Day One: Part 1

[Gildarts]

The scent of battle stirred in the wind and brushed against the many trees that surrounded him. Shadows cast from above and his eyes wandered to the stars that speckled the sky with cold pinpricks of light. Hard eyes turned over every ounce of his elusive surroundings. No life rattled in the opaque darkness.

Suddenly a chill ran down his spine. The magic he felt raging within him now had left his muscles thick and empty. In its place, a nice steel necklace was wrapped around his throat and choked the air from its natural flow. The same bling seemed to be the origin of his nullified power. Gildarts released a low growl and started to wrap his hands around the silver that bolted itself to his skin. He didn't need any more accessories, he already had a metallic arm and leg.

The only thing that deterred him from pulling on the collar with his powerful grip was the unparalleled nausea that swelled in his gut. Slowly his fingers released and inched away from his first enemy, it had proved to be formidable and one he could never get rid of. On second thought, if it can do this to me with just its presence, imagine what it could do if I triggered something? Technology, as Gildarts had learned in Coruscant, was a force to be reckoned with.

It seemed in this battle, he would be handicapped into fighting without his magic, though it could have been worse and he had certainly been through tougher stretches than this. All his current situation meant was that he would have to rely on wit and his ability to adapt to survive. That, and the strategy he would use to fight against the forty-six other competitors on the island. All bloodthirsty and none to be underestimated.

The Prime sat for a good five minutes under the shade of night, trying to determine what he would do next. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the only time he had ever been free of the burden of his catastrophic power. He was able to freely feel the wind strumming through his hair, taste the crisp night air, and see nature without the distraction of his power stirring from within. His senses buzzed as they tuned to his surroundings for the first time. Perhaps his deprived magic would actually give him a chance to truly live without fear of harming others. On the other hand, now was when he would need it most. What did they expect him to fight with? A stick? "Well, I guess I can manage with just my fists."

As for the duffle bag he had been given, as his eyes fell on it, he only felt a forlorn sense of hope as it distinctly resembled a body bag.

The immortal cast another glance around, Jon was no where to be seen. Huh? Where'd he go? The veteran's chin moved from side to side, as he recalled the events streaming through his mind after the lobby, and a soggy sorrow quenched his dry and fiery thirst for revenge. Erza, I saw you, you were alive. It had become a bittersweet reunion, for they seemed to be worlds apart and separated once more. The other Fairy Tail mage had said some pretty funny things, but now if his assumption was correct, she was on the island too, and in danger. So was Ambrosia's princess.

For a moment, he was almost glad to have been tricked into his predicament, now he had the opportunity to protect the younger generation of up and coming mages. Yet, there were just seven days and everyone else was playing for blood. His blood, her blood, and the blood of an innocent child. Crimson lines streaked behind his eyelids and he felt the rage within him become tangible and utterly overwhelming. The traitor who had sent them here would pay. Gildarts would show them all, "I'm not a man to be taken lightly."