Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, thirty-four seconds, and some irrelevant tenths of a second had already passed. I was sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the hospital room, awaiting the return of a certain celestial mage whom I had sent on a most perilous and vitally important mission: to buy fresh bread from the bakery on the corner. And she had not yet returned.
The sky outside had long since acquired that grey, melancholic hue that usually precedes a dreary rain or a dramatic revelation. Raindrops traced sad paths on the hospital windowpanes, and my patience, an already terribly scarce commodity, was dwindling at the same rate.
(Eos,) I thought, drumming my fingers on the arm of the chair, the sound irritatingly loud in the silence of the place. (Run a topographical analysis. The 'Joyful Loaf' bakery is, at most, four hundred metres from here. There are no known labyrinths, death traps, or unstable dimensional portals between this point and the destination. The probability of Lucy Heartfilia getting lost on such an absurdly simple route is…)
[Analysing… Probability of spontaneous spatial disorientation in Lucy Heartfilia: 12.7%,] Eos replied, with her clinical precision. [However, considering her surprisingly adequate sense of direction for a mortal, and her reliance on visual landmarks such as 'the shop with the funny hat', the probability is statistically low.]
(So what's the alternative? Was she abducted by aliens with a fetish for chatty blondes? Decided to run off with the baker? Or was the queue for the cinnamon buns so long that she decided to take up residence there?) Despite my sarcastic tone, a bothersome and entirely illogical feeling of… concern was beginning to set in. She wasn't the type to be this late, not for something so trivial.
I stood up with a sigh of pure exasperation. The forced tranquillity of this hospital was already getting on my nerves. Inaction was torture. With a decision my lazier self would surely regret later, I went out into the street, the fine, cold drizzle soaking my white hair and my clothes.
I began to retrace the path she should have taken. The street was strangely empty, the rain having driven the pedestrians away. It was then that, in a side alley where the rainwater was beginning to form dark puddles, something on the ground caught my attention. A faint but familiar gleam. Gold and silver. I crouched down, my fingers touching the cold metal. It was Lucy's keyring, with her set of celestial keys, dropped awkwardly near a puddle of dirty water. My stomach knotted. Lucy, as clumsy as she could be, would never, under any circumstances, drop or abandon her most precious possession, her celestial spirits, in such a way.
[Anomalous residual magical signature detected in the area, Azra'il,] Eos's voice sounded, now devoid of any sarcasm, purely analytical. [Patterns consistent with high-density water and earth magic, not native to this environment. Signs of a struggle. Signs of… transport.]
(Kidnapping,) the word formed in my mind, cold and hard. I clenched my fists. Lucy and I might not be the best of friends, and I, admittedly, took an almost childish pleasure in teasing her until she turned red with anger or embarrassment. But she was from Fairy Tail. Worse, she was with me. Under my protection, even if unsolicited. The Master had been clear. And Phantom Lord, for it was obvious this was their work, those second-rate vultures, had dared. They had dared to touch one of ours. In broad daylight, mere metres from where I stood. This wasn't just an attack; it was an insult. A direct blow to my pride as a reluctant protector and, I admit, as a glorified babysitter. And I, Azra'il Weiss, detested being insulted.
(Very well,) I thought, a cold, joyless smile appearing on my lips. (They wanted my attention. They have it.) The rain seemed to thicken, the drops beating against my face with more force, but I barely felt it. A dangerous calm, the kind that always precedes my worst storms, descended upon me. (If any building is destroyed along the way, if some unfortunate member of Phantom Lord accidentally… trips and falls onto my sword repeatedly, let it be recorded as a mere casualty in the mission report.)
"Eos," I ordered aloud, my voice cutting through the damp air. "Track her magical signature. The most recent one. And mark the location in my field of vision. Now."
[Tracking… Lucy Heartfilia's signature detected. Location: Approximately 57 kilometres south-east, on the outskirts of Oak Town.] Oak Town. The headquarters of Phantom Lord. [Temporal analysis indicates an almost instantaneous displacement from the point of abduction to the current location. Probability of short to medium-range teleportation magic being used: 99.8%.]
Fifty-seven kilometres. A journey of a few hours, even by train (when they weren't being hijacked). Reduced to mere minutes by magic. Cunning. And irritating.
I looked at the pulsating red dot that had appeared in my vision, a beacon indicating the whereabouts of our damsel in distress. It was far. And I hated running. But sometimes, life imposes terrible sacrifices upon us.
I began to prepare myself, right there in the drenched alley. I stretched my legs, feeling the muscles respond. I did a few little jumps on the spot, the water splashing under my feet. And then, I crouched into a runner's stance, fingers touching the wet tarmac, my body tensed like a bowstring. The pressure I so carefully contained began to leak. The Ethernano around me grew thicker, static, and blue sparks of pure, condensed magic began to crackle around my body, dancing over my skin and clothes, the sound of a million electric insects buzzing in the night air.
And then, I ran.
The world became a blur. So fast that the raindrops seemed suspended in the air, crystal pearls frozen in time. In a few minutes, minutes that to me felt like an eternity of howling wind and the sound of my own beating heart, the urban landscape of Magnolia gave way to dense forests, and then, finally, to the dark and deserted outskirts of Oak Town. I spotted my destination: a dark, solitary tower, silhouetted against the night sky, Eos's red dot pulsating at its peak like a diseased heart.
[Lucy Heartfilia located on the top floor of the tower, Azra'il,] Eos informed. [I detect a second high-level magical signature present in the same room. Probably one of the Element Four, or the guild master himself. I suggest a subtle approach to minimise...]
(Subtle? Eos, my dear, we are long past the stage of subtlety. The moment they kidnapped the blondie, they signed subtlety's death certificate,) I thought, a predatory smile forming on my face. (I suggest a more… explosive entrance.)
With a final, powerful push that cracked the rocky ground beneath my feet, I leapt, transforming myself into a cannonball of pure, concentrated ancestral fury. The air hissed around me as I rose in a deadly arc towards the top of the tower.
The impact was less a collision and more an annihilation. The stone wall and the ceiling of the upper chamber exploded inwards in a shower of debris, dust, and surprise. For an instant, I saw Lucy's terrified face, cornered against a wall by a tall, dark figure. And then, my foot connected directly with the said figure's chest. He didn't even have time to scream. The sound of breaking bones echoed through the room, muffled by the thunder of my arrival. The mage was thrown like a rag doll, crashing through the opposite wall and disappearing into a cloud of dust and more debris, buried under what was left of his own tower.
I landed softly in the middle of the chaos, in a circle of silence, the dust settling around me. I surveyed the now almost completely destroyed tower cell, with a considerable hole in the ceiling and another in the wall. A bit over the top, perhaps. But efficient.
[Vital signs of the hit target detected. Multiple fractures, severe internal bleeding… but still alive,] Eos reported, with the calm of a coroner. [Unconscious. Will no longer pose a threat for, I estimate, a few months. Or ever again, depending on the quality of the local medical care.]
Lucy, covered in dust but apparently unharmed, was staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth a perfect 'O' of pure shock. "Azra'il?! W-what...? How...?"
I brushed some dust from my shoulder, my gaze sweeping the room. "Hello, blondie," I said, with the most casual tone I could muster. "Frankly, I only asked you to buy a cinnamon bun. I didn't think the mission included being kidnapped and taken to a villain's penthouse with questionable taste in décor. You never came back."
The surprise on her face gave way to a sudden indignation. "I didn't 'never come back'! I was kidnapped, you insensitive oaf! By two strange mages! A woman made of water and a weird bloke who came out of the ground like a bizarre mole!"
I approached her and, before she could protest further, I picked her up by the waist like a sack of potatoes. "Details, details. The important thing is that the cake is lost and so is my patience." I slung her over my shoulder.
"OI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PUT ME DOWN!" she screamed, struggling uselessly.
"I'm getting us out of here. And frankly, this method is faster," I replied, walking to the edge of the hole I had created myself. Without the slightest hesitation, I jumped. Lucy's desperate scream was music to my ears, a sweet symphony of panic that, somehow, calmed me.
I landed on the ground with the lightness of a feather, miles away, and finally set her on her feet. She was pale, trembling, and about to give me the biggest lecture of her life, when a familiar cry echoed through the forest.
"LUCYYYYY!"
We turned just in time to see a pink figure running towards us like an out-of-control comet, followed by a small blue dot. Natsu and Happy.
"Natsu!" Lucy cried, surprised and relieved.
He reached us, panting, stopping abruptly and nearly falling over. "Lucy! Are you alright?! We heard that Phantom got you!"
"I'm fine, Azra'il just..." she began, but I cut her off. The last thing I needed was a clingy, grateful Natsu.
"What happened at their guild? How did you find out about Lucy?" I asked, my tone direct.
Natsu's expression darkened, frustration replacing relief. He told us everything, the words coming out fast and angry. The invasion of the Phantom Lord guild. The fight against Gajeel. And then… "The Master… the Master was caught. Some kind of strange spell that drained his magic. Erza ordered everyone to retreat." He gritted his teeth. "It was in the middle of the confusion, while I was smashing the faces of those Phantom Lord idiots, that I heard them talking about you, Lucy. That they'd got you." He looked at her, the anger in his eyes giving way to a genuine concern. "So I came looking for you. With Happy."
Hearing that… the news about Makarov, the reason for the attack… it all seemed to crash down on Lucy at once. The tears she'd been holding back finally came, and she began to cry, sobs that shook her entire body. "It's… it's all my fault," she said between tears. "Phantom… they only attacked Fairy Tail because of me. Because… because my father hired them to take me back home." She explained everything, her voice choked with guilt. Who she was. The Heartfilia family. The mission and the reward her father had placed to bring her back.
"Shut up, Lucy," Natsu said, not with anger, but with a firmness that surprised her. "Does it matter? Who cares where you came from or who your father is? You're from Fairy Tail now, aren't you? That's all that matters. You're one of us. One of our family."
"He's right, Lushy!" Happy agreed, flying to her and hugging her head. "We'll never abandon you!"
What a moving scene. A first-rate melodrama. I watched in silence, letting them have their moment.
(Eos, the Master. Strange magic?) I thought, my mind already working. I might not show it, but I liked that grumpy old man. And, more importantly, Erza loved him like a grandfather. I could only imagine how she must be feeling now, seeing the father figure who had taken her in defeated in such a way. Her fury must be… monumental. And dangerous.
I let Lucy's crying subside, soothed by Natsu and Happy's comforting words. Then, I clapped my hands once, the sharp, loud sound cutting through the sentimental moment.
"Very well. The family melodrama was touching. Really, ten out of ten. But if you're finished," I said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "we have to go. Erza and the others are retreating to Magnolia. The sooner we regroup, the sooner we can plan a suitable response." And by "suitable," I meant "overwhelming, destructive, and with a satisfying amount of humiliation for Phantom Lord. Erza will need us. All of us. And frankly, I really, really need a cup of tea. This is getting serious."
And with that, our small, dysfunctional rescue party, composed of a furious Dragon Slayer, a heartbroken celestial mage, a loyal blue cat, and a reluctant ancestral babysitter, began its long walk back home. Back to the war that, I knew, was only just beginning.