Within the great iceberg lay Deliora, the demon sealed away at the cost of Ur's life—one of the monstrous creations born from the legendary "Black Wizard," Zeref.
Ur could never have imagined that one of her own disciples would one day attempt to undo that very seal, releasing the imprisoned demon she gave everything to contain.
Before the icy prison stood a young man wearing a mask. His cold breath misted in the air as he gazed at Deliora.
"It's almost time," he murmured. "The seal will soon be completely undone. I'll prove it to you, Ur… that I've already surpassed you."
Though most of his face was hidden beneath the mask, his exposed eyes were sharp and deep—ice-blue, gleaming with a harsh, determined light.
"Lord Lyon," a shirtless man with the head of a dog appeared before him, bowing respectfully. "A strange wizard has landed on the island."
Lyon waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. "Drive him away. We're at a critical moment—I can't be distracted from the ritual."
"Yes, sir. Leave everything to us." Toby replied solemnly, though his tail twitched in excitement.
—
Meanwhile, Wes Elwin was heading toward the towering pyramid that loomed at the island's center. The air grew denser with every step he took—the magic energy here was far thicker than anywhere else.
"So this is the influence of the 'Moon Drip' ritual…" Wes thought quietly.
In mysticism, the moon had long represented cycles, illusion, and hidden power. For wizards, it was a symbol of immense and untapped potential.
I wonder if this ritual was something Ultear intentionally revealed to Lyon, Wes mused.
The strange nature of the island's inhabitants intrigued him deeply.
Though they appeared almost demonic—twisted features, animal-like faces, and scaled skin—they lived like ordinary fishermen. They spoke the same language as humans from the mainland, shared similar customs, and had no remarkable magic of their own.
What, then, caused their unusual appearance?
Were they victims of some deranged wizard's experiment?
Or perhaps the result of a demon's cruel joke?
As Wes pondered these questions, a figure suddenly burst from the nearby underbrush, landing squarely in his path.
"Stop right there, stranger! No one is allowed beyond this point!"
The newcomer bared sharp fangs and growled—a man with the head of a dog.
Wes blinked. "A… dog?"
"Bastard!" Toby barked indignantly, saliva flying as he shouted, "I'm not a dog! I just really love dogs! Dogs are man's most loyal companions!"
He then launched into a passionate speech about his affection for dogs, completely forgetting the tense atmosphere.
Wes stared at him blankly, half-amused, half-baffled.
You like dogs so much you turned yourself into one? That's commitment.
Still, the problem remained—thick weeds blocked the path ahead, and the only open passage was the one Toby now guarded.
"Would you mind stepping aside?" Wes said evenly. "You're in my way."
Toby scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Ah—sorry about that." He quickly stepped aside, clearing the path for Wes.
"Thanks," Wes said calmly.
"No problem—wait a second!" Toby's expression twisted in outrage, his sharp fangs bared. "You sly bastard! You almost tricked me!"
Wes couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
(Is this guy stupid, or just hopelessly simple-minded?)
"You'll pay dearly for deceiving the great Toby!" he roared. His nails lengthened and turned dark green. "Just a single scratch from these, and your whole body will go numb—you won't even be able to move!"
"I don't have time to fight you right now," Wes said evenly.
"That's not for you to decide!" Toby crossed his claws and lunged forward. His movements were blindingly fast—almost impossible to follow.
Yet Wes didn't move. He simply stood there.
"Ha! Scared stiff already?" Toby cackled triumphantly as his claws sank into "Wes's" torso. "Relax—I won't kill you. My magic just paralyzes you for a bit."
"Is that so? You're surprisingly kind," said a voice—from behind him.
Toby froze.
The "Wes" he'd struck shimmered and warped—his limbs twisting and stretching into thick, flexible vines that coiled tightly around Toby's body.
No matter how hard he struggled, Toby couldn't break free from the vice-like grip.
"Damn it!" he roared, but his voice was muffled under the tightening vines.
"Give it up," Wes said calmly. "These are my improved Devil's Vines. You can't break them with brute strength alone."
Pinned to the ground like a trapped insect, Toby writhed helplessly under the vines' crushing pressure.
"How—how can this be…?" he gasped. "Coward! Fight me head-on, you bastard!"
Wes ignored his shouting. His tone remained cool. "Take me to your boss."
"Never! I'll never betray Lyon!" Toby barked defiantly.
"Oh? So your leader's name is Lyon." Wes's voice took on a teasing lilt. "Care to tell me a bit more about him?"
"You cunning bastard!" Toby realized too late that he'd said too much. His face paled, and sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You'll get nothing out of me!"
"You said it yourself." Wes's eyes drifted toward the forest. "Besides, it looks like your boss is already here."
A faint rustling came from the underbrush—then a masked figure stepped into view.
"Lyon!" Toby cried, wriggling desperately toward him, the vines still binding his body.
Wes didn't stop him. He simply watched in silence.
Lyon said nothing at first. He merely studied Wes quietly, his expression unreadable. Then he placed his hand on the writhing vines that bound Toby.
A chilling frost spread from his palm, coating the Devil's Vines in shimmering ice.
Toby felt the tension in his bindings lessen as the vines stiffened and froze solid. Under Lyon's precise control, the ice never touched Toby himself.
The moment the cold fully overtook the vines, Toby flexed his muscles and jerked violently.
Crack!
The frozen vines shattered into countless icy shards, scattering across the ground like broken glass.
°°°
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