Chasing The Light: Chapter 1.
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The air inside Magnolia's train station was too clean, too normal. A few curious glances were cast their way as they stepped off the railcar, but nothing more than murmurs followed them. It was almost disappointing, really.
Jellal walked ahead, as if he hadn't been branded a terrorist recently. He moved with the stiff grace of a man always at war—with others and with himself. Sorano was silent but sharp-eyed, her white hair swaying like a warning flag. Richard was a little too excited to be there, waving at strangers with his usual oversized enthusiasm. Sawyer stalked at the rear like a ghost, and Macbeth walked quietly, eyes closed, appearing asleep but ever observant.
Then came the last.
Boots hit the stone platform with a thud.
Cobra.
A smirk already tugged at the corner of his mouth like he was anticipating a fight—or laughing at a joke only he was in on. His dark auburn hair was a chaotic mess of spikes, each one defying gravity as if styled by a particularly aggressive pillow. Stray strands fell across his forehead, casting shadows over a sharp, feral eye that flicked around like he was always scanning for threats—or amusement. One pointed canine caught the light as he cracked his neck to the side with a lazy, almost predatory ease.
He was tall, the kind of tall that made people glance twice, and built lean with just enough muscle to suggest he knew how to throw a punch—and win. There was a casual strength in the way he carried himself, like he didn't need to prove anything because his presence already did. His long, white coat, half-zipped and beat to hell, hung open over a black turtleneck that clung to his frame, hinting at the power tucked beneath the surface. He didn't walk so much as prowl, every step loose and deliberate, like the world owed him space and knew better than to argue.
The poison dragon slayer stretched his arms out, eyes half-lidded. "Smells like candy and desperation," he said, his voice gravelly and amused. "Gotta be Magnolia."
"You promised you'd behave," Sorano muttered beside him, though she didn't sound convinced.
"I said I'd try," he said, smirk deepening. "And I'm tryin'—this is me trying."
When they finally reached Fairy Tail's gates, Cobra slowed. Not because of nerves—he didn't do nerves—but because the magic aura radiating from inside was already loud. Not in volume, not yet, but in soul signatures. He could hear them before the door even creaked open. Like a thousand radios playing at once, overlapping, tangled emotions, thoughts, music—all clashing and crashing like a symphony on fire.
The doors swung open.
Chaos.
The inside of Fairy Tail was exactly what he'd heard from the rumours—only louder, rowdier, and somehow worse. It was a barely-contained riot of noise and motion: brawling bodies crashing into furniture with reckless joy, shouted drink orders echoed from the bar like battle cries, and half-eaten food sailed through the air with no regard for where—or who—it landed on. The scent of spilled beer, roasted meat, and sweat hung thick in the air. Somewhere near the bar, a guy howled with laughter until he started choking, and no one even paused to help. Up in the rafters, a blue cat was screeching about fish like it was a life-or-death situation. It wasn't a guild hall—it was a madhouse with a liquor license.
Immediately, Cobra flinched. Just a twitch—but his jaw clenched and his one eye twitched slightly. His hearing didn't just pick up sound; it absorbed everything. Every heartbeat. Every soul.
It was too much.
"Ohhh no," Richard whispered, already catching the look on his face. "He's gonna spiral."
"I'm fine," Cobra growled.
He wasn't.
He pushed past his team without waiting and headed straight for the bar, like he could outrun the orchestra of voices stabbing at his brain. Mira Jane Strauss, behind the bar, blinked in surprise at the sudden presence of a one-eyed, pissed-off man dropping into one of her stools like it owed him rent.
Cobra slapped his hand on the polished wood. "Whisky. And bleach."
There was a pause.
"Sorry, what was that second one?" Mira asked, with the too-sweet smile of someone used to utter madness.
"Bleach. The cleaning kind."
"I'm going to pretend you meant very strong alcohol," she said, pouring him something dark enough it probably had a criminal record.
He downed it in one swallow.
The burn was nice. Real. Unlike the screeching mess behind him.
He let his elbows rest on the bar, jaw ticking, fingers drumming against the wood in a jittery rhythm as he started sorting through the noise.
This was the real reason he hated crowds—not because he gave a shit about people, but because he could hear too much of them. The soul was a messy, undisciplined thing when left to the average idiot, and Fairy Tail was full of them.
One by one, he started picking them apart like peeling rotten fruit.
There was the screamer—pink-haired, wild-eyed, an aura like a cracked drum. Natsu Dragneel. Dragon Slayer, like him. Fire. Loud. Too loud. Everything about his soul vibrated like a brawl waiting to happen. No nuance, no filter. Just unrefined rage and joy, clashing together like cymbals in a thunderstorm. Cobra winced as the idiot laughed again, the sound ricocheting through the air and rattling his molars.
He made a mental note to never be within five feet of him again. Maybe ten. Or twenty. Preferably another continent.
Next: the redhead. Erza Scarlet. Her soul was clean, sharp—controlled like a pressure-locked chamber. It shimmered with discipline, honour, and violence wrapped in velvet. Cold, but not cruel. Every motion she made was calculated. An overachieving perfectionist with a terrifying kill count. He'd bet money she alphabetised her trauma.
He didn't like her either. Too clean. Too stiff. The type who got off on rules and "team synergy."
Sitting across from her was a walking migraine in human form: Gray Fullbuster. Ice magic. Soul colder than a corpse. Deep, angry, bitter, and—if Cobra had to bet—compensating for something. Probably that chronic strip habit. His soul hissed with resentment and one giant, festering inferiority complex. Pouting like a man who never got picked first and never learned to shut up about it. There was grief buried in him too, thick and heavy like sediment. It made Cobra's tongue taste like ash.
"Frosted Flake's got issues," Cobra muttered to himself, grimacing.
The little slayer, sky dragon to be exact, sat near the end of the table, straight-backed, hands folded in her lap. Her soul was small but bright. Shy, with flickers of confidence that hadn't quite bloomed yet. A white cat sat beside her, judgmental eyes cutting across the room. The Exceed's soul was as prickly as her attitude—pure but wrapped in thorns.
Then there was the other cat. Why the hell does this guild like talking cats? The damn thing's soul was weirdly high-pitched, buzzing like a cracked whistle, but mostly harmless. Loyal to a fault. Probably annoying in the mornings.
Cobra's lip curled. "What a goddamn zoo."
And it didn't stop there.
Everywhere he looked, more idiots. More noise. More soul frequencies shrieking at him like off-tune violins. Fairy Tail's guildhall was infested with them, each one louder and more emotionally volatile than the last. And he could hear all of them.
That little blue-haired girl—Levy, he remembered—her soul was bright and bookish. It danced in careful patterns, tidy loops of curiosity and kindness. Like an overachiever who needed to prove she belonged.
Gajeel—another Dragon Slayer. Metal. Gravel. Growled like he chewed nails for breakfast and somehow liked the taste. Weirdly proud, though. Respected strength, despised pretenders. Cobra could stomach that.
Cana's soul reeked of liquor and loneliness. It swirled, thick with bravado, but underneath? A raw ache. Daddy issues and a bar tab longer than a grand piano.
Lisanna, calm and gentle. A bowl of plain rice; he could tune her out easily enough.
Juvia—Yandere-level fucked up. No shocker there.
Bickslow—pure fucking chaos, wrapped in glitter and unhinged laughter. His soul was a goddamn disco ball spinning on a tilt. Cobra physically grimaced and looked away when he passed near him.
And then there was Laxus.
Jesus. Cobra nearly gagged.
That one's soul roared with static and lightning and pure self-importance. Arrogance so thick it clogged his ears. A raw current of barely contained power and daddy drama.
Cobra rubbed his temples. "Why am I here?" he hissed under his breath.
He thought about getting up. Walking out. Torch the building on his way and calling it a mercy.
But then—
Her.
The last soul he picked up didn't scream like the others.
It sang.
Soft. Warm. Golden, like honey on a summer afternoon. Not loud like the others. Not desperate. It didn't claw at him for attention, didn't try to overpower the noise. It just existed. Constant. Gentle. Good.
It shouldn't have stood out.
But it did.
His head turned slowly, eyes narrowing like he didn't trust what he had just heard.
And there she was.
Blonde hair, glossy, long and shining like it had been kissed by sunlight. Long legs crossed as she leaned into a laugh; she moved like she didn't know every eye in the room followed her. Brown eyes—wide, soft, and kind. Clothes that clung like a second skin, but she didn't even seem to notice—or care. She wasn't performing. She just was. Untouched by the chaos around her. Untouched by him.
Lucy Heartfilia.
The first non-moron he had heard all day.
She laughed at something the blue cat said—Happy, that was its name. The sound was easy. Innocent. It cut through the din around him like a bell.
And for a moment—just one—
The static had quietened.
Cobra stared, eyes narrowing not in judgement, but in reluctant curiosity.
What the hell was she?
And why did her soul sound like music?
His lip twitched.
Cobra stared, arms folded, something unreadable twitching in his jaw. He didn't say anything. Not yet. But for the first time since setting foot in this technicolour hellhole, he stopped wishing for a sudden death.
The Fairy Tail guild was chaos incarnate by the time the sun began its slow descent over Magnolia. What was meant to be a simple greeting turned into a full-blown celebration the moment Jellal and his group walked through the doors. Someone shouted "PARTY!" and that was that—kegs rolled out, someone uncorked wine with their teeth, and Laxus started betting on who could chug the most ale before passing out.
Cobra loitered near the bar, shoulders hunched, and arms folded, looking like a storm cloud in human form. The mix of yelling, crashing, laughter, and poorly played music scraped against his eardrums. Too many voices, too many flavours. Joy, excitement, drunken stupidity. It all overlapped and tangled until it turned to noise in his head.
He wanted to die.
Or kill someone.
Whichever came first.
A chair scraped behind him. Cobra didn't need to look to know it was Jellal.
"Let's go," Jellal said quietly, his voice calm as always, like this wasn't the fourth ring of hell.
Cobra sighed, drained the rest of his glass, and slid off the stool like a man walking towards his own funeral. "What is this, detention?"
The two of them wove through the chaos. A half-naked man crashed onto a table beside them. Confetti exploded in the background. Someone screamed "CANNONBALL!" and leapt off the second floor.
Cobra just scowled harder.
They reached a heavy door tucked behind the main hall. The noise dulled as it swung open, replaced by quiet murmurs and the low hum of a lacrima projector. The conference room was dimly lit, a long table stretching down the centre, with both Crime Sorcière and Team Natsu already gathered around it.
Erza sat at the head, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Natsu lounged in a chair like it was a hammock, legs propped up, chewing on something that was definitely not food. Gray slouched with arms folded, already glaring at everyone. Lucy sat by Wendy to the side, a clipboard in her lap, twirling a pen absent-mindedly as she listened to something Meredy was saying.
Cobra stared at the youngest slayer for a beat longer than necessary. Kids had no business being on a job like this. Especially this one.
Ignoring them all, he slumped into the last open chair and kicked his boots up onto the table. "Alright," he drawled, "what the hell is this mission we're apparently risking our lives for?"
Jellal didn't rise to the bait. "We've agreed to team up with Fairy Tail to pursue a dark mage operating north of the continent. As we have a lot of experience with black magic, it only makes sense for us to assist with his capture."
"Pass."
Erza's brow twitched. "You haven't heard the details."
Cobra smirked lazily. "Don't need to. If this ends with 'save the world,' I've seen that movie. Didn't like the ending."
"Too bad," Erza replied flatly. "You have already been cast."
"You can cast someone else,"
"Or, you could try listening," Lucy said lightly, not looking up from her notes.
"Oh, Blondie, I am listening," Cobra said with a crooked smirk. "It's the only reason I haven't jumped out of the window yet."
Gray scowled. "We don't need his fuckin' attitude."
"Oh?" Cobra tilted his head, amused. "You gonna cry about it? You want a tissue or a pacifier?"
Gray stood halfway out of his chair. "Say that again."
"Say that again," Cobra mimicked, pitching his voice up. "Is that your soul talking or just your last two brain cells doing jumping jacks?"
Natsu, never one to be left out of an argument, slammed a fist on the table. "Hey! If you're gonna be a dick, get out!"
"Oh, so now we're drawing lines?" Cobra said, eyes glinting. "I figured this whole guild was built on dick energy."
"Alright!" Lucy said sharply, sitting forward. "Can we please stay focused? We're supposed to be strategising, not trading insults."
Cobra's eyes flicked towards her, and just like earlier, everything else went quiet.
Her soul still hummed. Clear. Warm. Focused.
He leaned back, his smirk deepening. "Huh. I thought blondes were supposed to be dumb."
Lucy blinked. "Excuse me?"
"But that idea you just had about triangulating travel routes through border towns?" He shrugged. "Not bad. Kind of smart, even."
She bristled, trying to figure out if that was an insult or not. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Relax, Tits McGee."
Her face lit up like a bonfire. "Excuse me!?" she squawked, eyes wide, cheeks flaming.
"Oh, come on," he drawled, putting both hands up like he was innocent. "They're right there. Can't fault a guy for being observant."
"You can if the guy's being gross," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would somehow hide them.
Sorano sighed as if this were old news. "Here we go."
Cobra turned to her with a grin. "What? I'm being friendly."
Lucy glared. "If that's your idea of friendly, I'd hate to see you when you're being mean."
"Oh sweetheart," he purred, his voice dropping low, "you haven't even begun to see me mean." He winked. "But I'm open to demonstrations."
She shot out of her chair, scandalised, halfway to throwing her pen at his head, "You're unbelievable."
"Not the word most people use," he mused. "Usually it's 'obnoxious,' 'offensive,' or 'Cobra, please leave the building.'"
From across the room, Gray let out an exaggerated groan. "Seriously? You can't go five minutes without turning into a walking HR violation?"
Cobra shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a people person."
"That's not being a people person," Erza said sharply from her position as head of the table, arms crossed like she was ready to assign detention. "That's being inappropriate."
"Oh no," Cobra mock-gasped, placing a hand to his chest. "Not inappropriate. How will I ever recover?"
"Keep running that mouth and I'll burn it shut," Natsu hissed.
Cobra's smirk didn't falter. "Oh, is that supposed to scare me?" He gave a mock shiver, clearly unfazed. "Please, I've had worse threats from my mirror."
"Cobra," Erza spoke, her tone stern, indicating her waning patience, "It would be wise of you to not sexually harass the people you're working with."
Cobra clicked his tongue. "Sexual harassment is such a loaded term."
"Try accurate," Gray muttered.
"Whatever," Cobra said, waving a hand. "Jugs is tough. She can take it."
Lucy bristled but stayed quiet this time, her jaw tight.
Jellal cleared his throat loudly. "As I was saying…"
Cobra slouched back in his chair, that shit-eating grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as the conversation sputtered back to life without him. Jellal was droning on again—strategy, logistics, whatever. He stopped listening after the words "Clover Town."
The guild's conference room was stifling, too many bodies packed into a space that smelled like ink, coffee, and the faint, unmistakable musk of wood polish and stress. The table was scattered with maps, pins, notes—breadcrumbs pointing to a bastard they hadn't caught up to yet. Somewhere out there, northbound, the dark mage was still on the move. The first girl disappeared from Elmbrook That was the trailhead, so that's where they'd start, but they'd need to head to Clover Town first, as it had the only connecting train line to the larger city.
And after that?
Cobra didn't care about the plan beyond that. Not unless it ended with someone bleeding out at his feet.
He tapped a finger against the armrest, boredom buzzing beneath his skin. The room was still talking—strategising, organising, overthinking—and all he could hear beneath it was noise. Too much noise. Erza's clipped words. Jellal's authoritative tone. Natsu and Gray's grumbling tension. Even Lucy, quiet now, was tense as wire, her soul still thrumming with the aftershock of their earlier exchange. She sat back, arms crossed, trying not to react. Trying to ignore him.
It was cute.
Cobra's gaze drifted over the room, lingering on the guild's glass-stained windows where twilight was bleeding in from the edges. Shadows stretched longer. The day was winding down.
And tomorrow, the chase will begin.
They'd follow the cold trail north, hoping it hadn't vanished entirely, and praying the bastard had slipped up. Cobra doubted it would be that easy. Monsters who fed on light were usually clever enough to hide in the dark.
But still… a part of him itched for the fight. Ached for it. This whole teamwork thing, all the talking and waiting and walking on eggshells—it wasn't his rhythm. He didn't play nice. Didn't want to.
He just wanted action.
Violence. Clarity. Purpose.
He just hoped this dark mage would put up more of a fight than these idiots.
Because if not, he might kill one of them just to keep things interesting.
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