Needless Carnage - Strangers

[Gildarts]

The crackling of embers and the startling shudder of the jagged earth beneath his planted feet was enough to breach his keen senses before he was smothered by stinging smoke that threatened to scorch his lungs. It pulled the man's mind from his monotonous trudge through the forest and caused him to cough sporadically. As his ribs heaved into his lungs, he keeled over and the immortal strained to keep an eye open in a painful squint, only focusing on what was before him; he looked forward as a reason to never let his power get the best of him. His face seemed to form an agonized expression as his brow creased in consternation and one eye closed in a charmless tormented wink.

At least I didn’t sneeze, Gildarts told himself as the besieging barks subsided and he recalled what happened last time, particularly the irreparable damage that had accidentally been dealt. He took in a few clean breaths as his eyes shifted from side to side. The lush forest hadn’t been damaged and to his relief no trees or houses in the distance had shattered under the coil of his tremendous presence. It seemed that while he was physically inclined to let out the enraged crash magic that steadily grew within him, his compensation for a frequent lack of concentration had paid off for once. There were times that if Gildarts allowed his focus to dwindle for just a second, ultimate decimation would harrow the land.

Still, the Prime didn’t think for a moment as to what had caused the thick smoke to accumulate and simply accredited it’s source to be linked to a nearby chimney. With his persistent spout over, he had no reason to replay it in his mind. Chirping crickets lulled into an eerie silence upon his arrival. Even the smallest of the musicians could sense the oncoming danger that rumbled on the horizon of the mountain...

The traveling wizard neared the town settled at the base of a soaring mountain, only to see that its great summit had caught fire. With a well pronounced double-take, Gildarts took in the horror of the scene. The clouds in the sky had parted with the slice of the sharp mountain's peak and rained with cinder on the town below; its great crown glowed with baneful golden embers that threatened to ignite the dark sky with eternal flame.

Falling ashes scattered like a deathly snow and coated the quaint rooftops of the nestled town. The sleeping citizens had no idea of the impending doom that would soon befall them in a raging landslide of fire. Gildarts rapidly leapt into action, he didn’t need to stop and think to review what he needed to do, his instinct propelled him to fruition: Wake the townspeople, prepare them for evacuation, and at the same time stop the lava that oozed from the mountain’s point for as long as he could. Buying time wouldn’t be easy, he gaged the capacious size of the town in his continued sprint and cupped his hands around his mouth. The earth cushioned beneath his propelling momentum and his prosthetic leg crushed and dug into it with an ample pace, but it wasn’t enough. Abruptly he would open his lips and shout, only to be cut off the the volcano’s low roar of destruction.

Lava poured out from the vent, plumes of sickly black smoke tainted the air, and no time could be spared. No doubt they were awake after that earthquake. He heard an alarm bell pealing in the distance and took that as his cue to launch off. Part of his plan was fulfilled and he couldn’t do much good as a guard if he were in the village. Instead, he would scale the scraggly mountain and make a clear path for the peak; the man prepared to fulfill his purpose here as someone who had the power to fight back. His enemy this time just happened to be a mortiferous, blood thirsty volcano. He launched himself upward, released from his obligatory concern for the evacuating townspeople and was enlivened by the drive of his resolve as his unwavering faith in his abilities carried him to the top.

...

Smoke clogged his lungs and seared into his eyes. The edacious mountain thundered with every step he took as the tremors rumbled with a growing hunger. Lava trickled down the slated canals as though it were salivating at the idea of its next meal: Him.

Gilarts grimaced at the blistering jaws of the mountain; fire was the essence of complete destruction and yet somehow he aways found himself combatting against it. One way or another we would prevail. He hastily approached the gash on the steep volcano’s side and balanced his tenue on the freshly charred rocky terrain. Air thickened with a sweltering heat that scorched against his skin and fluttered the flickering edges of his black cape.

Hell had come alive and he was truly in its wake. The hellfire extended its heated, powerful grasp of destruction upon him. A mountain more evil than Cretus, a deathly doom more destructive than Acnologia, and a demon’s flame hotter than Natsu’s roar all threatened to destroy the Prime. Yet in his wake, the molten mountain quaked beneath his power.

Fiery anger swelled within Gildarts, who was defending the lives of the citizens below, I won't fail them now, he told himself and the rage within him escalated on command, creasing into the melting air.

“Don’t you know, Hell is my dominion?” he stated against his fleshless adversary. As if in response, the behemoth mountain that had once roared with pride, now growled at him with disgust.

Frayed and loosened hair, tensed teeth, and a scowl of a burdened man that carried the will of many became a powerful blow against his enemy. The immortal didn’t seem to acknowledge the stakes as he embraced the very simple challenge before him. Destroy or be destroyed.

Flames licked at his toes and a coulee lapped toward his feet. Booming bursts erupted beneath him that shook the very core of the mount, and though the Prime nearly stumbled into a pool of molten rock pouring down from the fresh combustion, his attention never wavered from the eye of the same beast that would surely become his executioner.

Fairy Tail’s Ace now stood on a high boulder near the rim of the summit. With his shoulders set and his barricading posture wide, the elevated rock below him scorched as streams of molten death parted around it. A momentous power was unleashed as he focused his energy on the attack before him; he would to what he could to keep the tides of fluid rock from hitting the town, even if in this process required his own sacrifice. His resolve was strong. Gildarts may or may not have been aware that he was stranded on a not-so-safe “island” in the endless sea of lava that flooded from the volcano. Meanwhile, the lava raged onward, fueled by an insatiable appetite for destruction. The town hustled with the bustling escape of citizens yet their swift pace of evasion was not fast enough, some reached the edge of the beach while others stood in the middle of town, pausing to watch the erupting inferno spew forth as cascading lava surged for them.

Even fate waited for Gildarts to make his move.