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For as long as she remembered, she was cold. She didn’t remember warmth. Love or care. She was nameless. She may know little, but she knew that number weren’t a name.
Sometimes. Some rare times. The Magic Council called in guild mage to take care of a mission. These missions were hated, and reviled. Taking care of a demon or a monster was easy. Dangerous? Yes. But easy. The ones the Magic Council weren’t like that. They took care of Dark Guild, and they were hard. Not because the fights were, even thought they could be, but because they showed some of the worse of human depravity. It was always a hell to stay calm and not kill every last ones of these fuckers. Especially this one.
Dark Guild and Dark mages alike liked their slaves and human experiment. They could supply themselves, sure, but in Fiore, if you wanted quality, you go to the Playground. They were the supplier of all the underworld, the best of the best. There network was massive. Shut down one operation, three more appear, like a goddamn hydra. No one knew who their boss was, or even any real power they had. But, after years and years of such, one of the moles of the Council managed to get information of the Playground. The real location of it. After each raid, they evaluated the merchandises (“People. They’re people”. The guild knight frowned at the correction, but nodded to the mage he was briefing. He knew. He knew too, but it was easier to speak like this. To not feel the horrors of the numbers, of what it means.) They split the best of quality to be “refined” at the Playground. And they finally managed to track down the location of it. They reached it by a convoluted route, changing the guards often. But the mole, after year in the organization, managed to find the last stop. The Dhuran forest. That forest was known for its danger, and the lack of any big roads or any things really, beyond a handful of hamlets, not even big enough to be considered a village. After years of operations, after thousands and thousands of lost, they were ready to take it down once and for all. To bring it down crashing and burning. They sent for ones of the strongest and most destructive mage, Gildarts Clive.
Trekking to the ass end of nowhere was easy, he was used to it by now, as a S-class wizard, his quests often took him to remote place. Still… these trees were massive. He could barely make out the top of it. And it was so dark, the foliage so dense it blocked out the light. Walking around, in the underbrush, he listened the low caws of bird, and the ruffles of beast, moving in the underbrush. He only has to take down a few of the gigantic wolf-tiger hybrid for them to be way of approaching him… and a few trees. Oh, well, it wasn’t like a few trees would be missed in a forest (unknow to him, several black mages laid in piece, as were their traps and runes).
He was lost. He was definitely lost. Why did this forest have to be so big?! Trying to situate himself on the map was no help either. He kept wandering for a bit, until he reached a clearing. Dozens of black mage jumped from underground, and down the branches, surrounding him.
- “You die here legal mage!” they roared, rushing at him. He smiled. Well. Seem like they did the jobs for him. The ground shattered as his magic crashed.
Her lungs were burning, as she ran the laps. The ones on her left, 481, collapsed. She crossed her eyes as their instructor stomped toward them, trying to drown the cry of pain, as the whip cracked down. She needed to keep running.
Dragging the body of ones of the dark guild goons with him, he reached the spot that was the entrance of the guild. Scuffing the moss off the ground, revealing the runes inscribed under. That was the entrance, huh?
- “You-you’re going to let me go, huh? I told you everything!”
- “Sure, sure, just need to open the entrance.”
The guys squeaked, only for Gildarts to slam him down on the circle. When the guild mark touched the ground, it phased out, revealing a ramp. He scoffed, seeing that the guy has passed out, tossing him to the side. Walking down, he was surprised to see little to no light. Incredibly weak flame was along the walls, the dim light giving glimpses of the bars and cells around. It was… gloomy. Seriously, some people took the name dark guild too seriously. He dodged by instinct, raising his hand to his cheek. A thin cut, bleeding slightly.
- “He. So there is some guard after all. Oy. Show yourself!” he ordered, crushing his immediate surrounding, but taking care not to touch the ground. Wouldn’t do good for it to collapse on one of the people he was tasked to get back. A shadow was pushed in a light spot, making him frown. The boy was young. A teenager, at best. But his eyes… they were crazed, clawing at his face, scratching the 322 tattooed under his left eye.
- “Mina goroshi, mina goroshi.” (Kill them all, Kill them all)
- “Ah?”
- “Mina goroshi!” he cried, sprinting toward Gildarts. Fast! He punched the boy, but he dodged, even has the magic pressure cut the wall behind him in piece. He kept whispering his mantra, with that crazed look in his eyes, disappearing in the shadow… no. Becoming invisible. A form of Hide? Dodging, he caught the clawed hand mid-jump, and slammed his knee in the boy stomach, the force sending him upward, slamming against the cellar, before impacting the ground several feet away. Gildarts waited, only for the boys to struggle up, hands clawing at the ground, scales extending to cover all his arms and part of his face.
- “Mi-na go…roshi. Mina. Goroshi!” he roared, winds picking up all around him, becoming blades of air, cutting everything to piece. Gildarts swore, using his crash magic to counter it, only for more to be send against him, the boy smiling wide, red hair wiping around.
- “Satsuji is a good boy! Yes he’s! He kills the intruder, and Mama is proud! What a good boy! Good Satsujin. Yes he’s!”
That was creepy as all hell. Okay. Fuck this. Let’s take the kid down.
- Kazewari!
The boy eyes widened, tossing his hand up into his own spell, a roaring storm of wind blade, only for Gildarts spell to overpower it easily. He just had time to protect his head, before being hit fully by the mage spell. It sent him flying, shattering the wall opposite to it, and slamming in the next one, letting an impressive impact mark. He slid down, crumpling in a heap at the feet of the wall. Looking around, the whole place was devastated. Diced and cut into piece. He sighed, before reaching in his pack, getting the magical handcuffs out, passing it to the boy wrist. Still…. No one? Not one slaves, nor any supplementary people? Deeper he goes then.
Her lungs were burning. Her legs were shaky, and her hands trembling. She kept them closed behind her back. She stood straight, looking straight ahead. She knew better than showing weakness. Two boys were fighting. One was crying on the ground, clutching his hand, after it got pierced by a knife. The other stood over him, looking shakingly, but holding his battle knife tight. He rose it, not listening to the pathetic cry and pleas of 481. He slices the boy throat, stabbing a few more times for good measures, before standing up, looking straight ahead. His eyes were dead. He didn’t shake. Didn’t tremble. He just… looked. Papa put his hand on his shoulder, congratulating him, praising him. 245 came back at their side, as two more were called out on the red soaked ground. Red dripped of his hands. Red eyes looked ahead. Straight ahead.
This place was a maze. He has entered dozens of small cells now, and bigger cage. And he was lost. A map would be great right… now. Was that light? Definitely. He rushed ahead, finding massive doors. Yep, bingo! Pushing them open, light streamed in. He took the well light stairs down. It brought him into a… tavern? That seemed like a tavern anyway. A bunch of dark mages laid around, taking into him. At the bar were a few scantily clad women. He barely has the times to take into them, that the dark mage rushed at him. He dodged the ones with knifes, ducked under a fist, and slammed his hand down. The place shook, and sent the whole lot flying, falling in a heap, unconscious… well nearly, he amended, kicking one in the head. The slaves, because that was the women were, their collar unmistakable, were cowering behind the bar. He approached them, crouching to seem less menacing.
- “Hey, it’s alright. I’m from Fairy Tail. We come to get you out of here.” He extended a hand, and the green-haired woman reached back… only for her hands to curl into claw, and try to stab his hand. He swore jumping back, his magic reflexively slamming her into the wall with a sickening crunch, were she slide down, unmoving.
- “Hoy, hoy, don’t break my dolls.” Gildarts whirled around. When did he…? The man smirked, as body crowded around him. The unconscious form of the dark mage dragged themselves up, even the broken body of the women struggled to get up. More bare people moved behind him. The man acidic green eyes felt predatory.
- “You’re not a pretty plaything, but you would make a good puppet nevertheless!” a long, thin, bony hand reached for him, and he pushed it away with his crush, only for the slaves to fall in front of the man, protecting him. That wasn’t good. They all had an empty look in their eyes.
- “Who the fuck are you?” he growled, trying to keep his disgust out. Emotion wouldn’t be good right now. The thin and lanky man slicked his grey hair back.
- “I’m Kugutsu, and this are my dolls.” He declared, grabbing the face of a purple haired woman. “Aren’t they pretty?” he whispered, long tongue sliding against her cheek.
- “You fucking…!” he tried to go after him, only to have his way bared by more slaves. He growled. He didn’t want to hurt or kill them by accident. They were already subjected to enough. Puppet magic. Or maybe mental control. Either way, this was one sick magic. And one fucking sickos. He slammed his crash down, sending them all flying. Bruises, at best. Th man laughed, a depraved “Gyahaha”.
- “Hi ne, hi ne! I want him!”
- “I’m flattered, but not interested!” he shot back, slamming one of the possessed people. Jumping back slightly, he could only curse, as more and more of these “puppet” streamed inside. He… well. Seem like he couldn’t keep holding back, and actually needed to go on the offensive He hasn’t made any process to take down the controller yet. Then… let’s get a bit serious.
- Crushing Evil, Spreading the Truth: Shatterpoint!
His crush magic surged, in a twisting storm, sending all controlled flying, slamming into the creepy fucker. He struggles to get up, raising his hand, only for Gildarts to be on him, rage in his eyes. He slammed his fist down, encasing the fucker head in the ground. Behind him, a mess of moaning and groaning peoples, covered in bruises, if not broken bones. Snapping the handcuff around the mind controller, he grabs his hair, raising the pitifully whining bastard, to look at him eyes to eyes, taking note of the 952 under his left eyes.
- If you ever, think about touching people again, I will crush you for real. He growled, a warning and a threat all at once. He let the head drop, marching toward the next places. He ignored the numerous rooms, and beds, smelling of sweat and something else, something he refused to name. Deeper he goes, deeper in the depravity.
It was cold. A thin blanket, and bruises all over her arms, gashes from where she blocked the knives. She stayed shivering. Some people were crying. Young ones. Ones who haven’t learnt yet. Darkness all around her. Not even a ray of light. Steel hitting steel, and the cry were silenced. She curled tighter, closing her eyes, trying to sleep, and ignore the pang of hunger and pain. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she will be faster.
He didn’t search long for the next level. His crush magic took care of the walls, and he found the next flight of stairs. He reached… a mess hall? It sur looked like ones, with the long stone tables and rough benches, polished by hundred if not thousands of people who sat on it. A corridor in front of him. There were several corridors in front of him. He took one at random. The corridors were lined with cells. And even like that, that was pretty generous. The bed, or a wood plank held up by chains, took the whole length of the wall. A single hanger to put clothes on. And that was it. He found sanitary too. Just a room with shower head. No partition, no privacy. Reaching the end of it, he took a few steps in the … cavern? It was big. Like a massive arena. Targets and training post were scattered around. A shuffle makes him look behind him. Blocking the paths to the corridors were… children. Dozen and dozens of kids, some with crude bandages wrapped around their arms and legs. The eldest was 12, at most. A few held knives in their hands, other curled their fist, spark of magic dancing in between their fingers. A bunch has staff. Weapons, they said. Children. A woman stepped behind them. Lustrous blond hair, green eyes framed just so, perfect manicure, rich and well thought clothes. She would have been beautiful, if the sneer she wore didn’t twist her face, if her eyes didn’t let the monster within apparent.
- “Well, well children, it seems we have an intruder. Let’s take care of it, yes?”
- “Yes Mama.” They answered in chorus, becoming even harder, more weapons getting out.
- “You people are really sick!” he gritted out, as they rushed at him. He has to dodge a few attacks, sending a few waves of crush to stop incoming magical attack. Stepping aside, he dodged the attempted stabbing, fist colliding with the back of a head, kick sending another flying. They left imprint in the grounds form the strength they were hit. One of the kid, a green haired one, surprised him, rushing from under him, and he kicked her a bit too hard, sending her flying at the feet of the woman, skidding against the bare ground. The woman scowled.
- “Get up. None of you want to disappoint Mama, do you?” the slight, maybe eight years old, if even that, struggled at his feet.
- “N-No, Ma.Ma.” grabbing at his knife, he rushed back in, an arm pressed against his ribs. Gildarts gritter his teeth, directing his magic in an all crush, sending all the kids flying. They jumped up, weary, hesitating to go back at him. That angered the woman, hand snapping, as did a magical whip, slashing a back, getting a child in the head.
- “What are you waiting for?! Taking him down.” A blue haired girl stalled, taking a step back.
- “We can’t, we aren’t….” she stuttered. The whips cracked, getting her in the face, slashing her eye out, making her fall, as the blood oozed out, dripping down.
- “You dare defy me?!” she roared.
Okay. That’s it. He played nice until now. He ept his magic down. Kept the damages down. But that. was. IT! His power surged, unbridled, magic so thick it became visible, raw, bringing the children to their knees, struggling to breaths. The woman took a step back, eyes looking wild.
- “No! You… Fight for me! Protect me!” but it was useless. None of the kid could even get up under the pressure. That’s seemed to enrage her even more, going for another magic whip.
- “You, useless children, you’re supposed to EEP!” Anything she has to say was silenced, as Gildarts hit her, feeling the bones crunch under his fist. She tried to plead, soft call of “mercy” but he simply stomped on her hands, hands that would hurt and whip a child without a thought. Mercy? Did she ever show any for these children? He hit her a few more time for good instance, letting her a trembling, broken heap on the ground. Looking back, he saw one kid, with the eyes the color of blood looking at him, then at the woman.
- “Papa is down in the Playground. This way.” He added, pointing to the other side of the room, a wall he could barely make out. Gildarts nodded, turning away, the kid looking at him go, before helping the others to get up. Time to end this.
She wasn’t unused to pain. No. She was more than used to it. Fire and lighting. Ice and wind. She knew it. Fist or knives. She knew pain. She just needed to be faster. If she was faster then… If she was faster, then she could avoid pain. She just needed to be faster. Faster and faster, until she could see everything coming.
He shattered the doors. He didn’t care about the ostentatious rich, or the intricate carving. He just wanted to end this, to take down the twisted fucker that was head honcho here. The Corridors he stalked were grand and golden, and the rooms he entered was vast and massive, luxurious.
- “Welcome, Fairy Tail Mage. You did quite a bit of damage to my investment, didn’t you?”
He growled, taking in the man lazing in a pseudo throne, three beautiful women near him, serving him. A middle-aged, quite handsome, business man, his suit open, revealing his torso, and the emblem on his chest. The crowned Playground.
- “You’re the boss here, huh?”
- “I am. They call me Boss or Papa, but feel free to call me Joshua. Do you want some merchandise? Since you made your way here, I would give you a nice discount.”
- “You fucker.” He growled, magic gathering in a spell. He hit down. Mizuwari!
His eyes widened in shock, as his magic surged, but dissipated as soon as his spell was formed, returning to the surrounding ethernanos. Joshua laughed.
- “Good job 422.” Gildarts looked up, encountering glowing lavender eye. A child stepped out of the shadow of the thrones. “I’m afraid, little Fairy, that all magics are useless in front of her. Isn’t she great?” he gritted his teeth, rushing ahead.
- “I don’t need magic to bash…” he slammed into a rune wall. The man smirked, raising his hand.
- “Ah. Sorry, but the rules are clear. You cannot attack me as long as 422 is alive.”
- “You think a few runes is going to stop me?”
- “Oh, that not your problem right now.”
Turning his head, he was barely able to dodge the kids knife. He wanted to push her back with magic, only for her eyes to glow, and negate its effect. Well, shit. Hand to Hand it was. The kid was relentless, attacking over and over, always making sure to keep him away from her master. And the man laughed. For him, it was a show, a game. An amusing spectacle. Flexing his fists, Gildarts took another look at the girl. Her eyes were strange, without distinction between iris and sclera, one solid color. She seemed uncaring as to the magic he kept exuding, eyes always trained on him. He tried to hit her. But she saw the hit coming and dodged. Creating a new spell, she annulated it, making him twitch. It was like the matrices, the form of his ethernanos just collapsed, the magic loosing form and returning to the surrounding magic. A kick was dodged, as she just rolled out of the attack. They continued to dance for a while. She managed to nick him a few times, but she took more damage from him than anything else. Her arms were battered, and an ugly bruise was on her jaws. Still, she just shook her head and dived back into the fight. Sha was getting tired, and she overextended, winning her a powerful uppercut in the stomach. She flied up, impacting the ground hard, coughing for air. He felt the crack of ribs too. With that, she was lost.
- “422. Get up and fight.” Ordered Joshua, voice incredibly cold. That was insane. The kid was in no condition to get up. Nor to fight. Still, she struggled up. What the hell? She was panting, and breathing hard now, wincing as every breath sparked pain. Gildarts tried to cast magic, to get rid of the runes, only for his magic to get annulled again. He slammed the child down. She got up. Tried to knock her out. She got up. She kept getting up.
This man was strong. A blinding light of power, his magic flowing out, illuminating the world. She couldn’t win. Her back was burning. She has to keep fighting. It was Papa order. She has to get up. Her ribs were broken. Still, she has to keep fighting. Her vision was hazy. Her lungs were struggling to supply her with air. But she needed to keep fighting. Her back was burning, her mind was screeching. She has to get up. So what if her arms were broken? What if her legs shook and she barely could feel them? She has to get up. She was ordered so. She has to fight. She has to… She has… up. She…
The kid was barely standing on her feet, swaying dangerously. Her clothes were torn. Still, she kept getting up, dragging herself to her feet. Shining through her shirt was a runic array. Pulsing every times she goes down. Her eyes were dim, her movement slow and mechanic. With how weak she was… he may be able to cast magic. She has all but passed out already. She still erased his magic, even in this state. He cursed. Rushing at him, she sluggishly tried to stab him, but he grabbed her collar, a hand coming to cover her eyes, the other slamming down the barrier, and letting his magic surge. Not as a spell, no. He understood his lesson. Just pure, unbridled power. Magic whipping past, shattering stones and crushing the ground, the air itself trembling, damaging the runes. This earned a shout of worry from the arrogant man. He was past caring. He barreled at him, and crushed his head, feeling the skulls fracture under his hand. Stomping on his ribs, he heard the satisfying crack of it breaking. He didn’t want to kill him, but hurt he did. The kid was… collapsed on the ground as a heap, twitching. As if she was still trying to get up. He slapped the magic cuff on the ringleader, and she sagged down, still. Too still. He rushed at her, sensing no magic from her. No. She couldn’t… damn it, she couldn’t die! No after everything she has suffered already.
She was… warm. Her back burned, but it wasn’t the insistent burn of an order. Her body ached, but it wasn’t the cold ones she felt in her rooms. There was… light. And sound. The sound of wind. Of forest. She opened her eyes, to a cellar of… canvas? That looked light canvas. The man of before came into sight. Red hair and scruffy beard. He smiled at her.
- “Hey kid. You’re awake.”
- “Where…?”
- “It’s the medical tent. The Council Knight are manning it.” She nodded. She wasn’t sure what a council knight was, but she knew better than asking question. Especially to an adult.
- “I’m Gildarts Clive, a fairy tail wizard.”
- “You’re bright.” She commented, blinking at the magic radiating off him, before looking horrified. It just slipped out. No, she shouldn’t…. He threw his head back and laughed.
He has made his report. He has been reprimanded by the operation leader for his treatment of Joshua, stating that it was excessive. On record anyway. Off record, he told him that a few more broken bones would have been appreciated. That made him laugh. And laugh they needed. The children, the eldest anyways, those that knew enough about the outside world to understand how fucked up what was done to them was, gave them plenty of testimony. It made him want to reach for the closest bottle of alcohol. Strong enough to make him forget. Sadly, not a drop of alcohol in sight for miles. So, he just listened. The training, the trials, having to kill each other… and then the description of 422. The longest resident of the Playground, without being sold off. Their prized weapon, boasted and well liked. And how she was treated. Better than them. More food. Worse than them. Gods. It was barbaric. And this slip of a girl endured it all. She survived even. All for these prized eyes. The black rings, concentric around her pupil. The All-seeing eyes. Eyes of Analysis. A myth, a legend, a rarity. A mage with natural affinity toward Magical Analysis. The wet dream of magical researcher. And for the kid to have developed it to the point of it being battle useful? She was a genius. Oh, no doubt, it was a need, pushed and pushed, where it was do or die. But it was still impressive. The simple fact was that, contrary to the rest of children, she has natural magic. And she was known as the ace of the Playground. She would be sought after. And she didn’t have family. Or, well. She did. But she wouldn’t be welcome. The rest of the kids, they were stolen, kidnapped, or orphaned. Not her. She was sold to it. They were into an impasse as to how to proceed. They could put her in an orphanage. But it has a too high risk. Well. She called him bright, didn’t she?
The world around her was a confusing place. She didn’t know anything beyond the Playground, beyond her instructors, beyond her training. It was always bright here. And there was air! Rustling in the leaves, and rushing by when she ran. It was... something.
Slamming the door open, he smirked, as people welcomed him home. Master Makarov was seated on the bar, a mug of bear in hand.
- “Welcome back Gildarts, how did it go? Hum? Who’s the kid?” he asked, seeing the mop of navy hair hidden in the cloak, looking warily around.
- “this is… 422”
They walked for a times, and took the loud steel train, arriving in a place bustling with life. Magnolia. Laugh and joy resonated in the air, and she listened, greedily, trying to take into everything around her. So different from the Playground. The came to two stories building. She could feel the warmth and light roaring inside.
- “Shijitsu, huh?”
- “That’s not much of a name.” grumbled Enno, nodding to the 422 emblazoned under her left eyes.
- “Well… I somewhat picked her up on my mission and…”
- “And you didn’t give her a name?! Men, I swear!”
- “She didn’t seem to mind!” tried to defend himself Gildarts. The women around, and some men rolled their eyes at their local clumsy catastrophe. It sparked a controversy, people shooting possible name, trying to put their ideas forward. The girl seemed unsure how to act, clenching her fist and relaxing it a few times.
- “I like Array.” She declared feebly. Everyone stopped, looking at her. It was… the first time Gildarts saw her express an opinion. She took a fortifying breath. “I… I always saw them.” Enno nodded.
- “That’s a good name. But not much of a personal name.”
Gildarts defend her.
- “If she wants to be called that, then let her!”
- “What about Vidya?” proposed Makarov, after a long moment of silence.
The child nodded.
She was given a name. It has… significance. She knew name was something important. Given freely, it held power. The man was... a giant. A light, powerful, as powerful than Gildarts. It was warm.
- “Do you want to join our guild?”
She looked around, at the rambunctious people, at all the lights, all the magic freely mingling in the air. It was so light, so warm. She smiled, a bit warily, but…
- “Yeah. I… I think I do.”
The man smiled, and it was warm, welcoming.
- “Welcome to Fairy Tail, Vidya Array.”