Chapter 90: Battle for Fairy Tail (II)
The guild hall had gone silent. The crowd that had been cheering for the contest, laughing at the performances, celebrating the women of Fairy Tail, now stood frozen in something else. Something older. Something that tasted like fear.
Laxus Dreyar walked through the front doors with the casual confidence of a man entering his own home. His coat was open, his hands were in his pockets, and his eyes were fixed on the stage where the stone women stood like monuments to his power. Behind him came Freed Justine, his sword at his hip, his green hair falling across his face, his expression unreadable. Bickslow followed with his dolls floating around his head, their painted eyes blinking, their painted mouths grinning. And Evergreen stepped forward from the stage to meet them, her glasses back in place, her smile still soft, still terrible.
The guild members pressed back against the walls. Some reached for their magic. Some reached for their weapons. Some simply reached for each other. Makarov stood at the bar, his small form trembling with something that was not fear, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes fixed on his grandson.
Laxus stopped at the center of the hall. He looked at the stage, at the frozen women, at the crowd pressing against the edges. He looked at his grandfather. He smiled.
"We are going to play a game," he said. His voice was calm, almost conversational, the voice of a man who had planned every word and was enjoying the delivery. "A simple game. A game to decide who is the strongest in Fairy Tail. A game to separate the weak from the strong. A game that will determine the future of this guild."
He gestured toward the stage. "The women you see before you are not dead. They are waiting. They will remain that way until the game is over, provided you follow the rules. Break the rules, and they will never wake again."
Makarov stepped forward. "Laxus. This is madness. These are your guild mates. Your family. You cannot…"
"I can," Laxus said. "And I will. You have had your chance, old man. You have led this guild into weakness and laughter and shame. Now I will lead it into strength. Now I will make it what it was always meant to be."
At the back of the hall, Natsu pushed off from the wall. His scarf was bright against his chest. His eyes were fixed on Laxus. His face was calm.
He did not look excited. He did not look afraid. He looked like a man who had been waiting for something and was glad it had finally come.
He charged.
His fist was already burning when he crossed the first row of tables. His feet left scorch marks on the floor. His hair was wild behind him, and the fire was building, building, building.
Laxus raised one hand.
The lightning struck Natsu in the center of his chest. Blue and white, bright and terrible, it lifted him off his feet and threw him across the hall. He crashed through a table, then another, then hit the far wall with a sound that made every person in the room flinch. He slid to the floor and did not move.
The guild stared. Happy let out a sound that was not quite a word and started toward his partner, but someone held him back, someone's arms around his small body, someone's voice telling him to wait, to stay, to not make it worse.
Laxus lowered his hand. He looked at Natsu's body crumpled against the wall and did not seem to care one way or the other.
"The game is simple," he said. "You have three hours. Three hours to find us, to defeat us, to prove that you are stronger than the Thunder God Tribe. Three hours to save your friends." He gestured toward the stage. "If you succeed, the petrification ends. If you fail, it becomes permanent."
Evergreen stepped forward. Her voice was light, almost playful. "The battlefield is the entire town of Magnolia. You can search anywhere, fight anywhere, use any means at your disposal. But remember the rules." She adjusted her glasses. "If anyone tries to leave the town, the hostages will pay the price. If anyone calls for outside help, the hostages will pay the price. If anyone tries to break the enchantment around this building, the hostages will pay the price."
Freed raised his hand. Runes flared around the edges of the guild hall, lines of light that pulsed once and faded. "The enchantment is already in place. Stone statues and those over eighty years of age cannot pass. The rest of you are free to come and go as you please." He looked at Makarov. "You will stay here, Master. You will watch. And you will see what your weakness has made us become."
The four of them moved. Laxus walked toward the doors, his hands back in his pockets, his coat swinging behind him. Freed followed, his sword silent at his side. Bickslow drifted after them, his dolls chattering in their strange, empty voices. Evergreen paused at the threshold, looked back at the frozen women, and smiled.
"Three hours," she said. "Find us if you can. Beat us if you are strong enough."
They were gone.
The hall erupted. Men and women who had been pressed against the walls surged toward the doors, toward the town, toward the hunt. Gray was already running, ice forming around his fists. Elfman was roaring something about manhood and vengeance. Cana was shouting for her cards, for her bottles, for anyone who would follow. They poured out into the streets of Magnolia, spreading like water, like fire, like the anger that had been building in them since the first stone woman fell.
Makarov tried to follow. He reached the doors and stopped. His hand pressed against something that was not there, something that pushed back, something that held him in. He pushed harder. The air shimmered. The runes flared. He could not pass.
He stood at the threshold of his own guild hall, his hand against an invisible wall, his face carved from grief and rage.
He turned back. The hall was empty now, save for the frozen women on the stage, the broken tables from Natsu's flight, the small blue cat who was crouched beside his partner's body, and the old man who had built this place with his hands and was watching it fall apart.
Makarov walked to Natsu and knelt. He pressed his fingers to the dragon slayer's throat. A pulse. Weak, but there. Alive.
"Reedus," he said.
The painter was still in the corner, his canvas forgotten, his brushes scattered, his face white. He had not moved since Laxus walked through the doors.
"Reedus, I need you to go. I need you to find Porlyusica in the East Forest. Tell her what has happened. Tell her we need a cure for the petrification. Tell her—"
"I cannot," Reedus whispered. "I cannot leave. I cannot. He will know. He will see. He will—"
"Reedus."
The painter looked up. Makarov's face was old, older than Reedus had ever seen it, older than anyone in the guild had ever seen it. But his eyes were clear.
"You are a member of Fairy Tail. You are brave enough to paint the things that frighten you, to capture them on canvas, to make them real. That is a kind of courage most people do not have. Now I need you to take that courage and go. Find Porlyusica. Bring her help. Do not let my children die because I was too old to save them."
Reedus stared at him. Then he gathered his brushes, his canvas, his fear, and walked out the door. The runes did not stop him. He was young enough to leave. He was young enough to run.
Makarov watched him go and felt every year of his age pressing down on his shoulders.
The body beside him stirred. Natsu Dragneel opened his eyes, blinked at the ceiling, and pushed himself up on his elbows. His chest was burned where the lightning had struck. His shirt was gone. His scarf was perfect.
"You should not be awake," Makarov said.
Natsu sat up slowly, testing his arms, his shoulders, his ribs. He touched the burn on his chest and did not seem to notice the pain. "He hit me hard. Not hard enough."
"You cannot fight him. You heard the rules. You have to find him, defeat him, and you have three hours to do it. If you go after him alone, you will lose again. He is too strong. He has been preparing for this for years."
Natsu walked toward the doors. His steps were slow, deliberate, the steps of a man testing something he already knew but needed to confirm. He stopped at the threshold and raised his hand.
His fingers touched the barrier. The runes flared, a soft gold light that pulsed once and settled. He pressed harder. The light pushed back. He pushed harder still. His hand passed through. His arm passed through. He took a breath and stepped forward.
The barrier threw him back.
He hit the floor hard, his shoulder taking the impact, his teeth clenched against the pain. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then pushed himself up and walked back to the threshold. He touched the barrier again. His hand passed through. His arm passed through. He stepped forward and was thrown back again.
The third time, he did not try to walk through. He simply stood at the edge, his palm flat against the light, and let it push against him. The runes pulsed. The light held. He pulled his hand back and looked at the red marks on his skin.
Makarov watched him from the bar. "You cannot pass."
Natsu shook his head. "Dragon slayers. Anyone with too much magic. Anyone with the wrong kind of magic. He planned for us."
He looked at the barrier, at the light that would not let him leave, and his face was calm. The calm of a man who had expected this. The calm of a man who had prepared for it.
Natsu stood. He walked toward the stage where the frozen women stood like statues in a garden. He stopped in front of Lucy, her keys raised, her mouth open, her scream frozen forever in stone. He looked at her for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black bottle.
Makarov's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"
Natsu did not answer. He uncorked the bottle. A smell rose from it, sharp and chemical and wrong. He tipped it over Lucy's head. A single drop fell onto her hair, onto her face, onto the stone that was her skin.
The stone cracked.
A line appeared on her cheek, thin and black, spreading like a river through dry earth. It ran down her neck, her shoulder, her arm. It split and divided, becoming a web, a net, a cage of cracks that covered her body from head to foot. The stone fell away in pieces, in dust, in a cloud that settled around her feet.
Lucy gasped. Her keys clattered to the stage. Her knees buckled. Natsu caught her before she hit the ground, held her against him, felt her breath against his neck, her heartbeat against his chest.
"You are okay," he said. "You are okay. I have you."
She clung to him, shaking, not understanding, not caring, just holding. He held her for a moment, then passed her to Makarov and moved to the next statue.
Cana. A drop of the black liquid. The stone cracked and fell. She stumbled forward, coughing, reaching for her bottle, for her cards, for something to hold onto. Natsu caught her arm, steadied her, moved on.
Juvia. The liquid touched her stone hair and the cracks spread like water through ice. She fell to her knees, gasping, her hands pressed against her chest, her heart pounding, her lungs filling with air that was not stone.
Mirajane. The cracks ran across her face, her arms, her dress. The stone crumbled. She stood frozen for a moment, her eyes closed, her hands at her sides. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Natsu. She did not thank him. She did not need to.
Erza. The liquid touched her stone hand and the cracks spread like lightning. She burst free with a sound like breaking glass, her hand already reaching for her sword, her eyes already scanning the hall for enemies. She saw Natsu. She saw Lucy. She saw the empty guild and the broken tables and the old man holding his granddaughter against his chest.
"What happened," she said. It was not a question.
Levy. The cracks spread across her stone face, her stone hands, her stone book. She fell forward, catching herself on her palms, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She looked up at Natsu, at the black bottle in his hand, at the stone dust still settling around her feet.
"How," she said. "How did you know. How did you prepare for this. How did you…"
"Later," Natsu said. He reached down and helped her to her feet. "I need your help now."
He turned to the doors. The invisible barrier shimmered in the afternoon light, the runes pulsing with a soft, steady light. He walked toward it, stopped at the edge, and reached out his hand.
His fingers touched the barrier. The runes flared. The light pushed back. He pressed harder, felt the resistance, the weight, the wall that would not let him pass. He pulled his hand back and looked at the red marks on his skin where the magic had burned him.
"The barrier has conditions," he said. "Freed's enchantments always have conditions. It keeps stone statues inside. It keeps anyone over eighty inside. It does not keep the rest of us." He turned to Levy. "But it keeps something else. Something that was not in the rules."
Levy was already moving toward the barrier, her eyes tracing the runes, her lips moving as she read the patterns. "Dragon slayers," she said. "It is keyed to dragon slayers. Anyone with that kind of magical signature, anyone with that kind of power, cannot pass."
She looked at Natsu. He nodded.
"I tried," he said. "I walked up to it before you woke up. My hand went through, but my body would not follow. I cannot leave. Neither can Makarov. Anyone with too much magic, anyone with the right kind of magic, stays inside."
Gajeel Redfox stood at the doors. He had been there for some time, watching, listening, waiting. He stepped forward and reached for the barrier. His fingers passed through. His hand passed through. His arm passed through. He tried to step forward and the barrier pushed him back, hard, sending him stumbling into a table that splintered under his weight.
He looked at Natsu. Natsu looked at him.
"Levy," Natsu said. "Can you break it?"
She was already working, her fingers tracing the runes, her voice low as she read the patterns aloud. "It is strong. Freed's magic is always strong. But the condition is specific. Dragon slayers cannot pass. That means the barrier is calibrated to recognize and reject a very specific kind of energy. If I can find the signature, the key, the thing it is looking for, I can make something that hides it. Something that lets you walk through without setting off the alarms."
Natsu nodded. He turned to the women who had been stone, who were now standing at the edge of the stage, waiting, watching, ready.
"Laxus and his team are in the town," he said. "They have three hours. They think we are frozen. They think we are weak. They think we are nothing without our S-Class mages." He looked at Mirajane. "It is time for you to step up. It is time for you to break through."
Mirajane's face did not change. Her hands were at her sides. Her eyes were fixed on something far away, something only she could see.
"I have been waiting," she said. "For a reason. For a moment. For something that mattered." She looked at Natsu. "This matters."
He looked at Mirajane, then at Erza, then at the rest of them.
"I have been watching Laxus for weeks. Months, maybe. The way he looked at the guild. The way he talked about strength. The way he talked about his grandfather." He paused. "I sent word to Mystogan. Told him what was coming. Told him we would need every S-Class mage we had."
Mirajane's eyes flickered. "Mystogan. He never comes to the guild. He never answers calls."
"He answered this one. He will come if he can. But he is far, and the barrier may keep him out. I do not know. I could not plan for everything."
Erza's jaw tightened. "And Gildarts?"
Natsu shook his head. "No one knows where he is. No one ever knows. We cannot count on him."
He looked at them, at the women who had been stone, who were now standing at the edge of the stage, waiting, watching, ready.
"So at this moment, the strongest person in this guild is Laxus. The Thunder God Tribe has the advantage. They have the hostages. They have the barrier. They have the plan." He smiled. It was not a happy smile. "But they do not have us. And we are going to remind them what Fairy Tail really means."
"Erza," Natsu said. "Evergreen is yours. Do not underestimate her. Her stone eyes are fast, but she is not fast enough to catch you if you are already moving. Do not give her the chance to look at you. Do not let her set the pace."
Erza's hand was already on her sword. "She will not."
"Lucy. Summon Loke. He is a member of this guild. He is a combat specialist. His abilities will be useful to you. Use him."
Lucy's keys were already in her hand. She did not ask how he knew. She did not ask how he had planned. She just nodded.
The others were moving now, gathering at the doors, waiting for Levy to finish her work. Cana was checking her cards. Juvia was also running, her face set. Bisca was loading her rifle. Levy was still working, her fingers tracing the runes, her voice low, her eyes bright.
Makarov watched them. He watched his children prepare for battle, watched them arm themselves with magic and fury and the desperate hope of people who had been frozen and had woken to find the world changed.
And he watched Natsu.
The dragon slayer stood at the barrier with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the light. He was not excited. He was not afraid. He was not the boy who had charged Laxus with fire in his fists and rage in his heart. He was something else. Something that had been waiting for this moment, planning for this moment, preparing for this moment for weeks, for months, for longer than anyone in this room knew.
Gajeel stood beside him. His arms were crossed. His eyes were fixed on the same light. He was watching Natsu. He was waiting.
The barrier flickered. Levy stepped back, her hands raised, her face pale from the effort. "I have it. It will not hold forever. But it will hold long enough for you to pass. For all of you."
The women moved. Cana was first, her cards already fanning out around her, her eyes scanning the streets beyond the doors. Juvia followed, her water already gathering, her face already set. Bisca, Levy, Mirajane, Erza. They walked through the barrier one by one, and the light did not stop them, and the runes did not flare, and they were gone.
Lucy paused at the threshold. She looked back at Natsu. She looked at the black bottle in his hand, the stone dust on his clothes, the calm in his eyes.
"When did you become this," she said.
He smiled. It was not a happy smile. It was the smile of a man who had been carrying something heavy for a very long time and was finally setting it down.
"When I realized that being strong was not enough," he said. "The fight against Jellal in the Tower of Heaven revealed a lot of things to me."
She kissed him. Quick and hard. Then she was through the barrier, her keys in her hand, her spirits already gathering, and the doors closed behind her.
The hall was empty now. Makarov stood at the bar, watching. Gajeel stood at the barrier, watching. Happy crouched on a table, his eyes wide, his wings folded, watching.
Natsu turned from the doors. He walked back toward the stage, past the stone dust, past the broken tables, past the old man who had raised him and the dragon slayer who had tried to kill him. He stopped at the edge of the barrier and looked out at the town, at the streets where his friends were hunting, at the sky where the storm was gathering.
Gajeel moved to stand beside him. His arms were still crossed. His eyes were still fixed on the light.
"We need to talk," Natsu said. "About our dragons. About what happened to them. About what is happening to us."
Gajeel did not move. He did not speak. But his eyes flickered, just once, toward Natsu's face.
"When we get out of here," Natsu said. "There are things you need to know."
Gajeel was silent for a long moment. The barrier hummed between them. The town waited beyond it. The storm gathered overhead.
"Yes," he said.
Makarov watched them from the bar, his small hands wrapped around a mug that had gone cold hours ago. He watched his grandson's enemy stand beside his grandson's son, two dragon slayers with their eyes fixed on the same light, two monsters who had learned to be men, two boys who had grown into something he did not quite recognize.
Since when, he thought. Since when did you become capable of this. Since when did you start planning, preparing, thinking three moves ahead like a general on a battlefield. Since when did you stop being the boy who charged in with fire and fury and start being the man who carried a cure for petrification in his pocket.
He looked at Natsu's face in the light of the barrier. The calm. The certainty. The quiet, terrible patience.
I do not know you, he thought. I do not know who you have become.
But he was glad. He was glad his children had someone who would be ready when they could not be. He was glad his grandson had someone who would not let him win.
The barrier flickered. The runes pulsed. The town waited.
Natsu turned from the light and walked back toward the stage. He picked up Happy and set him on his shoulder. He looked at Gajeel. He looked at Makarov.
"We wait," he said. "We wait for Levy to finish her work. We wait for the barrier to fall. And then we go."
He looked out at the town, at the streets where his friends were fighting, at the sky where the storm was gathering.
"The battle for Fairy Tail continues," he said.
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Next Time: Battle for Fairy Tail (III) - The Thunder God Tribe