[Don't read this; it's a complete waste of time.]
[If you still insist, then don't say I didn't warn you.]
[Don't expect what you read here is canon.]
[Fairy Tail year X775]
I observe a tall, muscular man with shoulder-length, slicked-back orange hair and a stubbly beard. He stands atop a boulder, his black boots sinking slightly into the surface, leaving a faint trail. The wind blows his tucked-in pant leg, colored dark, causing it to ripple in waves along with his high-collared black cloak.
He is a mage from the guild Fairy Tail, currently in the process of completing an S-rank mission: to investigate dark guild activities in [Red Blossom Village]. The only S-rank and strongest mage of the Fairy Tail guild—
Akagami Shanks?
No, it's Gildaaarts Cliveeee!
He stands atop the ravine in order to survey the pathway. Dust swirls around, dancing to the tune of the cold wind's whisper. His light blue eyes show a hint of gleam as they catch a glimpse of scattered debris and ruins.
Is this... the village...?
His sharp nails press against his palm, causing a bone-breaking sound that echoes through the bleak atmosphere, disrupting the silence.
Reaching the Red Blossom village would take days and nights, starting from Magnolia town.
I rushed here as soon as I could, yet I—
A lump in his throat silenced him before he could say another word. How unfortunate... Feeling a tinge of regret, a heavy sigh slipped from his lips.
No... No time to stray—I have to go. There might be survivors nearby. I need to assess the situation first.
Gildarts gazes at the archway, surrounded by broken trees. At the gate, a giant boulder rests, overlapped by sundered pillars forming an X-pattern. If he wants to enter, this is the only way—otherwise he would have to climb the ravine. The passage is blocked, ensuring that ordinary people wouldn't be able to pass through it—who is he?
He bent his knees and increased the tension in his legs. Crouching low, he used the momentum and sprang into the air.
Swoosh—BAM!!
Leaving only the sound of crashing stone and rubble, he cuts through the wind at an unbelievable speed.
He sure is fast—I mumble as I spy on him from behind the tree. But I don't think that's his full strength... Perhaps he can go even faster and become the fastest in the world. I thought for a moment and acknowledged it with a slight nod. After all, he is the fastest when it comes to running—running away from his responsibilities, that is... I couldn't just let him slip away, so I silently chased after him.
A silhouette emerges at the center of the smiling sun, its iconic figure etched against the light.
Gildarts executes a flawless front flip mid-air, soaring over the boulder before plummeting like a meteor to the earth. The sheer force of his landing fractures the ground in a web-like pattern.
Those are some impressive acrobatic skills! I said while standing atop a broken pillar. If there were any women watching, they might strip on the spot and beg him to have their child.
But—
His movement disturbed the sleeping dust, sending it swirling into the air in a violent storm. It engulfed him like a swarm of bees, stinging his eyes.
AARGHH!! Damn it! Gildarts screamed in agony.
He didn't see that coming. Well, after all, I made it happen.
Desperate to shield himself from the blinding haze, he raised his right arm, but it was futile—the chaos I had unleashed was too overwhelming.
Whooshing!!
...Shit!
After a minute, the chaos settled. He lowered his arm, blinking rapidly before rubbing his eyes to rid them of the dust.
But as the haze lifted, a sudden wave of nausea crashed over him. The air felt thick—heavy and suffocating. A strange scent lingered, drifting around him like an unseen menace.
This is... His eyes widened in shock. Years of field experience couldn't stop his stomach from twisting in revulsion. Damn, dark guilds!
Gildarts was clearly upset. He already knew the village had been attacked before he arrived, but the sight before him was far worse than he had imagined.
The ruins were painted in blood, the ground littered with freshly scattered flesh and pulverized remains. The corpses were reduced to unrecognizable minced meat, splattered across the wreckage. It was impossible to tell if the torn flesh belonged to humans—or if the blood soaking the earth was ever theirs to begin with.
If he didn't feel frustrated about this, who would? What a cruel thing to do...
Despite the grim atmosphere, I remained unfazed. To me, this kind of thing was trivial. Death was a common occurrence. While I could admit this massacre might seem brutal to most, it was nothing special.
Gildarts turned to scan the surroundings. However, just as he was about to step forward, his body tensed—an invisible force holding him in place.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Something was off. A sudden chill ran down his spine. There's a monster lurking… Gildarts instinctively glanced around, his body moving on its own. But there was no one—no trace of a man. Seeing nothing behind him, he furrowed his brows. Am I imagining things? No… I can feel it. My gut is telling me someone is nearby…
He stepped onto the ground heavily, and realization hit him. There's no sound…?
At first, he remained oblivious, the silence blending too naturally with the environment. The air itself felt thick and heavy, swallowing every noise except for the steady drip of blood.
Could this be Silence Magic!? He frowned, then immediately dismissed the thought. No… It's a powerful one! The caster must still be nearby! It must be the presence I sensed earlier!
…In that case… Reaching a conclusion, Gildarts expanded his magic detection to its maximum range, ensuring no one could escape his surveillance.
Hmmm… I furrowed my brows at him. Detecting magic? The thought made me pause. Huh. In a way, this is similar to En from Hunter x Hunter—you spread your magic around to sense any reactions.
Anyway, he's proficient. Does he use this ability to hunt women? I suppose that's enough to prove its effectiveness. Even without magic, if it somehow works, then no one should be able to escape his surveillance. His magic sensitivity has refined over the years… this could be troublesome.
I said that, but I remained unmoved, not caring in the slightest as I simply watched him while sitting on the debris.
Gildarts scanned the surroundings, searching for any nearby presence, but he couldn't sense anyone at all. Is there really no one? Or has the presence of human beings also been blocked? But I'm sure I detected someone earlier... The situation made him pause in thought. The corpses are still fresh; my guess is they were probably killed within the last hour... Could it be that he already left after sensing my presence? There's a high chance of that happening. Then, the silence magic is just a lingering trace of his power?
While he was lost in thought, a faint groan reached his ears. It was subtle, barely more than a whisper, but enough to tingle his sharp senses and pull him back to reality.
Argh... Haa... Ahh...
...?
That was... a voice? It was faint but unmistakable—someone was groaning in pain. Gildarts pushed aside his thoughts and focused on searching.
His eyes scanned the ruins, shifting from one collapsed structure to another, trying to pinpoint the source. But no matter where he looked, he couldn't narrow it down. What's going on?
The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, echoing through the village as if the ruins themselves were groaning.
Damn it!! With no better option, he randomly picked a spot and began rummaging through the wreckage. The scattered debris was massive, but with his grip strength, moving it aside was effortless. He lifted a large chunk and hurled it into an empty space. If he threw it carelessly, there was a high chance he could injure—or even kill—the person trapped beneath.
What incredible critical thinking... Despite the situation, he made the correct judgment—proof of his extensive field experience.
However, even after tossing aside the shattered chunks of rock, the silence remained—
I'm not surprised... Gildarts muttered, eyeing the rubble. He probably amplified human voices and muted everything else... just to indulge himself in the screams of his victims.
A scene manifested in his mind, and he subconsciously bit his lower lip, drawing blood that trickled down his chin. But that was the least of his concerns—he had to find the survivor. The first house yielded nothing, so he moved on to the next. Since pinpointing the exact location was impossible, brute force was his only option.
After a long search, he finally found the lucky survivor—if he could even be called that.
You... Gildarts sighed inwardly as he examined the man's condition, quickly making a grim judgment. You... You won't last much longer... Although he only thought those words, the victim had likely realized it himself.
Buried under the rubble, Gildarts found an elderly man, likely in his seventies, in an unimaginable state. Drenched in blood, his severed limbs lay nearby, his left eye had been gouged out, and deep cuts marred his torso—clear signs of prolonged torture. But the worst of it was the massive, rusty rod impaling his crotch, piercing straight into his stomach. The wound was so severe that even the slightest movement could end his life. It was a miracle he had survived this long, clinging on by sheer willpower alone.
Seeing this, he clenched his fists in frustration. What a demon...
Gildarts crouched beside the elder, carefully shifting his head and cradling it with care so the man could see him.
Despite his miserable state, the elder still registered his presence. His remaining eye met Gildarts' gaze, squinting and twitching violently—a sign that his vision was fading fast. He was on the verge of collapse. There was no time to waste.
I'm Gildarts Clive, a mage from Fairy Tail... I'm sorry I arrived too late, but... His voice was low and steady, yet hesitant. Can you tell me who did this?
Looking at the elder's trembling lips, Gildarts tried to calm him down, offering what little comfort he could. It might seem cruel and foolish, knowing he was here on a commission to eliminate dark guilds, but gathering even a shred of information about the perpetrator was invaluable.
It's okay, don't rush... He gave the man time, letting him breathe despite his body being on the brink of collapse. The elder could barely speak, barely see Gildarts for what he was. But surely, he knew why he had come—to carry out the commission.
B... The faint sound yanked Gildarts back to reality. His breath hitched as he focused on the elder, who struggled desperately to form words.
…?
B... Be...
What is it?... Gildarts leaned in, his every muscle tense, straining to catch the barely audible whisper slipping from the man's parched lips. He pressed his ear closer, but the elder's rigid breaths made it nearly impossible to hear.
Then, with a sudden, shocking force, the elder seized Gildarts' shoulder. His hand, frail but desperate, dug into his flesh. His voice, ragged and broken, shattered the silence in a final, desperate cry: Nngh... Ahhhh... BEHIND YOU!!!
With those last words, he exhaled one final breath—then went still.
!?
The words hit like a crashing wave. Instinct took over. Without a thought, he spun on his heel, every sense sharpening, bracing for whatever danger lurked behind him.
Gildarts wasn't a fool. The massacre that had torn through this village wasn't the work of a simple killer. He knew—whoever was responsible was far more dangerous than he could have imagined.
Without hesitation, he subconsciously activated his advanced magic, Crush Magic. A shimmering aura of power erupted around him, filling every gap, reinforcing his body like an impenetrable shield against whatever attack might come. Through the haze of confusion, he focused—and caught sight of the figure standing there. A kid!?
Standing not far away from him. A child, no older than 9 years old, cloaked entirely in black; long sleeves T-shirt, trousers, shoes, gloves, and a mask that covered his face entirely, not a single hole to be seen, concealing not just his identity but perhaps something far more sinister.
Gildarts begins his monster evaluation. The condition of the corpses, the way the elder's limbs were severed—it was precise, deliberate. Then, his gaze shifted to the white katana resting on the child's waist. There's no doubt now. These wounds came from a sword. His eyes then lingered on the mask, devoid of any openings. That mask... Is it a magic item that conceals his magic power? That would explain how the boy remained undetected. But if it was something else...
Gildarts tightened his fists, his resolve solidifying. Regardless, his skill is beyond ordinary. He didn't need to guess any longer. This opponent was S-Class.
He had immense experience in the field and had witnessed countless things others might find unbelievable. So, even if the killer before him was just a child, he wouldn't let them escape.
Gildarts was fully prepared to strike him down. Yet, despite facing such an overwhelming pressure and killing intent from his opponent, the child stood there—unwavering—as if Gildarts held no meaning.
Who is the child in this situation? His calmness in the face of danger sent a jolt through Gildarts. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the boy's every movement, prepared to catch even the slightest twitch, every flicker of intent. He couldn't suppress the thrill surging inside him. This was the excitement of battle—the true exhilaration of facing a formidable opponent!
Just before the fight began, he decided to ask a question. Hey, kid, what are you—
But before he could even finish his question, Gildarts saw the boy begin to unsheathe his sword—slowly, almost agonizingly so. A snail could move a hundred times faster. He could have dodged it with his eyes closed. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, his body refused to move. No—he couldn't move at all! What?
Is it time? No, wait… my perception… it's slowing down?! The sensation was unmistakable—a horrifying distortion of time. One second stretched into an eternity. This wasn't just skill; this was the kind of manipulation only someone of immense power could wield. Or worse… a being far beyond his own strength. Is he really that strong!?
A sudden chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively wiped the cold sweat dripping from his forehead. For the first time in a long while, Gildarts could only ask himself—helplessly.
Then, the grace and beauty of the boy's swordplay stole his breath away. For a moment, he forgot the danger. In that instant, he felt nothing but an insatiable desire to witness the entirety of his technique—a rare spectacle. Perhaps because of his Super Magic Crush, he felt confident that he would be protected when the sword made contact. Or maybe… he simply didn't care. He just wanted to watch. But before he could fully savor the sight, a deafening sound pierced his ears—louder than anything he had ever heard.
Diiiiiiiiiiiiing!
The shrill ringing echoed like the toll of a bell—an almost physical force that struck his eardrums with brutal intensity.
Huh…? Gildarts blinked, disoriented. The world around him seemed to collapse for a brief moment. It was then that he realized—the sound wasn't coming from a bell. It was the sound of a sword being drawn.
Shit! He snapped his gaze back to the boy, forcing himself to stay composed. Calculating the distance between them—around ten meters. They were quite far apart, yet something felt off.
What the boy performed was a simple slash. And yet, within that simplicity lay a hypnotic beauty, like a painter's brush caressing a canvas—a pure expression of mastery.
Beautiful—
The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. He watched as the sword was drawn and then sheathed. In that instant, the atmosphere shifted—so subtly it was almost imperceptible.
Then, a prickling sensation crawled along his neck, like the faintest itch.
This is... Gildarts' thoughts began to scatter. He felt an unnatural lightness in his body, as if he were floating on the softest clouds, drifting upward in a blissfully comfortable haze. But that serenity quickly turned to dread.
His vision distorted, the world tilting unnaturally—flipping upside down. And then, with sudden, horrifying clarity, realization struck.
My head… It's been severed!
The shock crashed over him like a violent wave. His detached head rotated slowly in midair, while his body crumpled lifelessly beneath it. It had all happened so quickly, so seamlessly, that it felt unreal.
Yet, an even greater mystery remained—the kid's swordsmanship had bypassed his Crush Magic.
This is impossible… Gildarts thought numbly. I never deactivated it… So how? nfusion clouded his final moments. But it was too late to dwell on such things. There was only the bitter truth of it all. He could do nothing now but reflect on his life and accept his fate.
He knew that dying during a mission was not uncommon. Yet, deep down, lingering regrets gnawed at him. Not from the fear of death—but from a deep, unshakable dissatisfaction with himself.
He smiled bitterly. Once, he had longed for strength, and he had succeeded—gaining recognition, respect, even fear. With his Crush Magic and formidable physique, he became the strongest mage in the west, rivaled only by the Four Gods of Ishgar. He had achieved his goal. And yet, in this moment, regret clung to him like a shadow. He had worked so hard, and yet… in the face of this child, it felt as if he hadn't worked hard enough.
I wish I could fight you again… when I'm stronger… The words echoed in the void, whispered to the wind as his vision faded into darkness.
Gildarts was dead.
[Meanwhile, in the Fairy Tail Guild]
Crash!
A small figure—no more than nine years old—stood frozen, her slim, tanned frame rigid with shock. Mid-back-length brown hair cascaded behind her, with two shoulder-length strands framing her face.
The child, Cana Alberona, stared at the aftermath of her mistake. She had been absentmindedly wiping a wine glass when it slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the floor. The violent shattering sent shards scattering, glinting under the light like tiny fragments of a broken moment.
The noise immediately drew attention. Conversations hushed, and worried gazes turned towardher.
Are you okay? A voice asked, laced with genuine concern.
Cana nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the broken glass. A strange unease gnawed at her—a sensation she couldn't quite explain. Her thoughts drifted to her father, Gildarts.
It had been a month since he left for a mission—to fight dark guilds attempting to seize [Red Blossom Village]. She knew his strength. No one in the guild was stronger than him. And yet the nagging worry refused to leave her.
Father… please, alright… She cast her gaze into the distance, offering a silent prayer. Hoping—wishing—that wherever he was, he would return safe and sound...
-[Beneath the Hammer of Fate]