Chapter 7
Carla's paws trembled against the dirt, her breath sharp and uneven. Her wide eyes darted around the ruined forest, but no matter where she looked, she found nothing—no Wendy, no Naruto, no allies. Only the wreckage left behind by the battle. The silence felt unnatural, like the world itself had been put on hold, waiting for something dreadful to happen.
Then, a shadow loomed.
A deep, mirthless chuckle echoed through the broken landscape. Carla's ears twitched, her fur bristling as she turned around—and there he stood. Hoteye.
The man was enormous, towering over her like an unmovable wall of flesh and muscle. His thick, wavy hair framed a grinning face, eyes hidden behind his signature orange goggles. There was something unsettling about that smile—too calm, too knowing, as if he had already won before the battle had even begun.
"Oh dear, a stray little kitten," Hoteye mused, his voice almost gentle. "Lost, all alone… how unfortunate."
Carla's heart pounded. Her limbs felt like lead. She willed herself to move, to run, to take flight—but fear had her locked in place.
Then, the ground beneath her exploded.
Carla barely managed to leap back, wings flaring open as Hoteye raised his hand, the earth twisting and warping under his command. The terrain itself became his weapon, jagged spires erupting from below, aiming to impale her. She flapped her wings desperately, twisting her body mid-air to avoid the attack, but the sheer force of his magic was overwhelming.
Hoteye sighed, almost disappointed. "Ah, how troublesome. You can dodge… for now."
The ground surged again, sending a shockwave through the forest. Carla's small frame was sent tumbling through the air. She barely caught herself, wings struggling to keep her upright, panic tightening around her throat like an invisible noose.
She needed to escape. She needed to find Naruto.
But before she could move—
Something struck her from the blindside.
A force, swift and unforgiving, slammed into her body. Time itself seemed to slow.
Carla's breath hitched. Her pupils shrank.
And then—
A memory.
Carla stood alone, her small frame bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight. The air was still, save for the rhythmic sounds of Wendy's movements—her feet scuffing against the dirt, her sharp exhales as she threw punch after punch, her quiet grunts of effort as she pushed herself harder. Sweat glistened on her brow, and though exhaustion clung to her every motion, she did not stop.
Carla's feline eyes softened, watching Wendy train with a quiet, almost reverent admiration.
Then, behind her, the quiet crunch of footsteps.
She did not need to turn to know who they were. One presence was familiar, steady as the foundation beneath their feet—Roubaul, silent and observing as always. The other, however, was something different entirely. His energy was never still, always shifting, like an untamed storm in human form.
Naruto.
He stopped beside her, arms folded, his gaze fixated on Wendy's movements. He did not speak immediately, simply watching, as if measuring something unseen. Then, his voice cut through the night.
"Are you satisfied with just watching over her?"
Carla's breath hitched.
She turned to him, startled—not by the question itself, but by the weight behind it. Naruto's tone wasn't teasing, nor was it mocking. It wasn't meant to prod or challenge. It was something far heavier. A simple question, yet one that carried the weight of expectation, of truth.
Her answer came without hesitation. "Of course not."
Naruto finally looked at her then, and for the briefest moment, his usual stormy eyes held something… knowing. Something distant, as if he had seen this same moment play out before, in another time, with another person.
And then, he smiled.
"Then why aren't you accompanying her?"
Carla froze.
The words struck like a lightning bolt.
It was so simple. So obvious. And yet, the thought had never occurred to her.
She was Wendy's guardian. Her protector. The one who watched from the sidelines, always watching, always guiding, always making sure Wendy never strayed too far.
But had she ever truly stood beside her?
Had she ever fought with her, for her, instead of just watching from a distance?
Carla's ears twitched, her eyes lowering as she let the question settle deep into her bones. The truth was, she had always placed herself above such things. She was dignified. She was proud. She did not lower herself to the mud.
And yet…
Her gaze lifted back to Wendy, who had not stopped, who had never stopped, pushing herself past her limits over and over again.
What was Carla's pride in comparison to Wendy's determination?
The answer was clear.
Without another word, she stepped forward.
Wendy paused, mid-strike, panting heavily as she turned in confusion—only to blink as Carla stood beside her, wings folding neatly at her sides.
"…Carla?"
Carla inhaled deeply, steadying herself, before speaking with quiet resolve.
"If you'll have me… I'll train with you."
Wendy's eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face—before softening into something warm. She wiped the sweat from her brow, then gave Carla a small, yet genuine smile.
"Of course."
And from that moment on, Carla no longer remained a distant observer.
She joined Wendy.
She trained alongside her.
And eventually, she even stepped into the ring against Naruto. She used a transformation magic, gone the white feline replaced by a fair skinned white haired maiden with cat ears.
Then she took her first step towards the blonde.
Then—
Reality shattered the moment Carla stepped forward to face Naruto.
Wendy had already staggered to the side, drenched in sweat, her breath ragged. The young Dragon Slayer had pushed herself far beyond exhaustion, her limbs trembling from the sheer weight of their prolonged sparring session. Carla had watched it all, keenly observing how Wendy endured Naruto's relentless pressure—how she adapted, adjusted, and endured.
And yet, Carla hadn't realized the difference until she was the one standing before him.
She barely lasted ten seconds.
The moment Naruto moved, she felt it. A force unlike anything she had ever encountered—an oppressive, suffocating presence that gnawed at her instincts, making every second feel like an eternity. She swung first, desperate to at least graze him, but her strike met only air. He wasn't where she thought he was.
A blur. A shift.
Then, a pressure against her ribs. A touch, not an impact, but it sent her staggering nonetheless.
Too fast.
Her next move was sloppy—her body was too stiff, her reflexes too slow. She tried to twist away, but before she could react, he was behind her. The very air around her felt like it was siphoning her strength away. She felt her knees buckle as her body failed her.
Then, Naruto stopped.
He backed away, raising his hands in submission, as if to say, That's enough.
Carla collapsed, knees digging into the dirt, her breath shaky and uneven.
She knew Naruto was strong. She had seen it, felt it in the way Wendy struggled against him. But now—now she truly understood.
This was a different level entirely.
Her hands curled into fists.
How?
She barely lasted seconds in close combat, yet Wendy—who was just as small, just as inexperienced in raw physical combat—had been lasting long enough to make it competitive. She watched Wendy push against him, her strikes growing sharper, her movements more refined with each exchange.
And Carla?
She had barely existed in the fight.
Her chest tightened as she stared at her trembling hands. I'm too weak.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and sweat, the rhythmic sounds of footsteps pounding against the training field harmonizing with the whispers of wind through the trees. Carla, in her human form, ran alongside Wendy, their breaths coming in sync, their determination mirroring each other beneath the ever-changing skies. Whether under the blazing sun, the freezing rain, or the silent glow of the moon, she refused to slow down.
Never again.
The memory of helplessness burned in her mind—a cruel brand that refused to fade. She had felt it too many times, standing on the sidelines, watching Wendy struggle, watching as their fate was dictated by those stronger than them. It was a humiliation that lodged itself deep inside her chest, a suffocating weight that she could not bear any longer.
She had trained. Hard. Harder than she ever had. But even as she improved, the gap between her and Naruto felt like an uncrossable void.
Their spars had become a cruel reminder.
The first time, she had lasted ten seconds.
The second time, she barely pushed past fifteen.
Now, she could endure twenty seconds before he overwhelmed her completely with that suffocating force of his—his syphoning presence that drained her strength the longer she fought. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Her muscles screamed, her lungs burned, but she didn't stop. Desperation clawed at her, the fear of uselessness driving her forward like a relentless storm. Every ounce of pain, every moment of exhaustion, was drowned out by the sheer refusal to remain weak.
She leaped forward, launching an assault at Naruto. Her strikes were sharper now, her footwork swifter, her movements more refined. Yet he dodged. Effortlessly. With the same eerie finesse, the same untouchable grace. His golden hair barely swayed, his expression unbothered as he weaved through her attacks like a phantom.
"Faster," he murmured, voice calm but demanding. "Again."
Carla gritted her teeth.
Her fists cut through the air. A high kick—dodged. A feint, a pivot, a follow-up strike—missed. Her claws nearly grazed his cheek, but at the last second, he leaned back, just out of reach.
"You're hesitating," Naruto noted, side-stepping her next attack as if reading her mind. "Fear makes you hesitate. You can't afford to be afraid."
Carla growled, frustration clawing at her chest. She didn't want to hear it—not from him.
Because he never knew what it was like to be weak.
She pushed harder, her body burning from exertion, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. But deep down, she knew.
She still wasn't enough.
And so, she ran harder. She swung faster. She refused to stop.
Even if she had to crawl through the mud, even if she had to destroy herself in the process—she would never be weak again.
The body could only endure so much.
Carla had ignored the warning signs—the exhaustion creeping into her bones, the dull ache in her limbs that never seemed to fade, the way her vision blurred after every training session. Even Wendy's healing magic, as gentle and revitalizing as it was, could not mend the toll she had inflicted upon herself.
And so, her body gave in.
She collapsed, the world spinning, her breath ragged as she fell into unconsciousness.
When she awoke, she was in a dimly lit room, the scent of herbs thick in the air. A soft warmth lingered on her forehead—Wendy's magic, still trying to soothe her battered body. But no amount of healing could ease the weight pressing down on her chest.
She had overtrained.
She had broken down.
And she was still weak.
The realization hit her harder than any of Naruto's attacks ever could. Carla's fingers curled against the sheets, her vision blurring—not from exhaustion, but from the sting of bitter, undignified tears.
She hated it.
She hated the way her body had betrayed her. She hated how, despite all the effort, despite running until her legs screamed, despite training until she could barely stand—it still wasn't enough.
Wendy sat beside her, worry carved into her young features. Roubaul stood at the foot of her bed, silent but watchful. And then there was Naruto, standing with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Through the suffocating weight in her chest, Carla admitted the truth.
"I have no talent." Her voice was hoarse, fragile. "I'm… I'm nothing special. I'm just—" She swallowed hard, shame twisting in her gut. "Something mere."
The room was quiet.
Then, Naruto spoke.
"You remind me of someone I used to know." His voice was even, steady. "Back in my home, there was a man named Rock Lee."
Carla blinked, startled by the sudden shift. Rock Lee?
Naruto pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"He had no talent. Couldn't use magic, nor any other skills to make up for it. In a world where everyone had special abilities, he had nothing. People mocked him, said he'd never make it." Naruto's gaze sharpened. "But he didn't give up. He trained harder than anyone. He broke himself down, over and over again, until his body was nothing but pain and exhaustion."
Carla's breath hitched.
"And you know what happened?" Naruto's lips curved, not quite a smile, but something close. "He became the strongest man in terms of close combat in our village, even far stronger than elite wizards. He made those same people who looked down on him eat their words."
Silence hung in the air.
Carla stared at him, her heart pounding.
Naruto leaned back slightly, his voice softer now. "Strength isn't just about talent. It's about what you're willing to do, how far you're willing to go. He never stopped moving forward, no matter how much he lost. And you—" Naruto's gaze locked onto hers. "You remind me of him."
A lump formed in Carla's throat.
For the first time in a long while, the crushing weight of helplessness eased—just a little.
Naruto's voice, firm and unwavering, broke through the silence once more.
"You are not mere, nor a loser, Carla..."
His gaze bore into her, steady and resolute.
"It just means you have an even steeper hill to climb."
Carla exhaled shakily, her fingers gripping the bedsheets. A steeper hill.
From that moment on, Carla trained differently.
No more reckless overexertion, no more mindlessly throwing herself at an invisible wall, hoping sheer effort alone would break it. She trained with purpose. With discipline.
She studied her movements, refined her strikes, absorbed every lesson Naruto drilled into her. She trained alongside Wendy, pushing through exhaustion, not just for strength—but for control, for precision, for something that would last.
She didn't wake up stronger the next day. There were no shortcuts, no sudden bursts of talent.
But each morning, she moved a little sharper. Reacted a little quicker.
Each night, her body ached, but her resolve never faltered.
One step. Then another.
And before she knew it, Carla wasn't just running after Wendy anymore.
She was keeping up.
The battlefield was chaos—a ruined stretch of scorched earth and shattered trees, the remnants of the ongoing clash staining the air with smoke and dust. The Worth Woodsea canopy loomed overhead, casting jagged shadows that flickered with each explosion of magic. And in the heart of it all, Carla moved.
Not with the rigid, desperate dodging of before. Not with the frantic, instinct-driven reactions of a cornered fighter. She flowed.
Hoteye's Earth Magic tore the ground apart in an unpredictable rhythm, shifting between jagged spikes and sinking pits in an attempt to trap her. But Carla wasn't where he expected her to be. The moment the soil beneath her feet twisted, she was already gone, flipping off a falling tree trunk, twisting midair, and landing on the side of a stone spire. Before it could crumble, she launched off it, rebounding across his shifting battlefield like a specter.
Her speed wasn't just about running anymore. It was about angles, about movement—about being where the enemy couldn't reach.
Hoteye's brow furrowed, his usual disinterest cracking into something sharper. He clenched his fist, and the ground in front of Carla turned to quicksand, aiming to swallow her whole.
She didn't fight it. She dove forward, letting the momentum carry her into a roll before pushing off the unstable terrain. Using the rebounding force, she vaulted high, flipping over Hoteye's outstretched arm as he attempted to grab her.
There.
Midair, Carla twisted—her body bending fluidly, her heel carving through the space like a whip. A flying roundhouse.
Hoteye barely raised his forearm in time to block, but the impact rattled the bones underneath. His arm dipped, just slightly.
Carla wasn't done. She twisted again before landing, using the same force from her own kick to spin low, her other foot sweeping at his knee.
He staggered, his stance breaking for just a second.
A second was all she needed.
She shot upward from her crouch, using her hands to spring off the ground—an inverted flip kick aimed straight for his chin.
Hoteye tilted his head at the last moment, avoiding a direct hit, but Carla felt the impact as her foot grazed his jaw, forcing him back a step.
She landed smoothly, one foot sliding back into a defensive stance, breath steady despite the fire in her lungs.
Hoteye slowly straightened, rubbing his jaw. Then—he grinned.
"You're a tricky one," he mused, flexing his fingers. The earth beneath them rumbled ominously. "But let's see if you can keep dancing when the whole world is moving against you."
Carla exhaled, rolling her shoulders. The battle wasn't over.
Wendy's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding as the cold, unyielding stone beneath her sent a shiver up her spine. The dim cavernous cell was damp, the air thick with the scent of moss and something metallic—blood, perhaps. Her fingers trembled as she pushed herself upright, her breathing uneven.
The faint clinking of chains echoed through the silence, and her weary gaze lifted toward the shadow standing beyond the iron bars. A man bathed in an eerie glow of dark magic. His piercing gaze carried the weight of malice and amusement.
"Ah, you're awake," Brain's voice slithered through the stillness, smooth yet carrying a sinister undertone.
Wendy instinctively shrank back, her pulse quickening. She had heard of this man—the leader of Oración Seis, a mage steeped in the darkness of forbidden magic. With a flick of his fingers, the unseen binds around her wrists and ankles dissolved. No longer restrained, yet far from free.
The iron door groaned open as Brain stepped aside, motioning her forward. Hesitantly, Wendy obeyed, her legs still weak as she followed him deeper into the cavern. Shadows danced along the jagged walls, torches flickering ominously.
Then Brain halted. And Wendy's breath caught in her throat.
Bound in heavy chains, confined within a stone coffin, lay a man with familiar cerulean locks.
Jellal.
Her caretaker.
Her protector.
The man who had taken her in, who had given her warmth and kindness when she had no one.
Her fingers flew to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide.
"Jellal…" she whispered, barely finding her voice.
Brain smirked. "That's right. You know this man, don't you? He was your benefactor, your guiding light." His tone was devoid of sincerity, his amusement barely concealed as he moved toward the unconscious captive.
Wendy could only stare, horror and confusion swirling in her chest. She had heard whispers—tales of Jellal's crimes, the monstrous acts committed under his name. But the man she had known… he was kind. He was good.
Her mind spun. "W-what have you done to him?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Brain let out a chuckle, devoid of warmth. "Oh, we did nothing. He had already suffered his fate before we found him." He crouched beside Jellal's lifeless form, tilting his head in mock sympathy. "This man was broken long before we got our hands on him. You should know, Fairy Tail was the one responsible for his downfall."
Wendy's eyes widened.
Fairy Tail?
Her heart lurched, her stomach twisting into knots.
No, that couldn't be right. Her friends, her allies—they wouldn't do something like this.
Would they?
"Why… why are you showing me this?" she demanded, voice trembling.
Brain rose, his expression turning calculating. "Because, dear child, you possess the power to heal him. To restore him to his former self."
Wendy took a step back, shaking her head. "I—I don't understand. Why do you want me to heal him?"
The answer was immediate, cold. "That is none of your concern."
A gloved hand reached into his robe, revealing a glinting dagger. Brain twirled the blade between his fingers before pressing it lightly against Jellal's throat. The edge barely grazed the skin, but even the slightest pressure was enough to draw a thin crimson line.
"You see, this man holds no value to me," Brain said, voice casual. "The world sees him as nothing but filth. Trash. A disgrace." His grip on the dagger tightened. "And if you refuse… I will relieve him of that burden myself."
A sharp intake of breath.
Then—
"NO!" Wendy cried, panic surging through her.
The moment she spoke, Brain smirked in triumph.
"Good," he murmured.
Wendy's body trembled as she sank to her knees beside Jellal, hands hovering over his shackled wrists. The familiar warmth of healing magic began to pool at her fingertips, glowing faintly as she channeled her energy into him.
Seconds passed.
Then, Jellal's eyelids twitched. His breathing steadied. His fingers curled ever so slightly.
A surge of magic burst from his body.
A brilliant, unrelenting force sent Brain flying back, his body colliding with the cavern wall as rubble rained down around him.
Wendy gasped, shielding her face as the dust settled. When she lowered her hands, she saw Jellal rise from his restraints, his body moving with eerie precision.
But something was wrong.
He didn't speak.
Didn't acknowledge her.
His movements were… mechanical.
"Jellal!" Wendy called out, desperation in her voice.
But he did not stop.
Without hesitation, he turned and walked forward, leaving the wreckage behind.
Wendy reached for him, but her hand brushed against something—
A lacrima.
It rolled toward her, stopping at her fingertips.
She hesitated, her body frozen as she stared at it. Unlike any she had seen before, the lacrima was pitch black, its surface almost pulsating as tendrils of dark smoke wisped from its core.
And yet—
A familiar sensation washed over her.
A presence.
Naruto.
Her eyes widened in shock.
How?
Shaking hands reached for the lacrima, its weight heavier than expected. The moment her skin made contact, a pulse ran through her, a sudden draining sensation sapping her magic just as Naruto's presence always had.
It was just like him.
Wendy's breath hitched. Instinctively, she funneled her magic into the lacrima, trying to understand—trying to unlock whatever was sealed within.
Then—
The siphoning stopped.
A crack splintered across the surface.
Her heart pounded.
The lacrima trembled in her hands before slipping from her grasp, rolling across the floor.
Another crack.
Then another.
And then—
A burst of energy.
The lacrima shattered into fragments, dissolving into the air like dying embers.
And in its place, unconscious but alive—
Uzumaki Naruto lay before her.
Chapter End