Azra'il - POV
I ran.
No, "ran" is an inadequate, almost insulting, word to describe what I was doing. I was tearing through space, my feet barely touching the stone floor with each push, leaving behind only the ghostly echo of my footsteps and the violent rustle of my hanfu. The cold air of the corridors cut my face like a thousand tiny needles, but I didn't care.
(Faster. I need to go faster.)
[Azra'il, I must warn you. I am detecting an exponential increase in the atmospheric ether concentration around the tower. The levels have already surpassed any parameters previously recorded in my databases of this world.]
(The Etherion. As predicted.)
[Confirmed. The Magic Council has initiated the firing protocol. I calculate that the impact will occur in approximately... 200 seconds.]
Two hundred seconds. More than enough.
(So that idiot Jellal really did manage to manipulate the entire Council into firing the weapon that will complete his ritual. I have to admit, Eos, it's almost impressive. In a pathetic and megalomaniacal way, of course, but still.)
[Indeed. The irony of a governmental organisation voluntarily delivering the energy necessary to resurrect the mage they fear most is… delicious.]
(You have a very peculiar sense of humour for an AI, Eos.)
[I learned from the best.]
But it wasn't the Etherion that worried me. I was more than capable of dealing with that, of protecting myself and Erza from the impact. Whatever Jellal was planning to do with all that energy, I would deal with the consequences later.
What worried me was the silence.
I couldn't feel Erza's presence fighting. There were echoes of previous battles in the corridors, bodies of guards, remains of beasts, but as I ascended, everything became too quiet. There was no sound of metal on metal, no explosions of magic, no battle cries.
Just silence.
And that terrified me far more than any magical weapon forged by a council of pompous old men.
(What are you doing to her, Jellal?)
[150 seconds until impact.]
I increased my speed.
The door to the hall at the top of the tower was a massive portal, covered with a crystalline material that was already beginning to spread across the walls like a shining infection. The entire tower was responding to the approaching Etherion.
I did not hesitate. I pushed the doors with enough force to tear them from their hinges, the sound of splintering wood and metal echoing like thunder.
And what I saw on the other side made my blood boil.
The hall was vast, circular, with a vaulted ceiling that opened to the night sky. In the centre, a magic circle pulsed with a sick light, blood-red mixed with a corrupt gold.
And there, at the epicentre of all that madness…
Erza.
She was wearing the Clear Heart Clothing. A simple hakama and a top that left her arms, her shoulders, the pale and scarred skin of her body, completely exposed to the world. It was the outfit she wore when she didn't want to, or couldn't, hide behind her armours.
Erza Scarlet completely vulnerable.
And in her hands, a katana. The blade pressed against the throat of a kneeling man.
Jellal.
The scene hit me like a punch to the gut. And with it came the memories I preferred to keep buried.
A dark and damp cell. Small and frightened children, huddled together for warmth and from fear. And in the centre of that small group, a blue-haired boy, with eyes that still shone with a stubborn hope, who whispered stories of freedom and of a sky they could barely remember, while the guards snored loudly at their posts.
"One day," he would say, his voice a thread of hope in the darkness, "we will get out of here. All of us. And we will be free. Together." And they all believed him. I could see from my dark and cynical corner, the hopeful look in all their eyes.
I blinked hard, forcing the memories back into the dark abyss from whence they came.
The Jellal kneeling before Erza was no longer that boy. What I saw now was a performance. A mask. A lie dressed in the skin of someone who had once been real.
And Erza was falling for it.
Her blade trembled against his throat. Her whole body was trembling. And her eyes were fixed on his face with an expression that tore me apart.
Hope.
She was still hoping. After everything, a part of her still looked at Jellal and saw the boy who had promised to free her.
(She still cares for him.)
I knew that look. I had seen Erza look at Jellal like that when we were children. And a part of me, a small, petty part that I hated to admit existed, had always known that I could never compete with the memory of a first love forged in shared suffering.
[Azra'il, your hormonal levels are showing conflicting patterns. Should I infer that you are experiencing "jealousy"?]
(Eos, if you don't shut up right now, I swear I will transfer you to Lucy's magical toaster.)
[…Understood.]
"…Erza, please."
Jellal's voice cut through the air. Soft. Broken. Perfectly rehearsed.
"You have to kill me. It's the only way to end this."
Erza's blade trembled. A trickle of blood ran down his throat.
But she did not cut.
(Cut, Erza. For the love of all the gods I've had the displeasure of killing in other lives, please, just cut the bastard's throat and end this.)
"I never wanted things to get to this point," Jellal continued. "You need to know the truth before you finish me."
"What truth?" Erza's voice was a thread.
"The truth about what I was forced to become."
(No, Erza. Don't fall for it. Don't do it. Don't fall for this cheap and predictable trap, please. Be smarter than this. Be the strong woman I know you are.)
"I was just a child, Erza. Like you." Jellal lowered his eyes, the perfect personification of regret. "Do you remember what we were like? Before all this?"
I saw the moment the words hit Erza. I saw her shoulders slump.
"I… I remember," she whispered.
"We were children together. Trying to survive in a hell. Do you remember that night? After the guards beat us?"
Erza's eyes closed. "No…"
"You cried in my arms. And I promised that one day we would be free."
(How lovely. He's using her memories as weapons. Very romantic. Very manipulative, that is.)
"I wanted to keep that promise," Jellal continued. "But then… he entered my mind."
"He?"
"Zeref."
The name fell into the air like a stone.
And I almost laughed.
Almost.
(Zeref. Of course. The great convenient villain. The perfect scapegoat for all his atrocities. There's just one small problem with that story, Jellal…)
"I was just a child," Jellal said, tears streaming down his face. "And Zeref took advantage of that. He whispered in my mind. He promised me power. And I, fool that I was, believed him."
[120 seconds until impact.]
"He consumed me, Erza. He made me do horrible things while I watched, trapped, screaming for him to stop."
(A lie. Such a blatant and convenient lie.)
Zeref. The legendary Dark Mage who was supposedly dead for centuries. Who could refute such a story? Who could prove otherwise?
I could.
On Tenrou Island. Four years ago. A silent clearing in the heart of Fairy Tail's sacred forest. I was with the small and irritating Happy, taking a short and well-deserved break in our search for the First Master's grave. And then, I felt him. An ancient presence. Heavy. Terribly familiar. The kind of magical power so dense and so contradictory that it makes the very air around it feel heavy, that makes life itself retreat.
And he came, walking slowly towards us, like a lost ghost. A young man with black, dishevelled hair, and eyes that seemed to carry the weight, the pain, and the loneliness of countless centuries. And around him, wherever he trod, the green and vibrant grass died, turning to ash. An aura of death and life, intertwined in an eternal curse.
Zeref had never been dead. Which meant, with a logical clarity, that the supposed "spirit of Zeref" which had, conveniently, possessed Jellal in the Tower of Heaven… simply did not exist.
Perhaps something had manipulated the young Jellal. Perhaps there was another force behind his actions. But it was not Zeref.
"Do you remember the day I taught you to read?" Jellal continued, each word a knife. "I stole that book from the guards' library. I was almost caught three times."
Erza closed her eyes tightly. A tear escaped.
"Jellal… stop…"
"Or when Simon broke his arm and you stayed up all night looking after him? I stayed by your side, pretending to sleep. Because near you, I felt human."
The anger was becoming difficult to control.
It wasn't just anger for what he was doing now. It was an anger accumulated over years. For all the nights Erza had woken up screaming, and I had held her hand until she calmed down. For all the times I had been her safe harbour while he, the cause of her pain, was somewhere building this cursed tower.
"So it wasn't you," Erza said, and there was a terrible hope in her voice. "It was Zeref. He controlled you."
"Yes." More tears. More calculated tremors. "I was trapped, Erza. Screaming. Watching. But powerless to stop."
"Or if you can't kill me…" Jellal made a dramatic pause, "…then let us die together. When the Etherion hits this tower. You and I, finally free. As it always should have been."
[90 seconds until impact.]
The katana trembled in Erza's hand. I saw the moment she almost gave in. I saw the blade begin to retreat.
(Alright, that's enough. I've heard enough of this fifth-rate play.)
My steps deliberately echoed through the hall, breaking the silence and the web of manipulation.
I walked with a calm I did not feel inside until I stood beside Erza.
She didn't turn around. She didn't need to.
But I saw the moment she recognised me. The way her shoulders straightened. The way her hand firmed on the katana.
"Azra'il…" my name was relief and conflict.
"Erza." My eyes were fixed on Jellal, who rose from the floor with a suspicious agility. "I've heard enough of this pathetic theatrical performance."
"Azra'il." Jellal pronounced my name with caution. "You've come too. How nostalgic."
"Spare me the false nostalgia, Jellal. We both know you feel nothing but contempt for anyone who is not useful to your plans." I tilted my head. "Though I must admit, the performance was almost convincing. The tears were a particularly artistic touch. Did you rehearse a lot or is it natural talent?"
His face twitched.
"You don't understand. You don't know what Zeref did to me—"
"Zeref."
I pronounced the name as if it were a joke.
"The great Dark Mage. The evil spirit that conveniently possessed you." I let a mocking smile form. "Tell me something, Jellal. How does a spirit possession work?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's simple. For a spirit to exist… there first needs to be a death." I took a step forward. "But what if someone has never died? Can that person's spirit exist?"
I saw the uncertainty cross his face.
"Zeref died centuries ago. Everyone knows—"
"Everyone believes," I corrected. "Knowing and believing are very different things. One is based on facts. The other, on ignorance."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?" I let the question hang in the air. "Someone used you, Jellal. Moulded you. Convinced you that you were special, chosen by a 'dead' god." My voice lowered. "And the most ironic part? You don't even know who is pulling your strings."
"You can't know—"
"I know many things I shouldn't. But that's irrelevant now." My voice hardened. "What matters is what I saw with my own eyes… I was in the same cell as you all. I saw who you were before."
The anger in my voice wavered for an instant.
"You were good, Jellal. Genuinely good. I admired the way you kept them all together. When you spoke of freedom… everyone believed."
I saw something cross his face. Something that was not part of the performance.
"And that's exactly why it hurt so much when you betrayed them."
My voice hardened again.
"The boy I knew died that night. Or was killed. Or was buried so deep it no longer matters. What's left is this." I gestured at him. "Someone who uses memories as weapons against the people who still love that ghost."
[30 seconds until impact.]
"You were always a problem, Azra'il," he said, the calculating coldness returning. "Always watching. Always keeping your distance. Never trusting."
"That's why I'm the only one who can see through your shite."
I looked at Erza.
"Look at me."
Her eyes were watering, confused, hurt. But there was a spark there too.
"The past you shared was real," I said. "The boy who taught you to read, who promised to free you… he existed."
Her eyes widened.
"But something happened to him. Something broke him. And what's left is no longer that boy."
I reached out my hand to her face, wiping away the tears.
"You are not wrong for loving the memory of who he was. But you cannot die for who he has become."
[10 seconds.]
The air changed. It became dense, heavy, charged with an absurd amount of magical power being accumulated somewhere above us. The kind of pressure that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your bones vibrate.
(Eos, what is the probability of my theory being correct? That he will use the energy of the Etherion instead of being destroyed by it?)
[Impossible to calculate with precision. The theory is solid, but it remains speculative. There are too many variables we do not know about the functioning of the R-System.]
(Meaning, you don't know.)
[Correct. I do not know.]
Erza's eyes widened.
"Azra'il, the Etherion—!"
[5 seconds.]
I did not hesitate.
Theory or not, probabilities or not, I was not going to risk it. Not with her.
My arms wrapped around Erza, pulling her down as I covered her with my body. My hands went to her head, gently pressing it against my chest. My back arched towards the sky, my entire body becoming a shield.
[2 seconds.]
And I released enough of my magic to protect us. A blue, dense, and warm aura, enveloping us like a cocoon. If the Etherion were destructive, my power would protect us. If it weren't… well, at least I had an excuse to hug Erza.
(Even if I'm right about his plan, it costs nothing to be sure. And hugging my little red is never too much.)
[Should I log that you are using a potential magical catastrophe as a pretext for physical contact with Erza Scarlet?]
(Eos, my dear, I am using a potential magical catastrophe as a pretext to protect Erza. The hug is just a very welcome bonus.)
[…Logged as "romantic opportunism in a crisis situation."]
(You know me so well.)
[Impact.]
The light came first.
A light so intense, so absolute, that even with my eyes closed I could feel it passing through my eyelids. The entire world turned white. Not white like snow or clouds. White like the void between the stars.
Then came the sound.
A deep and deafening roar, as if reality itself were being torn apart and rewritten around us. I couldn't hear my own thoughts.
My magic enveloped us like a protective, warm, and comforting cocoon. And in the middle of all that light and chaos…
Erza.
She was clinging to me with a force that would probably leave marks. Her face pressed against my chest, her breathing warm and irregular against my skin. I kept her covered, protected, my arms wrapped around her as if they were made for it.
(Hmm. I could get used to this.)
[Azra'il, this is not the appropriate moment to—]
(Eos, I am potentially in the middle of a localised magical apocalypse. Let me enjoy the hug in peace.)
[…As you wish.]
Time lost its meaning. Seconds? Minutes? I couldn't say. There was only the white light, the deafening roar, and the warmth of Erza against me.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the noise.
The light faded. The sound dissipated. My senses slowly returned, as if they were remembering how to function.
I opened my eyes.
And the world had changed.
The hall was no longer made of stone.
Where before there had been grey rock and magic circles, there was now crystal. A deep, translucent blue, that shone with its own internal light. It was like being inside a giant jewel the size of a mountain.
(Lacrima. The entire tower has turned into pure Lacrima.)
[Full analysis. The structure has been converted into Lacrima crystal. Estimated energy concentration of 2.7 billion Ideals.]
(So I was right. The bastard really did use the Etherion to power the tower, not to destroy it.)
[Your theory has been proven correct. Congratulations.]
(I'd rather have been wrong, Eos. I'd much rather.)
"Azra'il…" Erza's voice was a whisper against my chest. "You can… you can let me go now."
(I can. But do I want to?)
"Azra'il."
(Fine, fine.)
Very reluctantly, I loosened my arms, allowing Erza to move away a little. She was still close enough for me to feel her warmth, her wide brown eyes as she observed the transformation around us.
"This is…" she began.
"Unexpected? Bizarre? Aesthetically impressive in a disturbing way?" I offered, also looking around. "Because I was thinking of all those options."
"Impossible," she completed. "The Etherion should have killed us. It should have destroyed everything."
"It should have," I agreed, my voice losing some of its humour. "But it seems someone had other plans."
A laugh interrupted our moment.
Low at first, almost a whisper, but growing rapidly in volume and intensity until it filled the entire crystal hall. A laugh I recognised, but which now sounded completely different.
There was no more pain in it. No more plea or regret.
There was only triumph.
I turned around, my body automatically positioning itself in front of Erza, and I saw Jellal rise from the crystal floor.
He was different.
The abandoned puppy look had completely disappeared. in its place was something predatory, something hungry. The mask had fallen, and the monster beneath finally revealed itself.
"Finally," he said, opening his arms as if embracing his new world. "Finally, after so many years… it is complete."
"Wow." I clapped slowly, the sound echoing off the crystal. "What a shocking twist. Who could have imagined that the villain was pretending all along? Certainly not me. I am completely surprised. See my surprised face."
My face was completely expressionless.
Jellal shot me an irritated look before turning his attention back to Erza.
"Erza, my dear…" he began.
"Ah, no. No, no, no." I held up a hand. "You lost the right to call her 'my dear' the moment you revealed that all that pathetic crying was an act. A terrible act, by the way. Two out of five stars, at most. The tears were exaggerated."
"Azra'il—" Erza began.
"Three stars if we count the scenery," I continued, gesturing at the crystal around us. "The setting is impressive, I have to admit. But the script needs a lot of work."
Jellal's face contorted with irritation.
"You were always irritating, Azra'il."
"Thank you. I do my best." I smiled, all teeth. "Now, how about you tell us your evil plan? Isn't that what villains do? Explain everything in detail while the heroes buy time?"
"Jellal…" Erza's voice cut through the air, cold and controlled. She had composed herself, the warrior replacing the hurt girl. "What have you done?"
He turned to her with a cruel smile, caressing the crystal wall with reverence.
"What I planned from the beginning, Erza. The Etherion was never a threat. It was the main ingredient of my ritual."
"So you…" I took a step forward. "You manipulated the Magic Council into firing the weapon that would complete your ritual. You made them believe they were saving the world while they were delivering exactly what you needed."
"Clever as always, Azra'il." Jellal laughed. "They thought they were destroying a threat. And all the while, they were giving me 2.7 billion Ideals of pure magical energy."
(I knew it. I knew that's what it was, but I'd still rather have been wrong.)
The crystal floor began to pulse with energy. The entire tower was alive now. Breathing. Waiting for a command.
And Jellal, standing in the centre of it all, no longer looked like a pathetic mage trying to impress a dead god.
He looked like someone who finally had the cards he needed.
"The game," he said, his eyes meeting Erza's with a disturbing intensity, "has only just begun."
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💬 Author's Note
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Ok… now I really want to know your opinions about this chapter, especially regarding the changes compared to the original Tower of Heaven arc 👀
Because unlike the canon version, Azra'il doesn't simply arrive as a "knight in shining armor" to solve everything for Erza. She interferes, yes, but mostly on the emotional side of the situation. Azra'il respects and loves Erza far too much to steal from her the right to confront her own past and grow from it.
So I'm curious:
what did you all think about the dynamic between Azra'il, Erza, and Jellal here?
Did you like how Jellal's manipulation was handled?
And Azra'il completely dismantling the whole "Spirit of Zeref" excuse? 👀
Also… I have some unfortunate news regarding the upload schedule.
You've probably noticed that my posting frequency has started slowing down over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, my routine is becoming really difficult to balance. Work, college, English classes, and writing at the same time are all starting to collect their price.
And as you know, I'm currently writing two fanfics simultaneously: the Runeterra one and the Fairy Tail one. That means two chapters of each per week… a total of 4 weekly chapters. And they're long chapters on top of that lmao.
But honestly? It's starting to wear me down quite a bit.
Especially because, on top of everything else, I'm also involved in college projects right now. One of them is literally me developing an AI assistant for college, so my sanity has officially been sacrificed in the name of technology 🤡
So unfortunately, I'll need to cut the upload frequency in half for a while.
The current plan is:
- 1 Fairy Tail chapter per week
- 1 Runeterra chapter per week
I don't intend for this to be permanent. It's mostly until I survive these college projects without turning into a vengeful spirit fueled entirely by caffeine, anxiety, and sleep deprivation.
But honestly… I'd rather reduce the frequency and keep delivering chapters I genuinely enjoy writing, instead of destroying myself trying to maintain an impossible schedule.
I hope you all understand… and continue following my stories anyway ❤️
And seriously, thank you for all the comments and support as always. Your theories, reactions, discussions, and feedback genuinely help motivate me more than you probably realize.