Nine Lives

[Gildarts]

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!”

[Gildarts]

One swift movement of his hand was all it took to snatch the sword from his opponent’s blood-washed hands. Within the second, a startling wave of energy clasped through the metallic rims of his fingertips, ignited with light, and was followed only by the the shine of steel breaking apart. Shattered mirrors clattered to the ground, reflecting the shocked look back to the Roman’s eyes.

Gildarts let his eyes remain on the Roman soldier. The brute didn’t take the time to revere the Prime’s power, but instead, the foe readied a battle axe that had been slung on his golden back. The violent swirl of motion daunted downward in a swift gust as the Roman chopped through the air. A grating, rigid cackle sounded as the sharpened blade skimmed his silver shoulder and sliced at his black cape. The seething thirst of blood was lit afire, emanating from his enemy. Its unrestrained power, intimidating; the pure intensity, frightening; and the opaque sense of destiny in this one moment fell quaking on the man’s golden boots. This battle, this challenge, everything in this world somehow fell into life, death, or rebirth.

WHOOSH!

Another startling swing.

SWISH!

Again a flash of air burst a little too close to his messy auburn hair. Gildarts blurred with the fiery tide of battle and gently, the mage’s movements slid with the wind that carried them. Combat was what he lived for, his akin eyes searched for the right moment of faltering interception as he seamlessly dodged the guillotine swings.

“What’s the matter Prime ’fraid of a secondary? Where is that demise you so confidently spoke about?” Gildarts saw it. He would extort the warrior’s hubris. What a sticky sense of pride that latched and thrived on every thought that swallowed the Roman’s mind. A scathing growl began to form low in his throat, yet it was too late, the adapting Gildarts had timed his fist to the flowing increments of battle. There would be no escape for the fated Roman. The blow would not be enough to kill the man, but it would shatter every bone on the front side of his body.

The great fist rolled with the power of the immortal’s stance, it started in his feet and extended from his elbow to land the crippling blow into the man’s already crumpling chest. The shockwave erupted in the man’s body, but no cry escaped his open lips. A weight fell on Gildarts’ arm as the warrior’s limp body completely collapsed on top of the still-standing Prime. In response to the mage’s blow, the inflicted muscles should have actively recoiled but instead, had fallen forward. It was only at this angle could the Prime surmise what had happened, and determine where the Thwoom...THWACK! sound originated from; he was now able to catch a glimpse of the back of the man’s gleaming helmet.

A feathered arrow. Sticking out from the nape of his neck, a slivered patch of skin where armor and helmet would not fold together, essential to mobility but unseen by even the closest eyes. Whoever had tossed these arrows was an excellent strategist, and an even better shot. They had to be, for the only way any arrowhead could have fit through that surface without skimming either creased lip of metal, was if it were sliced in half. Gildarts didn’t have much time to notice other part of the halved arrow had torn through the golden helmet and landed a headshot. Half arrows. The two chutes of wood stuck out of the man’s upperbody, yet Gildarts immediately let him drop as he caught a fleeting scent of danger; as soon as his opponent hit the ground, another charging foe swung at his back. The Prime chose to dodge and dipped himself low over the corpse of the fallen warrior as he formed a counterattack.

He took this time to curve a swing upward and half expected his hidden archer to immediately kill the three that had ambushed him. The air around him was vacant, leaving Gildarts time to throw his swing into the closest, who was still recovering from the slow withdrawal of a missed attack.

Gildarts let his peripheral view of the three feed him information, as the blasting movement fell on the assailant. Next, a grip landed on the shoulder of a man who seemed to think he would use this as an advantage, his muscles tensed and slowly the spiked bat in his hand swung forward, aimed directly for the perfect blow into the Prime’s face.

Gildarts’ gray hand crushed the bone of the foe’s freshly fractured shoulder before he followed through with a charged head-butt. Ferocious dark eyes didn’t flinch as the powerful force struck sharp into his thick skull and cracked into the bat-bearing man’s. The spiked weapon immediately was thrown from his loosened wrist but Gildarts had already felt the grating iron scratch the skin from his skull.

The thin scratches painted lines of scarlet into his already reddened hair. Pain lapped in his mind as he felt a crushing blow fall on the left side of his body and blast his ribs. Sent off his feet, the Prime fell into the dusty ground. His spinning eyes didn’t need to move to catch sight of his assailant. It was the only one who remained of the three, a woman.

Blonde hair cascaded down her armored shoulders, as she readied her next blow while he was down. It would have been a good tactic, to strike him while he was low, but only if he hadn’t kicked her ankles and caused her to slam into the same hard ground he had.

“Oof.” The exhaustive groan was muffled as the breath escaped her lips. Gildarts felt a pang of sorrow as her revolt towards him echoed with the anger of her words. The woman's eyes struck like daggers, “Some gentleman you are.”

His eyes remained on her yet he reminded himself that he would not forget that this was a place of battle. It seemed, however, she had known just what to say to make him cease his next move. The words, like her icy eyes, held him there. Their shared silence created a distance from the rest of the chaotic arena.

“Why are you doing this?” If her answer was anything like the Roman’s there would be no persuading her, however, Gildarts retained his honor, and always, always tried to offer a chance. Nor after all his years did he have any idea what ran through a woman's mind.

“To defeat you.” Cold, harsh words. He could taste the callous hatred on her iron tongue.

“Go ahead, try to kill me like the rest, see where that gets you.” His eyes told her of the dead soldier that currently touched her toe. “Instead, you could be my ally.” Gildarts candidly offered as he showed her mercy with a hopeful sense of reason. Though his motives weren’t all that honorable.

The warrior woman thought hard as her eyes darted at the invisible options streaming through her mind. Finally, a response formed. “You’re a man someone could spend a lifetime with, and not know a thing about what is running through your head.”

“Is that so bad?” Gildarts asked, the unsaid words that neither of them spoke were read through the lines of their subtle tones. The blonde slowly blinked as Gildarts determined whether it would be considered a threatening motion to move as a few clashing men stampeded around them. To his brief relief, no one grew any closer.

Underlying truth ridged the stagnant air around them. It seemed, the girl had enough logic to reconsider her choice to kill him. Or, perhaps she was a perfect distraction. Gildarts held onto the more optimistic notion and believed that people were fundamentally good.

Her response to his question was but a carefully growing smile. Her blue eyes warmed, if only just for a second before the arrow pierced through her skull.

A cold current of ice crippled his heart. Her name... What had been her name? The man scrambled over to her spot on the ground, which offered just enough time for Gildarts to unknowingly dodge a ball of fire that had been sent straight into the place he had remained idle in for too long. He held her face in his hand, as the ball of fire that would have engulfed him flew by with a wave of immense heat. His gray fingers swept through and parted her beautiful pale hair. In his organic hand he held her face and caressed the smooth line of her jaw as his thumb brushed her cheek.

Gildarts looked to the resting place of her two fallen comrades, he certainly couldn’t ask them. Sorrow was tempted to leap out from the depths of his stomach, yet suddenly his emotion became numb and he grew increasingly calm. She had been willing to have a change of heart in a game that meant life or death. Change against all that it meant. It counted, for something. Gildarts seemed to carry her with respect, so as she would not lay on the bloodied ground. He lifted her closer to him and another skimming touch with his good hand left a streaked mark on her cheek. He frowned, death had such a cold touch.

Her name would never be known. But he would not forget.

By the time he stood, several other warriors had found their way to him and formed a large mass as they surrounded his position, cornered by a circle. The Prime’s mind was elsewhere. His gaze turned over his shoulder, his eyes filtered with only red to the direction of the active archer, bearing the the carefully 'chosen' arrows that told of mystique. “Is there no arrow for me?” It seemed nothing would ever end the destruction that only grew around him.

Gildarts felt the curse shudder through him as the ground began to crumble seemingly at the weight of the woman in his arms. His eyes remained on her and he noticed how her skin had grown pale to match her near-white hair as it became painted with damp stains of scarlet, meanwhile the armed gladiators around him hesitated, perhaps basking in their ability to finally reach the Prime after combating against the competition.

With the crowded audience’s shouts, they too, cheered at the chance to slay the Prime who was currently preoccupied.

“DON’T JUS’ STAND THERE! KILL ‘IM!”

"ONE THOUSAND OMNILIUM TO THE ONE WHO SLAYS HIM NOW!"

“WHAT THE FROOK YOU WAITIN’ FER?!”

“CAN’T RELY ON THESE AMATEURS TO GET THE JOB DONE, I SAY WE GO DOWN THERE AND GIVE THE PRIME A PIECE O’ OUR MIND!”

“YOU IDIOTS, A FINE LADY JUST DIED. SHOW SOME RESPECT!”

“ARCHER, WHY DON’T YOU JUST KILL THAT BASTARD AND CLAIM YOUR PRIZE?!”

Someone from the crowd had become wise to that which had occurred on the field. The untold malice of the Prime’s still-dark gaze hung in the air and targeted the girl’s murderer with something less effective than arrows, but its challenge transcended even time. He was unable to see whoever it had been that had fired the shots, however, he didn’t need a face to attach his hatred. Not even that seething fire would calm his rage now.

Slice.

Blood poured from his shoulder, yet he could not feel the sudden hole. Dark, dulled eyes fell on his attacker, the menacing eyes told the soldier that the Prime had no time to squash flies as a backhand creased into the man’s neck and sent him flying nearly ten feet over the bleachers. The crowd oohed and awed at the hurtling man before their ravenous cheers beckoned the Prime for more battle.

Sharp static broke the ground beneath him and crackled in an immense wave below the armed ‘fans’ that had formed around him. Someone was now close enough to slash him and Gildarts bowed away, offering the same treatment to the flying man’s friend. The earth was crushed around him, some of the perfectly cubed rocks propelled into the air as the coliseum erupted with thunderous vibrations. His wrath became all that was around him.

Doom.

Cracks formed in the bench seats that the audience sat on and endangered the slowly compromising structure of the stone stadium. Growls of destruction ruptured as dark clouds began to form overhead. The audience, more oblivious than that of the characteristic Prime, jeered enthusiastically, ready for the action that would prove to be their money’s worth. The clouds crackled with thunder and streaks of lightning started to storm above him.

“Fucking idiot.”

Someone snarled as Gildarts was clubbed over the head, the corners of his vision grew blurred with black as his knees didn’t even bother to buckle before he hit the ground.

[Gildarts]

A scratchy groan escaped his lips.

The man sipped in breath through his cracked lips and saw the darkness cast by his own eyelids. Something stirred, it resembled a swift movement, however, nonaggressive, as heavy the footsteps approached him. A woman stood above him tilting her head and with her fiercely narrowed eyes hinged on him. Gildarts came to and found himself propped up against the outer wall of the arena, an oasis in the battle storm as he was surrounded – protected even – by people who at least hadn’t killed him yet. Her voice beckoned him to listen from the outer catacombs of his subconscious.

“I’m not exactly on the moral high-ground here, but aren’t you the one who supposedly values the lives of the innocent on-lookers? You almost killed them.” She smirked, almost amused. All of them.

There was a silence as the man’s stagnant mind grew wise to the use of english.

“Depends if you actually find an audience that seeks out death as amusement, as innocent as those committing the murder for show.” Another scowling voice mentioned with a taunting and presumptuous scoff. “Maybe he’s gone dark.”

Gildarts opened his eyes to see the smirk on the boy’s face, as well as the elusive weapon the stranger held in his crossed arms. The slim kid, about seventeen wore black clothes and a daunting, cynical smile.

“Dante’s Abyss would do that to someone like him. He lost everything, you know. Those kids, his powers, his pride. Even just for a few days. Memories like that can haunt a man’s lifetime.” The boy spoke as though he knew what it meant to be hunted by tempting thoughts and the howling demons of the past.

Those kids...?

Gildarts felt his thoughts slowly stir, prompted by the gentle faces that came to mind. Guu... Erza... They had to be alive. But did they survive? He grimaced as his body wavered to a stand. The questions swirled in his head faster than his spinning stomach. His balance was compromised as he tested his balance and dipped his skull too close to the wall.



“Whoa there, not so fast. That blade nearly sliced your artery in two.”

The risen Prime looked down, only to see a drooling trickle of blood staining his pristine bandages. The fresh, uncertain movements had torn the wound open and while he had yet to become aware of the pain, the numbed man didn’t feel so immortal now. His bones moved shakily in his body, the fatigue was draining his ability to think rationally, and his metal limb hung loosely at his side, unresponsive to any of the magic he put forth into it.

“Put a stunner on ya.” The kid of seventeen mentioned while producing a static in his fingertips that cackled with a crisp blue flash. A pretentious smile showed on the kid’s face, as though he knew he was in league with the best. "I'm Cal. And you are damaged goods. But I insisted you were worth something in this game, she seems a bit reluctant to admit it though, if you ask me. But," his voice drawled on, savoring his intoxicating superiority. "I guess the brutality of the game does that to people."

She...?

He felt like he was hearing things. Yet... Gildarts identified the voice that had sourced behind him as a woman’s. He looked to the only other warrior around and did not expect to see the bow held carelessly in her right hand.

[Samus Aran]

I’m in a little over my head here. I hunt monsters, not people. Primes are different. They come back. This feels wrong, even for me.

But they’re forcing my hand. As one of them runs towards me, blade upheld, I raise my bow and feel that focus that takes over when I’m about to make a kill. A second later, he’s dead.

I turn back to the man on the ground. Is he even worth saving? Assuming he survives, he’ll make a marvellous meat shield, but that’s a big assumption. He’s got a lot of gumption but that doesn’t stop blood loss. “You all right there, big guy?” If he doesn’t get up soon I’ll have no choice but to leave him to the sharks.

[Gildarts]

Cal smirked to himself and didn't offer the old man a staticky blue hand up. Gildarts instead staggered himself to a stand before sweeping the area with his steadying gaze and tested his balance on two legs. A long and thoughtful expression held on his sincerely scrunched brow. No one had outright told him the rules of the chaos he had been thrown into, but the experienced man now felt he got the just of it.

"How do we tell who is playing and who is fighting for themselves?" The question was directed toward Cal, however the it was layered with undertones of suspicion. How did he know they weren't playing? Even if it didn't make a difference, their responses would tell all.

Cal scoffed, "Don't you get it? You were in the Abyss. It's simple, we don't." The reality was put to blunt words, "Listen pal if you aren't going to fight for your life here, your as good as dead. And worth less to us alive. Ya get? Don't start getting cold feet now."

A turn of his body was all it took for the veteran fighter to face the shorter kid, and tower over him with an intimidating feat. "Do I look like this is my first battle, kid?" The man brandished the two steel limbs, the organics which he had lost to a dragon that nearly destroyed his home and the bandages that never left his sculpted chest were evidence enough of is eternal visit to war.

Cal stared and lined his words with sarcasm, "What... Is that rhetorical? Dude, your like forty."

"That's right." Gildarts didn't feed in to the kid's mostly 'misguided' aggression. Meanwhile Cindy sized up the mage like he had broken both his legs. Well, it wasn't a completely inaccurate assumption.

Cal's eyebrow raised as he turned away, to face the battle that waged around them, and spoke sounding rather disappointed and met his abrasive predictable honor with a few taunting words, "Oh sweet morality. See how far it's gotten you?" The assassin held his arms open wide do motion that they stood as prisoners – no, worse – like rats in a cage, hunted for their lives, "The answer is this Hell." The arrogant kid seemed to have all the answers. "Something you should be familiar with, old man. You play to win."

"And escape?"

"Any of them look like they are trying to break out to you?"

"Did I?"

"Humph, you're no fun..." Before suddenly vanishing to find a new toy to break.

Cindy played with the uncomfortable bow in her hands while her gaze hardened on him as her silver hair was ruffled by the wind, "What's the matter, your feelings get hurt? And well.. Him? He's wrong about one thing, there is one way to tell." Gildarts' eyes rose to hers as they exchanged a glance, "I didn't save your ass just so you could owe me one.. And this is only the prelims."

Bait.

The man read her expression, cold amusement written on the faded lines of where her smile should have been. "It's not even the whole waking up here after DA that gets me the most. See that son of a bitch over there?" The girl lifted her battle-armored arm to point across the war zone, "The fucker stole my hammer."

[Gildarts]

Cindy rolled her fist into a ball and smashed it into the man’s cheek. The man’s skin crumpled with the momentum, his body crippled with the equally blazing fire of pain and fear as he was thrashed into the ground with the tremendous force of the blow.

The crunch of death thudded in his bones, as his ribs cracked to puncture a few ribs. The ruthless titan leaned over, placing her steel boot on the wrist of the opponent. “I’ll be taking that.” She hissed. The warmth of her breath kissed his cheek and was the last thing the man felt before she slammed the giant weapon into him, resembling all that was expected of a gladiator.

“Do or die.” She cocked her head, as though saying she didn’t need to explain herself to the man in front of her.

Cal watched too, but with a less horrified expression on his face than Gildarts, who was almost accusatory. The only thing that held his stance firm was the debt which he owed them. And he now knew how they wanted him to pay it.

The Prime growled. He didn’t have to be happy about it, but when people came up to ram into him, he slammed them back using the least amount of his excessive force. Over time, the many of the contenders were depleted. There were about fifty left, each spearing one another when he had awoken from his far-off slumber. The number had been whittled down to around thirty before the contestants became harder to knock out.

People had grouped together, and the battle was at a standstill. Gildarts readied himself, holding the power to end the game, yet Cindy held him back. His amber eyes fell on her, who in turn, held his gaze steady.

The paused moment apparently meant something, and the game masters suddenly announced, “Congratulations, the preliminaries are over! You’ll have your shot to the top as we go a more classic fighting style. I’ll see you next round.”

[Gildarts]

The commentator rumbled on the loudspeakers for some time. The narration seemed unending. Gildarts recovered his cape and the bodies were picked up off of the ground but not removed of the dirt and blood they had been stained with.

The stench of death stung their noses. Cal, Cindy, and Gildarts were supposed to be the lucky ones. So were the others, who hobbled out of the arena on crutches, a medic’s arms, or a stretcher. Each injured person groaned in pain. Each a fighter who would survive at the cost of a lost limb that immobilized him to the extent were he could not continue.

Gildarts was lost in the haze of time, and had stared off into the distance for a while. Only was he beckoned back into reality by the tug of a man on his cloak. The Prime looked down to see the man. Every inch of the man’s sweaty skin was covered in the splattering stains of scarlet blood.

This ‘fight’ was no challenge for some people. Those with abnormal powers or with the correct weapon wielded in their hand. And then were the those who tugged on his attire. Gildarts felt his eyes fill with understanding, empathy, and mercy as he took pity on the man with tears in his eyes. The wounded had lost his legs by a sword, or so it had appeared by the cleanness of the cut.

“You bastard.” The maddened man spit, as his words became the spilling of blood on his tongue and over his lips. The secondary expired. Never to live again. Gildarts’ felt he jaw set, enraged by the man’s last words.

Whether the blame was on him for killing him, being the so-called “cause’’ of the competition, or because he had fought for his life and won. No matter the cause, it was meant to stir some survivors guilt. If Gildarts was repulsed, it did not show on his face. Not even a cringe scarred his motionless features. Cal observed this, his static hands idle and folded underneath his elbows, and Cindy could have given a damn.

Gildarts followed the dead man’s stretcher with intent to leave, only to have the iron bars of the gate slam in his face. Anger went unquenched on his unspoken tongue as he looked at the sharpened pegs that drilled into the dirt below. He had almost been guillotined.

His cheek loitered like stone inches from the steel bar. “Allow me passage, or you will regret it.” The threat, open and filled with flame. The man of service shivered and muttered in cowardice, “B-b-but t-that’s against the rules!” He pointed at the powerful Prime and scurried off before Gildarts could protest further.

“I will be leaving.” He demanded to Cal, who seemed to be the most receptive person around. He hadn’t even tilted his ear in the caged Prime’s direction.

Gildarts was bothered, the well-known Fairytail wizard was not used to being invisible. He almost was challenged to stay by the thought of making his name known, however he would not be held against his will and he bartered with an unrelenting guard.

Finally, Cal seemed to be sick of hearing the Prime, and grumbled, “My god, won’t you stop?” To Gildarts before facing the guard, “Don’t we get to take a piss?” Cal finally gestured over a guard. Who magically opened the latch and the door rose.

[Gildarts]

“Y’can’t get out from here, but at least you can get a break from it all to recharge.” Cal offered to the respected Prime who held an earnest expression on the creases of his brow. “You really weren’t planning to join this one, were you?”

“I awoke from after the island, and found myself here, amidst this war.” Gildarts spoke.

“Hmph, tough luck. But a guy like you can’t hate fighting too much, you’re rather good at it. Dante’s Abyss is a good opportunity to meet other people like yourself.”

“Funny I didn’t join Dante’s Abyss either. Willingly, that is. But apparently in this world, when you sign a piece of paper, you are obligated to it.” Gildarts paused as he reflected on Cal’s words. “I think quite the opposite. I don’t hate fighting. New challengers make it fun for me. But, though I don’t always like the setting, its nice to test my limits. Hopefully next time, things will be different, and I’ll have a choice in the matter.”

“There’s another tournament after this one, in a few days, maybe a week. It involves Primes from all over. But it’s nothing like Dante’s Abyss. This one is for keeps.” Cal said and gave him a suave nod.

For keeps. Whatever that meant.

Gildarts sighed and fixed up some of his wounds. He was already beginning to heal from his nearly fatal injury from earlier. Things worked differently here, he observed, and still put on his best for Cal, who prodded him to get back into the ring.

“The next tournament will follow a dueling fight style, no more free-for-all, sadly. Lost a lot of contestants. Now they are going to make them kill each other more intimately.” Cal spoke sadistically, as his hand rested on his invisible knife.

Gildarts took a look at Cal, “So, you joined this tournament, what did you hope to accomplish, other than testing your skill?”

“Hah, that’s easy. I joined this tournament for the same reason as everyone else, to fight you.” Cal had mentioned it as though it were a slight detail, yet Gildarts’ attention was immediately snagged.

“Why’s that?” Gildarts challenged, his face was hard as he spoke to the youth.

“Cause, if I can beat you, then I wasn’t brought here for nothing, ya’know? Omni didn’t even summon the Secondaries here, so sometimes it feels we don’t have a purpose. Some fight, others watch the fights like Dante’s Abyss on TV. Others even create things like that. I fight to better myself. Though, no hard feelings no matter who comes out on top. I want a good one on one with you, no Cindy involved.” Cal seemed triumphant but added, “Oh and before you ask why I teamed up with her, don’t.”

Cal’s smile turned into a stern expression, as though the subject was now taboo. Gildarts could respect it. And before he knew it, he realized he was itching to get a fight out of his system.

[Gildarts]

But first... The nagging thing in the back of his mind finally took shape. He recalled his leader, probably worried sick about him, as he had been gone for at least a few days. He tried to contact Guu. “Hey, do you have a... Cell phone I can borrow?”

Cal narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, but it’ll cost ya...”

Gildarts forked over his pouch, which had food and gold coins in it. Cal seemed pleased and examined his new treasures, “Pleasure doing business with ya.”

The ‘call’ went straight to voicemail, so Gildarts attempted to text with one hand, the other -completely metallic- he used to hold up the phone as he typed.

When he was finished with the flip phone, he snapped it closed and offered it back to the boy. The food fell from Cal’s mouth in shock as he realized the phone was broken.

“Hey, it’s broken!” Cal spoke up, defiantly.

“Hah, oh sorry about that. People where I’m from know better than to give me something without expecting it to be returned broken.” Gildarts challenged. Meanwhile, Cal was left to wonder if the text Gildarts had sent, even got to its destination.

“You owe me a new one.” Cal grumbled.

“Beat me first.” Gildarts challenged, satisfied by the sudden lightignited in Cal’s eyes.

[Gildarts]

It had been a while since Gildarts had felt inspired to battle. And the ‘means’ of this one -particularly his unwillingness to be put in it- didn’t exactly make him feel like he was participating in an event that was in any way righteous or worthy. However, the competitors -him specifically- deserved the right to test themselves of their strength. And he was ready.

Two fists became balls as his body squared at the sight of his opponent. A man, mid twenties, with a cunning look in his eye, stood before Gildarts. The Prime stood tall in the colosseum, and presumed a wide stance as he prepared for the worst to come.

“Come now mate, aren’tcha going tae pick up a sword or somethin’?” The man taunted.

Gildarts shook his head with a quiet, “No, I’m ready.”

“Suit yourself.” The man prepared his spear and readied his shield. A fresh grin coiled on the lines of his face.

The announcers’ concluded their assumptions and made their evaluations before a bell -much like the kind used in wrestling- signaled the start of the match. Immediately, the spearman too off. He hastily made his way around the dirt ground that made up the stadium, his sandals stomping into the ground as he flung daggers all in Gildarts’ direction.

The Prime simply dodged, and asked if the spearman was taking this seriously. This withered his opponent’s expression and the man moved in with his shield raised, and his spear aimed at the Prime’s heart, his grip was poised and ready to throw as he waited for the right time to pounce.

Meanwhile, Gildarts narrowed his eyes with determination. A backhand of his metallic limb flung the knife away from it’s target. Gildarts saw this technique as a weaker one, meant to disorient the foe, and at the same time, give the spearman an adequate approximation for the Prime’s next move, when the spear would surely come flying at him. But there was only one spear, and the Prime hadn’t expected the man to use his shield as a weapon.

It smashed into Gildarts, who’s feet swayed at the last moment, moving the force of the blow and setting the momentum free. Next, Gildarts gripped the shield’s edges, managed to tear it free fom the spearman and threw it away with ease. The spearman grew angry, and prepared his trump card.

The crowd began to boo. Harsh jeers came from above as popcorn, garbage, and tomatoes splattered into the ground. “BOOOOOO!” Low tones echoed.

“Where’s the action!?!” A member of the audience shouted.

“I want to see something cool!” Another plead.

“Where’s the lion?!” One retaliated, and then slurped on their giant refreshment fresh from the condiment stand.

A piece of corn landed in the ginger’s hair, Gildarts scowled as he took the time to pick it out. His expression wrinkled into one of disgust. It was sticky. “Tch.” Gross. He flicked it away, and the spearman carried on.

Trajectory aimed and the man’s muscles poised to throw it in the air. Meanwhile, around it’s point, a strange purple hue began to resonate.

A sickeningly evil grin spread wide across the man’s face, as Gildarts only tuned his attention finely on where the spear would be aimed on his body. The moment hung on the arid wind. Finally, the man’s stance hardened, strengthened with the lines of his bulging muscles, and then the spear was launched forward.

At the same time, a beefy lion took the stage, and came at them, snarling with froth in its ajar maw. Gildarts couldn’t dodge both. At that moment, he also noted he could dodge neither. His stiff posture became loose, as with a mere backstep, he lead the lion into the spear’s range. A howl of pain consumed their ears as the lion was shrouded in a black cloud, and immediate death came to the creature. After it was certified-deceased, the spearman shouted in defiance. “That wasn’t fair.”

“You shouldn’t place all your bets on one move. Also, for future reference, I’ll fight you two against one, gladly.” Gildarts looked at the spearman’s lion companion, and then winked at him before throwing a single punch in the man’s face. He was knocked out cold, and Gildarts had won the match.

[Gildarts]

The next round and it was Cal’s turn to show his “allies” why he was already prepared to be in the finals. He seemed bored, and the air of his attitude wafted with ample levity. And his opponent, a shaking blonde female, appeared to be plagued by distress at seeing who she would be fighting. Gildarts however, could tell this wouldn’t be an easy match.

Cal’s hands already started to crackle. In response, the distant female’s expression hardened. Her eyes slanted to something over her shoulder, before settling on her opponent, who wore dark clothing and caught the eye of everyone as they looked down at the two battling in the pale arena.

The assassin watched his opponent for a moment, studying her quirks, analyzing her motion, noting her level of speed and accuracy. The two muttered something, Cal laughed in response. “You? An assassin?”

“That’s right. And taking down you will be my ticket to the big times.” The girl stated, point blank.

Cal’s jaw hung open for a split second, as that sounded quite familiar to the reason he had joined this tournament in the first place. “Why do you want to take down me? What do you think it will accomplish?” But he already knew the answer, at this point, he was buying a bit of time.

“Don’t you get it? You’re my competition. And if I can smite you from the market, people will see my skill, and I’ll have one less person to steal my business.” She spoke again, he eyes as cold as her words.

Cal nodded for show, “Hah, so this is because you aren’t good enough to get your own business, so you have to steal someone else’s. Listen lady, why don’t you go steal the ninja’s work, I hear they’ve been slacking a bit and-”

Suddenly, the battle took place in lightning speed. Gildarts felt his eyes move to match their movements, which may have even been invisible to the many spectators around the stadium.

A hand blocked a static fist that was aimed for the girl’s chest. A dagger sliced too close to Cal’s throat. Hair clipped and clothing was torn as the two teen assassins strode to have each other’s throats. An immediate jolt brought the two forms back into the audience’s view. The girl now held Cal in a tight grip, with her arm snagged around his neck. They were both wiggling, the hold was imperfect and not permanent. Both her hands were full as they fumbled for the means to kill one another.

The girl readied a knife, still too distant to slice anything but a little skin from his cheek. Meanwhile Cal took his chances at shocking her, but she had neutralized the threat one of his hands had posed by attaching a gross black liquid to it. The other struggled as the blonde grasped his wrist, restraining his touch from reaching any part of her body.
The blonde snarled, “I’m going to kill you! You’re just making this harder on yourself, don’t you want a quick death?”

Cal’s eyes suddenly turned to ice, “You think you can actually kill me?” Immediately he found the strength to free himself of the wretched hold the girl had snagged on him. Before she could protest, her neck had been snapped. Cal growled, as though holding his challenger to a higher standard, and getting a bit disappointed. The goop around his static hand suddenly drooled off, and the teen looked down at his fellow assassin in a moment of ferocious grief. “Tch. Such a shame.”

The crowd began to clap as Cal walked from the stage.

[Gildarts]

It was a few bloody battles later, and after a few secondaries died for their ascension to glory, Cindy finally was called to fight.

The monster hunter wielded a great hammer over her shoulder, and brandished a sleek smile. Her armor shone in the day’s amber setting sun, while her silver hair flipped over her ear and rustled at the coming of a far off wind. Her eyes flashed like a torch as she caught sight of who she would be facing. A tall, haughty brute, who seemed to be armed with only his muscles.

He stood above cindy by just about five feet. By her standings, he was quite the giant. 

“I’m going to crush you, little lady. Then I’m going to retrieve my prize!” the giant’s gruff voiced shouted, sounding throughout the entire colosseum. Every step the sinew man took, shuddered as an earthquake into the ground.

“And I am going to make you fall.” Cindy’s challenge silenced the thin air around them, as the giant could do nothing but to laugh at her powerless threat.

“Hah! You tink you cin’ defeat me?! Lil’ lady tinks she’s funny.”

A hammer smash later and the giant was knocked out of the ring, crashed into the colosseum wall, and the majority of his bones broken, leaving the giant to croak in wretched agony.

[Gildarts]

There were less than five people left for the final round. Gildarts didn’t include himself and soon realized that he would have to face both of his companions from their gladiator adventures earlier. Gildarts had finally been matched with Cal.

“Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you,” He warned Cal.

“If you did, I’d be disappointed.” The assassin spoke back, and both readied their hands. Gildarts let his turn to fists, while Cal’s shook with vast amounts of crackling electricity. Both fixed their gaze on one another as the battle bell sounded around them.

A whip of lightning extended from Cal’s index and middle finger. It followed the direction that he pointed, and landed square on Gildarts’ chest. Electricity ignited and began to sear against his boiling flesh. Gaping wounds bubbled on contact with the unfathomable heat of it all.

Gildarts grated his teeth as he evaded the next whip. He wasn’t immediately electrocuted, like he would have expected, however the molten energy had burnt at his skin. He sucked in a breath and his eyes smoldered with a growing determination.

Another whip lashed out at him, another dodge was initiated by Gildarts’ feet. His stance dipped inward as he lurched toward Cal, who prepared himself by releasing the whip and readying whatever else Cal had in store.

Gildarts was a veteran fighter, he wasn’t the type to just sit around and take whatever Cal was ready to dish out. Slowly, he worked to make his move, and itched closer before he deployed a slice in the air “crash!” which caused a bolt of energy to slice into Cal. The diameter grew a bit before the assassin had to flick off some of the gooey blood that started to pool around his wound. Cal distastefully looked at the net-like pattern imprinted on his own skin.

“You’re going to pay.” They hadn’t even begun.



[spoiler]

Crash! (Requires Ranged Prof, Area Attack Prof) 600 OM (chargeable feature is extra) (I may upgrade this to a super move later on)

With this move Gildarts sends a strong wave of slicing energy at his opponent. It grows wider in ratio to the distance it travels in the air and frequently scrapes up the ground in its wake as it travels toward the opponent.

With cubes of earth splattering through the air, the move grows in size and finally connects with its target straight on. The target receives shallow lacerations in the pattern of a net.

Drawbacks: Charge up time is about five seconds and the move continues to grow even when it is released from his body. With this said Gildarts cannot stop it in the air and it must land on its final course. It is somewhat difficult to aim if the opponent is further away. While it is in the air Gildarts must keep his focus on it but can still dodge an oncoming attack.

Enemies with high defense will be less susceptible to this move and can resist the impact.

[/spoiler]

[Gildarts]

A blow landed into Cal’s cheek. Gildarts felt two lightning-fast blows fall on him. Their speed compromised the force in which they were delivered. Gildarts had braced himself for a heavy, pounding blow, yet even the electricity hadn’t caused him any more pain than a subtle stinging.

His eyebrow raised. The kid lacked execution. Gildarts’ stance moved to exploit this, however he restrained the force behind his hand so that the next punch he landed would not kill the boy. A carefully placed punch fell deep into the core of Cal’s abdomen, it looked like a bit of a doozy, as the teen stumbled back, almost losing his footing, and his eyes had crunched themselves shut upon impact of the blow. But there was fire in Cal’s eyes, and the secondary would not go down.

Not so easily, and not against his idol.

Cal’s goal and incentive to win kept him on his feet, though coughing and sputtering a bit of blood as he did so.

Gildarts wasn’t dissuaded, nor distracted by the boy’s distress. He was more disturbed about how his opponent had yet to forfeit (by either passing out, or surrendering) and now the teen was pushing his body to its limit.

Static crackled in the youth’s hair before the boy’s body became blue and luminous. With the correct incentive, Cal’s body had reached its ultimate form. The air around him allowed Cal’s body to maneuver at top speed, as a blurry blitz of punches collided into the Prime. Gildarts now stumbled back a single step, before suddenly his head tilted a foot to the left, and Cal’s final and most packed punch had been left without a target.

Gildarts took this moment to indulge his fist, which was itching to fall into its target. A slam of knuckle found its place in the teen’s scrawny ribcage. Cal fell to the ground, broken ribs ached when his chest inhaled for breath. However, the pain that stung in Cal’s eyes, wasn’t enough to dissuade him from the fight.

A few limps closer and Gildarts took a sigh. He had made a mistake, for letting the boy come this far, now his dreams would be crushed. However, pain was a necessary evil for growth. And so was fear. Gildarts would now show Cal what he had shown Natsu, all those days ago, back on Tenrou Island.

Gildarts charged his move, this time, taking no time to worry about what the onlookers saw of him. People in the swarming stadium cheered as they called and shouted down, hoping for a death delivering punch. Instead, Gildarts opted for option three in this situation. He raised his fist, and slammed it into the ground. Crash energy released throughout the earth, distributing his powerful magic in a cascade of cube-shaped rock. The earth crumbled at Gildarts’ feet. The same effect caused Cal to stumble. Earth-shaking power was witnessed.

Instead of giving up like Cal was supposed to, the secondary made one last, final, and noble stand.

Electricity warped in the boy’s palms, and before Gildarts could dodge the desperate move, the ball of blue energy landed square in his chest. Fire, energy, and magic, all reached out to greed him in tangled blue branching webs. Internally, the molten power raged within him. Burning the muscles he held so near to his heart. Finally the branches of heat fluctuated, and had made their way from one end of Gildarts’ to another. Auburn hair stood on end, while his cloak was frazzled and it’s ashes were no-where to be found.

Gildarts’ body remained standing, despite his heart -which had stopped in his chest- remained motionless despite his demanding muscles, which craved both oxygen and blood.

Cal’s jaw dropped. He had done it. He had won.

The secondary inched closer, holding his broken ribs together with one arm, while his legs could only limp forward. He would push Gildarts down. His hand hovered a foot away from the mighty Prime’s powerful chest.

Before Cal could move another inch, Gildarts took a breath, and punched at the air in front of him -which happened to be where Cal was standing. Immediately the secondary fell to the ground, there was no strength left in his bones or muscles to stand up once more, yet he propped himself up on a nearby cube-shaped rock. “How’re you even alive?”

Gildarts patted the dust from his hand and then moved his hand over his chest. He revealed below the bandages, his blue Fairytail insignia. A smile fell on the kid as he helped the defeated up. He had not died this round barely. Could he say the same about the one to follow?

[Gildarts]

Cindy wielded her hammer over her shoulder once more. Her silver-streaked hair was ruffled by the breeze, yet her spiked headband showed off her characteristic aggressiveness. Cindy would always need to be just as ferocious as one of the monsters she was hunting and fighting, in order to win against them. The only question now was if she would have what it took to defeat Gildarts?

Gildarts had recovered from his heart-stopping experience but his lips were still parched from the dehydration he felt consuming his weary bones. How many battles had it been? A few... dozen? He had lost count, but the last few had really done one over on him. Before him, there were two blurred and warped mirages of Cindy. The Prime blinked a few times and his opponent slowly reformed her original shape. Around the edges of his eyes, clouds began to form. The stadium had turned on lights for the night-finale, they bothered his tolerance into a dismissive squint.

“So it comes down to this.” Gildarts concluded.

“What, you didn’t expect any other outcome?” Cindy flaunted her voice haughtily, as though she had predicted this ending all along.

“Two Primes against one another in an all secondary tournament, was this something I was supposed to predict?” Gildarts let the vacant words roll from his tongue.

“Quit stalling.” She muttered under her breath, and prepared her favorite hammer, hefting it into a fighting stance.

Gildarts and Cindy stood in the center of the arena about ten feet apart from one another. Ready for an epic battle, and an epic conclusion to their strained relationship.

Cindy moved first, tactfully setting off a flash-grenade as the battle began. She used that second to launch into gear, her heels dug hard into the crisp dirt below her, and she perpetuated her body into the air. A quick swing and Gildarts barely had the time to react as he was hit in the side with her giant friggin’ hammer.

[Gildarts]

As Cindy bounced out of his ringing sight, she left a barrel bomb at his feet. It clinked into the dirt as the Prime heard it a second too late to dodge, and the explosion stuck to the melted bottoms of his boots. Gildarts was given a helpful “boost” off of the ground, as the Prime was thrown from his original staring place. Next, the blitzing Cindy conquered the room around him and another blow from her canon landed too close to Gildarts, who had used a defensive move to render the force of the blow semi-less effective. Cindy couldn’t see, the roar of the crowd and the blood in her ears both surged to life under the adrenaline-enriched moment. She panted heavily as the dust the action had spun up, cleared. She waited to see if Gildarts’ figure still stood.

Suddenly a metal fist collided with Cindy’s chest, yet the force of impact was nil. Another, harder, landed on her shoulder plate, and Cindy fell to the ground, exasperated. She would not relent, and sent out another barrel bomb in where she approximated him to be. Gildarts sent a slicing movement towards Cindy, and as the white lines grew into the air, they snagged on the Prime’s uncovered flesh, resembling the many carefully motioned strikes of a knife.

“Tch!” the female spat the blood that had accumulated in her mouth when she had bitten the inside of her jaw, and flipped her bangs from her eyes as she gave her enemy a disgruntled glare. “That all you got?”

Gildarts only stood tall, and let his muscles be firm, charging, as the woman rushed him again. Suddenly, she was hit in the ribs with a deep grappling hook of a punch. Cindy bit her lip hard, breaking skin and drawing blood as she tried to steady her gaze, and consequently, was only was able to gasp in another breath to her suffocating lungs.

Gildarts bombarded the girl with a barrage of fists. They were accurately placed, and well chosen, as with each blow, the Prime was forced an inch or two back. Never had she lost the will to fight, nor had she wavered in her resolve. She stood strong.

[Gildarts]

One final punch landed on Cindy, it seemed to be Gildarts’ last stand, but Cindy could only find it within her to laugh, “You call that a punch? I felt like I was just pawed at by a kitten!” There was no momentum behind it, it felt like it had barely collided. Meanwhile, Gildarts set the plant.

The haunted remainder of the punch stuck to the girl’s armor like glue. Meanwhile, Cindy was able to throw a few parried hammer swings at her favorite Prime. After more of this went on, she sneered, “Whats the matter Prime? Ready to give u-”

The force of a charged blow knocked Cindy off her feet. She was interrupted, mid-taunt, by the perpetuated blow of his detonating punch. Cindy staggered, no longer able to remain balanced and on her feet. He took this opening to land one final blow right where the last one had landed. On the mark, bones shattered at the charged blow. And his final opponent fell.

Cindy fell to the ground with an, “O-oof.” And muttered her curses, “Damn.”

Meanwhile, the lights strobed, and the limelight fell on the remaining Prime. Gildarts was greeted by an announcer, giving his reward -which was a strange looking orb- and then ushered him off the stage. Where the announcer spoke of the next tournament to be occurring at the very same colosseum...

[Gildarts]

This adventure in Camelot was over, and the Prime wanted to desperately see Molly, but it did not appear that going to Ambrosia was the best course of action. In fact, it didn’t seem like going ANYWHERE was the best course of action. Not in his current state. And yet, the Prime continued to move, motivated only by the worry some thought that innocent lives were at risk while he was around them.

The haggard man had to brace a palm against the building, which soon crumbled at his touch. Gildarts took a quick gulp before his stance withered into a bit of a hobble as he made his way through a small town, said to be the fastest way out of Camelot, and that the isolated route still had people scattered throughout. Neither were the best choice for his predicament, so he went straight and forward, the easiest direction he could follow in his shaking daze.

A striking pain flared in his abdomen before a sinking weight in his stomach nearly brought him to his knees. Gildarts picked up the pace a little, and slowly made his way through the town’s quaint sidewalks.

His heavy, agonized panting gained him some concerned onlookers before a few guards grew maliciously interested. “Stay back!” Gildarts warned, his eyes flashed with anger as the ground below him turned into shards of the rock and stone it had once been.

“Hey are you okay?” one armored soldier was drawn by the Prime’s shout and reached for the injured man, worried that the man’s life was in danger. A single crashing second was all it took for contact to be made with the Prime’s shoulder before a wave of death was released onto them all.

It first struck into the closest - no, not men, but buildings - they tore from the air and fell upon the streets, one by one, row by row, before the entire town was covered in rubble. It had sounded like an avalanche before the buildings ruptured to become one with the shaking ground. And then, silence. Its presence spoke of only death. No pained utterance, not a single crushed individual had survived. And one guard floating in the distance on a pegasus bore witness to the entire town’s complete and utter devastation.

The city had fallen, quite evidently, from within. And now, in its ashes, somehow unscathed, a single man - a Prime - stood alone in the wake of this disaster. The calamity he had caused made him feel sick, and he was startled to find despite the horrible tragedy that had he had caused, the overwhelming agony sourced in his abdomen was completely gone.

The chocking of his stomach, dissipated. And the need to keep his magic in that had swarmed in a torrent of destruction had now vanished with his purpose to create it. Now, he faced the aftermath.

An agonized cry and Gildarts fell to his knees, and pounded helplessly into the ground, but nothing would shake the pain away. Like once before, he had killed at least another hundred men.

[Gildarts]

Meanwhile.

Billie Collins was reporting back from his post in Dalaran when he had intercepted an owl that told him to check back in on the current situation of the tournament. He had obliged to the obligating orders and gradually turned with the white wings of the creature he rode upon as he changed directions. Little did Billie Collins know that following these orders would change his life, forever.

The day before, he had asked his wife to marry him. The smile could not be torn from his lips as his fiance graciously accepted his offer and they set the date that they should be wed. Lilies were always her favorite, Collins smiled as he thought of his would-be bride surrounded by the beautiful fragrance and showered by the glowing white petals. He had stashed one in his cloak pocket, and awaited her delighted smile as he would bring it home to her.

He was the happiest man in the world. And his life was now complete. He was a soldier of Camelot, the most noble, strong, and resolved faction. Billie Collins would give his life for King Aragorn, for the King’s justice, and for the sense of purpose and hope Aragorn gave him, a humble secondary, in this world composed for Primes.

Gliding on air, Collins approached the Colosseum, only to see that events seemed under control. He had dismounted, prowled around a bit in an investigative demeanor before determining it was time to ride back home.

In the solitude that was his return trip - one he had done at least a thousand times - never, would he have guessed just what would soon wipe the enchanted smile from his overjoyed lips

He had swooped lower to the ground so he could freely adjust some of the pieces of his armor, and prematurely take them off, as he always did on his rounds home. It was then when in the reflection of the silver, polished mirror did he see a familiar silhouette disappear. In the town he had called home for so long, a building had simply vanished! He was much too high to pinpoint the source, so he swooped a little lower, only to be the only living man to see the evil Prime lay waste to his beloved town.

Brown eyes widened and the wind flattening his hair streamed to a stop as the Pegasus hovered above the ground. It whinnied and attempted to buck him from his perch, yet they remained before the shockwave of destruction hit them, sending them flying before they turned themselves around with his nifty guidance on the reigns and quickly set themselves upright, luckily, just before they slammed into ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Billie Collins had seen it. The tremendous strength, the deathly horror, and then the tormenting silence that blanketed everyone’s grave. 

Collins again mounted his beast, flying just above the town now as he directed the winged creature to where his home should have been. His eyes darted, It would all be okay, if she were still alive, somehow, somehow, she HAD to be alive. If she wasn’t... No, he couldn’t think of that. Collins sifted past the neighborhoods, overlooking a few pleas of help from a half-crushed man. His vision was a tunnel, and he looked only for his home.


In its place, a pile of crimson bricks. Worry wedged into his eyes, as for a single moment, the only part of the town that was not covered in the cubed stone was the direct center. The source of the macabre scene he had witnessed, the source of the pain, the loss of anything and everything he had ever loved had just been utterly decimated. His home. His life. His memories of the town he had grown up in.

The destroyer looked exactly like the grim reaper, and instead of a scythe, this man had a silver arm. Fire struck in Billie’s eyes and he memorized the man’s great stature, and the edges of the cloak the man wore.

“Fight him.” The wind whispered to Billie Collins. Tempting his uprising anger, yet fear conquered where courage should have remained. And instead, the pegasus changed direction, and fled from the strong Prime. Instead, Billie landed where his own front doorstep should have been. He as off-duty. And she had to be here. She had to be alive.

“Allie.” His bloodied hands continued to be slashed by the scattering of sharp debris as he fervently dug through sharp handfuls of brick and stone. Finally he found her corpse. It was sundown by then, and he held his would-be wife one last time in his hands. Cold and limp, she had left him all alone. “I should’ve been here for you Allie. I could have... I could have...” In her apron pocket, he found a protruding corner. An envelope, no, a card, titled to him. “Billie” was written in cursive with a little heart scrawled in the place of where the dot of his ‘i’ should have been.

First he rested the lillie in her hand, then he moaned in agony as he opened it. What was meant for him, and what could have been inside. In the darkness, his hands only felt the soft touch of cotton. “What is...” His eyes fell upon the bootie. It was the sock meant for a baby. Despair shook the world around him. Endless tears poured from his eyes as suddenly his wavering gaze steadied. He knew what he had to do.

After taking one lasting glance at what was left of his home he mounted his pegasus and departed. He left from the tomb. In the destruction where there had been no screaming, there had been no pain. There was only death.

Billie clutched the bootie in his right hand, soft, cold, and empty. Never again. He vowed, Never again.