

There he was.

I narrowed my eyes.

Still flying, though he was definitely going pretty fast now.

I tapped my fingers against the handlebars, mind already spinning.

"Okay… no wind barrier out here, which means no cover. If I'm gonna get him, I need to catch him just as he's coming down or at least before he decides to zoom off again."

I flicked through the schematic list in my head. Still had some magic left, not a ton. Could probably manage one or two support tools midair. An M.E.D…? Nah the way it was designed by Hugh and I wouldn't work too well on active magic use, it was designed for magic items in mind.

"If I get above him, I can drop something — net? weighted? Ugh, net's too slow, and he might cut through it with that scythe…"

I winced. "Why do they always have scythes? What happened to sensible weapons?"

The bike gave a little jolt under me, a hiccup in the left repulsor. I swore softly and nudged the stabilizer. I could feel it giving off a lot more heat then its neighbor, responding slower on that side.

"Okay. Noted. Heat stress under high-speed cruise. That's fine. This is fine. Just gotta lean more to the right."

I glanced up again. The figure was still a ways ahead.

"Alright," I muttered. "If I can close the gap just a bit more, I'll veer off to the right, swing around wide, and try to cut him off. Worst case? I get close enough to toss something heavy and pray it sticks."

I adjusted the grip, fed a bit more magic from the battery, and leaned forward.

"Let's see how fast this thing can get."

The hoverbike surged ahead with a low, sharp whine — not quite graceful, but fast. Wind rushed past my ears, tugging at my jacket. Ahead, the figure was clearer now, still drifting, but not in a straight line anymore. He was starting to bank left, following the curve of a wide platform up ahead — an old support zone for trains. Flat, open. Probably fifty meters across.

Perfect spot for a drop.

I peeled off to the side, arcing high and wide, trying to gain elevation without drawing too much attention. The bike groaned under the effort, but the lift held steady. My stabilizers buzzed with heat warnings. Ignore them. Just a little higher. A little closer.

Almost there.

I reached behind me, mentally prepping to make some sort form of sticky goo, much heavier then a net and much less likely to be blown away.

Just had to get the angle right, drop it fast, and—

The man stopped.

Dead still.

My blood ran cold.

His head tilted, and for the first time, he turned — slowly — to look directly at me.

"...Shit."

His expression didn't change. No surprise. No anger. Just… vague disinterest. Like someone spotting a stray animal that wandered too close.

Then the wind shifted.

He raised the scythe, almost lazily, and with a single flick, a blade of air screamed toward me.

I barely had time to think as I yanked the bike sideways, trying to throw myself clear, but the slash wasn't aiming for me.

It struck the bike square in the midsection.

There was no explosion — but there didn't need to be. The impact pierced the outer casing and sliced deep through the rear panel. The light of the battery flickered, then began pulsing erratically.

"Oh no—no no no no—"

The bike bucked under me, its flight pattern twisting into a violent spin. The stabilizers failed first — the left one sputtered and went dark, the right tried to overcompensate and sent us into a corkscrew. The dashboard flashed red.

I tried to shut it down, but it was already too late. By the time the thought came to me, I was already too close to the ground for it to matter.

The bike smashed down against the bridge with a shattering crunch of metal and wood. I heard something snap. Not the bike.

Pain exploded down my side as I was slammed hard against the planks, the weight of the hoverbike crashing down on top of me.

I couldn't move.

My head rang, vision swimming. I tried to lift an arm, maybe absorb the wreck before it crushed anything else, but nothing happened. My arm wouldn't respond.

Not unconscious, but close. Every breath came sharp and shallow with the weight of the bike pressing down on my chest.

Far above, I could just barely make out the man drifting away again — already losing interest.

As everything went dark, one bitter relief stuck with me — I wasn't worth finishing off.

That's chapter 10 folks! Goddamn this one was hard to choose a path for. I've had some writers block for a good while, and no matter what I wrote things just didn't seem write, I tried introducing him to team Natsu, tried making him fight Erigor, tried a ton of other things (6 different drafts total) but none of them felt right or captured Leon properly. Even this one still seems a bit strange.

But it was a the best of the lot.

Anyways, I suppose now would be a good chapter question time…

If you could have one fictional creature as a pet. Which would it be? I personally like the idea of an Exceed or a Vulpix.