- Vandrad & Saffron:
- Vandrad and Saffron were on their way. So were their to-be opponents in open battle, a tattooed martial artist accompanied by a humanoid entity in all black, a grey-bleached face and with brown horns crooked like those of a young ram. The two Raven Tail members were on their toes, making sure not to cause too much noise in their advance towards these magical signatures that the black one sensed – this black demon, Regi, showed yet no clear intent on his face, a blank page for the most part except when Acennan gave him orders.
Jahal, on the other hand, was shaking in his very fingers. He felt mana rush into him from the air around the pair, rejuvenating him at a constant rate. He couldn’t wait to attack them, he had to, he was too backed up to wait any longer… and thus, leaving Regi’s side, Jahal was on the run! Full speed, galloping out of the thick woods and onto the more open, roadlike area. He was in full view of both Vandrad and Saffron, and vice versa, they too could now see him in his full glory-
A 10-meter high explosion only coating a radius of a few meters was launched from the ground beneath Jahal as he ran towards them, a result of having disturbed one of the magical ‘scars’ on the dirt floor with his heavy stampede. For a moment, dust and debris created a cloud where he once stood, preluding some to think that he had run straight into his own demise… only to see him dart out of the cloud of smoke and charge straight towards the two of them, unphased. He cackled with a raspy, deep voice, and his right fist was raised and sent ahead with precision once he thought himself getting closer and closer to Saffron. His fist grew out bone spikes, but… they looked more metal in nature than mere bone matter. “YOU! I CHALLENGE YOU, NISAA’A!!!”
He was full of energy, and it boosted both his prowess and his ego. Those who were to sense his magic power could clearly see licking flames of gold escape his body at all times, while a certain someone with a far more secretive aura was slowly catching up to them… in slow steps.
- Akeya & Nymara:
- Dragons… Praise should’ve never devoured that Lacrima. He was a foolish Stellan man, intoxicated with the power it bestowed him without thinking twice about the price he thought himself to pay one day. With each and every heartbeat, he felt the Lacrima deep inside of his flesh grow and spread its roots throughout his bloodstream, the iron in his blood rising and the color of his skin changing over the years. And then… cracks.
Cracks had once opened on his skin, like a bomb was about to blast through his interior. It was the scariest moment in his entire life, and yet it lasted for far longer than a mere nightmare. Days, weeks, perhaps months passed with these cracks threatening to end him, but were they really that threatening? If one was to ask Praise himself, then he would’ve probably killed the nosy one on the spot.
Acennan brought him to this island in search of a source of magic that was powerful enough to suppress the inevitable. The Dragon Slayer had finally gotten a taste of it through his Guild Mark, but he was a changed man at this point in time. Once paranoid, it was as if his mind grew weary of things around him – as if he was actively preventing himself from something desirable, but without the ability to point said wish out loud. Acennan’s honeyed words began falling flat on the Slayer’s ears, and here he was; a bored Dragon Slayer with an exterior of unknown alloys shining under the rays of the sun and the wounds covering the island.
The relief of suppressing and removing the sight of the cracks on his skin made him reflect… and thus, he grew quite indifferent. He didn’t feel happy about any of this – he couldn’t give a shit about Fairy Tail, but he also forgot why he cared about Raven Plumes to begin with. He got what he wanted… but if he returned home, then maybe his cracks would return. How annoying. He’d have to deal with Acennan later once he got the opportunity to.
Nymara would have walked straight into a crossroads where Praise had sat down, his metallic tail slithering in the air above him. There was another person on his feet next to Praise, wearing a traditional Midijin haori in deep green, tied around his waist with a military-green sash. The other dude’s hair was long on the bangs up front, with the hair on the back of his head tied up in a bun. Other than that, it was difficult to find other notable traits on the person’s body due to a white mask covering their face.
“Praise, there might be more of them lurking-“
“*sniff* *sniff* … No, I don’t sense anyone else near her. Let’s just get this over with.”
Praise finally rose up on his feet; at the same time, Kagami rose his hands up and caused particles to fill the air around all three of them. Nymara would immediately feel a stinging cold all around her, a temperature low enough to make muscles spasm, while Praise thrusted his fist forward. That metallic fist of his turned into a blade and cut through the cold air at high speed, desiring to open Nymara’s chest completely in due time.
- Menka & Julius:
- ”Ooooooooh, this is the woooooooooooorst~. Not a soul my taste in this poor island,” a groaning, high-toned voice echoed through the woods, the owner swaying his two golden fans over his face, “Acennan could’ve just left me to my own devices back at the guild… but nooooooooooo, Hachiman-yooooooo, I need your strength in this crusade of miiiiiiine! Yet never have I felt so lonely… Fairies don’t stick true to myth and legends, being as repulsively knuckle-headed as those…”
Hachiman was not having a good time. His good time consisted of… hmh, how would one such as him put it? Indulging in the carnal pleasures stored within his heart in the body-warm, wet and wine-red company of speechless, buxom women?
… Yeah, that sort of conveyed enough truth for him.
And yet, his senses rang as his ears twitched at the distant hum of fate. His eyes widened like a curious child, drawing himself closer to the source of the hum as his pushing of the bushes and leaves revealed his arrival. “H-Hellooooo? Oh you with the hum of the gods, m-may I have your compa- o-oh my…”
His face reddened immediately. Fate was ever kind to him again, just as always – in an island as lost as this one, he found himself the most illustrious kitsune as of yet! What were the odds?! And take a look at that velvet red hair running down her head, and those tails warm enough to rejuvenate an entire village throughout an icy winter.
Hachiman made his move, but nothing on his body’s language implied that he wanted to attack or in any way, shape or form harm the kitsune. Hearts were clearly drawn in his eyes, and a face Menka might’ve been all too familiar with adorned his front – love, above all, love bubbled out from his skin. “T-Thank you… oh thank you! You’ve not the slightest clue how lonely I’ve been… this island I thought was void of passion, until my eyes were lucky enough to meet yours~.”
He couldn’t help but embrace her from behind, taking in her form and perfumes and letting it all imbue in his soul. Hachiman really acted like a child waking up for Christmas and finding a perfect gift under the pine tree. His garments also appeared very Midijin, a trait Menka might’ve been able to catch on to. “Won’t you tell me your name, love? Let’s forget this faraway endeavor and seek refuge somewhere else…”
While Hachiman was getting himself quite comfortable nearing Menka, the pirate’s echoing screams could be heard in the far distance. “I smell seawater near yoooooooooou! Are you flirting with a fellow pirate?! Send them to me, let me recruit them!”
“… ARE YOU IGNORING ME, HACHIMAAAAAAAAAAAAN?!!!”
The voice grew louder, but it didn’t get any closer to them. Fearing that the braindead pirate Tempest was going to ruin his chances with Menka, Hachiman quickly beckoned: “Why don’t we go somewhere else, anata? I bet you, too, find interruptive creeps… distasting.”
- Leonard had gotten to the tree before even Mura and company had. While in wait for the rest to weaken the forces, the tree could have been invaded and retaken by the elder swordsman… but luck was not on his side. One of the invaders of this island knew how to weave in between dimensions – and that was on a more literal scale than you’d imagine – and just happened to peek out from behind a tree when those blue eyes met the Bladestorm’s cold gaze.
“Z-Zut, zut, zut, zut, zut, someone’s here, t-they just saw me- w-what now, what should I do, Sangreal?”
It was the voice of a paranoid mage. Leonard could see long, whirly braids of blonde hair from the pink-clad mage as he panicked behind the tree, but were Leonard to charge at the tree in reaction, then he’d find that nobody was present there… not anymore. Into nothing, the previously spotted man had gone.
“Ohhh… wait a minute. Is he…” a female’s voice rang out in curiosity, looking at Leonard from what appeared to be nowhere, “… No, I don’t recognize this swordsman. And here, I was promised a greater challenge than any of the musketeers.” Bad omens of danger would surround the swordsman, for chunks of wood found far away were suddenly floating a dozen meters above his head – these stumps were sharp and prickly, and they flew straight down at Leonard in full force. Mana surrounded the air, revealing that someone had cast a spell to cause this immediate scenario.
“Tell me, geezer; are you light on your feet, or have your hips failed you?” the woman’s voice rang out again, seemingly hiding behind another tree with a grin on her face. It was always fun to play around with unaware opponents, but she didn’t plan to hide like a coward for too long… she just wanted to see if he was even worth her honor. He did look old, grey-haired and wrinkled already – and there was no honor in a fair duel with a senile.
Mura, Aven and Takumi reached the tree without interruption. At the very base, between roots exposed to the air, there was a tunnelway leading further down, and Mura braked up in preparation. A deep breath was taken before he turned towards Aven: “If you got any traps to put, now’s a good time. There’s someone down there… and they likely won’t hurt the tree to flee. Therefore, this exit is important.” Otherwise, simply drilling through the cavern below would do the trick to escape, but it would also injure the foundation that the Core Tree was sitting atop. They couldn’t risk that, and neither could the one waiting below.
Regardless of Aven’s next actions, Mura would fly down the tunnelway. A bit of paranoia was starting to creep up on him… he didn’t want Takumi to get hurt. Not with what had been told to him about Takumi’s kids. He, himself, would be fine distracting the culprit below, if that would let Aven or Takumi take them by surprise – that was the reason Mura went ahead of them now. The further down he flew, the louder the noises became…
Ȳ̵̢̜͍̻̘͙̼̼͇͉̺͙̩̑̃̄͒͛͐̒̈́̃̔͌͋̚͜͜o̵͈̣̒́́̃͋̏̿̑͠u̶͈͖̻͕̰̲̱̺̬͙̻͙̰̤͋͌͑̇̎͑͗̊̂’̸̧̝͙̱̬̤̭̟̹͉͖̦͗̐̃̃̽͐̚ͅȓ̵̨̨̢̡͎͙̙̘͔͙͆̈́̈̚ͅe̴̢͙͔̱͙͇̼̣͕̊̑̐̈́̃̂̈̐̂̕ ̶͙̘͖̼̭̾̍̒̾̃̌̌̚͝͝h̵̩͚̣͉̰̰̪̹͑̐́̓̂͐́̿̈͝ę̸̟̝͍̖̲͔̤̇̀̆̓̌̍̌͂̎̍̀́͌́̚r̵̩̭̬̘̰̗̗̻̟͔̯͈͙͆̌̒́̒̒́ę̴̢̨̱͇̝̱̦̫͕̱͋̀̃̑̋̔͘͠͠ ̸̡́͋͊̈̄̂̓̚̕̕͝ä̵̡̩̩̞́̌ ̴͈̤͉̤̖̠̬͎̲͉̳̩̈̒͐̿̏̀͑͂͋͝l̷̢̡̻͈͙͇̭̣͕̓͛̅̋̓̈́͜͠í̸̲̦̜̥͇̤̟͙͍̙̺͍̣̘͌͐̇̀͜͠t̵̛̲̳̫̝̐̃̑̑͗̇̏͘t̸̘̬̙̭͙̭̹̹̦̭̖̎͋̌l̶̹̒̒̂̐̅̈e̷̢͙̱͍̥̘̲̝̝͇̤̦͇͂ͅ ̴̛̻͓̰̦͍̠̼̻͇̫̐͌́͒̕̚͠͝h̶̖̉͑͛̋͛̉̄̊́̍̔͑̕͝ě̸̢̡̨̨̛̳̠͚͍͈̘̦̣̅̑̎̈͝n̶̼͖̯̭͇̻͕͋̐͛͂̾̈́̄̌͒̄.̵̡͈̪̀̈͂̈́͒͗̇͝ ̶̝̳̠͎͔̹̼̙̋͊̋̒̔͛̉̌͝ͅA̵̛̛̼̖͍͖̎̉̀̔̎͑̈ͅ ̴̲̝̝̭̪͔̟̳̙̟̳͆͑̿̏̊͒͗̑͒͂̎ͅm̶̻̳̲̞͔̤͎̰̱̞̲̈̔̽ͅȧ̷͎͇̗s̴̢̩̣̜̫̣͇̔̅̓̿̔͆̇̀͆̋͐̚̚͝ͅt̵̨̡̠͇͚͈̞̅̑̓̍͗̽̕͝͝ͅȇ̵̢̛̗̘̤̕r̶̝̝͉̘̤̬̿ ̴̠̰̗͙̗͖͈̜̬̬̪͑͛͒͆̊̕͠o̶̢̗̙̬̘̘͔̠̪̱͎̓́̎̽͐̇̐̈̋͐̈̈́͝f̷̨̺͉̠͖̻̮̗͙̘̂̑ ̶̢̝͍̦̙̔̅̇͠p̵͇̒͊͗́́̇͐͘̕͘l̴̛͔͓͔̝̖̲̞͉̬͚͍̗͚͗͋̏͑̈́͐̌͑̈́͋̈́͗͜͝͠ò̴̮̼̠̬̪̺̭̪̰͙͉̺̳̩̅̄͝ͅṫ̴̡͖̻͓̞̟͔͓̩̯̭͖̱̼͋̎̈́̅̀t̵͍͇̤͚̳̯̮̮̟͚̜̃͒̉̔̕̕̚͠ͅͅę̸̧͓̫̜̝̮͍̜̌̀̿́̉̀͗̐̔͊̈́͘r̸̹̦̮̥̍̑̄̑̔̋̉́̊̈́͗̕̕͝s̴̛̙̬̫̪̳̝͒̿̇̋͋͆̊,̴̧̡͙͙̲̩͆͂͊ ̷̯̫̯͈̪̆̀͋͐̈́̾̽͆͌̇́͑c̵̘̭̰̝͍͔̓̅̀̒̇̀̊̏̿́͘̚ḩ̴̢̟̳͇̣̗̪͚̰̠̮̺̮̊͑͌̑͘͜͝i̵̦̯̬̱͆̔̇̈́̐ć̵̘͇̼͇́̋̈́̏̃́͛k̶̳͍͇̻̺͉͎̫͔̗̓̉̌̔̃́̎̽̂͠ͅe̴̛͙̍͛̔̏̓͊̑͋̄n̴͖͔̦̰̜̬̈́͐͑̿̓̌͂̌̾̈́̂s̷̢͎͔̺͇̻̼̞̿͂̊͜͝ͅ,̶̡͉̹͙̻͙̞̦͇̠̲͚̔́̈́̈́͌̈́͆̉̌͠ ̴͖͙̫̤͕̻̽͆̒̎̀͠ͅă̷̡̠̦͔͓̰̞̗͚͎̯͖̓̓̎͗̿́́͝p̵̡̛̤͔̪̮͇͈̰̺͚͐͌̈́̈́̉̒͜ė̷̢̼̲̜͈̘͕s̶̢̨̢̢͍͎̬͉̥͎̝̮̩͍̆̀̇̓͐͐́̈́̄̿͐̕ ̷̢͕̻̈͛̈́̎̉̎̏͘͝ą̶̢̻͈̣̣̟̥͕̺̊̾̈́͗̀͗̓̄̕̚͝͝͠͠n̷̰̘̭̉d̴̡̳͉̮͔̗́̔̒̉̌̄͗͋̐̑̂̚ ̸̡̛̗̞͛̈́͗̉̍̊̊͝͝d̵̡̻̜̮̬̩̜̓̓̋̈́̾̀͊̍́̀̀̅͊͋͠ǫ̶̭͓̭̯̱̫̳̤̭͕̠̫̖̇͋̄̍̅͜g̴̛̥͎̺̦̫̳̺̝͓̳̰̖̻͔̍͛̆̌̾̈́̚͝š̶̡̢̺̘̱̤̪̠̰͑̅͆̽̽̓͑ͅ.̶̰͕͚̹̗̣̹͎͍̥̭̈̓͐̂́͊̀̐͘
It was a very condescending voice, if one were to decipher its tone. Somehow, this one’s words cut a little deeper, and Mura had yet to figure out just why. He was sturdier than that, he shouldn’t let words get to him…
N̴̢̛̹̤͚͍̍͗̆̈́̈́̍͗̃̄̃̃̕͘ó̷̧̟̹̺̜͓͇̗̙̹̹̣̤̽́̃̅̈́̽ ̷͖͕̗̝̼͈̭͙̭͍̤̤̈̄̎̿̍̏͜͝ͅļ̷̙̩̬̫͕̣̿͊͊̃͊̍̓̍̆͛͛̚͝ö̷̡͓̯̀̓̇͝ṋ̴̝͋̋̈͗͑͗̽̌̀̆̀̒̕̕͝ͅģ̴͕̜̍̅̉͆̿̉̓́͂̈́ę̴̪̱͙̮̪͔̰̀̉̎́͊r̷̪͓̩̺̭̤̜̬̃̃̂́̽̒́̾̂̄̈́̐͠͠͝ ̷͉̦̞͇͒a̴̡͚̗̭̮̲̘͐͂̑̊̍͆͘͝ ̴̨̛̲̦̭̖̼͙̮͙̣̝̌̒͒̈͊̆́͑͜͠s̸̻̏̋̑͛̏̎̚ṫ̵̛̮̝̩͌̈́̓͌́̈́͌͂̽͋̕͝͝o̷̯̒̈́͛̈̈̒̀̐̒̏͂̊͂̃r̸̢̢͓̙̥̹̯̱͇͍̘̩͆̋̃͝͝ͅͅy̵̩̅̊̾̀͘̚ ̷̧̡̘̘̜̱͎̺̙͑̑̈́̿͜ţ̷̛͍͍̺̘͎̉́̾̒̈́̏̐͝ͅǫ̶̩̟̗̭̠͖̬̩̝͕͊̓̆͝ ̷̢͈̼̻͙̳́̐͌́̿͂̈́̂̐̂̈́̾͝ṭ̸̻͍̮̲͓̻̖̆͑̓̿́̓̈̆̌͗̚͝e̴̫̿l̸̛͈͖̫̟̳̂̔̽̓͆̑̌́̈́̄͜͜͝l̷̠̬̖̆ ̷̧̨͉͙̲̞̣̭̘͓̯̰̓̈́̓̓̽̏̎̔̉͝ͅć̵̢̛̤̟͈̗̫͊́̽͌̅̎̈́̎͌͝͠͝͝h̷͇͕̙̓̑̾́̈̋̌͘͝i̵̢̨͖͖͇͖͚̰̳͖͔̗͎̓̀̔̐̈́̅̾̓̒͂͆͜l̷̡̦̼͍̲̱̖̪͖̰̬͕͙͕͝ḓ̶̢̢̧͎̞̖̲̻̗͚͖͕͖͌͜r̶̛̠̈̓́͘e̶̟̼͎͉̹͕̟͍̿n̵̛̲̙̐̓͑͠ ̴̢̗͔͇̜̭̹͓̟͍̂͆̽̋̐̿͐͐̑̄͜ͅȁ̵̧̹̫̺͎̰͛́̇͑̓̌̓̇͆̕͠s̸̡̧̢̡͇͈̭͚̠̬̖̹̘̮͖͒̈́̄̓̕̕͠͝ ̴͚̠̺̹̼͚̺̓̊͂͜ͅt̸̬̘̖̤̻̓̊̔̉̀̈̃̒̆̒͘͠h̶̛̻̻͉̟̙̦̦̩̭̓̃͋̋̿̉͗̾̀͒͂̆́͝ë̵̳͙́̇͐y̴̛̛͍̫̝̞̳͎̘͈͔̥̹̎͑͆͛͛̇͒̍̕͜ ̸̞̗̺͎̟͓͖̲͒̄̅͂̍̎̍͘̚͘͝g̵̡͖̻̳͇͖̭̲͔̩̹͇̙̖͛͆͑̽̈́̄͐͊͋̅̚͘̕̚o̷̗̓͂͐́̊̾̕͝ ̷̧̹͎̗͓͉͍͔͇̬͛͐͋̈́͂͌̀̓̕͝ţ̸̛̘̗͙̬̞̝͕̒̏ǫ̶͍̪̘̬̪̖͇̗͚͐̉̃̚͜͠ͅ ̵̣͇͈͙̰̥̆̇̀́̄̀͘b̸̛̛̲̭̰̖̣̹̹̠̹̦͙͔̠̻͈̏͆͛ḛ̵̹̥̬̭̤͕̫̣̮̤̜̆́̒̈̚͜d̶̢͚̯͚̘͍͇̻̘̦̘̮̳̺͆͗͋͘͜.̵̨̡̨̩̹̤̝̠͎̣̤̀̂̾͝ͅ ̶̡̡̛̛͇̲̫̣̜̤̞̳̝̉͊͗̃͐̒̈́̏̽̌̔͝N̵̗̎́̒o̴̭̱̰̩̞̘̟̎̔̚ ̸̘̩͓͖͈̯̪̙́̽ͅl̵̨̼̲̞̤̩̦̖̣̹̞̒̃̆̇̋͒̉͒͘o̸̡͕͓̣͚̻̝͖̲͖̞̲̓͛͆͛̈́̅n̸̢̠͓͇͍̙̫̐̈́̂ǵ̷̢̥̥̥̹͖͇̌̿͊̓͂̅͘͝e̵̢͇̝̲̯͋͗̎ȓ̷̢͚̘̣̼̇̐̇͋̆́ ̴̻̘̱̱̇̎̽́͂̍̊̕á̸̝̮̮̯͚̄̓͛̅̽̉͘͝ ̴̨̡̨̢̧̻̰̥̭̟̥̣͈̒̅́̿̒͆͂̚͜͜p̸̢̫͖̭̃̄à̴͖̳͚͙͖̣͖̠̯̹̈̈́̈̔̆r̴̛͉̥̰͖̟̉̓̌͂̈̃̂̑̒̎̔͊́͝a̸̮͔̹̖̲͎̭̟̩̋̓͛g̵̘̩̪̜̝̬̠̭͓̐̾́̊͗̋̄́̀̆̊͗̽͘̚͜͜o̷̭̜̲̝̖̝̘̘͐̒́͑̑̀̈͑̈̂̄͐͘̚̚ͅn̸̡̰̖̞͔͉̲̳̑̂ͅ ̸̮̥̝̫͒͝ǫ̶̖͙̺̲̿̈̎̔̓͂̔̀͘͠f̷̧̧̛̹̺̪̪̺͎̣͖̙͎̹͑̓͌͑̈́̎̿̉̉́͋͋͝͝ ̶̧̳̞̗̲̪̩̮̦͎̤͔̣͉̎͛͆̄͆́̋̈́͊̀̏̇͜ě̸̪̠̘̬̀̓͗̍̍x̸̢̧̠̥͇͇̠̲̻͔͔̤̩̆͌̄̔̀͛͘ͅp̶͚̗̯̤̬̭̞̦͉͂̄̈́̉̔̎͊̉͑̆̎́̆̚̕l̴̫̬͔̤͉̔̂̐̈́̏͑ơ̸̡͇̗͙̥̤͇̣̣͍̺̞̤̳͆̊̍̇͆͊́̿̃͋͠r̸͔̯̳̺̀̿͆̊a̶̤̐̆̿̌́̂̎̽̑t̶̛̺̫̰̣̺͔̩͇̻̦͑͑͒̈̓͘̚͝į̴̡̧̨̡̼̻̦͚͇̿͒́́̈́̊ō̷͇̲̲̯͖̫͊̚͝ñ̷̢̧͕͖̥͚̙̺̬͉̭͕͍̄͗̈̅͗͛̓̃́͘̕͠.̸̢̛̤͍͖͚̼͖̩̰͙̝̲̻̈̒̋̒͐́̆̅̎̒̚͝͠ͅ ̵̠̬̦̱̖̰̗̳̫̱͍̘̊̈͑̿̏̈͘͝N̷̢̡̮̥͖͉̭͚̟̯͎͉͓̫͉͗̃̇͌̅̈́̏͂̅̂̓̌̈͒ơ̴̺̹̝͑́̉͋̈͒́̈́̚͝ ̶̧͙̦͖̟͙̜̮̹̝̞̮̙̼̲̔̒̐͑̎̀l̴̢̛̫̘̲̘̼̞̩̽̂̋͜͝͝͝ͅô̵̢͉̳̝̻̗̥̺̳̼͜n̴̡͈̆͊̋̔͐̚͝g̷̨̨̡͉͍̞̟͖̳͔̓̌͒̆̓͑́͐̽͗͊̕͝ȩ̸̝̬͕̭̄̀́̈̂̚͜r̴̨͎̰͍̟̱̟͖̟͆̇̌̀̓̽̀̃̓ ̶̨͙̩͕̦̙̫̯̗̞̺͓̞̰̺̉̏͝F̷̢̡̪̬̻̦̑̓͜͝a̸͇̘̖͕̐̔͊̏̒̿̃̈́̌̊̚͘̕͝͝ͅͅi̷̭̩͕̣͇̺͌̂̐͝ř̴̨̡̹̼͇͙̭̘̬̲͋͜ͅȳ̵̝̤͈̫̬̳̀̔̾̉ ̷̻̱̓̓̓̏T̸̢̛̙͓̒͘͘͝a̵̛̙̻̳͖̓̾͆̑́̀͋̚ͅí̵͚̲̹̳̫̜͚̙̙̾͆̆̈́̒̽̕l̵̡̻͍̗̣̮̲͕͎̫̭̭͔͚̇̃̇̾͌͗̕.̷̧̺̳̤̲͕͚̤̫̣̠̈̏͌̋̾̔͒̀̉̽̋͝ͅ.̴̢̡̱̲̏̀͗͑̐.̷̡̙̥͚͎͉͍̇̀̏͊̂̏̐̒͐̓̅̽͠ ̶̢̨͕̼̜͚̯̖̭̙̣̞̝̹͕́̑́͒̅̊̽͐͘̕s̵̨͕̞̳̙̥̬̪̥̹͔̾̚i̸̳̭̱̒̐̀̍̒̄͆̈́̽͋̀̋̉m̴̧̨̡̤̲̘͓̙͓̪̖̭̦̅͜p̷̨̨͙̞̫̤̾̿̿̍͗͌͋͗̍͠l̵̡͖͖̲̺̠͗̊ỳ̶̞̲̻͔͈͓̓̈́̀̋̊͋̋̕͠ ̶̡̧̧̹̞̹̲̦̺̒͛̊͂̆̌̈̽͜a̵̛̛͍̞̬͂̒̐́͆̈́͘͝ͅ ̴̣̩̣̺̺̍͌̓̐̓̒f̸̨̨̼̣̙̙͚͈̟̟̣͔̺̑̒̉o̷̲͓͔̬̙̽̃̇̒̿͝r̷̖̜̤̞̉͛̀̒͆̚̚g̵̛͙̳̘͔͛̄̃͊̓̏̄̈́͛͋̌͆͘̚ͅe̷̢̛̠̻̩̣̠͍̫̼̜͓̎̐̿ͅț̷̯́̀̇t̷̹̤̣͇̽͋͛̐́͆̈́̌́̆͂̋̂͝͝a̸̤̗̙̺͂b̵̨̛̪̪̰̻̙̰̺̏̍́͌̀͊͛̓̆ͅl̷̳̝̖̈́ê̸̡̤͕͚̠̻̖̮͚̘͐͋̃̉̓̄͐̔͌̓̋͜͜ͅͅ ̴̡̩͉̮̩̪̠̩̔͛͐̐̌̒̑͗̑̊͑̔̊͘͝f̶̫̖͈̝̲͂̽̏̋̄͆̿̉́ͅà̷̩i̷̛̛̮̲̖̥̯̩͓̤̦͛̆̾̌̐͒͋͛̂̎̅͆̉r̸͍̪̮͚̂̈́͗͗͊͑̇̉̒̍̇͘y̴̨̌̆͑͐̾͛͛̆ṱ̵͔̳̜͕͙̪̣̫̼̹̯̏̀̒̐̊͂̿̈́͒͆a̶̡̛̗̪̟͉͈̼̭͔͔͎͐̋̏̽͌͛̈̔̀l̵̰͉͇̬͖͉̣̝͒̉͂̇e̸̛̦̱̣̯̠̖͈̘͂̾͆̇͒̈́̈́͘͘̕,̶̧͕͚̙̠̏̒̍̎͋͝͝ͅ ̴̛̭̩͕̖̬̳̟͎͛ẅ̷̛̯̘̻̺̤̬̭̱́̆̅͗̆̓̃͆̔͆̚͜i̸̪͙̱̇͆͒̂̾̓̔̈́̐̔̀̕t̵̮̟̟̤̭͔̼̩͎̝̀͛̂̉h̴̖̾́́̆̒̕ ̶̼͓͔̣̟̞̿̄̿͛̾̎̅͘͘͠͝ą̵̭̭̜̹͂̿͑̅́̅̇̐̿̔͊̚ ̶̧̢̛̬̫̯̤͙̹̦̼̳̫̗̯̉̈́̿̈́̅̈̈́̐̽̂͗͗͘͝ş̶̱̙̈̒̇̋̊͘a̴̢̡̢̛̛̳̫̦̠̦̱͍͇̤͕̎́͆̀̋̈́̏͑͒͝͝d̴̢̙͚̜̙̰̥̯̥̩̩̮̺͌́͜ ̴̡̡͎̞̞̰̯̘̎͗̊̆̿̓́́͗̋͑̐̕̕ȩ̴͖̹̅̇̌̉̈́̈͋̂͒̓̃͠͝͠ṉ̸̡͈̩͉̜̫̘̱̼̘͙̋͒͊͗́̑̄̐̒͜͠͝ͅd̶̫̘̼͎̠͖̀̎̄͐̆̓͗̎̋̈̐͐̈͋͜ì̴̛͖̳͍̘̑̊̈́͗́͂͂͂̽̏͊̕ņ̷̣̱͕̝̟̠̟̤̙͛̓͑̒̾̈́͋͘̚ĝ̴̨̛͚̥͖͓͙̆́̀̎̇̆́̚͠ ̴̧̧̖͉̠̭́̅̓͠ć̸̛͔̩͕̫̙̭͆̏̆̅̽̒̽̊͊̉͝͝͠o̴͖͉̞̠̪̤̳͚͌́̋͆̒͐̽̈́͊͂̚m̸̧̟͚͑̃̏͊̋̀̓͗͊̓͜ḯ̵̱͜ṅ̶̡̨̢̮̠̥̥̞̟̜͚̋̊̍̀̏̌̑͘͘͜ǧ̶̝̺͕͚̞̖̥̻͉̹̹̆͐͐͒̀́̈͂̀͂̀͘̕͜͝ ̶̡̻̠̗͛́̒͝n̶̢̛̮͔͈̣̦̙̬̤͉̦͈͍̠̾̉̉̿̊͋̚ȩ̵̧̲͖̬̩͖̼̤̀̂̽̿̿͗̊͋͊͐̚͝a̴̛̟̯͍̓̍͐̎̇̽ͅȓ̴̨̧͓͖̱̦̖͈̰̙͇̥̇̐̎͌.̷̨̟̘̪̺̞̦̝̯͍͚̀͐́̓͋́̚͠ͅ
Acennan was knees deep in the now yellow, glowing pool of pure mana. It was thick, oily and brushed against the rock walls, but the pool remained an inconceivably large source of mana. Mana enough to charge any sort of spell imaginable to man, spirit and beast… but not a soul would be able to wield all of this at once. The pool was almost the size of a large lake, spanning over a kilometer in radius. Acennan, himself, was in the middle of it – with yellow-white mana flowing all around him, supplying him with inhuman amounts at a time. He made quite a spherical beam, making it easy to spot from the entrance where Mura had shown up.
“Tell me… how come the guild’s named Fairy Tail to begin with? Like a fairytale? You like deluding yourselves all the time, like small kids in denial… or you did.”
Acennan’s sword was already drawn – a straight, dual-edged katana – for he expected without doubt that someone was going to attack him; either from afar, or from close range. Whoever chose the latter was brave and suicidal, in his eyes. “Like fantasizing yourselves heroes and legends in your own, small fairytales…”
Mura had begun charging his right arm up, for his Guild Mark had branched out towards it. This was a sign that he was preparing a Guild Spell, but he quickly came to the unwanted conclusion that the effects of invading the Core Tree’s magic had somewhat stunted his ability to cast it. Fairy Law was, simply put, charging up wayyyyyy too slowly… and if he was having trouble with it, then the two Aces would definitely stumble upon the same issue. Vandrad and Akemi had other means of combat, and so did their Guildmaster… but why Mura decided to start off with a Guild Spell did speak volumes about his growing paranoia.
“Maybe it’s ‘cause you realized that, long ago… that you were never heroes in fairytales saving everyone for the goodness of your dead, little hearts. That heroes always end up hurting someone that they don’t care about… someone like me… and why care about someone like me? I bet I’m just a villain waiting for my debut.”
While Mura pondered over his Guild Spell’s malfunction, in that short span of time, an auric serpent was manifesting around Acennan’s body. It was a mesh of black and white, with darker tones revealing its status as a God Slayer Spell. “Well, here I am, heroes. Here am I, and my guild Raven Tail. Greet your so-called villains well… and let’s wager.” Without warning, the auric serpent around him flew straight towards the entrance at mach speed, passing by an evading Mura and continuing on its way up the entrance to slam into Aven, should it get the chance to.
“Who’s the villain in this story, eh? Who’s the hero? Do morals matter now… or should we just see who wins?”
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