Chapter 17: Albion Ebonveil
Walking through the empty streets of Darry Village was a woman. She had shaggy black hair, black eyes and a calm, neutral expression.
Despite the injuries covering her body, her steps were steady. In her arms, a baby cried softly, its small voice breaking the silence of the night.
"Whaaa… whaa… mmmph…"
Metsuri let out a quiet sigh. "It's too bad I forgot his fruit basket back in the forest."
The streets were deserted, it was well past nightfall. That didn't bother her. If anything, she preferred it.
It gave her less attention.
She kept walking. After some time, she stopped in front of a two-story building.
"Good. Finally… an inn." Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
The lobby was quiet, almost too quiet. Her eyes scanned the space out of habit.
'I'm not really surprised. It is nearly midnight.'
Behind a heavy oak counter stood a woman. She offered a small, slightly tired smile.
"How can I help you today, madam?"
Her appearance was neat, but not overly polished. Chestnut brown hair, cut into a shaggy, layered bob, framed her face in soft, uneven strands.
A few pieces were pinned back with simple crisscrossed bobby pins, keeping them out of her eyes.
Subtle caramel highlights caught the light at the ends.
She wore thick, rectangular black-framed glasses, giving her a grounded, almost studious look.
Her skin had a warm olive tone, and her build was modest, slightly on the petite side.
'What a stupid question,' the innkeeper thought, her polite smile never wavering.
'It's midnight. Obviously she needs a place to stay.'
'She looks practically homeless…'
Metsuri said nothing. She just looked at her.
"…."
'This is awkward…' The innkeeper's smile strained slightly. 'Why is she just staring at me? Did I do something wrong?'
In reality, Metsuri wasn't offended at all. 'I'm so jealous of her hair.'
'Did she dye it? That color looks really good… I'm definitely using that later.'
"So… why are you here so late?" the innkeeper asked, trying to fill the silence.
'Say something, anything. This is getting weird.'
"I came from the forest," Metsuri replied. "You know—the one filled with magical beasts not too far from here."
"The forest…?" The innkeeper blinked, surprised. "You mean the Elder Woods?"
"If that's what it's called, then yes."
'Isn't that place full of dangerous monsters?' Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked Metsuri over.
'Her body is actually really toned…'
'That's not fair!'
"…Are you a wizard?" the innkeeper asked, masking her curiosity—and a hint of jealousy. "That would explain the injuries."
'How is she even standing? If that were me, I'd be unconscious…'
Metsuri didn't answer. She stepped forward, stopping at the counter.
"I need a room. Food. And a bath," she said plainly. "I feel disgusting."
"Let's see…" The innkeeper straightened, pushing her thoughts aside as she calculated.
"That'll be 5,000 Jewels."
Metsuri gave a small nod before silently placing a stack of paper bills onto the desk.
The innkeeper picked them up and counted quickly. "Mmm. This should do."
She gestured toward the staircase off to the side. "You can take any room upstairs."
"WAAH—WAAH—WAAH—AAAAH!"
A rhythmic wail broke through the quiet, coming from the baby in Metsuri's arms.
The innkeeper's expression softened as she looked at him. A gentle smile formed.
"Now that's a strong set of lungs." She slowly reached out, intending to gently soothe him.
Smack!
A sharp sound cut through the air as her hand was slapped away.
"Keep your hands off my property," Metsuri said flatly, her expression cold, almost indifferent.
The innkeeper stepped back, clutching her hand, her face tightening in discomfort.
"Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes! My apologies." She bowed quickly, unsettled. '…Her property?'
"...." Metsuri didn't respond. Without another glance, she walked past the counter and headed for the stairs.
"GYAAAA—HNNN—WAAAAAAHHH!" Albion's cries grew louder, more frantic.
Metsuri's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression hardening further.
Lacking any sense of emotional warmth.
"You're annoying me." She grabbed his cheeks, forcing his fuchsia-colored eyes open.
"Quiet down. That's an order."
"...." the moment the baby Albion registered her words, his crying immediately stopped.
The innkeeper's body tensed on instinct, a chill running down her spine. She swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on Metsuri's back.
"That woman…" she muttered under her breath. "I'm sure of it…"
She hugged herself tightly.
As Metsuri ascended the stairs, a faint, unsettling smile spread across her face.
"She has the eyes of a killer… she must be crazy…"
◆ ◇ ◆
"Hahh…!" A sharp grunt escaped Metsuri as she pressed against her injuries.
She sat in the bath, the water clouded faintly around her.
"I'll be out of commission if I leave wounds like thesesuntreated…" she muttered. "Maybe I should lay low for a while…"
"He-he-he-hee!" A soft, high-pitched giggle broke the quiet.
Metsuri glanced toward the sink.
Albion sat there, small hands splashing at the water. He laughed as he struck the surface, watching it ripple, grabbing at it like it was something alive.
She stared.
And kept staring.
Slowly, after several seconds, her eyes had widened in utter shock.
'He's… laughing?' Confusion flickered through her mind. 'How is that possible…?'
'When I first found him… he didn't react to anything.' Her thoughts drifted back, moving through the trees of the Elder Woods.
Even during the fight with the Vulcan… nothing. No fear. No interest.'
'The first time he showed any reaction… was when he drank the milk.'
Then, another memory surfaced. The middle of the battle. She saw him crying and referring to her as 'mama'.
'I didn't think about it then, I was too focused on the fight. But how was he able to speak?'
When a baby enters the world, it doesn't arrive with understanding.
There are no thoughts, no awareness—only instinct.
Crying. Breathing. Grasping at nothing.
Everything else… has to be learned.
They don't know how to walk. They can't speak, or crawl, or even laugh—not at first. Even the smallest things, the things people take for granted, take time.
Time to recognize voices.
Time to understand sound.
Time to form their first words.
Time to move their hands with purpose instead of reflex.
Time to drink properly.
Time to feed themselves without guidance.
Growth is slow. Gradual. Unavoidable.
That is the natural order of the world.
No matter who—or what—you are, it applies to all living things.
Or at least… it should.
And that was where Metsuri's confusion began.
A normal child takes weeks… months… just to begin speaking. Longer to move with intent. Longer still to understand.
But Albion—
He had done all of it in hours.
What should have taken months… he learned in a single day.
And no matter how Metsuri looked at it—
it didn't make sense.
Later, Metsuri finished her bath.
After washing away the worst of the dirt and blood from the battle, she stepped out and dropped onto the bed, a white towel wrapped loosely around her body.
Now seated, she rested Albion in her lap.
Her fingers moved through his soft black hair, gently brushing it back as he sat there, drowsy and quiet.
"I've never met—nor even heard of—someone with a growth rate like yours," Metsuri said calmly.
"Why do you have it? Is it something unique to you?" She continued to stroke his hair.
By now, his eyes were slowly opening and closing, struggling to stay awake.
'Maybe it's because you're part of that bloodline…'
As Albion drifted closer to sleep, Metsuri's expression shifted. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face.
"Now you've piqued my interest, Albion Ebonveil." She leaned in slightly, staring into his fading gaze.
"I kept my promise. I've been a good mother to you." Her smile sharpened. "Which means…"
"t's time to start experimenting."
◆ ◇ ◆
"I'll carry all the burdens… all the sins… all the hatred… so you don't have to."
"If you fall—if you aren't fit to be king—then I'll fight for both of us."
"I'll protect both of us."
As those pale words left White's mouth, memories surged through Albion's mind.
They forced themselves in, dragging him back to the day he first met his mother.
He didn't focus on the outstretched hand. He didn't focus on the words… or what they meant.
What held him there were the memories themselves.
They pressed in, one after another, shaping his thoughts… changing something deep within him.
"Bad people…" Albion's voice cut through the space, stopping the white hand mid-reach.
"I hate people like that." His arms rested at his sides, his gaze lowered.
"People who call themselves strong… but only use that strength for their own selfish desires."
"They hurt those weaker than them… and call it natural and necessary." The black water around them began to stir.
It rose, and took form. Taking the appearance of Gajeel Lionheart.
"They don't think about consequences. They don't care." He never looked up.
The figure dissolved. The water dropped,then rose again. This time, it became Metsuri Ebonveil.
"They just follow whatever feels right… as if that alone justifies everything."
"In the end, their ideals are hollow and their ideals are empty."
"They only care about the result…"
"…never the path that leads to it."
The form collapsed back into water.
"It makes me sick."
"What are you talking about?" White finally spoke, confusion slipping into his tone. "And why are you acting different?"
"You wouldn't understand," Albion replied quietly, beginning to rise.
Voices echoed through his mind, one after another.
[Live for yourself—your pleasures, your hatred. If you can't do that, then you're no wizard at all.]
[Don't overestimate the value of one life—especially when yours is practically worthless.]
'What should I do…?'
[Have fun struggling. I'll enjoy breaking you down—and building you back up.]
[Right now, you're nothing. Someone who can't even reach one.]
'What's the best choice…?'
[The weak can scream all they want. The strong rule this world. Stop underestimating your own life, and stop overestimating someone else's.]
'Should I fight…? No… that's not it.'
'Wait… what do I want?'
[Maybe we only reach out our hands to hurt… because we forgot how to use them to hold someone instead.]
A quiet realization settled in.
'Right… I remember now.'
[So… is it okay… if we start from here?]
'I always knew.'
[Maybe I just wanted to know… if it's okay for me to keep living.]
Albion stood fully now. A bittersweet smile formed on his face. "I think I understand."
"What I want." He raised his hand toward White.
"You've made your choice, haven't you?" White said, a hint of amusement returning. "You finally found your resolve."
"Yeah," Albion nodded. "I did."
White nodded as well, lifting his hand to meet Albion's.
"My choice is—"
Before their hands could meet, a fist slammed into White's face.
His body jerked back from the impact.
"I refuse!"
The punch was so powerful that White's body was sent flying backward, flipping through the air before crashing violently onto the black water below.
"GAAH—! HHHNNG—RAAAGH!" He clutched his face in pain, his body twitching from the impact.
"You really thought I'd side with something like that?" Albion said, his voice shaking with anger.
"You told me to throw everything away. To abandon my past and let you carry the burden instead."
"Did you seriously think I'd give up that easily?!"
A desperate frustration swelled inside him, spilling out all at once.
"You dragged me into this pathetic world because you thought you couldn't control me?!"
"You call yourself me… and yet you don't understand me at all!"
"You know nothing about the suffering I went through! Nothing about what I endured!"
Albion's breathing became uneven.
"And after all of that… you tell me to surrender and let you take control of my life?"
His hand slowly pressed against his chest.
"Ever since I was an infant, I've been treated like an object. A possession for someone else's desires."
"My entire life, I was used over and over by the same person…"
His expression twisted bitterly. "And I mistook that use for love."
"And now… after finally becoming free… after five years…"
"You drag me here, beat me down, and tell me to become someone's property again?"
"All I ever wanted was a normal life."
His voice lowered slightly. "A happy, ordinary life."
"But people like you keep trying to turn me into an object."
His gaze locked onto White. "Don't you understand?"
"This life is mine."
"Not yours."
"What's with you all of a sudden?" White grumbled as he slowly pushed himself up. "What happened in those few seconds?"
"Shut up!" Albion shouted. "SHUT THE HELL UP!"
He pointed a trembling finger toward him. "Stop talking like you understand me."
"You aren't me. You don't know a single thing about what I've lived through."
His voice cracked, not from weakness, but from years of emotions buried too deeply for too long.
"I have no power… yet I want everything."
"I'm weak… yet I still want to win."
"I know nothing about magic. Nothing about this world. I barely even understand what a guild truly is… or the people inside them."
"And even then…"
"I still keep moving forward."
His fists trembled at his sides. "I want to fight… but I don't have the strength to win."
"And instead of searching for another path…"
A bitter laugh escaped him. "I keep throwing myself into battles I can't survive."
"I mistook possession for love."
"I'm terrified of opening up to people…"
"And the one time I finally tried…"
His eyes shook slightly. "I was rejected for being weak."
Silence hung in the air for a brief moment before his voice rose again.
"So don't stand there pretending you know me!"
"You tell me to stop valuing others above myself…"
"But how am I supposed to do that when I can't even see value in my own life?!"
His breathing became ragged. "I trusted no one."
"Least of all myself."
For the first time, the anger in his voice cracked apart, revealing something far more fragile underneath.
"…so why?"
"Why does everyone hate me so much?"
"That's exactly what I was talking about," White replied, finally standing upright. "If I become King, you won't have to worry about any of that."
He spread his arms wide.
"Why struggle through a miserable life when everything you could ever want can exist here?"
"I will not be your pawn," Albion said immediately, resentment filling his eyes. "And I will never become anyone else's pawn again."
"I'd rather die right here."
"....." White stared at him silently.
Albion clenched his teeth. "I'll use everyone in the guild—including you—to ascend."
"To become a better version of myself."
White scoffed. "Talk all you want. You're just delaying the inevitable."
His expression slowly changed, becoming colder and sharper. "If you and I can't see eye to eye…"
The black water around them rippled violently.
"Then we'll just have to curse each other."
Albion Ebonveil had no strategy to win the battle between the two kings.
And unfortunately for him, anger alone wasn't enough to bridge the difference in strength.
Leaving him with only one option.
"I'm tired of being dragged around like a rag doll…"
the only way for him to match white strength….
His fuchsia-colored eyes hardened. "I'm gonna make you pay."
Was to match white strength.