06-27-2015, 10:02 PM
An endless sea of darkness spiraled beneath his heavy eyelids. Gruff, jolting movements brought the sensation of life back into his raw joints while light blurred at the corners of his eyes. A sharp, condensed stream of air whizzed by his nose. Another pinched at his ear. Something clanged against his metal appendage and in a swirl of motion he wobbled to his feet, only to crack open his eyes and see something that resembled what he had just escaped.
A war-zone.
The massive scale of applause erupted into a thunderous roar as the tall Prime stood in his confidently groggy pose. The Fairy Tail wizard could only look up to see the many indistinct faces angling down at him from the funneling shape of benches chiseled from rock. The ultimate grandeur of the stadium didn’t hit him until his eyes had fully opened. After blinking a few times, Gildarts could finally see the fresh morning light that shimmered on the glittering patches of metal and sand.
“KILL HIM!”
“RIP ’IS THROAT OUT!”
“SHOW HIM WHAT HAPPENS TO THE LOSERS!”
The crowd jeered and their voices mixed with the haze of battle. The shuddering sound of steel-on-steel broke through each death threat and his eyes were pulled from his frightful audience and fell upon the many battling gladiators, whom all wore plates of armor and each bounced back blows with a freshly welded shield. There was even one soldier with a fluffy plume on his gleaming helmet.
Another arrow shot towards him, this time, he moved his metallic limb and struck it away with a swift backhand that sparked into flint as silver matched pointed silver. Alert and dismal eyes flashed in the direction of the archer. The immortal’s aloof expression fell into one of battling rage as he became more perceptive to the scent of blood that hung in the air. The same crimson that splattered on the dingy ground streaked down from the tip of his left ear. His fixed attention created a distance between the numbed sliver of pain as his other hand slowly moved up to his nicked ear with a feeling of isolated concern.
“BASTARD! DON’T MISS NEXT TIME!”
Someone from the crowd shouted to cheer on the bowman.
Gildarts had awoken covered in dust, his unamused eyes swept the vehement storm of battle that he had been thrown into. Questions such as, Where am I? Would have filled any normal man’s mind, followed by, How in the world did I get here? Yet, Gildarts remained calm and level-headed as another flash of bound steel, wood, and feather streamed past him.
His body adapted to the movements of the men that surrounded him, a man’s sword swung to his left – nearly slicing his cape in two – as a shield was thrown aside from a vanquished warrior and fell skittering to the Prime’s feet. All this, while arrows from that archer far in the distance sliced like wind around him. So rapid was the rate of fire that Gildarts could not tell if it was he or those behind him who were the real targets. It was harder to hit something that moved, yet Gildarts was the only one who hadn’t drawn a single step. It was a powerful and unspoken challenge to the warriors around him.
A thrown javelin speared the man closest to him, who was caught mid-swing with his hammer behind Gildarts’ seemingly oblivious head; the instantly-dead man fell to the ground faster than the hammer in his still warm hands. The serene momentum of Gildarts’ slowly revolving head almost brought silence to the eternal sound of ripping gristle and splashing gore. Another arrow flicked his cheek, drawing a thin strand of blood just under his eye.
“OI, IT’S LUFFY!”
Some fellow from the crowd blurted out as laughter erupted.
"THAT'S RIGHT! KILL THAT BASTARD LIKE HE KILLED JON SNOW!"
Triumphant howls could be heard for miles.
Menace thrived in his smoldering gaze. Gildarts could take a hundred men, and those who had chosen to attack him had been sadly misinformed. Gildarts, though merciful to his friends, was far from it when facing his enemies.
“Lay down your sword.” The Prime’s words sliced through the grunts of battle as he met a face mottled with dried blood and a sword raised to strike him down. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”
A thin smirk grew upon the Roman’s lips, as eyes were separated by a gold-plated “t” attached to his helmet and curving upon his nose. “How could I not know? These men all signed up for this tournament to battle you, and then you go and show up half-drunk and collapsed on the field? I should have speared you when I had the chance, but some other worthless scum kept me from getting to you, so, I made them into my newest paint job.” The scorch of his ruthless grin intensified, “Red and gold, doesn’t that make me royalty?”
The serious gaze that remained on Gildarts’ hardened face resembled that of motionless stone. His stance, massive and yet open waited with grim consequence. Resolve steadied the Prime’s eyes and intimidated the his squirming opponent. This was not the gold one that Gildarts was looking for, but he certainly had the right attitude. The Roman snarled at the silence.
“I don’t like to kill a man while he ain’t armed, but for you I’ll make an exception, just because you’ve been such a great disappointment to me.” The haughty opponent sneered as an arrow, too, whizzed past him.
“You’ve made a few mistakes, but your most recent will be your downfall." A pause, "I’m always armed.” The low tone in the wizard’s voice fell into that of warning rather than restrained rage. He gripped to control the surge of power and condensed his magic in his good hand while the throes of battle whirled around him.
“Oh, just a few? Worse than your taking a nap in the middle of all this? What kind of man are you? Though I will admit, so far you seem to have gotten off without too much damage. At least, until now.” The striking sheen of his stained blade slanted in the air.
“You only have one chance. After that, don’t expect me to hold anything back.”
“I didn’t enter to let you live. I wanted to slay some of the Primes from Dante’s Abyss, I would have hoped to defeat the champion, but he didn’t show up to our little party. So, I guess the weaker ones will do just fine.”
“Is that what this place is? Another slaughter?” Gildarts withheld a grimace of distaste.
“The prize goes to the first secondary who can slay you. I’ll tell you a secret,” His smile broke into a boasting chuckle, “I’m not even doing it for the reward, I’m doing it because I want to. Or maybe just because I can.”
“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”
“KILL THAT BASTARD!”
“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! MAKE THAT PRIME PAY!”
“You’ve got a nice rank and made it pretty far in the show. That only means when I take you down, my standings in the Omniverse will grow. And everyone will know my name.”
"So that's the game, is it?" Gildarts put his conviction to words.
The Roman’s blade arched toward Gildarts, “Prepare to die!”
A war-zone.
The massive scale of applause erupted into a thunderous roar as the tall Prime stood in his confidently groggy pose. The Fairy Tail wizard could only look up to see the many indistinct faces angling down at him from the funneling shape of benches chiseled from rock. The ultimate grandeur of the stadium didn’t hit him until his eyes had fully opened. After blinking a few times, Gildarts could finally see the fresh morning light that shimmered on the glittering patches of metal and sand.
“KILL HIM!”
“RIP ’IS THROAT OUT!”
“SHOW HIM WHAT HAPPENS TO THE LOSERS!”
The crowd jeered and their voices mixed with the haze of battle. The shuddering sound of steel-on-steel broke through each death threat and his eyes were pulled from his frightful audience and fell upon the many battling gladiators, whom all wore plates of armor and each bounced back blows with a freshly welded shield. There was even one soldier with a fluffy plume on his gleaming helmet.
Another arrow shot towards him, this time, he moved his metallic limb and struck it away with a swift backhand that sparked into flint as silver matched pointed silver. Alert and dismal eyes flashed in the direction of the archer. The immortal’s aloof expression fell into one of battling rage as he became more perceptive to the scent of blood that hung in the air. The same crimson that splattered on the dingy ground streaked down from the tip of his left ear. His fixed attention created a distance between the numbed sliver of pain as his other hand slowly moved up to his nicked ear with a feeling of isolated concern.
“BASTARD! DON’T MISS NEXT TIME!”
Someone from the crowd shouted to cheer on the bowman.
Gildarts had awoken covered in dust, his unamused eyes swept the vehement storm of battle that he had been thrown into. Questions such as, Where am I? Would have filled any normal man’s mind, followed by, How in the world did I get here? Yet, Gildarts remained calm and level-headed as another flash of bound steel, wood, and feather streamed past him.
His body adapted to the movements of the men that surrounded him, a man’s sword swung to his left – nearly slicing his cape in two – as a shield was thrown aside from a vanquished warrior and fell skittering to the Prime’s feet. All this, while arrows from that archer far in the distance sliced like wind around him. So rapid was the rate of fire that Gildarts could not tell if it was he or those behind him who were the real targets. It was harder to hit something that moved, yet Gildarts was the only one who hadn’t drawn a single step. It was a powerful and unspoken challenge to the warriors around him.
A thrown javelin speared the man closest to him, who was caught mid-swing with his hammer behind Gildarts’ seemingly oblivious head; the instantly-dead man fell to the ground faster than the hammer in his still warm hands. The serene momentum of Gildarts’ slowly revolving head almost brought silence to the eternal sound of ripping gristle and splashing gore. Another arrow flicked his cheek, drawing a thin strand of blood just under his eye.
“OI, IT’S LUFFY!”
Some fellow from the crowd blurted out as laughter erupted.
"THAT'S RIGHT! KILL THAT BASTARD LIKE HE KILLED JON SNOW!"
Triumphant howls could be heard for miles.
Menace thrived in his smoldering gaze. Gildarts could take a hundred men, and those who had chosen to attack him had been sadly misinformed. Gildarts, though merciful to his friends, was far from it when facing his enemies.
“Lay down your sword.” The Prime’s words sliced through the grunts of battle as he met a face mottled with dried blood and a sword raised to strike him down. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”
A thin smirk grew upon the Roman’s lips, as eyes were separated by a gold-plated “t” attached to his helmet and curving upon his nose. “How could I not know? These men all signed up for this tournament to battle you, and then you go and show up half-drunk and collapsed on the field? I should have speared you when I had the chance, but some other worthless scum kept me from getting to you, so, I made them into my newest paint job.” The scorch of his ruthless grin intensified, “Red and gold, doesn’t that make me royalty?”
The serious gaze that remained on Gildarts’ hardened face resembled that of motionless stone. His stance, massive and yet open waited with grim consequence. Resolve steadied the Prime’s eyes and intimidated the his squirming opponent. This was not the gold one that Gildarts was looking for, but he certainly had the right attitude. The Roman snarled at the silence.
“I don’t like to kill a man while he ain’t armed, but for you I’ll make an exception, just because you’ve been such a great disappointment to me.” The haughty opponent sneered as an arrow, too, whizzed past him.
“You’ve made a few mistakes, but your most recent will be your downfall." A pause, "I’m always armed.” The low tone in the wizard’s voice fell into that of warning rather than restrained rage. He gripped to control the surge of power and condensed his magic in his good hand while the throes of battle whirled around him.
“Oh, just a few? Worse than your taking a nap in the middle of all this? What kind of man are you? Though I will admit, so far you seem to have gotten off without too much damage. At least, until now.” The striking sheen of his stained blade slanted in the air.
“You only have one chance. After that, don’t expect me to hold anything back.”
“I didn’t enter to let you live. I wanted to slay some of the Primes from Dante’s Abyss, I would have hoped to defeat the champion, but he didn’t show up to our little party. So, I guess the weaker ones will do just fine.”
“Is that what this place is? Another slaughter?” Gildarts withheld a grimace of distaste.
“The prize goes to the first secondary who can slay you. I’ll tell you a secret,” His smile broke into a boasting chuckle, “I’m not even doing it for the reward, I’m doing it because I want to. Or maybe just because I can.”
“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”
“KILL THAT BASTARD!”
“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! MAKE THAT PRIME PAY!”
“You’ve got a nice rank and made it pretty far in the show. That only means when I take you down, my standings in the Omniverse will grow. And everyone will know my name.”
"So that's the game, is it?" Gildarts put his conviction to words.
The Roman’s blade arched toward Gildarts, “Prepare to die!”
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus