The day on Galuna Island, under my exemplary "passive supervision," was a glorious succession of events that tested the very limits of my ancestral patience and reinforced my belief that human stupidity is the most constant and resilient force in the universe. While the "heroes" of our team were somewhere in the forest, probably getting lost, arguing over which direction to take, and poking things that ought not to be poked, I was fighting the real battles, dealing with the truly urgent crises here in the village.
Battles such as, for example, the "Great Invading Goat Incident." A particularly stubborn goat with a demonic glint in its eye, belonging to one of the villagers, somehow managed to inexplicably invade our humble hut and tried, with a ferocity I have rarely seen in an herbivore, to eat my favourite cloak—the one that went perfectly with my dashing Eastern prince attire. We had a tense standoff. Glances were exchanged. Snarls were uttered. And, in the end, I convinced it to withdraw using my most powerful weapon: the promise of a stolen fish-apple. It was an epic confrontation.
Afterwards, I had to deal with a panicked villager who swore, with tears in his eyes and snot running down his nose, that his vegetable soup had gone sour because of the terrible curse of the purple moon. After a brief and tiresome investigation, which consisted of me looking at the burnt, charcoal-smelling pot, I concluded that the real problem was the fact that he had forgotten the soup on the fire for six hours straight. He didn't seem convinced, but he accepted my suggestion to blame the forest goblins. Goblins always make for excellent scapegoats.
And, to crown my day of hard labour, a terrified child came to me, claiming, with the absolute certainty only an eight-year-old can possess, that his pet chicken, "Gertrude," was possessed by an ancient demon, for it had just laid a perfectly square egg.
[Avian Anomaly Alert: After a rapid data analysis and consultation of 3.4 million treatises on eggs, I conclude the following: there is a 64% chance the square egg is merely the result of a severe nutritional deficiency and chronic stress in the bird. A 12% chance it is, in fact, an apocalyptic omen heralding the end of days. And, most importantly, a 100% chance that absolutely no one, except this child and perhaps you, out of sheer boredom, gives a damn,] Eos commented in my mind, with her usual and comforting statistical sarcasm.
I sighed, looking at the small, white-shelled cube. "While they're out there facing supposed curses," I thought, with a philosophical resignation, "I'm in here, fighting the true and invincible beast that plagues this island: collective stupidity." A far more exhausting battle with no chance of victory whatsoever.
Late afternoon arrived, bringing with it a rising tension and a series of strange offerings at my door. Apparently, my reputation as the "strange child who wasn't cursed and can ward off demonic goats" had spread. Villagers, in an act of desperation and superstition, began leaving little 'gifts' on my doorstep: a rotten fish (probably to ward off evil spirits with the smell), a misshapen and crooked candle (to light my way, I suppose), and even a suspicious piece of mouldy cheese, offered as a 'protection against the moon's curse'.
"Wonderful, Eos," I thought, kicking the fish away with the tip of my boot. "On top of being the guild's babysitter and possessed chicken consultant, I've now become the village's official portable altar." The atmosphere on the island grew thicker and more oppressive as the bloody purple moon began its lazy ascent over the horizon, but I remained steadfast in my role as the "passive, impartial, and now faintly fish-scented supervisor." My dedication was moving.
It was then that the peace (or the closest thing I could get to it) was abruptly shattered. Lucy and Happy, or rather, two blurs of blonde and blue desperation, burst out of the forest as if they were being chased by the devil himself. They stormed into the village screaming and, without the slightest ceremony, dumped upon me, who was peacefully trying to read my book, an 'infodump' so frantic, so chaotic, and so full of disconnected information that my ancestral brain almost needed a moment to process it all.
Lyon Vastia. The forbidden Moon Drip ritual. A terribly powerful ancient demon named Deliora, frozen in a block of seemingly eternal ice. The tragic and complicated past of Gray's master... It was a lot of information for someone who just wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
Lucy stumbled over her words, her eyes wide with panic, trying to explain everything at once about ancient temples, obsessed mages, and the impending end of the world, while Happy, ever so helpful, just flew in circles above her head, repeating like a desperate mantra: "They're going to destroy the whole village, aye sir!!! They're going to melt the ice and release the giant monster!!!"
I just stood there, listening patiently to their apocalyptic account, while distractedly chewing on another of those fish-apples with an expression of profound and unshakeable boredom. When they finally paused for breath, I let out a tired sigh:
"So, to summarise this little drama," I began, with the calm of someone summarising a shopping list, "you lot of incompetent adventurers dug a hole where you shouldn't have, found a frozen coffin that probably had a 'Do Not Touch, Danger of Death' sign on it, touched exactly where you shouldn't have, and now half a dozen lunatics with a god complex have decided it would be a splendid idea to come here, where we are, and play at mass-scale demolition to perform some stupid ritual. Excellent. What a fine and productive day to be a babysitter to amateur adventurers."
My prophetic words had barely echoed when the very sky seemed to tear apart. A grotesque sound, a mixture of a giant insect's buzz and the whirring of rusty propellers, cut through the air. It was the spinning tail of a giant, flying rat, which, according to Lucy's tale, belonged to the mage Sherry. The rat was struggling to carry a monstrous cauldron, filled to the brim with a green, bubbling poison that smelt of a slow and painful death. A few drops, carried by the wind, had already escaped the cauldron, falling like a slow, viscous, and cruel rain upon the village. And the ground, where those tiny toxic droplets touched, simply dissolved into acidic smoke and hissing holes that bubbled like acid. The villagers, who didn't need much encouragement to panic, began screaming in pure terror, running about like desperate ants in an anthill that had just been kicked by a bored giant.
I, for my part, just watched the scene unfold with my arms crossed, with that characteristic expression of mine—a mixture of deep boredom and rising irritation.
"Marvellous. Simply marvellous. Not only do they want to destroy the village with a frozen demon, but they also plan, as an appetiser, to leave a pleasant and lasting perfume of death, sulphur, and chemical decomposition. The creativity in villainy these days is just desolate. I swear I've seen goblins with more elaborate plans and a more... artistic touch."
It was then, in the midst of the pandemonium, that he arrived. Natsu. Tired, battered, but with that stubborn glint in his eyes, he had managed to escape the confusion at the ruins and had somehow made the long, difficult journey back to the village, carrying the unconscious weight of his guildmate, Gray, on his shoulders. Upon his arrival, seeing the state of his rival, poor Lucy and the villagers were shocked, and immediately took Gray to one of the huts to try and tend to his wounds. But Natsu, with the attention span of a goldfish, was already focused on the new threat hanging over their heads.
He looked up at the sky, at the giant rat and its cauldron of poison, and screamed with all the strength in his lungs:
"NOBODY IS GOING TO DESTROY THIS VILLAGE WHILE I'M HERE!"
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain.
"Fine speech, flame-brain. Very inspiring. But if you, in your genius, blow up that cauldron of acid right above the village, the result will be a corrosive community barbecue. Try to use what's left of your neurons, please."
Before he could do what he always did best—that is, completely ignore any logical advice and turn an imminent tragedy into a complete and utter catastrophe—I, finally, with a sigh of pure and absolute resignation, rose from my observation post.
The acid plummeted. A deadly, green, and fuming wave fell from the heavens like the wrath of a disgusted god. For a brief, terrifying instant, everyone, Natsu included, thought it was the end of the village, the end of everything. But the corrosive liquid mass... stopped. It simply stopped. Floating in the air, centimetres from touching the village, trembling, bubbling, hissing, held in an invisible sphere and suspended by my pure, crystalline willpower.
The silence that then fell was almost as heavy and suffocating as the acid itself. Lucy, her eyes wide as saucers, could barely breathe. Gray, now conscious and being supported by a villager, turned even paler than he already was, if that were even possible. And even our brainless fire-starter, Natsu, froze for a second, utterly unable to believe or process what he was seeing.
On the other side, in the air, mounted on her giant rat, the young puppet mage, Sherry, widened her eyes in a shock that was almost comical.
"Im... impossible! How?! You can't hold that much liquid! Not with such ease! Not even Lyon..."
I cut her off, my voice sounding as cold as a sharp blade of ice on a winter's night:
"If you, in your infinite and arrogant cruelty, have the courage to pour acid on innocent and unarmed people… then, for the sake of simple poetic justice, you must have the same courage to taste a little of your own bitter medicine. It is the oldest law of all, my dear. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. And, in this case, acid for acid."
With a sharp, almost disdainful flick of my hand, the poison, which had been suspended in the air, shot upwards with the force of a geyser, reversing its course and returning towards its source. The giant rat, Angelica, shrieked a high-pitched, terrifying sound of pure agony, as its skin and fur corroded and dissolved under the corrosive rain that now fell upon it. Sherry screamed, hysterical, desperate, trying to maintain control of her precious and now-melting magical creature, but it was useless. The gigantic animal plummeted from the sky like a meteor of pain and smoke, crashing in flames into the nearby forest with a boom that made the ground tremble, leaving behind only a trail of destruction, the acrid smell of corrupted and burnt flesh, and the echo of its last, painful shriek.
The silence that returned to the village was even heavier, denser, and more uncomfortable than before. All my friends, the villagers, and the remaining enemies—who had managed to jump from Angelica in time and land awkwardly in the village before the crash—stared at me with their mouths wide open, as if I were some kind of newly awakened goddess of vengeance.
With the purest, most crystalline indifference, I crossed my arms over my chest and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"There. Aerial threat neutralised. Village saved. Houses intact. My official babysitting duties duly and brilliantly fulfilled, if I may be so modest. Now," my gaze swept the scene with a palpable boredom, "if no one else present plans on pouring deadly and corrosive substances from the sky in the next five minutes… I would very much like to return to my dubiously goat-scented cushion and perhaps finish my nap. Unless there are any more volunteers for a demonstration of applied physics."
Natsu was the first to finally manage to speak, but his voice, usually so loud, so full of an irritating energy, no longer had its usual spark. It was quieter, more subdued, laden with genuine surprise and an unmistakable trace of... unease:
"...Azra'il… that... that was… a bit heavy."
Happy, who was usually the chorus of blind enthusiasm for anything Natsu did, now hovered in the air with his little wings still, his large green eyes wide open in an expression I had never seen on him before. His mouth moved a few times, but what finally came out was just a hesitant and almost inaudible murmur:
"Aye… but… but throwing the acid back at them... that was... that was kind of really, really scary."
Lucy was clutching Virgo's key so tightly that her knuckles had turned white as wax. She couldn't, for the life of her, tear her eyes away from me, her expression a mixture of terrified admiration and genuine fear.
"You… you could have actually killed them… all of them…" her voice was a thread, a whisper of disbelief.
With the purest, calmest indifference, I crossed my arms over my chest and replied without changing my tone, the coldness of my words dripping from each syllable like melting ice:
"And if I had killed them, Lucy, it would have been entirely their fault. Not mine. They, and only they, decided it would be a fun and amusing idea to throw acid on a village full of innocent people. I merely... returned the kindness. A fair exchange, in my humble and experienced opinion."
The silence that followed my declaration was dense, heavy, suffocating. Even Natsu, who lived for laughing and shouting in the midst of destruction, now avoided looking at me directly, his gaze fixed on the ground as if it had suddenly become very interesting. Lucy seemed unsure whether she wanted to argue, cry, or simply run away from me as fast as possible. And Gray… ah, Gray. He stared at me intently, but his look was different. It was as if he had just seen something dark and terrible in me, something that he, perhaps, feared existed within himself.
The dark, acrid smoke from the forest, where the charred remains of poor Angelica still smouldered, rose in lazy spirals on the horizon like a bad omen. It was then that, like actors entering the stage for the final act of a tragedy, three figures emerged, kicking up dust in the centre of the square. They had leapt from the falling creature in the last, desperate instant before the fatal impact. And now, there they stood, panting, furious, and right in the middle of us. The dramatic and now hysterical Sherry, the bizarre and slithery Yuka, and the muscular, grunting, and probably very stupid Toby. They landed awkwardly, amidst the dust, the dirt, and the fresh, frightened screams of the villagers who were still recovering from the previous shock.
Yuka was panting, his flamboyant outfit splashed with a few drops of corrosive acid and his face twisted into a mask of pure, crystalline fury. Toby, for his part, looked around with an animalistic confusion, not quite understanding the gravity of the situation, but his long, sharp claws were trembling with pure, instinctive rage.
But it was, without a doubt, young Sherry who stole the scene. Her eyes, which before had seemed so full of arrogant confidence, now shone with a pure, incandescent hatred, her hands trembling not with fear, but with a hysteria that bordered on madness. Her long, dishevelled pink hair fell across her tear-stained face as she screamed, her voice scratching the air like broken glass, shrill and filled with genuine pain:
"YOU! YOU MONSTER! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY POOR, SWEET ANGELICA?! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY ANGELICA?! YOU SOULLESS WRETCH!"
She looked, in a pathetic and almost tragic way, like a spoiled child who had just seen her favourite doll brutally and irredeemably torn apart, but the overwhelming intensity of her emotion overflowed into something much darker, more dangerous, more unstable. It was the pain of loss, yes. But it was, above all, the blind and irrational fanaticism of a master for her creation.
With a calmness I knew was infinitely more intimidating than any shout, I slowly raised my gaze, without the slightest hurry, without the slightest visible emotion, just letting the crushing weight of silence and my silent contempt fall upon her.
"If you, my dear and hysterical lover of giant rats, considered her so precious, so irreplaceable, so... 'sweet'..." my voice came out cold, calm, cutting, "...perhaps, just perhaps, you should have thought twice before using her as a makeshift bomber to drop deadly acid on innocents. Whatever love you may feel for your wooden puppets and your magical beasts does not, in any way, justify you turning innocent human lives into your own disposable playthings."
Sherry ground her teeth so hard I could hear the sound from here, tears of pure, crystalline fury mixed with genuine pain streaming down her dirty, contorted face.
"I will make you pay for this! For every burnt hair on my Angelica! No one… absolutely no one… touches my Angelica and gets away with it!"
With a guttural war cry, she raised her hands to the sky, and the power of her Doll-Play Magic began to pulse in wild waves, making the nearby trees twist as if they were alive. Yuka and Toby advanced beside her, each with their own particular rage and a palpable thirst for revenge.
Behind me, I felt Lucy swallow hard, the sound audible in the tense silence. I saw Natsu position himself slightly in front of me, an instinctive, protective gesture, the flames on his fists burning low and uncertain, his eyes still laden with the shock and confusion of what he had just witnessed. Gray, though injured, narrowed his eyes, ice crackling on his fists with a promise of pain.
I, for my part, indifferent to my companions' defensive stance, merely took a slow, deliberate step forward, the shadow of the sick, purple moon illuminating my face and making my blue eyes glint with a cold light and the promise of suffering.
"Then come. Since you have, miraculously and to my slight disappointment, survived that little educational fall, I can, with the greatest pleasure, teach you all the second and equally important lesson of my passive supervision methodology: the first is not to underestimate the babysitter. The second... the second is never, ever, under any circumstances, to annoy the babysitter."