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Chapter Text

The idea of soulmates was a dangerous one, a concept that the heavens themselves disapproved of. Soulmates were uncertain and unpredictable, representing an unstable thread in the fabric of fate. To bind two mortals so completely was to invite disaster, as mortals were fragile beings, driven by greed, anger, and desire. At least, that was his perspective.

For eons, Death has walked the boundary between worlds, guiding the lost and the fallen from the mortal realm into the silence beyond. He has seen it all: criminals, liars, betrayers, murderers, and thieves. He has encountered abusers and the broken lives they left behind. Soul after soul has passed through his hands, each carrying its stains, regrets, and screams.

And in every one of them, he found the same trait: fear.

They feared him in life, hiding from the shadow that loomed at the end of their days. They feared him in death as well, when his towering figure arrived to claim what was owed. Regardless of who they were, they all trembled before him in their final moments.

Death was never meant to be feared. He did not carry malice or cruelty in his heart; he was not a tyrant. Instead, Death represented peace, a quiet release from the burdens of existence. He lifted weary souls from their suffering, holding them gently as
he guided them to a place where pain, sorrow, and fear could no longer reach them.

He understood that it was wrong to judge others. He made a conscious effort not to do so. However, in the course of his duties, he witnessed the worst of humanity: cruelty and greed. It was a disturbing sight, but it was part of his job.

Life, in contrast, always saw the good in those she cared for. Her days were dedicated to nurturing, weaving joy and potential, and touching each soul with hope and creativity. She could never fully grasp the weight of his burden or the quiet despair that sometimes accompanied the task of carrying away lives filled with too much pain.

Death bore it silently. He shielded his partner from the darkness he had witnessed, protecting her heart from the bitterness and horror he had experienced for eons. Yet, despite all the suffering he encountered, there was a solemn grace to it, a silent balance between the beauty that Life created and the finality he delivered.

Life cherished the concept of soulmates. In the quiet hours, she dreamed of their beauty, two souls intertwined, destined to find each other across time and distance. However, she had never been given the chance to create a pair of her own. Death had always forbidden it. To him, soulmates were unpredictable, threads that could unravel the very fabric of fate.

She had been quietly at work, creating and shaping: turning ashes into skin, stars into bright eyes, and stone into bones. Her sole purpose in making him was to ensure that he would be soul-bonded to another. However, Death observed everything, and she knew she couldn’t keep this secret for long.

Her creation was handsome, with deep red eyes, white teeth with sharp canines, strong arms and legs, and long black hair as dark as obsidian. Carefully, she reached into his chest and pulled out a piece of him, a soft glow that pulsed like a heartbeat, cradled gently in her hands. As he lay beside her, peacefully asleep like a doll, she began her work, creating his other half.

“Hmmmm… what to do with you?” Life mused, tapping her chin playfully. “Maybe blue eyes? No, no… let’s make them brown. Deep and dark, like rich soil. Eyes that see people for who they are, even beneath the surface. Yes. That’s better.”

“Now, how about hair next… golden, maybe auburn?” Life tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes alight with mischief. “I want you to be unique. Maybe… blue?” She gasped softly, a smile curving her lips. “Oh yes, that’s perfect.”

Threads of shimmering sapphire light unfurled beneath her fingertips, weaving themselves strand by strand until waves of blue tumbled down to the girl’s shoulders. Life leaned closer, adding shape and texture, teasing curls into the glow. The hair fell wild and untamed, yet beautiful like the ocean caught in motion.

“There,” she whispered, brushing her hand through the threads of light. “Wild, but always lovely.”

Life’s joy was uncontainable. To her, this was not a gamble, not a danger, but a miracle. She cradled the soul in her hands, luminous and trembling with potential, and felt as though she had been entrusted with a secret too precious for words.

At long last, she would see what it meant for two lives to be joined not by fear, not by suffering, but by fate. And she was ecstatic.

“You shouldn’t,” came a voice from the shadows.

Life didn’t stop her work. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. Death had always known where to find her, even when she wished to hide.

Her lips pressed together, but her hands continued to weave. “I have to. You see them, don’t you? All these souls wandering lost, never finding what they’re meant for? What’s the point of existence if there’s no anchor, no one to walk beside?”

“Anchor…” Death echoed softly. He stepped closer, the weight of him heavy in the realm of souls. His gaze lingered on the form taking shape beneath her hands, a soul wrought from starlight. “No good has ever come from forcing fate’s hand. Bonded pairs… they burn too bright. When they fall, they drag the world down with them.”

“I know,” she whispered, though her voice trembled. “But this one,” She gestured to the quiet creation that lay beside her, not yet fully born. “He will need someone. He’ll be born heavy, carrying pain before he even takes his first breath. If I leave him as he is, he will destroy himself. But if I give him a bond, if I tie him to another who can soften him, he might just survive.”

Death’s fist tightened at his side. He wanted to tell her no, wanted to take the fragile weaving from her hands and scatter it before it solidified into a life neither of them could undo. But when he looked at her face, the fierce hope in her eyes, the tenderness etched into her movements, he could not.

He loved her too much to take this from her.

So he swallowed the warning that clawed at his throat. He turned his face away, his silence becoming consent.

Life, radiant in her determination, smiled faintly as the soul solidified in her grasp. “Then it is done,” she whispered, and the chamber trembled with the birth of something new, something forbidden.

In the shadows, Death closed his eyes. He already knew how this would end.

“Come, my love, look at my creation and tell me it is wrong,” she whispered, standing and turning to reach for him. Her hand was soft, pleading, and though his every instinct screamed caution, he followed her.

Her workbench glowed faintly with woven strands of essence, the fabric of life itself humming in quiet song. Upon it lay two figures, fragile and unfinished, no breath yet in their lungs, no hearts that beat.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” She asked, her voice trembling with pride.

Death’s gaze lingered, heavy, unmoving. He hated to admit it, but a part of him was struck with awe. They were… different. There was a balance between them, a harmony stitched together from opposing threads. He could feel the weight of it already, like thunder on the horizon.

Death himself was hopeless when it came to her. To her brilliance. To the fire in her voice. To the gentleness in her hands. He only ever wanted her happiness. And maybe, deep down, it was selfish, because her joy was the only thing that made his endless burden lighter.

Life lifted the two fragile souls into her palms. Her eyes softened, and she bent over them with a breath as gentle as a spring wind.

The threads stirred. A flicker. A spark.

The newborn souls inhaled, their first gasps sharp and unsteady, like a candle trying to catch flame. Slowly, their eyes opened, one pair dark as iron and storm, the other bright as dawn.

“They are soulbonded,” Life whispered, almost reverent, her eyes glistening with both pride and fear. “Two halves of one whole. They will need each other.”

Death’s jaw clenched, his fist curling as the weight of inevitability settled in his chest. He had seen this before, seen what became of bonds so tightly wound that they strangled everything around them.

But when Life turned to him, her smile radiant and fragile, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. So he nodded once, heavy, resigned.

“They are beautiful,” he admitted quietly, though his voice was shadowed.

And in the silence that followed, the two souls blinked up at them, unaware of the gravity of their creators.

Both lacked personality. For humans, when they were first formed, they were not whole beings but fragments, young souls set upon stepping stones. Traits and temperaments could shift, bend, or even break, molded by the choices they made and the lives they lived.

If a man was born from love, it did not guarantee he would carry it faithfully through his days. The mortal realm was relentless; it twisted and battered, stripped away innocence, and replaced it with scars. Death had seen it countless times before. Souls created from gentleness who returned to him with blood on their hands. Or those born with laughter in their lungs who wept bitterly in his arms at their end.

That was the way of things. The mortal realm changed people.

When Life brought them forth, the realm shimmered. Two newborn souls stood unsteady upon the glowing surface of creation, their forms unrefined and raw.

The woman's light glowed bright, a gentle, shimmering thing. She looked as though she were sculpted from glass, transparent and radiant all at once. Her breath was the sound of wind chimes, curious and uncertain. Every movement cast prisms of color across the space around her.

Then the man, who stood beside her, built of dark heat and density, his soul forged of molten metal and tempered stone. His edges were jagged where hers were smooth, his glow deeper, heavier, like magma pulsing through rock. He blinked, sparks spilling from his chest as he took another breath in the realm of souls.

When their eyes met, they moved toward one another, two halves drawn by an invisible thread neither yet understood. She reached out first, small fingers trembling with wonder. He hesitated, the air between them rippling where light met heat.

The instant his fingertips brushed her palm, her entire body flared, fragile light flickering dangerously. Tiny fractures of color spread across her form like cracks in glass.

“Stop!” Death’s voice thundered through the realm as he appeared between them, shadows trailing behind his steps. He caught the man’s arm and yanked him back, fear slicing through his usual calm. “You’ll shatter her, Gajeel!”

The girl gasped, startled by the sudden pull, clutching her fractured hand to her chest. Yet even as the cracks glowed faintly, she smiled, transfixed by the rainbow shimmer radiating from her translucent form.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered softly, looking past Death toward Gajeel, whose molten form trembled.

Life appeared beside them, warm and radiant, her presence soothing as sunlight after a storm. “He won’t hurt her,” she said gently.

Death’s gaze flicked between them, the fragile girl of glass and light, and the molten boy of earth and flame. His heart sank as he watched them draw close again, unable to resist the pull between them. Even then, he could see it: the danger, the fine line between love and destruction.

Still, when the being of light reached out again, Gajeel followed her lead. This time, his movements were careful, slow, reverent, a creature of molten rock learning to touch something made of sunlight.

For one brief, perfect moment, they glowed together, their lights twining and dancing across the void. They enveloped one another as though remembering something ancient, something older than creation itself.

“Gajeel?” Life said softly, a knowing smile on her lips. “I like that name. How did you come up with it?”

“I don’t know,” Death replied quietly. “It just… slipped out.”

Life’s eyes softened as she looked upon the pair of souls still clinging to each other. “Then she shall have a name too,” she murmured. “Levy. It means to be joined in harmony. A fitting name for a lovely soul, wouldn’t you agree?”

Death gave a weary sigh. “Sure… I just hope you haven’t made her too soft. You know how I feel about that. The mortal realm won’t be so kind to her.”

Life tilted her head, a faint smile curving her lips. “And how would you know that? Gods of our status are unable to see the future.”

“I have seen enough, Life.” His tone deepened, the weight of eons in his words. “These humans, your beloved mortals, they’re sponges. They soak up every terrible thing they witness until there’s no good left within them. Your soul of light could just as easily give way to darkness.”

“I have not made her to do so,” Life replied, voice soft but firm.

Death turned toward the pair before them, Levy laughing in Gajeel’s arms as he lifted her effortlessly, spinning her through the glowing air. For a moment, they were nothing but joy and innocence. Death’s expression hardened.

“You still don’t understand what I mean,” he said quietly. “Here, she is safe. Here, she has never known cruelty or fear. The man before her is nothing but a dream, pure and unbroken.” He paused, shadows gathering in the hollows of his voice. “But when they reach the world below, there’s no promise it will remain that way. Levy could suffer, crushed beneath the boots of mankind, before she even gets the chance to meet him. And he…”

Death looked down, the faintest tremor in his voice. “He could suffer just the same.”

“You fear the future too much,” Life replied, quiet but unwavering.

Most gods scarcely noticed the mortals below; their lives were brief, their suffering an abstract season. But Life and Death held these fragile beings like children in their hands. They witnessed beginnings and ends, the small mercies and the great cruelties, most painfully when they were powerless to interfere.

“Enjoy your last few moments; the mortal realm is waiting,” Death said quietly.

Gajeel clutched Levy’s hand, unwilling to let go. Life watched them with a soft, aching smile. “They do not want to leave one another,” she whispered.

“Do not fret. You will meet again, at a later time,” Death replied.

Life lifted Levy’s soul, and the girl’s radiant body folded down into a single glowing orb, an impossible sphere of every color. With a fond, sad gesture, Life puckered her lips and blew the orb away like a dandelion seed. It drifted toward the world below.

Gajeel lunged forward, watching the light fall. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he breathed, clutching his chest. “What is this? I…feel—”

“Sadness,” Death answered plainly. “What you feel is sadness.”

Gajeel looked up at him with open, unguarded eyes.

Death’s voice grew steady and heavy, the weight of ages in each syllable. “When we send you, you must be careful. Guard her with more than strength, Gajeel. Guard her with patience, with restraint, with your heart.” His molten eyes bored into him like a warning that had existed since time began. “Do you understand? If you falter…if your fire consumes what it is meant to protect, then there will be consequences you cannot imagine.”

A cold shiver ran through Gajeel’s jagged soul. He swallowed hard. “I… I would never hurt her,” he said, voice raw and reverent, as if engraving an oath into the world.

Death’s gaze did not soften. “In this realm, perhaps I believe you,” he said, low as thunder. “But the world below is dark and cruel. Pain will twist you; hunger will gnaw at you; anger will be a constant companion. Promises made here may wither when they are tested there.”

He stepped closer, vast and solemn, standing as tall as a mountain. “When we cast you into flesh, you will not remember this. You will not remember her light, nor the warmth you feel now. You will know only an ache, an emptiness. You will stumble in the dark until the day you find each other again.”

“I will know her when I see her,” Gajeel said, his voice ringing through the void, defiant and sure. “The earth will not change me. I will stay as I am.”

Death studied him for a long, heavy moment, the glow in his eyes flickering like the last embers of a dying star. “Every soul says that before the fall,” he murmured. “But the world below does not ask permission to shape you; it carves you. Until there is nothing left of who you were.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

Death exhaled, a smile spreading across his face. “Now I might just believe you.”

And with that, Life gathered his soul in her hands, smiling sadly. Without another word, she breathed him into the world below, where light and warmth dissolved, and fire met flesh.

As the last flicker of Gajeel’s soul vanished into the ether, the air grew still. The glow of Life’s hands dimmed, her expression soft but heavy with unspoken worry. She turned to face Death, her eyes reflecting both light and reproach.

“You shouldn’t speak things into existence that haven’t yet come to pass,” she said quietly, her tone steady but edged with hurt. “Words hold power, even yours. You breathe doubt into what could be beautiful.”

Death regarded her in silence, shadows folding around his form. “I only speak from what I’ve seen before,” he replied at last, voice like stone sliding over stone. “The world below has a way of proving me right.”

“Then maybe,” she said, stepping closer, her radiance brushing against his darkness, “it’s not the world that’s cruel, it’s the faith you’ve lost in it.”

For a moment, they stood in the stillness of eternity: hope and inevitability, light and shadow, each certain the other could not understand.

“Do not disappoint me, Gajeel.” He finished before turning away from the endless void to Earth.

Chapter Text

They went about their celestial duties as they always did, shaping souls from the shimmering starlight that illuminated the cosmos and guiding the departed gently as they transitioned from one realm to the next. For a fleeting, delicate moment, everything felt as it should, a harmony of the universe.

Gajeel entered the world in a quaint oceanside village, a small place tucked hundreds of miles away from where his fated partner would eventually be. His father, a rugged fisherman, learned the art of navigating the unpredictable waters aboard his modest wooden boats, returning home with the fresh catch of the day. His mother, nurturing and resilient, labored lovingly in the fertile soil, coaxing abundant harvests of colorful fruits and hearty vegetables from the land to provide for the tight-knit community.

As a child, Gajeel basked in the warmth of love and care, rocked gently to sleep during sultry nights, nestled in the comforting embrace of his mother’s arms, and nourished every couple of hours. As he drifted into his dreams, Life herself watched over him from above, chuckling fondly at his insatiable appetite. Day after day, his parents fed him generously, ensuring his every need was met.

Even as Gajeel grew, his voracious hunger never waned. He would sneak through the gardens, plucking ripe, juicy tomatoes straight from the vines, devouring them until his stomach ached from overindulgence. His father would venture into the wild, returning with game from the forests and mounds of silver-scaled fish that gleamed in the sunlight. Their days were filled with hard work, laughter, and the warmth of family, painting a picture of blissful existence. But from the depths of the sea, darkness began to loom.

One fateful night, shadows materialized on the horizon, hulking ships gliding ominously toward land, their silhouettes sharp against the moonlit sky. Unbeknownst to the sleeping townsfolk, the men aboard those vessels held grim intentions, brandishing bladed weapons and torches that flickered like malicious fireflies. As these marauders landed upon the shore, their footsteps thundered against the sand, and chaos erupted, filled with ruthless laughter and the clamor of destruction.

Gajeel rested peacefully between his parents, blissfully unaware that the tranquility of his world was on the brink of an irreversible change.

It was the piercing sound of anguished screams that cut through the silence, wrenching his father from sleep. Panic surged through him as beads of perspiration glistened on his brow, and he shot upright in bed.

“What was that?” His wife whispered, drawing the heavy animal pelts closer around their sleeping child, who remained blissfully unaware amid the brewing storm.

Another scream shattered the night, followed by the harsh sound of something crashing. Through the small window, the unmistakable flicker of orange flames danced outside, casting an eerie glow upon their faces.

“Raiders…” he hissed, his voice quivering with the potent mix of fear and fury. “Hide! Hide now!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprang from the bed and grasped the heavy metal mallet that leaned against the wall, its cold, unyielding surface a stark contrast to the warmth of his home. The chaos outside grew louder, echoing in his ears, booted feet churning through the mud, laughter sharp enough to cut.

He took a defensive stance in front of the door, gripping the mallet tightly in both hands, resolve radiating from his every pore, ready to stand against whatever fate had in store.

“Get back!” He roared, his voice reverberating through the night air. “Or I’ll end you where you stand!”

The pirates erupted into raucous laughter, their cruel mirth echoing through the night as they charged forward like a tide of darkness. The trees, lush and imposing, were soon engulfed in flames that writhed upward into the velvety black sky, casting eerie shadows as the battle unfolded.

Gajeel’s father moved with desperation and fierce love as he swung his weapon, his muscles taut with the effort. He felled one pirate, then another, but their numbers were overwhelming, ten against one. Steel met flesh with a sound that silenced the night.

The blade drove clean through his chest, and for an instant, the world froze. His mallet hung suspended in the air, his breath catching in his throat. Then came the warmth, a flood of it, spilling down his front as he coughed, the taste of iron filling his mouth. The metallic tang burned his tongue, foreign and wrong, a taste that didn’t belong to the living.

He staggered back, knees striking the dirt. His hand trembled over the wound, fingers sinking into the torn flesh as if he could hold himself together by sheer will. Blood pulsed through the gaps in his grasp, dark and steady, painting the ground beneath him in a spreading halo.

Some buried instinct, the primal call of a husband, a father, screamed at him to move. To get up. To go home. His family was waiting, just beyond that door. He crawled, dragging his body forward, leaving a wet, crimson trail behind him. The laughter of the pirates filled the night, cruel, booming, almost joyful, the sound twisting and fading in his failing ears.

He reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of the wooden step — almost there — when the second blade came. It drove through his back with a sickening crack, pinning him to the earth like an insect beneath glass. His breath hitched, then broke into a ragged gasp.

For a moment, he still moved, his body jerking, twitching in protest, and then the strength left him. His head fell to the dirt, eyes wide open, the reflection of his home flickering in them one last time before the darkness claimed him completely.

Inside the home, Gajeel’s mother acted with fierce protectiveness, tucking her son beneath the bed and pressing a trembling, desperate kiss to his forehead as she whispered words of comfort. Her heart pounded as the raucous shouts of the raiders grew closer, and dread filled the air. When the door splintered and crashed open, she held her breath, covering her son's mouth with her hand as she watched boots filter into her house.

Her body trembled so violently she could hear the rattle of the bedframe. The crash of shattering glass cut through the night, and her son’s terrified cry pierced her ears. She tightened her grip around him, heart pounding against his small body, then froze as heavy footsteps thudded closer.

A thick, calloused hand seized her ankle, yanking hard. The splinters from the floorboards bit into her skin as she was dragged out from the narrow darkness beneath the bed. Gajeel held onto her for dear life, reaching after her, but she let go, better him safe than both caught.

“Look what I found!” The pirate’s voice was cruel and triumphant. He hauled her upright, throwing her into the center of the room. Before she could draw a breath, more hands were on her, grabbing, pulling, tearing. Her cries were drowned beneath their laughter as rough fingers clawed at her arms and clothes, wrenching her toward the door.

They dragged her out into the cold night air, out onto the porch, and there, she saw him. Her husband lay sprawled in the dirt, eyes glassy, the earth beneath him dark with blood. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed over him, fingers clutching at his shirt, begging him to move, to breathe, but he was still, his body already cooling.

“Let me go!” She gasped, thrashing as they ripped her away from him. Her shirt tore open down the back, fabric splitting with a sound that made her stomach twist. She fell again, the ground biting into her skin as she curled inward, trying to hide herself from their reaching hands.

“What a pretty bitch!” One of them jeered, his voice thick with drink and violence. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back until her throat ached.

“Get off me!” She screamed, her nails raking his wrist. Panic drove her, wild and feral, then she struck, her thumb digging deep until it sank into the soft socket of his eye. His scream was raw, animalistic.

“Ahhh! My fucking eye!” He howled, stumbling back as blood poured down his cheek.

She fell forward, crawling across the dirt, dragging herself toward her husband’s body. “Please…” she whispered, clutching his cold hand, tears streaking through the grime on her face.

Another shadow loomed over her, blocking out the moonlight. “Bring her,” the pirate growled, his grin wide and glistening. “A woman that fights like that… she’ll keep the crew entertained.” His laughter followed, low and vile, as they reached for her again.
But defiance ignited within her, hot and blinding, cutting through the haze of terror. She spat in his face, the act sharp as broken glass. In a sudden, feral surge, her fingers found the heavy mallet lying beside her, still wrapped in her husband’s lifeless grasp.

With a cry that tore her throat raw, she swung. The mallet connected with a skull-cracking thud, and the sound echoed through the night like a bell tolling for the damned. The pirate’s body folded in on itself, his knees giving way, collapsing into the dirt like a puppet severed from its strings.

“You won’t take me!” She screamed, voice trembling but unbroken. “I will fight — I will curse you!”

Each word was a weapon. Each swing was a prayer twisted into fury. She struck again and again, her small frame driven by something greater than strength, by rage, by grief, by love.

But then the world shifted.

A shadow rose over her, massive and monstrous. The captain stepped forward, his blade gleaming in the erratic glow of the burning torches. His grin was carved from cruelty.

Before she could draw another breath, steel flashed. The sword drove clean through her chest, silencing her mid-scream. For a heartbeat, she stood frozen, the mallet slipping from her fingers, her blood dripping onto her husband’s hand.

Her gaze drifted downward, past the flames and chaos, toward the dark slit beneath the bed. Two small red eyes gleamed from the shadows, wide, wet, and trembling. Her lips parted, the shape of her son’s name ghosting on her breath, but the sound never came.

Her body faltered, folding gently as though sleep had finally claimed her. The firelight caught the sheen of her hair, the blood pooling beneath her spreading like ink on parchment.

The captain wrenched his blade free, the motion casual, almost bored. A cruel chuckle slipped from him, curling into the cold air.

“Women are no fun when they fight back,” he sneered, wiping his sword on her torn clothes. His eyes lingered on her still face, a flicker of grudging respect twisting his mouth. “And yet… I saw no fear in her. Only fire.”

He turned away, leaving her body crumpled beside her husband’s, two lights extinguished, one pair of eyes left to witness.

“They didn’t have much, Captain,” another said. “Just three gold bracelets.”

Above them, unseen, Life watched, her golden light dimming. Her voice quivered when she finally spoke.

“That was all you wanted? Murder — over three gold bracelets?”

Her fury shook the heavens, but sadness weighed heavier still. She turned her gaze away from the burning shore.

“Death?” She whispered.

He had indeed been there the whole time, watching in silence.

“Yes, my love?”

She lowered her eyes. A single tear, like a drop of molten gold, slipped free. “You see. I did not interfere,” she said. “Go retrieve them, please. Bring them home.”

He wanted to shield her eyes from it all, but she knew better. She finally learned the darkness of the world below. She wished she could ignore it, wished she could look away, but the love she bore for Gajeel made it impossible.

She wept for him often, watching from above as he hid away in the forest, fighting to live as best as a young boy could. He ate fish raw from the pond, cut his small hands open on sharp rocks, and cried in the night from the cold.

All she wanted was to hold him, to tell him everything would be all right. But she couldn’t. Not with Death so close at her side. He loved her; she knew that all too well, but he was a stickler for the rules. His morals would never bend, no matter how she pleaded.

So one day, she could no longer stand idly by and watch him suffer.

He knelt in the heart of the woods, the crisp air now edged with a biting chill. It had barely been two months since the brutal murder of his parents, and despair clung to him like the frost on the branches overhead. Starving, teetering on the brink of death, he was curled into a tight child’s pose, his frail frame shivering. The contours of his spine and ribs jutted sharply against his pallid skin, which had taken on a sickly, ghostly hue.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, rendering tears a luxury he could no longer afford. With blistered and sore feet, he trembled against the cold, each shiver stabbing him with pain that echoed through his frail body.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, I’m coming,” came a soft, soothing whisper, as she meticulously prepared a sacrifice. A majestic deer, a large buck adorned with tall, four-pointed antlers that seemed to command the forest's attention, its robust body a stark contrast to Gajeel's frailty.

Just a few miles away, a dragon crafted from gleaming metal and rusted scraps soared through the desolation, in search of a meal.

She had forged this dragon and watched over him for nearly a thousand years; never once had he feasted on human flesh. She held an unwavering trust in him, particularly since he had recently suffered the loss of his hatchling and mate to the cruel, unyielding cold. His paternal instincts were strong, and he was the only living creature within a hundred-mile radius of Gajeel’s bleak existence.

With gentle fervor, she whispered to the dragon’s soul as she released the deer, urging it to run towards the boy. “Take pity on him, Metalicana.”

The dragon’s sharp eyes scanned the snowy expanse below, detecting movement with uncanny precision. He locked onto the deer as it bounded clumsily through the wintry landscape. With a mighty thrust, Metalicana launched himself from the sky, diving low and landing with thunderous force upon the deer, his razor-sharp claws finding their mark with deadly grace.

In a mere five seconds, Metalicana ended the life of the deer, sinking his teeth into its tender underbelly. Life itself seemed to frown at the heart-wrenching sight of her creation, which had only drawn breath for a fleeting ten minutes. Yet she remained resolute, accepting the sacrifice with a heavy heart.

“Look up,” she urged again, and the dragon obeyed, under the impression that her voice was merely his own conscience beckoning him.

As Metalicana lifted his gaze, he noticed something small, nearly engulfed by the falling snow. He lumbered forward, the warmth of the deer still lingering in his jaws, and approached the child who lay beneath him, shivering and wide-eyed in awe at the magnificent creature looming above.

“Don’t…eat me,” Gajeel whispered, each word a struggle that barely escaped his cracked lips.

Metalicana didn’t comprehend the child's fear, but a surge of paternal instinct flooded through him, filling his heart with a deep, unexpected compassion. He gently lowered the still-warm deer beside the child, its heat radiating a momentary shelter against the freezing air. As dusk settled, the dragon wrapped his massive body around Gajeel, shielding him from the icy wind and swirling snow, an impenetrable barrier of warmth and protection in an unforgiving world.

She hid this from Death. How he never found out was beyond her, especially since he saw everything. Luckily, he had been far too busy; winter was always his busiest season, and this winter was a frigid one.

Metalicana took Gajeel in as his own. From that moment on, she turned away and pretended she hadn’t seen what happened that night, even feigning surprise when she watched him finally eat his first proper meal in months the next day.

Metalicana loved Gajeel, but he was nothing like Gajeel’s biological father. He was hardened, rough, calloused, lacking the gentleness that had cradled Gajeel as a child. When he flew with Gajeel on his back, he was unafraid if the boy slipped.

“I’m slipping!” Gajeel would scream, only for the dragon to roar back,

“Well, hold on tighter if you don’t want to fall to your death, boy!”

Instead of coddling him, Metalicana taught him valuable skills. He taught Gajeel how to hunt and fish, showing him how to stay warm and survive on his own. Metalicana even infused the boy with magic, training him to become a dragon slayer. Day by day, Gajeel grew stronger, no longer the fragile child who had suffered so deeply.

Though Metalicana was rough and often harsh, he cared for the boy in his own way. He shielded him from the worst of the elements, offered shelter when there was none, and always called Gajeel his son, even if they were entirely different species.

She hadn’t even noticed when Metalicana left for a hunt that day. At first, Gajeel waited patiently, but as time passed, restlessness took over. He began counting the days as they stretched on endlessly, but Metalicana never returned.

Desperation gnawed at him, and finally, he could wait no longer. Gajeel wandered through the forest, calling out and searching every ridge and hollow, scanning every shadow for the dragon who had become his guardian.

Yet the woods remained silent. The wind whispered through the trees, but there was no response, no roar, no sign of Metalicana. With each passing hour, Gajeel's heart sank deeper, as the boy who had survived so much suddenly felt the sharp, hollow ache of abandonment once more.

Gajeel had learned how to survive, not to live, but to endure. The forest had shaped him into something lean and hard, all sharp edges and silent steps. He had grown faster, cleverer, stronger with each passing year, carving out his existence from hunger and frost. Six long years had passed since Metalicana disappeared into the frozen wilds, swallowed by the same silence that had once sheltered them both.

He told himself he didn’t care. That he didn’t need anyone, he was his own strength, his own protector, his own fire against the cold. But sometimes, in the quiet moments between breaths, he still felt the absence. He smothered it beneath anger, buried it beneath pride, until his heart was armored in iron.

That morning, hunger drove him from the trees. The town before him was small, gray, and half-asleep, smoke rising from chimneys in thin, ghostly trails. He slipped through the back streets like a shade, unseen and unheard, the tatters of his cloak fluttering in the wind. His eyes darted to every movement, every window, every boot print in the mud.

He moved with the quiet patience of a predator, circling a baker’s cart left unattended at the market’s edge. The scent of warm bread hit him. His stomach twisted painfully, the ache of starvation sharper than any blade.

In one fluid motion, he reached out, fingers steady despite the tremor of need. His hand darted into the cart, snatching a rough, stale roll from the edge. The crust tore at his fingers, but he didn’t care.

Then he vanished, melting into the narrow alley before the baker even turned his head.

In the shadows, he pressed his back against the cold stone wall, chest heaving. His pulse thundered in his ears. Tearing into the bread, he frowned. The bread was hollow inside. Nothing but air and crust.

“Scammy baker,” Gajeel muttered, gnawing at the hard crust anyway.

A shadow moved across the wall.

“Shitty bread, isn’t it?”

Gajeel froze, head snapping up. A tall man stood at the mouth of the alley, his figure framed by the fading daylight. He leaned against the brick, casual as smoke, holding a hollow roll between long, elegant fingers. His smile was faint, practiced, but it never reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gajeel said, wary. His body angled just enough to bolt if he needed to.

“You may be a thief,” the man went on, his tone smooth as oil, “but that bastard baker’s a thief too. Takes more than he gives.”

“You a cop or something?” Gajeel muttered.

The man laughed softly, a sound too even, too careful. “Do I look like a cop to you?”

Gajeel scoffed, tearing another bite from the bread, feigning indifference.

“I can offer more than stale crumbs,” the man said, his voice dropping low. “You’re quick. Clever. I’ve been looking for someone like you to join my guild.”

Gajeel bristled. “I’m good. Leave me alone, you creep.” He pushed off the wall, brushing the dirt from his hands, backing toward the street.

“I have food,” the man called, his tone sharp enough to slice through the wind. “A warm bed. Shelter. Anything you need.”

“Fuck off, old man. I ain’t interested.”

“I’ll pay you.”

That stopped him… just for a second. He turned, suspicion flickering in his dark eyes. “Heh… you ain’t some kinda freak, are ya?”

The man chuckled, a low, measured sound. “Of course not, child. I only wish to guide you, set you on the right path.” His eyes gleamed faintly in the half-light, strange and predatory. “But guidance has a cost.”

He stepped closer.

“I need someone strong,” he murmured. “And I’ve been watching you for some time… Dragon Slayer.”

Gajeel stiffened. “Oh? So you’re a stalker.”

“Funny one, aren’t you?” The man’s smile sharpened. He reached out and laid a firm hand on Gajeel’s shoulder. His touch was cold, heavy with intent. “My name is José. I’m the master of the Phantom Lord guild. I look after a lot of children there.”

He pressed his half-eaten roll into Gajeel’s palm, his thumb brushing the boy’s knuckles, a gesture that felt both kind and wrong.

“If you’re ever interested…” José’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “You know where to find me.”

He turned and strode away, cloak snapping in the wind, his steps silent but deliberate. Gajeel stood frozen, the rough bread clenched in his hand, the taste of it suddenly bitter, like ash in his mouth.

Before the man vanished completely into the dark, Gajeel called out, his voice small but sharp.

“What would I have to do?”

José paused, half-turned, that slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Whatever it takes.”

Life held her breath.

The air itself seemed to still, the forest, the wind, even the whisper of time, all waiting, praying that her bonded soul would turn away. She had given so much to save him: her blessing, her essence, her hope. To see him now, standing before an evil man like José, teetering on the edge of cruelty, was almost too much for her to bear.

“Don’t do it, darling,” she breathed, her voice carried on a wind that did not reach his ears. “Please… don’t.”

But the boy did not hear. The hunger in his belly and the ache in his heart drowned out the voice of the divine. He looked up at José, the promise of food and warmth glinting in the man’s dark eyes, and in that promise, he mistook salvation for kindness.
He reached out.

Life’s heart broke as she watched his small, scarred hand slip into José’s grasp. The moment their palms met, something ancient and sacred shattered. The bond she had once forged in mercy cracked like glass beneath the weight of fate. And as they shook hands, sealing the choice with quiet finality, the world exhaled, not in relief, but in mourning.

While Life kept a close watch on Gajeel, she also observed her soul of light, Levy. Levy was only five years old when Metalicana saved Gajeel. Like Gajeel's, Levy's family was no different; her parents loved her more than anything else. They owned a small library nestled at the base of an ancient mountain, a beautiful yet dangerous place, especially during the rainy season.

Yet they had owned the library for 15 years and lived in the town for more than thirty. Not once had they witnessed the wrath of Mother Nature.

Her father and mother were highly educated and much older; they had just turned thirty-eight when they had Levy. They valued their education greatly and had put off having children until their careers were well-established.

When Levy came into their lives, they vowed to devote as much time to her as possible, eager to embrace the joys of parenthood. Levy was a quiet girl; she didn't speak much nor did she cry when she was just a babe.

Life watched giggling as her parents ached with worry when their daughter slept through the night, or when she didn't cry when she fell. They feared the worst, feared she was ill, but Life knew well she was just a good baby with good parents, nothing more.

She had adopted the quiet life her parents had created for herself, so she was a calm child. But smart, smarter than any kid she had seen before. She could read aloud books that were well above the level of someone her age. She could handle numbers and vast amounts of knowledge.

Her parents were thrilled to bring her into their library, which held a vast collection of books and ancient scrolls in various languages.
They were happy.

Until the mountain could no longer bear what it held. For two endless days, the rain had fallen without mercy, drenching the earth until it turned to a heavy, suffocating mud. The air hung thick with the scent of wet soil.

It began quietly, deceptively so. A single stone came loose from the mountain’s crown and tumbled down, bouncing once, twice, before vanishing into the fog. Then another. And another.

Each one struck harder, faster, until the quiet drip of rain gave way to a low, trembling groan, the sound of the mountain itself waking up after a century of rest. Trees shuddered. Birds fled in panicked bursts. Then came the roar, deep, ancient, and unrelenting as the slope gave way.

The earth convulsed. A wall of mud and shattered stone tore free from the mountainside, ripping roots from the sodden ground, devouring everything in its path. The forest screamed beneath the onslaught, splintering wood and crushing every living thing in its path.

And in the chaos, there was no time to run, no time to breathe, only the deafening truth that nature, once still and sheltering, had turned against them.

They were shelving books when the rumbling began, soft at first, a distant growl rolling through the mountain’s bones.

“What in the heavens…?” Levy’s mother whispered, steadying a stack of books on the lower shelf, her daughter perched on her hip.

Levy’s father paused, hand still resting on the desk. The floor trembled. Dust rained from the rafters, a fine, ghostly veil that drifted through the trembling air. The tea on his desk quivered, tiny rings spreading across its surface.
He crossed the room in three strides and tore back the curtain—
—and froze.

Rushing towards him was a roaring wall of earth and stone, a tidal wave of mud devouring everything in its path. Trees splintered. The sky disappeared.

For the briefest instant, Michael understood. His breath caught; his eyes widened. There was no time for words, no time to turn.

The glass window burst inward like gunfire. Shards struck his face and throat before the shockwave hit, and then he was gone. The force of the mudslide obliterated the wall, snapping his spine and crushing him beneath an explosion of timber and stone. There was no scream, no movement, only the brutal silence that follows instant death.

“Michael!” His wife screamed, though the roaring earth drowned out the sound.

The flood of mud slammed into the room, tearing shelves from the walls, swallowing the floorboards whole. Books dissolved in the sludge, their pages spinning briefly before being ground into nothing. Levy’s mother staggered back, clutching her child, her mind refusing to accept what she’d just seen — her husband’s blood still warm on her face, his body buried beneath what had once been their home.

The structure groaned, its timbers splintering under the weight. Windows burst open one after another, spilling rivers of mud inside.

Levy’s mother stumbled, clutching her child tight as the muck rose past her knees, cold and suffocating. Her eyes darted wildly, seeking any lifeline. Then she spotted it — the ladder leading to the second floor, fragile against the weight of the collapsing building.

“Hold on, baby. Hold on,” she whispered, wading through the debris. Her foot slipped on wet paper and jagged shards of glass, but she caught herself on the ladder and began to climb. Each rung groaned under her weight, the library sagging ominously beneath her.

Above, a beam snapped free, crashing into the wall with a deafening crack. The entire structure shuddered violently, sending clouds of dust and ink-dark mud spiraling through the air. She coughed, shielding her daughter’s face, her fingers trembling as they clutched each rung.

“Someone! Please! Help us!” She shouted, voice swallowed by the roar of rain and shifting stone.

“Hello! Is anyone in there!?”

Her gaze shot upward. Through a narrow split in the roof, an old man’s face appeared — lined, weathered, yet kind. Recognition struck her heart like a jolt of lightning. Relief surged through her chest; he was a good man, a savior in this living nightmare.

“Climb! Climb as fast as you can!” His voice cut through the chaos. She obeyed, pushing higher, her muscles screaming, holding her child like she would crush her own bones to protect her.

“I’ll save you!” He shouted, bracing himself against the slick rock.

“There’s no time!” She cried, panic raw in her voice. “Just take my child! Please, take her!”

With every ounce of strength, she lifted the little girl upward by one arm. She could feel the child's shoulder pop out of its socket, but she was desperate. The old man’s hands closed around her, rough and steady, pulling her free.

Life exhaled in a soft, golden sigh, one fleeting moment of grace. Levy was safe.

Then the mountain screamed.

The library’s frame twisted, cracking violently. The ladder buckled under the sudden collapse. Levy’s mother screamed as her footing gave way, and she fell backward into the churning, relentless mud.

“Mommy!” Levy screamed, her tiny voice swallowed by the roar of the mud and rain. Makarov struggled to hold her wriggling body, her little hands clutching at his cloak as she tried to see through the chaos.

Through her wide, innocent eyes, Levy watched her mother’s head break the surface of the swirling black sludge, hair plastered to her face, arms flailing desperately. She slapped at the mud and water, struggling to keep herself above the suffocating tide.
Then a sickening pop. A beam, thick and heavy, snapped free from above, crashing down with unstoppable force. Levy’s heart lurched as her mother’s head jerked violently beneath the impact.

Her hand shot upward, reaching, reaching… and then was gone, swallowed by the black, roiling ocean of mud and debris. The world seemed to shudder in that moment, silence and chaos colliding, leaving only the sickening inevitability of loss.
Levy’s screams cut through the storm, raw and broken, as her small body trembled in Makarov’s arms. Her mother was gone.

The shelves shattered, the ceiling groaned and gave way, and in a single, merciless instant, the building was swallowed, buried beneath the mountain’s wrath, along with the shattered dreams of countless books that would never be reread.

Death had brought her their souls, her parents. The flickering orbs whispered words of worry, words that life could hardly find intelligible; they spoke rapidly in different languages, all mixed together.

But she knew, even Death knew, that their final thoughts were not of themselves, but of the little girl they had thrust into the arms of a stranger. Fear clung to them like the last breath in their lungs; they worried if she would live, if she would be loved, if the world would be kind.

And Life, gentle and solemn, leaned close to their fading spirits and whispered, “Do not fear. Your child will thrive. I will watch her with the Realm’s eye. Through storm and sorrow, she will be seen.”
Death bowed his head beside her, his silence an unspoken vow.

Levy was different after that. She hardly spoke, barely ate, and never played. The chatter and laughter of the Fairy Tail guild washed over her like waves against stone, warm, familiar sounds that could no longer reach her.

At night, she shivered in the darkness of her room, surrounded by the soft breaths of sleeping children. The shadows on the walls moved like ghosts, and sometimes she thought she heard the mountain rumble again, the echo of her mother’s scream buried somewhere deep in the silence. Even here, in this new home, fear clung to her like a second skin.

Makarov worried endlessly. He’d watch her from a distance, the tiny girl who sat beneath the window, a book forever resting in her lap, pages untouched. She stared through the glass as though searching for something just beyond the horizon, something lost to the storm.

The other children begged her to play, tugging at her hands, offering toys and smiles and friendship. But Levy only gave them a small, fragile smile and shook her head, retreating once more into her quiet.

She missed her parents. She missed the smell of old paper and mountain rain. She longed for the warmth in their voices while they read to her by candlelight. The silence without them was unbearable, a hollow ache that never seemed to end.

One afternoon, Makarov took her by the hand and led her down a long, winding corridor she had never seen before. The old wooden floor creaked beneath their steps, the air cool and still. They stopped before a heavy oak door, its surface marked by age and dust, tucked away behind forgotten crates.

“Go on,” he said softly, pushing it open.

Levy gasped.

Before her stretched a vast room, walls upon walls of shelves, each one brimming with books that reached toward the ceiling, and ladders leaned against them like sleeping giants. The air smelled of ink, parchment, and quiet wonder.

She stepped forward, slow and reverent, her tiny fingers tracing the spines as though they might vanish at her touch.

“Master…?” she whispered, voice trembling with disbelief. “Are… are all these books for me?”

Makarov’s smile was gentle, touched with sorrow and pride. “Every single one,” he said. “No one else uses them. They’re all yours now.”

Levy turned, her eyes wide and glistening in the golden light. “For me?”

He nodded. “You have a lovely voice, my dear. When you’re ready, perhaps you’ll read some aloud and share them with the other children. But until then… these belong to you.”

Levy’s throat tightened. She pressed a worn book to her chest, its cover cool against her skin. For the first time since losing her parents, warmth stirred faintly within her, fragile but alive. A spark of belonging, flickering in the quiet heart of Fairy Tail’s library.

“She got lucky,” Death whispered, his voice like wind through hollow bones. From the shadow of the beyond, he observed the old man. Makarov moved through the guild with quiet purpose, his every act stitched together with kindness and strength.

Death tilted his head, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. A rare one, he thought. There was not a single thread of malice woven into that man’s soul, only warmth, leadership, and the steady light of a heart uncorrupted. Though he would never admit it aloud, Death saw something of himself in the old man, the same burden, the same endless watching of lost souls who needed a hand to guide them.

“It was fate that brought him to her that day,” Life murmured beside him, her eyes bright with reverence. Her hand pressed gently over her heart as she watched the small girl in the library below. “She will grow into something extraordinary. Even grief can bloom into grace.”

Death said nothing, his gaze lingering on the child clutching her book to her chest. For once, he did not argue.

Gajeel and Levy couldn’t be more different. Both had survived the storm, both had lost everything that made them children, yet what grew from their pain could not have been more opposite.

Gajeel had been forged in shadow, his heart turned to iron. Under José’s hand, mercy was weakness, compassion a curse. He learned to bite before he bled, to strike before he could be struck. The world taught him that cruelty was power, and he believed it.

Levy, on the other hand, was held in light. The arms that lifted her from ruin were steady and kind, her new family teaching her that gentleness could rebuild what tragedy had shattered. Under Makarov’s watchful eye, she learned that knowledge was strength and kindness the truest form of magic.

Two souls, born of the same storm, one hardened, one healed. Life and Death watched from their realm, silent witnesses to the cruel symmetry of fate.

For now, their paths lay far apart. But the world has a way of drawing together what it once tore in two.

Chapter Text

“Maybe we should head to my place. It’s big enough for the three of us,” Droy exclaimed, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“That sounds good. Please tell me you at least have food in the fridge this time?” Jet asked, laughter just on the edge of his voice.

“Honestly, a sandwich sounds pretty good,” Levy chimed in as they walked down the alleyway, passing shops that had long since closed for the night.

“I can’t believe you guys are even hungry right now, especially after what happened today,” Droy muttered, lowering his head and stiffening his shoulders. “Those Phantom assholes have no idea what’s coming for them if they think they can just trash the guild like they did.”

“It’s over now. All we can do is stick together. It was a jerk move, but at least they attacked when everyone was already gone for the night,” Levy replied, stretching her arms high above her head as she walked.

“Sounds like they pussied out to me,” Jet said, mockery dripping from his grin, his right canine pushing over his lower lip. “But you know, I have a bad feeling about this. Something tells me this isn’t the last we’ll hear from them.”

Levy frowned, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the evening. Suddenly, the alley seemed narrower, and the shadows appeared longer. “Yeah, you might be right,” she murmured, her eyes flicking to the darkened streets ahead, where even the faintest light felt fragile.

She moved ahead of the guys, her senses on high alert as they approached the park, the shortcut to Droy’s place. Their shoes tapped against the cobblestones, accompanied only by the chirping of crickets. Then she heard it: the scrape of boots against stone, faint but deliberate.

She jerked around. “Did you hear that?” Her voice was sharp, slicing through the stillness of the night.

Jet and Droy froze, tension coiling in their shoulders.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jet said, crossing his arms and forcing a casual tone.

“You’re just being high-strung. Come on, I’m starving!” Droy added, moving ahead with Jet as if nothing had happened.

Levy’s eyes darted left and right down the alleyway. Nothing. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the unease.

“Fuck… get it together, Levy,” she whispered, turning to catch up with them.

A few feet ahead, on a rooftop barely visible against the night sky, Gajeel stood with his eyes locked on the back of her head. His grin spread slowly and deliberately, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Smart little fairy,” he murmured, allowing his voice to carry just enough for him to savor the moment. Then he sank back into the shadows, becoming invisible once again, following them like a nightmare stitched to their heels.

Levy kept walking, every sense on high alert. Then she heard it again, a light tapping, deliberate and echoing. Her heart raced as she spun around, her eyes flicking toward every shadowed corner.

“Hello?” she called, her voice trembling slightly. No answer.

“Is someone there?” she tried again, but silence was her only response.

Far ahead, Jet and Droy groaned impatiently.

“Dude, what are you doing? Come on!” Droy shouted.

Levy frowned, a mix of frustration and fear welling up inside her. “I swear I heard something!” she called back, turning toward them.

“You’re being paranoid…” Jet began, but his words caught in his throat. He squinted at something glinting on the roof above her, a metallic shimmer, slight and sharp.

Time slowed as it happened. Life turned to her left, and her eyes darted to where the last grain of sand had fallen in the hourglass. There was no turning back now.

Before Jet could react, the shiny object launched from the roof, hurtling straight toward their leader.

“LEVY!” Jet screamed.

Levy spun, trying to dodge, but it was too fast. A fist connected with her face, the force sending her flying backward.

She tumbled across the cobblestones as if caught in a violent whirlpool, her limbs flailing. Her left shoe flew off her foot, and stars danced in her vision as she collided hard with the ground.

Pain flared, sharp and immediate, and somewhere in the shadows, Gajeel grinned, unseen and relentless, savoring the chaos he had created.

Levy quickly gathered herself, clutching her cheek where the first blow had landed. She sprang to her feet, adopting a battle-ready stance, while Jet and Droy slid into position behind her. Back-to-back, they rotated slowly, scanning every shadowed corner.

“Where is he!?” Droy shouted, his eyes darting in every direction.

“I don’t see him!” Jet yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

“Don’t panic! Stay together, guys!” Levy called, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Their rotation shattered in an instant. An iron pillar screeched across the cobblestones, knocking their feet out from under them. They all went flying, landing hard, the sound of their impact swallowed by cruel, sharp laughter echoing through the night.

“Shit! He’s fucking with us!” Droy growled, pain immediately stealing his breath as something heavy slammed into his gut. His ribs cracked under the force, piercing his lungs. Blood spurted from his mouth as he tumbled backward.

“DROY!” Jet screamed as he sprinted toward him, catching Droy just before he hit the ground. The impact sent Droy crashing into Jet, knocking him backward and making his feet skid across the stones.

“UGGHHHH!” Droy groaned, air rushing out of his lungs. He gasped desperately, trying to draw a breath.

Levy regained her footing, small and nimble, with every nerve on edge. She pivoted, scanning the shadows. A gust of wind from behind made her twist just in time. She slid to the left, barely dodging another iron-clad fist. Her breath hitched as her eyes met his.

Where had she seen those eyes before?

She froze, recognition clawing at the edge of her mind. The man before her towered over her, his presence oppressive and his grin twisted.

“You’re fuckin’ quick,” Gajeel drawled, cracking his knuckles like a predator testing the tension in his claws.

“You… Phantom?” Levy demanded, voice trembling.

“Eh,” he shrugged, casual and cruel. “You could say that.”

Jet shot forward, faster than the eye could follow. But Gajeel’s arm snapped up, iron-plated and solid as a wall.

“Jet! No!” Levy shouted, too late.

The moment Jet’s fist connected, the air filled with the sickening crack of bone. His hand shattered against the unyielding metal. Blood sprayed across the cobblestones as Gajeel’s grin widened.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, crushing Jet’s mangled hand in his iron grip before slamming a punch into his ribs. Jet flew backward, smashing through the shop wall, disappearing into the debris.

Levy’s pulse thundered in her ears. She braced herself, her small frame trembling but ready. The man before her radiated malice.

“I thought you Fairies were supposed to be strong,” he sneered, pacing toward her with lazy confidence. “What a bunch of bullshit.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, locked tight like when she was a child, scared and powerless.

“I—”

He laughed, low and sharp. “Cat got your tongue? Guess it’s just you and me now, beautiful.”

He lunged. She dodged, barely, but his hand snatched her wrist midair, yanking her with terrifying strength. He spun, hurling her like a rag doll toward the wall. Her old childhood injury in her shoulder popped with a sickening crack, the old wound ripping open again.

She tumbled down the park steps, rolling through the wet grass. The world spun. Her vision blurred.

Growling through her teeth, she grabbed her arm, slamming her elbow against her knee. The shoulder snapped back into its socket with a wet pop. “F-Fuck!” She hissed, clutching it, the ache blooming deep.

Gajeel laughed darkly. “Wow, you’re tougher than you look. Who would have thought a little bookworm had some bite?”

“You don’t scare me!” she screamed, defiant and trembling. “Come on, then!”

She thrust her hands forward, and runes ignited to life in the air. “SOLID SCRIPT: STONE!”

Chunks of rock exploded toward him, but Gajeel was already in motion, sidestepping with inhuman ease. In an instant, he appeared before her, his shadow swallowing hers. His hands clamped down on her shoulders, his nails biting into her skin. And she slammed her forehead into his nose.

“AGH!” He staggered back, blood dripping down his lip.

“You… bitch!” He snarled, eyes flashing red in the dark. His arm transformed, morphing into a gleaming steel blade.

Levy’s heart dropped.

He lunged, swinging with brutal precision. She dodged, rolled, twisted, every movement desperate and sharp.

“SOLID SCRIPT: SHIELD!” she cried, the word burning gold in the air. The shield materialized in her grasp just in time.

Steel met light with a thunderous clang. Sparks burst between them as Gajeel bore down, muscles flexing, forcing her to one knee in the wet dirt.

Her body screamed with the strain, every muscle shaking. Then something deep inside her snapped. She screamed, forcing her strength into the shield, pushing back with everything she had.

The blast of power drove Gajeel a few steps back, his grin widening.

He swung again, relentless. The air whistled with each arc of the blade. Levy dodged, but not fast enough; the sword caught her vest, splitting it down the center. A searing pain tore across her collarbone, and she gasped, hot blood spilling down her chest.
“SOLID SCRIPT: TORNADO!” she shouted.

The air roared to life. A cyclone erupted around them, lifting Gajeel clean off his feet and hurling him backward into the night.

Levy ran, heart hammering, toward her fallen team. “Jet!” She cried, spotting him crawling from the rubble.

“We need to run!”

Droy stumbled into view, one arm clutched around his bleeding side, his face pale.

“You think you can run from me!?” Gajeel’s voice thundered across the park, deep and unholy.

Levy didn’t hesitate; she threw Droy’s arm over her shoulder and ran.

“I got this, Levy!” Jet rasped, summoning what strength he had left. In a blur, he grabbed them both and bolted, wind whipping, ground vanishing beneath them.

They were almost out of the alley when the shadow moved again.

He had been running too fast to see it. An iron pillar erupted before them, splitting the air with a deafening crack. They hit it head-on.

The sound was sickening, bones and metal colliding, a wet crunch that echoed through the alley. Their bodies ricocheted off the pillar, flung back as if the world itself had decided to spit them out. They slammed into the cobblestones, rolling, gasping, the ground painted with streaks of blood where they’d struck.

The pillar still quivered in the aftermath, humming faintly, almost alive before retreating back into the ground, Gajeel’s laughter slithering through the dark behind it.

Jet had fallen silent; his body lay twisted, blood pooling beneath him. Droy had tried to stand his ground, tried to shout something brave, but Gajeel’s boot met his stomach with a thud that stole the air from his lungs. He crumpled, gasping, eyes rolling back as he collapsed beside Jet.

Levy froze, heart pounding so loud it drowned out her own breath. She spun to run, only to feel the world vanish beneath her feet as something slammed into her side. The impact sent her crashing back down, her skin scraping raw as she skidded across the ground.

Before she could push herself up, a hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back with cruel precision. She cried out, her vision flashing white. The grip tightened.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” Gajeel’s voice was a low snarl, darkly amused.

“FUCK YOU—!”

Her words were cut short when he slammed her face into the ground. The road bit into her skin, stars bursting behind her eyes. She tasted iron and dust. Her hands clawed at the pavement, legs kicking weakly, but he didn’t release her.
He lifted her head again, her nose already bleeding, her cheek scraped and split. He tilted his head, almost mockingly tender as he smirked down at her.

“Damn shame,” he drawled, his voice almost a purr. “Pretty thing like you, your face is all sorts of fucked up.”

Then he drove her down again, her forehead slamming into stone, the pain in the back of her head stabbing and pulsing.

The sound was sickening, a dull crack swallowed by the empty night. Levy’s body went limp in his grip, the world narrowing to darkness as her breath left her in a shudder.
And then—silence.

From her ethereal realm just beyond the veil of existence, Life remained motionless, a statue of sorrow. Her luminous eyes, filled with unshed tears, captured the poignant moment below her. Gajeel, a formidable figure cloaked in shadow, pivoted sharply on his heel, poised to abandon the scene as a stern warning. But then, something stopped him in his tracks. After a tense pause that felt like an eternity, a mischievous grin crept across his lips, and he turned back, a glint of defiance igniting in his gaze.

“Why isn’t he leaving?” She whispered.

Death’s expression was unreadable, though his jaw tightened. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “He’s… not himself.”

Below, Gajeel didn’t walk away. His breaths came slow and steady, far too calm, too measured. Instead of retreating into the night, he turned back toward the broken figures of his victims. The streetlights flickered, painting him in flashes of silver and shadow as he moved.

He lifted Jet first, limp and motionless, and carried him to the park, setting him down carelessly among the wet grass. Then Droy. Each movement was deliberate, mechanical, as though he were obeying some dark command only he could hear.
Life turned her face away, unable to bear it. “Please stop…” she whispered, though her words couldn’t reach him.

When Gajeel turned back, Levy was stirring. A low sound escaped her, a choked cough, wet and pained. Blood streaked her chin as she tried to push herself up, her fingers trembling against the filthy ground. Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, found him.
He stopped.

For a moment, the world held its breath. The wind died. Even Death seemed still.

Then Gajeel stepped forward, his shadow falling over her, dark and unrelenting.

Levy’s scream tore through the night as Gajeel hauled her up, slinging her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. His shoulder dug cruelly into her ribs, wringing a broken cry from her. She beat her fists against his back, weak but desperate, her nails catching against his coat.

“Let me go!” She gasped, her voice ragged.

Gajeel only laughed, a sound low and sharp, the kind that made the air feel colder. Each step he took echoed across the empty street, his boots striking the cobblestones with slow, merciless rhythm.

By the time he reached the park, Levy’s strength had begun to fade. Her head swam, her vision flashing in and out of focus. When he dropped her onto the grass, the world tilted violently, dew slick beneath her palms as she tried to steady herself. Gajeel turned from her without a word, dragging Droy’s limp form through the wet grass. He bound him upright against a tree, rough and careless, the sound of metal scraping bark carrying through the park. Jet followed soon after, slumped and motionless, positioned beside his friend.

Life’s breath hitched as she watched from the distance between worlds.

“What is he doing?” She whispered.

Death said nothing. His expression was grim, his eyes fixed on Gajeel’s shadow as it loomed over Levy once more.

 

Below, Levy’s shaking hands pressed into the earth, trying to push herself upright. Blood ran from her mouth, staining the grass beneath her. She looked up at him, defiant even in ruin.

“What d’ya think?” Gajeel’s voice dripped with mockery, low and rough as gravel. He jerked his thumb toward the tree behind him. “A new art project I’ve been workin’ on.”
Levy turned, then froze.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her friends hung from the branches like slaughtered animals, bodies bound and limp, nailed up for all of Magnolia to see. Blood dripped down the bark, glistening black in the stormlight. The wind made them sway gently, grotesquely, as though still alive.
Levy’s knees buckled. She stumbled, catching herself on the dirt with trembling hands. Her chest heaved, and a broken sound escaped her lips. “Y… you monster.”

Gajeel tilted his head, grinning without warmth. “Monster?”

Gajeel shrugged, that feral grin spreading wide across his face at the sight of her fury.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it, short stack? Or just stand there flappin’ your gums?”

Iron rippled over his skin like liquid armor, scales glinting in the light. The earth itself seemed to recoil from him.

Levy’s heart pounded in her ears. Then, suddenly, her mind clicked into focus. He was stronger, but not smarter.

She bared her teeth and slammed her bare foot into the ground. “Solid Script: LIGHTNING!”

The word was a blinding flash when it erupted, striking him before he could even move. His eyes widened in shock a split second before the bolt hit, then he screamed.

The sound tore through the park as the current ripped across his body, searing iron, muscle, and nerve alike. His body jerked violently, twitching under the weight of the spell, light crawling over his skin like fire.

Levy’s lips curled into an exhilarated smile.

She’d done it. She’d hurt him.

Life gasped, her voice cracking. “They’ll kill each other! You have to do something!”

She turned to Death, her eyes blazing, but he stood utterly still, a shadow carved from silence. Yet she could feel it beneath his stillness, the worry, the fury, the helplessness that simmered inside him. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

“I… can’t.” His voice was low, almost broken.

Below, Levy struggled to her feet, desperate to escape the field that had turned into her battlefield. Each step was unsteady, and her body trembled as her magic drained away completely. The world around her swayed, appearing blurry and distant, as if she were walking through water. She pressed her hand to her chest, sensing that something inside her felt wrong, heavy, and fading.

“Her mind bleeds…” Death murmured, his eyes never leaving her. “I can already feel her light dimming. She’s close to our realm.”

Life shook her head violently, golden hair clinging to her tear-streaked face.

“No… no, this can’t be happening.” Her voice trembled as she stumbled toward the veil of the mortal plane, light gathering at her fingertips like shards of a broken promise. “I made them. They were meant to find each other… to love each other! He said he’d know her when he saw her!”

Death’s expression softened, the cold authority in his tone fading into quiet sorrow.

“Promises,” he murmured, “aren’t always kept, Life.”

Her breath hitched. She could feel it, the bond unraveling, the mortal threads snapping one by one.

“Stay down, Gajeel!” she screamed, her voice splitting across realms, shaking the stars themselves.

“Don’t speak to him!” Death’s voice thundered back, the air rippling with his fury. “We cannot interfere!”

But she didn’t listen. Couldn’t.

“Just let her leave!” Life cried, collapsing to her knees, hands clutching at her chest as though she could hold the pain in. “It’s better this way!”

Below, Gajeel twitched at the echo of that voice, “Let her leave.”

His lips curled into a snarl. I don’t lose. Not to anyone… and especially not to a Fairy.

He staggered to his feet, electricity still flickering across his skin, his breath heavy and ragged. Levy had turned away, barely upright, swaying. He jogged forward, crashing into her, dragging them both to the ground.

“Dammit, Life! She could have escaped!” Death barked, shadows quaking around him.

“I…I didn’t mean to…” Life’s voice faltered. Doubt coiled around her light like a serpent.

The two figures below rolled across the ground, weak but still dangerous, a dying storm refusing to end. Their gasps replaced the clash of battle, a brutal, desperate struggle for dominance. Gajeel’s arm found her throat, and he locked it tight. Levy clawed at his arm, her nails scraping against iron-hard skin. Her legs kicked, her body twisting for air that wouldn’t come. His forearm pressed harder, cutting off the fragile sound of her breath.

“Come on, fairy, just go down already!” He spoke, his voice shaking from exhaustion.

“He’s going to kill her,” Death whispered, stepping closer than he ever should. His voice trembled despite himself.

“DEATH, PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!” Life screamed, her radiance dimming with panic.

But the mortal world didn’t listen.

Gajeel’s muscles tensed. His grip became merciless.

Until — CRACK.

Both divine beings froze. The sound echoed through the empty air like a verdict.

Death bowed his head slowly, the darkness of him shaking.

Life’s scream shattered through the void. “WHAT HAS HE DONE!”

Below, Gajeel lay panting, neither afraid nor sorry. Just… still. He pushed her off him, sitting up, blinking at the silence around them. Her body didn’t move. He reached out, gripping her shoulder and giving her a shake.

“Hey.” Nothing.

He waited, watching her chest for the faintest rise. None came. He pressed his hand to her neck, finding only cool skin and no pulse.

“…Huh.”

He exhaled, long and steady. No horror. No guilt. Just disbelief. He stared at his bloodied hands, flexing his fingers as if testing what they could do.

“Well…shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Life collapsed to her knees, the sound that tore from her throat was primal.

“He killed her… he killed her! What have I done?” She sobbed, shaking violently. “I led her to this! I did this! I did this!”

Death’s voice was quiet, heavy as a tomb. “Feel remorse,” he begged quietly, “Please feel it.”

Gajeel stood, brushing dirt and blood from his clothes. He looked down at Levy’s body for one last moment, eyes cold and unreadable. Then he spat near her, nudging her limp form aside with his boot.

“Guess you weren’t that tough after all.”

Life screamed, the sound ripping through every realm, and Death turned away.

“That’s it,” he said. His voice was a sentence. “You’ve lived long enough.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Her eyes, wide, glassy, and bloodshot from burst vessels, looked past him, staring at nothing. For the first time that night, he felt something stir in his chest. His heart stumbled and then dropped, heavy and sick, into the pit of his stomach.

Sadness.

It was faint and foreign, a pulse of emotion he didn’t understand and didn’t want to feel.

The ground trembled beneath his feet. He froze, eyes darting around. A low rumble rolled through the earth, deep and furious, as if the world itself had drawn a sharp breath. Then, without warning, lightning split the sky above him, a violent crack that made him flinch, instinctively stepping back from the body.

He blinked up at the storm breaking open above him, heart pounding faster now for reasons he couldn’t name. The air felt heavy, pressing against his skin, the metallic scent of blood mingling with rain.

Somewhere unseen, Life’s grief tore through the heavens, and the world answered in kind.

“What… the hell?” He whispered, stepping backward, his voice trembling as he tilted his face toward the sky, confused by its strange appearance.

Then he heard it: a voice.

Not human. Not mortal. A roar that shook the very air, louder than thunder and sharper than the shriek of dragons. It rolled across the mountains and through the forest, crushing the world beneath its weight.

“YOU!”

Gajeel stumbled, tripping over Levy’s lifeless form and landing hard on his back, his chest heaving. The sky above split open, and from it poured a hurricane of smoke, twisting and writhing like a living thing.

His heart pounded so fiercely that it threatened to burst from his chest. He wanted to flee, to hide, but his legs felt like lead, and all he could do was scream inwardly.

Before him, a figure rose, taller than the tallest mountain, wrapped in a storm of smoke and shadow, its eyes blazing green with unholy fury. Under the weight of its anger, trees uprooted and splintered as if the world itself obeyed its rage.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? YOU FOOL!”

The voice ripped across the terrain, a hurricane of sound and power that pressed Gajeel’s back into the dirt. He tried to stand but fell forward, his hands scraping the earth, his knees digging in as if to hold himself down against an overwhelming force.
A paralyzing terror enveloped Gajeel, unlike anything he had ever experienced, fear so profound that he had once thought it impossible. It coiled around him like iron chains, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. A whimper escaped his lips, a sound raw and small, reminiscent of the frightened cries he had made as a child hiding beneath his mother’s protective embrace.

“YOU SWORE TO ME! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD NEVER HURT HER! YOU WERE MEANT TO BE A GREAT PROTECTOR!”

Death’s voice tore through the twilight, with anguish so deep it split the air itself. The world seemed to echo his pain, the wind howled, the sky bled light, and the ground beneath them groaned as though it could not bear the weight of his rage.

Gajeel’s body shook uncontrollably. The mask of iron and pride he’d worn for so long shattered, leaving behind only raw terror. His breath came ragged and shallow; every inhale scraped his lungs like shards of glass. Beads of sweat mingled with the cold mist that now clung to his skin, his heart pounding so violently it felt as though it might burst free from his chest.

He wanted to speak, to plead, but the words caught in his throat.

From the shadows, Death's hand loomed larger than life, a massive, relentless force that seemed to stretch endlessly, reaching out to claim him. Without thinking, Gajeel instinctively scrambled away, his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his veins. He sprinted toward the warped silhouettes of the trees, the familiar figures of Jet and Droy hung high above him, lost in a restless slumber, unaware of the horrors unfolding around them.

“HELP!” He cried out, the word ripped violently from him, infused with raw panic and desperation. The sheer magnitude of fear coursing through him was unlike anything he had ever known, a consuming wave that threatened to drown him.

“You… can’t… run… from me!” Death's voice rumbled like an endless avalanche, echoing with an ominous finality. Just as Gajeel felt a flicker of hope, massive fingers closed around his leg, anchoring him in place and cutting off any chance of escape.
He was lifted off the ground as he desperately tried to hold onto the grass, ripping out the green blades before being hoisted into the air, wriggling and flailing like an insect in a bird's beak. His hands covered his face in a futile attempt to shield himself.
The world tilted on its axis. The trees snapped beneath the force of Death’s wrath. Wind and shadow and light screamed around him. And in that moment, Gajeel understood: there was no running from this.

No human strength, no pride, no steel, could save him from the wrath of Death incarnate.

“Do you… know who she is?” Death’s voice was a storm of wrath, shaking mountains, splitting the clouds with its intensity.

Gajeel shook his head violently, hands still clutching a handful of dirt and grass.“…n…no?” He spoke it like a question, which only made Death angrier.

Pain laced through Gajeel as Death tightened his grip, crushing his leg with unfathomable force. His scream tore through the storm, raw and unfiltered. In that moment, he was not the black steel Gajeel who had never known fear; he was a creature stripped bare, shaking and desperate.

The sky fractured with jagged green lightning, and shadows spilled across the land like dark waves. Mountains groaned, rivers churned, and the earth itself seemed to recoil as Death's presence distorted reality around them.

Gajeel clutched his leg, his teeth grinding nearly to dust from the agonizing pain. He managed to utter a few words, desperately hoping they might save him. “I… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please stop! Please!”

Death scoffed. “You're sorry?”

Gajeel nodded frantically, a glimmer of relief flooding his face as Death softened his grip momentarily.

Death leaned down, the shadows of his form stretching across the land and suffocating all light. His voice was low, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.
"No,” he hissed. “You do not get to be sorry. We gave you a gift, and you spat on the ground where she lay! Now…” With that, he tightened his grip again, and pain surged through Gajeel's body like molten fire. “…you will feel fear. Real fear. The kind that breaks you. The kind that bends worlds.”

Gajeel's body convulsed under the relentless grip, his face twisted in agony. For the first time in his life, he knew he could not escape, neither from Death nor from the consequences of his actions.

The storm raged, the earth groaned, and the world itself seemed to tilt under Death's wrath, leaving Gajeel dangling helpless and entirely at the mercy of something far beyond human comprehension.

His screams pierced through the storm above the shattered earth. His hands clawed at the air, but he was utterly defenseless; Death’s grip was absolute. The green fire in his eyes blazed brighter than any lightning strike, casting jagged shadows that tore through the landscape.

“Your soul is mine. And it is unworthy.”

Gajeel's body shook violently, his legs kicking and arms flailing. “No! Please! I'll do anything! I…please! Wait! Jose made me do it! I had no choice!”

Death's laugh echoed like thunder, indifferent to mercy. “Fool! You lie even now! I know you! I know your every thought, your every deception! You did this because it pleased you, because cruelty thrilled you!” He raised his free hand, and the world seemed to bend around it.

The air thickened, turning molten with power. Mountains buckled and cracked, rivers boiled, and the sky split with green fire. Gajeel's body was lifted higher into the air, dangling like a puppet with strings.

An invisible yet crushing pressure pressed against his chest, his skull, and his very soul. He clawed at Death's fingers, screaming, “No! No! Stop! Don’t do this!”

“Your soul is mine to shape,” Death said, his voice low and inexorable. “And no one will remember you. No one will mourn you. The only person who would… is gone.”

Gajeel screamed, the sound raw and animalistic. His vision blurred as Death's power began to pull at him, tugging on the threads of his being, stretching, tearing, and unraveling him from the inside. Every fiber of his pride, every ounce of strength he had ever possessed, crumbled beneath the weight of unrelenting terror.

The green fire of Death's eyes burned through him, searing into his mind and showing him every crime, every moment of cruelty he had inflicted. Each vision tore at his sense of self, each one a hammer against his skull.

“Your time is over,” Death said. “You will know the weight of every soul you’ve harmed!

Gajeel’s screams became incoherent, a mixture of agony and despair, as the world around him bent and buckled. The ground split, jagged lightning licked across the sky, and the wind screamed like the dead. Reality itself warped, twisted by the force of Death’s wrath.

And then, with a force that shook the very heavens, Death’s hand tightened, and the first tendrils of Gajeel’s soul began to pull free, writhing, resisting, but utterly powerless.

The last thing Gajeel felt was the knowledge that this, this terror, this agony, this unrelenting judgment, was absolute. And that no one, not a single being in the world, would ever remember him.

It was out of body, the way he watched himself fall. His solid form hit the ground with a heavy, final sound, eyes glassy and unseeing. He could see it all and yet couldn’t feel a thing. He writhed in Death’s grasp, a shadow struggling against eternity.

Death moved with purpose, his massive form bending low. From the wreckage, he reached for the small, broken woman below. His touch, so violent a moment before, softened as he drew her soul from her body. Levy’s spirit shimmered faintly against his dark palm. Her glass skin cracked and glimmered, still glowing with every color that existed and some that didn’t. She looked like light trying to hold itself together.

She was as limp as a rag doll, her soul hanging lifeless in his hand as he tried to embrace her with gentleness.
Then everything went black.

Chapter Text

When Gajeel's eyes snapped open, he was engulfed by an oppressive atmosphere that felt as if the very air was pressing down on him. Pain radiated through every inch of his body, muscles taut and screaming in protest. His limbs felt as though they were trapped in a thick, unyielding substance that kept him firmly anchored to the ground, refusing to budge an inch. Blinking against the haze that clouded his vision, he struggled to focus, his breath shallow and labored.

As he lay on his side, a troubling sensation gripped him; something wet and viscous clung to his skin, sending a chill through him. An instinctive urge to breathe surged within him, but before he could gather his thoughts, a rush of liquid surged down his throat. Panic erupted as he coughed violently, spluttering in an attempt to expel the foreign substance. With a sudden movement, he forced himself into an upright position, his heart racing.

Every fiber of his being screamed for clarity as he tried to process the chaos around him. He raised a trembling hand. A black, tar-like substance stretched from his palm to the earth, stringing in sick threads before snapping. It smelled of iron, making his stomach turn violently.

“What… what is this?” His voice cracked, raw from his earlier screams. He rubbed his hand against his chest, desperate to get it off, but the more he wiped, the worse it smeared. His fingers slipped, his breath coming in panicked gasps.

Then realization hit him. He looked down. The pool around him was deep and dark and red.

It wasn’t tar. It wasn’t mud. It was blood, steaming hot and real, thick enough to ripple with his every movement.

His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He went to jump up but couldn't, landing forward, splattering himself with more of the viscous liquid. “Oh god! No, no, no!” He clawed at his clothes, his skin, as if he could scrape the horror away. “Get off! Get it off!” He stumbled; his feet were suddenly bare as he slipped around. His chest felt like it might cave in under the pressure of his racing heart.

Everywhere he looked, there was blood. His hands shook, dripping with hot red sludge. He crawled on his hands and knees, wading past torn off limbs and bones.

He finally regained his balance, wiping his eyes free of the bloody mess. He stood there trembling, breath ragged, skin cold to the touch. For the first time in his life, Gajeel Redfox—the Iron Dragon, the unbreakable one, was afraid…no…terrified.

He looked around the endless void, his chest rising and falling too fast. All around, he saw them, piles of bodies. Dozens, maybe hundreds. They were piled like discarded dolls, faces twisted, limbs bent out of place. Some were strangers. Others—
Others, he knew.

He froze, breath stalling in his throat. One face stirred in the crimson pool, a man from his guild, his expression empty, skin gray. As he crawled up from the bloody pool, he groaned in pain, reaching out for someone to grab his hand.

Another lifted her head from the muck, eyes clouded with white. It was Juvia, the rain woman. Then Master Jose raised his face, less pained but cruel, smiling like a demon, faces emerged one after another from the sea of blood.

“Gajeel… Gajeel… Gajeel…”

They called his name all at once, hundreds of voices echoing in the dark. He stumbled backward, shaking his head, his breath coming in choked gasps.

“No… no, how… how are you here!? You’re all alive! You’re alive!” He shouted, but they kept coming.

“Gajeel!” They cried in unison. “You were supposed to help us! Help us!”

Juvia’s hand burst from the pool, her nails black and broken, slicing into his arm as she grabbed hold. Blood poured from the scratches, his own mixing with the sea beneath him. Boze appeared next, eyes sunken, teeth clenched as he clawed at Gajeel’s chest.

“Stop! Get the fuck off me!” Gajeel screamed, his voice breaking. He wrenched free, tearing himself from their grasp, stumbling backward into the crimson muck. His feet slipped out from under him, and he crashed hard, his palms sinking deep. He tried to rise, only to find the ground swallowing him.

The blood pulled him down, thick and alive, dragging him into its depths. He screamed as it filled his mouth, his nose, his lungs. His hands thrashed, slapping at the surface that kept sinking away.

“NO! NO PLEASE!” He screamed.

As he floated just beneath the surface, hands emerged from the depths, clawing and grasping at him in a frenzied bid for liberation from their anguish. The fingers, cold and clammy, wrapped around his limbs like a vice, using him as their last lifeline in a world of despair. Panic surged through him as they tugged him deeper, and when his head was inevitably pulled beneath the murky surface, he instinctively reached upward. His fingers splayed wide, searching for something, anything, to cling to, but there was only darkness and the oppressive weight of the blood around him. Desperation clawed at his chest, echoing the muffled wails of those who pulled him under, trapped in their eternal suffering. But then—

A hand. A soft one gripped his own.

The jagged edges of the surface broke apart, and suddenly, a force like iron gripped his wrist, yanking upward with an intensity that felt almost supernatural. He struggled to draw breath, each gasp turning into a desperate wheeze as he was dragged through the murky depths. The thick, metallic tang of the liquid flooded his mouth, choking him and coating his tongue like a sinister residue.

With a sudden lurch, he found himself crashing to his knees on the cold, unforgiving ground. The gritty texture scraped against his skin as he doubled over, his body wracked with violent coughs that expelled the foul sludge from his lungs. Shaking uncontrollably, he could feel the remnants of the dark liquid dribbling from his chin, as a pervasive dread settled over him, wrapping around his heart.

When he finally looked up, he froze. Before him stood a woman unlike the others.

She wasn’t drenched in blood or crawling with disgusting rot. The gore parted around her, suspended in the air and drifting away as though forbidden to touch her. She stood barefoot in a shallow pool of crystal water that rippled with light, the filth of the darkness recoiling from her presence.

Her beauty was unearthly, hair black as the void between the stars, eyes burning a deep and mournful crimson. She looked at him not with wrath, but with sorrow so heavy it seemed to bend the air around her.

His breath hitched. The word slipped from his throat before he even realized it.

“...Mother?”

She looked down at him, pity swimming in her eyes.

“Oh? You still remember me?” She whispered, voice soft as falling ash.

Gajeel’s heart stopped. He would never forget her. The world around him pulsed in red and black, the void alive with whispers of the dead calling his name. He lowered his head, shivering cold; he hated that she had to see him like this. Shame coiled around him.

“What have you done?” Her voice was soft, but it cut through him like glass. “You were such a sweet boy. What on earth happened to you? How could you do this?”

“I… it wasn’t my fault.” His throat burned. “Mother, please… the world, Jose, Metalicana, they made me this way…they made me what I am…”

His mother’s eyes dimmed with sorrow. She shook her head slowly.

“All of this, my son…” She gestured to the endless void around them, the sea of blood, the twisted bodies, the darkness that pulsed like a heartbeat. “Is self-inflicted.”

Gajeel’s breath caught.

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. He looked around again, really looked. The faces, the screams, the decay, none of it belonged to anyone else. They were all his: every wound, every broken body, every echo of pain.
It wasn’t Metalicana.
It wasn’t Jose.
It wasn’t the world.

It was him. All done by his own hands.

His knees buckled. He sank down, head bowed, shoulders trembling. A hollow sound escaped him, half sob, half gasp, as his hand rose to his mouth, shaking violently.

“I did this…”

His mother’s expression softened. She nodded once, slow and sad.

“You hate me…don’t you?” He asked.

He looked up as she let a few tears fall, “darling, I…I don't hate you… I never could. I'm sad that you've lost your way.”

The words tore through what little was left of his resolve.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice broke. He shuffled forward on his knees, his bloodied hands clutching at her dress. He buried his face against her waist, his shoulders shaking as he cried out. “Mother, please… help me.”

Her hand came to rest on the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. The touch was gentle, achingly familiar.

“I’ve done everything I can,” she murmured. “But you must fix this on your own.” Her touch began to fade.

“Please, don’t go! Just give me one more chance! I’m your son!” His voice trembled, thick with desperation and raw emotion as he grasped her wrist tightly, his fingers trembling like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood in a storm. The anguish in his eyes mirrored the chaos in his heart, an urgent plea for understanding as he fought against the rising tide of fear that threatened to swallow him whole. “Don’t you care what happens to me?”

She looked down at him, pity flickering for just a moment before it hardened.

“Even now…you try to manipulate. You have yet to learn.”

She tore her wrist from his grasp. He lunged again, desperate, his voice breaking into a scream.

“Mother! MOTHER! PLEASE!”

But she was already fading, dissolving into a thin mist of smoke that curled through his fingers before vanishing completely.

For a long moment, he stayed kneeling, the silence pressing in like a weight. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Behind him, the bodies stood still, lifeless yet watching, their empty eyes fixed on him. One man walked forward, reaching his hand out and pointing at him, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.

“The flame comes! For the evil man! Burn him!”

And with those words, the blood clinging to his skin began to glow faintly, turning to light. It pulsed once, then bled outward, consuming the darkness. The void cracked and crumbled, and one by one, the faces of those he’d known shimmered before him, melting like candlesticks in the unforgiving light.

At first, the light was soft, warm, almost forgiving. It wrapped around him like sunlight after a storm. For a fleeting second, he thought he was being absolved.

Then the warmth sharpened. The glow grew too bright to look at.

“Fuck!” He hissed, shielding his eyes, but it was useless. The light burned through his eyelids, through his thoughts, through him.

The heat grew unbearable. He stumbled backward, then turned to run, but the world itself seemed aflame. The air blistered against his skin.

“IT BURNS!” He screamed as the fire clung to him like oil. His flesh peeled away in ribbons; his voice tore with it. The soft radiance had become a furnace, and every step only drew the flames closer.

There was no sky, no ground, only fire chasing his shadow, devouring every inch of him. The more he ran, the more it followed, until he understood with agonizing clarity that this wasn’t punishment. This was the truth.

He was in Hell.

She radiated warmth, a gentle embrace that seeped into her very bones, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort that made the thought of getting up seem utterly impossible. Her bed was a sanctuary, no creaks of old springs or harsh bumps jabbing at her back. The pillow cradled her head like a billowy cloud, offering blissful support. A soft, contented hum slipped from her lips as she turned over, instinctively burrowing deeper into the layers of soft, inviting blankets.

When she finally blinked her eyes open, the world around her appeared unchanged, frozen in time as she had left it the night before. The coziness of her small, chaotic room enveloped her. Books lay scattered across the floor in haphazard stacks, their spines facing in all directions like misguided soldiers. Scrolls and heavy tomes were piled precariously on the left side of her bed, while half-finished projects littered the space like breadcrumbs leading back to the creative chaos of her mind. A sleepy smile crept across her face.

This was Heaven.

She pushed herself up from the cozy embrace of her blankets, stretching luxuriously as her arms and legs extended, the satisfying pops of her joints echoing in the quiet morning. A deep yawn escaped her lips, a soft sound tinged with the remnants of sleep.

“Mmm… tea,” she murmured, her voice still thick and gravelly, as if wrapped in the last whispers of slumber.

She relished the delightful sensation coursing through her body; there were no aches from previous workouts, no bruises from the training sessions that usually left her sore, and most surprisingly, no stiffness lingering in her shoulder. Instead, she felt as though she were floating, her body light and invigorated, cleansed of fatigue and worry. It was blissful, a state of pure comfort.

With bare feet whispering against the cool floor, she made her way to the kitchen, her mind already consumed with thoughts of steaming tea. She placed her kettle on the stove, the familiar metallic clang breaking the stillness. Reaching for the knob, she twisted it confidently. It clicked once, then twice… yet no flame flickered to life beneath the kettle.

Her brow furrowed in frustration, and she twisted the knob once more, harder this time. Still nothing. The anticipation of her warm cup of tea began to mix with annoyance, the tranquility of the morning momentarily disrupted.

“Huh. Did I forget to pay the gas bill again?” She muttered, giving it another futile turn. When the stove stayed cold, she sighed. “Fine. Tea at the guild it is.”

Still humming softly, she made her way to her closet, pulling free a simple orange sundress. She laid it carefully on the bed, smiling at the sight. She hadn’t worn it yet and had been waiting for a day when she actually felt good enough to. And today… she did. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this light.

She stepped into the bathroom, pulling back her shower curtain.

She twisted the handle of the shower and waited for the familiar rush of water. Nothing. No pipes groaned. No drip. No sound.

“What the—? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She checked the sink, turning the faucet. Silence.

Her pulse began to quicken.

“Seriously?” She huffed, trying to laugh it off.

She leaned over the sink, glancing into the mirror. A woman stood behind her.

Levy’s breath caught, a strangled gasp escaping as she spun around so fast her hair whipped her face.

“Jesus!” She cried, clutching the counter for balance. Her voice cracked as she shouted.

The woman stood there, flawless. Her hair shimmered like threads of sunlight, every strand rippling with a life of its own. Her eyes were molten gold, deep and endless, burning with something ancient and knowing. Her skin glowed faintly, warm like candlelight, and from her shoulders and collarbones sprouted tiny blossoms, delicate, living things that swayed with each of her breaths.

She was beautiful in a way that made Levy’s heart ache.

Levy stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the sink for balance.

“Who—who are you? How did you get in here!?”

The woman smiled, serene and unbothered, her voice a melody that hummed through the air like a hymn.

“Oh, Levy dear… I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She lifted a hand, and the scent of spring filled the room: honeysuckle, rain, and new beginnings. “I hoped I’d made this place to your liking.”

Levy blinked, her breath catching. “Made this… place? I’m so sorry uh, how do you even know my name?”

The woman nodded slowly, her golden eyes never leaving Levy’s face. “Of course. I wanted you to be comfortable. You’ve been through so much. Your name I've known since before you were born!”

Levy’s mouth went dry. She took another step back until her shoulder hit the doorframe.

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about? Who are you?”

For a moment, the woman only smiled, a tender, sorrowful smile that made Levy’s chest tighten. When she spoke again, her voice softened to a whisper. “You have a lovely home.” She walked out of the bathroom, and Levy followed close behind her, still shocked and dazed.

“It looks like a library in here! You've read all of these?” The woman said, lifting a book off the table, flipping through the pages before shutting it with a thump.

“Uh yeah…”

“You’ve blossomed into such an insightful young woman!” The woman stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with pride as she cradled Levy's face in her warm, gentle hands. “Look at you! You’ve grown so beautifully, just as I always imagined. After all, I did create you!”

Startled, Levy instinctively pulled away from the woman’s grasp, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry…miss, I…I’m trying to understand, but who exactly are you?”

The woman’s smile was disarming, and she reached up to lovingly tuck a loose strand of Levy's hair behind her ear, her fingers delicately brushing against Levy’s cheek. “I am Life,” she declared softly, her voice carrying an ethereal quality. “And you, my dear, are not in the place you think you are.”

“What do you mean?” Levy's heart raced, her mind struggling to process the words.

“This is the soul realm,” the woman continued, her tone soothing yet firm. “You’re…well, darling, you’ve passed on.”

“Passed on? What do you mean?” Levy echoed, her voice trembling in disbelief.

“You are…dead,” she said gently, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the air.

Levy pulled away, her silence speaking volumes. Everything looked right: her books stacked in uneven towers, her blanket crumpled at the foot of her bed, sunlight spilling across the floor, but something was wrong. Too wrong.

The stove hadn’t lit. The shower hadn’t run. The air felt still, heavy, almost unreal.

She spun toward her window, panic tightening her chest. Ripping open the curtain above her bed, she froze. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting soundlessly.

There was no sky.

No town.

No world.

Just a vast, endless expanse of white. It stretched beyond reason, so bright it almost hurt to look at. Tiny golden orbs drifted lazily through the air like floating embers, each one shimmering with soft light. They moved with the gentleness of falling snow, quiet, beautiful, and impossibly wrong.

Her heart began to pound in her ears. She slammed the curtains shut, stumbling backward until her knees hit the side of the bed. Her hands trembled violently as she clutched them to her chest.

“No… no, please. Please, no.” Her voice broke into a whimper. “I can’t be dead. I can’t be.”

Before she could fall apart completely, a pair of warm hands caught her. Firm but gentle. They steadied her trembling arms, pulling her back from the edge of panic.

“Shhh… shhhh,” said a soft voice. “It’s alright. Don’t be afraid.”

Levy looked up through tear-blurred eyes, and there she was. Life. Her presence filled the room with sunlight.

“I don’t want to die,” Levy sobbed. “Please, I can’t be dead. I don’t want to be.”

Life’s expression softened, her golden eyes shimmering with quiet sorrow. “Sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling Levy into her arms. “You’re safe here. It’s alright. I’m here with you.”

And the moment Life’s arms wrapped around her, something inside Levy broke — and then stilled. Her sobs faded. Her shaking eased. For the first time since she’d opened her eyes, her mind went quiet.

Life’s hand brushed gently through her hair, her voice a lullaby against the hollow silence.

“Shhh… rest now, my dear one. You’re not alone.”

When Life finally released her, Levy sat down on her bed, the same one she’d collapsed onto a million times before after long days at the guild. It creaked beneath her weight, solid and familiar, grounding her even in this strange, dreamlike place.

“Come with me, dear,” Life said gently, extending a hand. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Levy hesitated but stood, her legs trembling beneath her. Life’s hand pressed reassuringly against her back as she led her forward. The golden-haired woman glided effortlessly through the front door, her movements like silk in the wind.
Levy, however, froze at the threshold.

Beyond the doorway was… nothing. Just endless white, like she was standing at the edge of the world. Her heart thudded in her chest. She leaned forward slightly, staring down where her floor should have been; there was no ground. Or maybe there was, but it shimmered so faintly it felt like stepping onto light itself.

“Is it safe?” she whispered.

Life smiled softly. “Of course, my dear.”

Still, Levy hesitated. Slowly, she extended her foot and pressed it down. To her surprise, she felt something, solid, cool, smooth, like walking on glass.

“Cold…” she murmured, curling her toes.

“Oh! Sorry, Levy.” Life chuckled lightly, waving her hand through the air. “I’m not used to having mortals visit my realm.”

At once, the endless white blossomed into color, a sea of rolling hills and wildflowers unfurling beneath their feet. The air warmed, carrying the scent of fresh rain and sunlight. Levy gasped, her eyes wide as she turned slowly, the vibrant horizon stretching forever.

“You can make this?” She breathed.

Life’s smile turned proud, like an artist pleased with her canvas. “Oh, I can make many things.”

Levy trailed Life closely, the soft thud of her footsteps echoing in the tranquility of their surroundings. An anxious flutter danced in her chest, a reminder of the uncertainty ahead. “I have a million questions,” she admitted, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation.

“Of course! Ask away!” Life replied with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “I know you possess an insatiable curiosity!”

Levy chewed on her lip, her mind racing with thoughts. “Uh… do I, um… still need to use the bathroom here?” She asked hesitantly, casting a quick glance around at the ethereal landscape.

Life paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly like a curious bird. “No, dear. That’s… not really necessary anymore,” she explained, her voice warm and reassuring.

“Okay… uh, what about food? Water?” Levy continued, a hint of disbelief in her tone, as if grappling with the new reality.

“Not those either,” Life replied, her smile unwavering and full of understanding.

“So… what you’re saying is, I’m officially free from the mundane hassles of plumbing and grocery shopping?” Levy’s eyebrows raised in surprise, a feeling of liberation washing over her. The thought of being unburdened from life’s daily necessities was almost too surreal to grasp.

Life laughed, a sound like wind chimes. “Exactly.”

Levy’s brow furrowed as curiosity overtook fear. “But my room, it felt so real. The bed, the stove, everything! You can just… make anything?”

“Pretty much.”

“Alright then…” She squinted playfully. “What about a sandwich?”

Life shook her head, smiling. “You don’t need to eat, silly.”

“Okay, okay,” Levy said, holding up her hands in surrender. “But what about… a puppy?”

Life’s eyes glimmered, amusement dancing across her face. “That,” she said, “I can do.”

She lifted her hand, and from the heavens above, a tiny orb of golden light descended. Life caught it gently and brought it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to its surface. It glowed brighter, reshaping itself, and then, in a shimmer of petals and light, a small golden puppy appeared in her arms.

Life gently set down the small bundle, and the tiny pup let out an excited yip, its soft fur glistening in the light as it bounded eagerly toward Levy. Its tail wagged like a tiny metronome, radiating pure joy.

“Oh my god!” Levy gasped, her eyes widening with delight as she crouched low, her fingers trembling with excitement as she scooped the cheerful creature into her arms. “I have a puppy! You made her, out of thin air!”

Life watched with a tender smile, her heart swelling as Levy’s laughter filled the air like a melodic breeze, the first true sound of happiness she had heard from the girl since she had arrived. “Of course, my darling,” Life said softly, her voice like the warm caress of a gentle summer day. “You deserve something gentle, after all you’ve endured.”

The little puppy squirmed energetically in Levy’s embrace, its soft, velvety nose brushing against her cheek as it playfully licked her skin, leaving trails of warmth and wetness. Levy couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that bubbled up like a gentle brook before it caught, halting abruptly as a wave of clarity washed over her. The comforting warmth that filled her chest began to fade, slowly replaced by an unsettling awareness that crept into her mind like a shadow stretching across a sunlit field.

Her gaze flitted down to the tiny creature wiggling in her arms, then drifted out to the shimmering hills that rolled majestically around them, bathed in golden light. Everything in this moment felt impossibly perfect, with colors vibrant and alive. Yet, in the midst of such beauty, an ache bloomed in her heart, heavy and undeniable.

“I really am dead… aren’t I?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the tranquility of the scene.

Life’s smile faltered, and for a long moment, she remained silent, a profound sadness reflected in her soft, tender eyes as they met Levy's. “Yes, sweetheart. You are,” she finally replied, her voice a gentle caress that lingered in the air like a fading melody.

Levy’s hands trembled as she hugged the puppy tighter. Her following words came out in a rush. “Jet… and Droy? Are they…?”

Life shook her head, her golden hair catching the light. “No, my dear. They live.”

Levy exhaled shakily, relief and sorrow intertwining. “Good,” she murmured. “I’m glad.”

Life’s expression brightened suddenly, her hands clapping together. “Ah! Here we are!”

Levy blinked, her eyes wide as she gazed ahead at an astonishing sight. A colossal wall of radiant light loomed before them, its surface undulating like an ethereal tapestry woven from pure energy. Beneath this luminous veil, she caught glimpses of Earth itself, suspended in the abyss, turning gracefully on its axis. Billowing clouds danced majestically across a deep azure sky, while the oceans sparkled like liquid crystal, reflections of sunlight splintering into a dazzling array of colors. The continents throbbed softly with an almost sentient glow, golden threads coursing through them, emblematic of the countless lives ebbing and flowing across the planet's surface.

With a sense of wonderment blooming within her, Levy took a tentative step closer, her face alight with awe. “It’s… beautiful.”

Setting the puppy down gently, she watched as Life effortlessly scooped it back into her arms, her expression radiating warmth. “Safe travels, cutie.” With a tender kiss pressed atop its head, the puppy shimmered like freshly polished stone, fracturing into a cloud of golden dust. The particles danced in the light before coalescing into a tiny orb, glowing with a soft brilliance. It hovered for an enchanting moment, twinkling like a newly born star, before gracefully floating over the edge and plummeting toward the vibrant sphere of Earth below.

Levy gasped, her heart racing as she stumbled back in shock. “Wh—what just happened?! Where did she go?”

Life giggled softly, a musical sound that filled the space like music. “She was sent down to be born, darling. That’s how all souls begin; each one falls back to the world when the time is right. I’ve made everything that lives there… every insect, every fish, every bird and beast. Your friends, too. Even you.”

Levy smiled faintly, a mix of awe and confusion flickering across her face. But beneath her wonder, a single question gnawed at her, one she didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t keep buried any longer.

“Life…” Her voice shook. “That man…the one that…” She trailed off, unable to speak the rest. She didn’t have to.

Life’s expression softened with pain, her radiant glow dimming. “Yes,” she whispered. “I made him, too.”

Levy’s hands balled into trembling fists. “Why?”

Life frowned, her tone careful, almost pleading. “Levy… every soul starts innocent, like an infant. He was never meant to be the way he is.”

Levy’s voice cracked, anguish pouring out. “Then why did it have to be me? I didn’t do anything wrong! I was a good person! I don’t even know his name!”

“Levy… I—”

“LIFE!” The word thundered through the air, making the ground tremble. Light fractured, shattering across the room like glass.

Life winced. “Oh boy… he’s here.”

She turned swiftly on her heel. Levy instinctively stepped behind her, clutching her arm, peering out from the folds of Life’s golden gown.

A man emerged from the blinding white beyond. He was tall and sharply built, his presence bending the space around him. Shadows spilled from his steps like black smoke, pooling on the floor where the light dared not follow. His eyes, pale and burning, locked on Life first, then flicked briefly to Levy.

“Hello, my wonderful husband!” Life greeted with a forced brightness. “We have a guest!”

“I know,” he replied curtly, his voice deep and edged with restrained irritation.

“Why isn’t she in the pond yet?” He asked, spreading his hands in frustration.

Levy blinked. “The… pond?” She repeated, her heart beginning to pound.

Life gave her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s where souls go to be reincarnated,” she explained. Then, calling over her shoulder, she added, “Darling, say hello!”

The man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this were the last thing he wanted to deal with.

“Hello… uh… Levy,” he said at last.

“Um… hi,” she managed, her voice small. “Who… who are you?”

“I am Death,” he said. “I carried your soul home.”

“Oh, well… thank you, sir.”

Death raised a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, please, you don’t have to be so formal.”

His tone wasn’t cruel or cold; if anything, there was something oddly human about it, a deep weariness softened by amusement.

“How are you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

Levy blinked. “Um… dead? I guess.”

Life stifled a laugh beside her, smiling brightly. “That’s one way to put it.”

Death sighed, crossing his arms. “I bring them here, and you make them comedians.”

Levy looked between them, the way the light danced around Life, the way the shadows clung to Death like a second skin; they were very different. A strange couple indeed.

Death’s eyes lowered, the deep shadows around him wavering like smoke disturbed by a sigh.

“Levy,” he said quietly, “your death… it wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that.”

She laughed a little. “What do you mean, not supposed to happen?”

Life’s glow dimmed beside him. She stepped forward, wringing her hands together. “What he means, darling, is that your thread wasn’t meant to be cut yet.”

Levy blinked, her pulse quickening though her heart no longer beat. “You’re both saying that like it was an accident.”

“Oh, no, no, my sweet girl,” Life said quickly, reaching for her. “It’s not your fault at all. It’s…well…it’s mine.”

“What!”

Life took a step closer, her voice trembling. “Please don’t be angry. I need you to understand something before you judge us.”

“Understand what?” Levy demanded, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Why are you apologizing? What could you possibly—”

Life’s voice cracked as she spoke, gentle but breaking like glass. “Because… I soul-bonded you to him. To Gajeel”

The world seemed to still. Even the light from the golden orbs faded to silence. Levy stared at her, uncomprehending. “What did you just say?”

“I created you both,” Life said softly. “You were meant to balance one another, his strength, your kindness. You were never meant to meet in pain. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

Levy took a step back, shaking her head. “Bonded? Like soulmates? You…bonded me to a murderer?”

“Levy, please—”

“No!” Her voice broke, raw and human in the vast white space.

Life wrung her hands, the glow around her flickering like a dying candle. “What happened to you… to him… it was never meant to be that way. That isn’t love, Levy. It was a mistake. A cruel tangle in the threads of creation that should never have touched.”

Levy’s breath hitched. “A mistake?”

Death stood silent behind her, the darkness around him restless, heavy with unspoken guilt.

Levy’s fists clenched at her sides. “So what now? What happens to me?”

Life forced a trembling smile. “You’ll stay here in peace. You’ll never have to see him again. You’ll be safe, for eternity. He, on the other hand…” Her tone hardened slightly. “He will be punished.”

Levy froze. Her throat felt dry, her voice barely a whisper. “Punished?”

“Yes. His soul is condemned to the lower realms. Justice must be done.” Dead said, holding his staff to his side, gripping it with a tight force.

Something inside Levy cracked, not from fear, but from anger. She rose to her feet, her voice trembling with fury. “You can’t just decide that! You speak like our lives are threads you can snip or weave however you please!”

“Levy—”

“No!” she shouted. “Humans aren’t dolls for you to play with! We feel! We make choices! You don’t get to tell me it was all some… cosmic accident and expect me just to smile and stay here forever.”

Life’s golden light dimmed further, sorrow rippling through her features. “I never wanted to play with you, my darling. I'm keeping you here to protect you!”

Levy shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Then why does it feel like you’re locking me in a cage?”

Death took a slow step forward, his voice a low rumble. “Levy let us help you…”

She turned, backing away from both of them. “You talk about justice and safety, but none of this is right! You don’t understand what it’s like to live, to be small, to be afraid, to lose everything!” Her voice cracked into a sob. “You made a mistake, and I paid for it.”

Life’s lips parted as if to answer, but Levy was already stepping back, trembling, the white expanse around her beginning to ripple with her panic.

“I’m nothing but a doll to you, aren’t I? A little toy in your perfect world!”

Life’s expression shattered into heartbreak. “No, of course not! You are so much more than that!”

Levy’s laugh came out as a broken sob. “You made me, you made him, and you just, just watched while he—” She choked on the rest, her throat too tight to finish. “I’m nothing to you! Nothing!”

“Levy, please—”

But it was too late.

Levy turned and ran.

Her feet pounded the soft grass, and with every desperate step, the world around her began to unravel. The rolling hills and wildflowers vanished, peeling away like paint, until all that remained was blinding white, an endless, empty expanse stretching in every direction.

“Levy, stop!” Life’s voice echoed through the void, full of fear. “You’ll hurt yourself! Please, come back honey!”

But Levy didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her tears streaked down her cheeks as she ran faster and faster, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.

“LEEEEVY!” Life’s voice broke through the silence, raw and desperate, but the girl only ran harder. She didn’t know where she was going; she only knew she couldn’t stay.

She ran until she heard it, a thundering boom. “STOP!” and so she did. Her toes curled over what felt like an edge.

She looked down and only saw darkness.

“Levy, don’t go any further! You’ll fall!” Death’s voice boomed, arms reaching out, shadows stretching toward her as he stepped forward.

Levy’s eyes darted back over her shoulder. “I… I want to go home,” she whispered, her voice small and trembling.

“You are home,” Death replied firmly, though worry laced his tone.

Life appeared behind him, her golden glow tinged with tension. “Honey, please… don’t—”

“Just let me go!” Levy cried, her feet moving instinctively back, seeking escape.

And then it happened. Her heel slipped from the edge. Time seemed to stretch as she shut her eyes, heart hammering, and tumbled backward into nothingness. The white expanse of the Soul Realm blurred and fractured, shrinking to a single pinpoint as she plummeted.

“Levy!” Life screamed, her voice a fragile beacon of light that twisted and stretched as Levy fell.

“Levy! Hold on!” Death roared, his shadowy hands clawing at the air in a futile attempt to catch her.

She was falling, faster and faster, the wind screaming past her ears, her stomach twisting into ice. Her mind struggled to grasp the impossibility of it all. Heaven, the rolling hills, the golden light, the warmth, was gone. It vanished as the colors drained from around her, leaving only an infinite, oppressive darkness.

Her body hit the ground with a sickening, bone-jarring impact. Pain exploded through every limb, every joint. She gasped, sobbing, curled over herself as her bones seemed to shatter beneath her.

But then something strange happened. A deep, pulsing warmth spread through her, almost unbearable in its intensity. Her bones began to click and shift, reshaping themselves with agonizing precision. Muscles tensed and stretched, skin tugged as if it were being sewn back together. Every breath was fire in her lungs; every movement sparked white-hot pain.

And through it all, her sobs shook her, ragged and unrelenting, but beneath the agony, she could feel herself…whole again. Painful. Terrifying. But alive in a way she had never experienced.

She opened her eyes to the burning, twisted landscape around her, blackened and searing. She whispered. “What did I just do?”

Chapter Text

“LEVY!” The anguished cry filled the infinite expanse of the soul realm, each scream of her name slicing through the silence like a sharp blade. Life’s throat ached, raw and hoarse, as she desperately called out, the sound echoing all around them. Life and Death's domain shook, crumbling and collapsing in on itself as she reached out with trembling fingers. Still, the brilliant light she summoned refused to penetrate the horrifying boundary that lay before her.

Beyond the edge of their realm, darkness reigned supreme. The Abyss. The Great Unknown.

No deity had ever dared to venture into its depths and emerged unscathed.

Death stood motionless, an imposing figure swathed in shadows, as tendrils of black smoke curled and writhed from his skin like ghostly fingers. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice a low rumble, resonating with a determination that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m going down there.” The dark shadows surrounding him stirred with anticipation, slithering like serpents eager to venture into the Abyss where he'd rescue their soul of light.

“You can’t!” Life howled, her voice cracking as she stepped forward with urgency, her hand gripping his arm tightly. “You know what happens if one of us dares to cross into the Great Unknown! Do you wish to end up like…” She faltered, her words catching in her throat as her lips pursed with unspoken fear. “Like Him?”

At the mention of the nameless one, the shadows recoiled, hissing softly as if a great and terrible truth hung in the air.

The Divine One. The first of the gods.

He had been the father of all creation, Life, Death, the heavens, Hell, and the mortal realm itself. For millions of years, he drifted alone through the silken void, a solitary figure burdened by an insatiable longing for connection. When the gnawing ache of his loneliness became unbearable, he shaped the Earth from the dust of the cosmos, infusing it with his very being and breathing life into it, thus awakening humanity.

At first, He gazed upon his creation with awe, captivated by the mortals' imperfections and the beauty of their struggles, much like a parent watching a child take their first steps. However, as time wore on, the shadows of their nature emerged, revealing a darkness deeper than He had ever anticipated. Acts of murder, gluttony, greed, and lust rose like tides under His open sky. It was a horrific sight.

In a fit of anger, The Divine One created the Great Unknown, a vast, uncharted world that would ultimately become known as the Abyss. He damned every human soul into its depths upon death, a drastic measure to contain the chaos that had marred His creation. Yet, as the flames of His anger flickered and faded, an overwhelming wave of regret washed over Him. In His quest for justice, He had inadvertently sealed the fate of even the pure-hearted among them, souls He cherished deeply despite their flaws.

When one particularly innocent spirit descended into the Abyss, The Divine One felt an ache so Overwhelming it shattered his sense of control. Driven by love, He sought to rescue the fallen man, plunging into the ocean of darkness. But the Abyss was unforgiving, even towards its creator. He emerged, ripped to shreds, with limbs torn asunder, eyes pulled from their sockets and his mind nothing but confusion.

From that moment on, He could no longer cast his gaze upon the worlds below. His heart, now burdened with sorrow, rendered him unable to move forth with any further creations. So, Life and Death took over, and the Divine One put strict laws in place. And that was that.

Since that fateful day, no deity had dared to cross that treacherous threshold ever again.

As Life stood at the edge of the churning darkness where Levy had vanished, her hands shook uncontrollably. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she looked into the abyss and whispered, “You see? We cannot save her. If we do, then we will meet the same tragic fate as Him.”

Death turned away, the tension evident in his clenched fists. “Then she’s gone,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness and despair.

“No,” Life interjected, her voice a gentle yet unwavering whisper that seemed to illuminate the encroaching darkness. As she spoke, her tears glistened like drops of molten gold, reflecting the faint light of her essence, which she swiftly wiped away. “Not yet. He’s down there, Gajeel.”

With narrowed eyes, Death confronted her, urgency threading through his words. “Life… don’t even entertain that thought.”

She held his gaze, her face etched with guilt and tenderness. “I created him to be her guardian,” she confessed, her voice cracking. “I know he’s still in there; that part of him lives on, I just know it!”

Death’s jaw tightened, the air around them thick with tension. “He could betray her…put her in harm's way to save himself.”

“He suffers now…he knows he deserves this. He's always been self-critical and lonely; he would rather have her near than be alone,” she said, her voice breaking with tears. “I was wrong to tie them together like this; I just want to save them.”

Turning towards her, Death’s shadow softened, sadness seeping into his being, “I fear she was right…We treat the humans like toys.”

A faint, sorrowful smile graced her lips as she absorbed his words. “I’ve learned my lesson. I made her too smart for her own good.”

Death’s stern expression wavered, showing a flicker of uncertainty. “I will hail a meeting with The Divine One, maybe he can make things right.”

Death lingered in the stillness, a shadowy figure half-formed, as if the very fabric of reality struggled to hold him together. The air thickened with a profound gravity before his voice emerged, low and somber, each word a weighty toll: “May the Abyss show mercy on them both.”

Deep in the abyss, she walked in circles, pacing wildly, almost burning a hole into the ground below her.

“Why, Levy? Why are you like this?!” She screamed into the void, the words slicing through the eerie quietness. She was alone, afraid of the dark and what lurked inside it. Panic surged through her as her bare feet slapped against the slick, glassy surface beneath her, each step echoing with desperation. She had no clear direction, only an overwhelming instinct to flee.

“Life! Death!” She cried, her desperate calls ricocheting off the barren landscape, hollow and mocking. “Hello?! Please!” Her voice cracked, splintering into heart-wrenching sobs that echoed in the void. “I’m so sorry! I ran, I shouldn’t have! I was just scared! Please, come find me!”

But silence reigned supreme, swallowing her cries whole.

Her heart thudded wildly against her throat, each pulse sending a wave of panic coursing through her veins. The air was suffocatingly dense; she could hardly breathe. While she peered down, her reflection shimmered ominously on the polished surface of the ground, her face a ghostly white mask of terror. “Oh God,” she whimpered, her hands clenching tightly around her chest as if to anchor herself in the midst of the storm brewing inside.

The thought struck her with the frigid clarity of ice piercing through her resolve.

She staggered, her foot catching on some invisible barrier, yet somehow she steadied herself with trembling hands. “Why would I jump? I was safe…” The words escaped her lips like a desperate plea.

Tears welled up, blurring her vision as she gazed out into the void, the vast horizon dimming into an inky darkness with every agonizing step she took.

“Stupid, stupid Levy,” she whispered, a shaky laugh escaping her lips, quickly swallowed by a fresh wave of sorrow. “You were in paradise… and you ruined it.” Pain coursed through her body; it was as if every bone had shattered and been haphazardly stitched back together, reminding her that her survival had come at a harrowing cost. She had to escape this wretched place.

Then, like a sinister whisper coiling around her thoughts, a name slithered into her mind, Gajeel.

Her breath hitched. The air suddenly felt colder, heavier, and damp, like fog settling on her skin. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she could feel him, somewhere in the dark, the pulse of his soul like a heartbeat beneath the ground. She was bound to him.

“No,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head violently. “He killed me.”

The word killed felt sour on her tongue, but still her feet began to move. Everything in her screamed not to. Life’s warning echoed in her head, Death’s sorrow in his eyes, but the silence here was worse. The loneliness crawled up her spine like bony fingers.

She stopped, trembling, clutching her arms. Her voice cracked as she spoke to the nothingness.

“I need help.” Every fiber of her being screamed at her not to. But she did.

The thought of being utterly alone here was far more terrifying than confronting the man who had taken her life.

If he were here, he could find a way out. If he were here… maybe he was just as scared as she was?

And if she found herself mangled once more in the fruitless quest to locate him, well, she would choose that fate without hesitation, for the alternative of enduring this desolation alone was unfathomable.

With a shaky breath and a mix of trepidation and determination, Levy stepped into the inky darkness that enveloped her.

She walked for what felt like endless hours. Around her, the air was thick with the shrieks of torment, horrific, blood-curdling cries that sliced through her composure, drawing forth waves of nausea that churned in her stomach. She pressed her hands against her ears, stumbling through the oppressive shadows, desperate to silence the screams, but her efforts were in vain.

“Oh, Gajeel… where are you?” She whispered, her voice barely audible over the anguished wails, quivering with desperation in a futile attempt to anchor her fraying sanity.

Her feet were bare, and she was still in her pajamas, once soft and clean, now singed and heavy with smoke, grime, and blood. The white shirt clung to her, and the pink striped bottoms hung above her ankles, frayed from years of washing. She clutched the collar, inhaling, hoping to catch the faint trace of lavender detergent. But all she smelled was ash.

Then came the grinding sound, one she couldn't quite make out, until muffled screams followed. She paused, dropping her hands from her ears and squinting against the glow of distant fire. Ahead, a river churned and hissed, its surface steaming as it rushed by.

But near it, she could see a body, no…a person lying on their back as something that looked like rope wrapped itself around them. She stepped forward a bit more to get a closer look at the terrifying sight.
Gajeel?

It was him, definitely, she bounded forward slightly, happy at first until she got a good look at him. Fleshy ropes wrapped themselves around him, cutting off his air supply, one wringing itself around his neck, pulling him deep into the ground. She could tell he had been fighting for a long time by the way the earth had been pulled up from him, clawing and scratching for freedom, but now he just lay there.

His eyes were closed as his lower half was almost fully submerged by the rock and dirt. He gasped every few seconds to get air in, but every time he did, the fleshy vines only grew tighter.
“Shit! Hold on!” She said, while she determined a way to set him free.

She reached down, pulling at the ropes, cutting her hands on its thorn-like edges, filling her wounds with some kind of foul-smelling slime.

“Go… away.” He whispered through wheezing breaths. “I’m… done… fighting this thing.”

She froze mid-step, her heart twisting. She could leave him, it would be easy. It was Hell. No one would fault her for walking away. But the Fairy Tail mage in her screamed at her to help.

“Not happening,” she muttered under her breath.

Levy dropped to her knees beside him, the heat from the writhing ropes searing her skin. One tendril coiled around his neck, pulsing, alive with malice. She pressed her bare foot down hard on the fleshy thing coming from the ground, pinning it, then grabbed a loose section in trembling hands. It squirmed, slick and putrid, and before she could talk herself out of it…She bit down.

The taste was bile, ash, and rot. She gagged, tears stinging her eyes, but she didn’t stop until the rope tore apart between her teeth with a wet snap.

The vine shrieked, a demonic sound that made her wince and recoil violently, slithering back into the dirt. In seconds, the others followed, dragging their shredded ends into the steaming soil.

Gajeel gasped, his chest heaving as the air finally returned to his lungs. His eyes flew open wide and wild, tears pricking at the corners. Then he moved, tearing the last remnants off himself, clawing at the dirt until he broke free. He stumbled to his knees, hacking and choking, one hand rubbing at his bruised throat.

“Why?” He croaked, his voice ragged and raw.

Levy blinked, still shaking. “What?”

“Why did you save me?” He turned on her, his teeth bared, eyes blazing. “I told you to go away!”

She stepped back, startled. “Are you serious right now? I couldn’t just leave you there!”

He pushed to his feet, filled with fury. “I’m in Hell! You don’t help people here, you fucking idiot!”

Levy scoffed, crossing her arms, masking her fear behind defiance. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I went looking for you. I saved your life, and this is how you thank me?”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he snarled, gesturing around at the smoldering wasteland, “but I’m already dead!”

For a moment, they just stood there, breathing hard, staring each other down through the haze of steam and heat.

She wiped her mouth of the slimy ooze left behind. Then, softer, almost too low to hear, she said, “So? You want to be tortured?”

Something in his jaw twitched. He looked away.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful, it was heavy and awkward. And for the first time since he’d fallen into this nightmare, Gajeel didn’t feel completely alone.

“Hold on…” He blinked, finally getting a good look at her through the steam rising from the ground. His eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering behind the exhaustion. “What the hell are you doing here? I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

“No shit!” She snapped, kicking at the cracked earth. “I fell from up there.” She jabbed a finger toward the sky, but there was nothing to point to anymore. Just an endless smear of black, no stars, no light, no sign of the world she remembered.

They both stared up for a beat, the silence stretching between them, filled only by the hissing of the river.

“Ok,” Gajeel muttered, crossing his arms, “now I know you’re fuckin’ crazy.” He tilted his head, his gaze sharp and unreadable. “What did you do to end up here?”

“Nothing!” She said, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m telling you, I fell!”

He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Sure, sure. Everybody’s innocent down here.” He turned away from her, brushing dirt off his hands. “So what is it, huh? What’d you do?”

Her throat tightened. “I told you! I didn't do anything!!”

Gajeel sighed through his nose, irritation thick in his voice. “Then how come that asshole up there ain’t come to fetch you yet?”

Levy froze. Her eyes darted back toward the empty sky. “I… I don’t know.” Her voice was small now. “I ran from them. Maybe they’re angry with me.”

He raised a brow, his jaw dropping. “You ran from them? From heaven? Eternal paradise?” He asked, his voice rising.

She nodded, her eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to. I was scared. They treated me like…well, like a pet.”

He looked down, jaw tight. “Yeah. You and me both, then.” Finally, he grunted, turning back toward the river. “Well, see ya later.”

“What? No! Gajeel, I need help!” Levy hurried after him, stumbling over the cracked earth as he strode ahead, his eyes sweeping the shadows like he was hunting for something, or trying to avoid it.

“I can’t help ya. No one can,” he said without looking back, his boots crunching against the blackened ground as he stopped by the riverbank.

“Could you at least try to be friendly just for a minute?”

He barked a laugh that had no humor in it. “You should already know I’m not a nice guy! I killed you, remember?”

The words hit her like a slap. Levy’s jaw clenched. “You think I want to do this? Ask the man who murdered me for help?” Her voice cracked, venom spilling out between uneven breaths.

Gajeel froze, eyes darkening. The flickering firelight painted his face in gold and shadow, his shoulders sagged.

“Listen, lady,” he muttered, his voice lower now, quieter. “There’s no way outta here. Even if I wanted to help you… There’s no way back up.”

Her lip trembled as tears welled up, hot and heavy. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing into them. “No… no, that’s not fair.”

Gajeel winced, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight, as if the sound made him physically uncomfortable. “Oh god… don’t…don’t do that.” He looked away, grimacing. “Fuck, stop crying. God, you’re makin’ me feel like shit.”

Her head snapped up, her cheeks streaked with soot and tears, eyes burning. “You should feel that way! I’m here because of you! This is all your fault!”

She jabbed a finger into his chest, hard enough that it hurt her hand more than it moved him.

“I didn’t jump into Hell willingly!” Gajeel shot back, straightening to his full height, voice echoing off the ruined walls around them. The air itself seemed to shiver at his rage, a low growl rumbling through the ground beneath their feet. His shadow stretched long and thin behind him, as if Hell itself wanted to swallow him up again.

Levy stumbled back a step. For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were the screams and groans of tortured people.

Then Gajeel’s voice broke the silence, lower now, almost tired. “...You think I wanted any of this? I did what I did, alright, you got your fucking justice.”

He stared down at the river, his reflection rippling in the dark current, a warped face, pale and hollow-eyed, staring back at him. His hair hung in tangled ropes, matted with dirt and blood. He reached up, fingers brushing through it, and froze when a strand came away in his hand.

“My hair’s fallin’ out…” he murmured, voice flat with disbelief.

Levy’s breath caught. The river hissed at their feet, its surface boiling with unseen movement. Gajeel tugged again, and another clump came loose, slipping from his fingers and landing with a soft splash before the current carried it away.

He let out a broken laugh, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess Hell’s takin’ what’s left of me, huh?”

Levy looked at him then, not with anger this time, but something else. Pity. Fear. Maybe both. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave it alone, but the words died in her throat.

He stared at the water a moment longer before whispering, “It’s like it’s eatin’ me alive from the inside.”

Inside the river before them, Bodies floated past, some with skin peeled away, red muscle exposed to the heat, others still screaming as they were carried downstream.”

“You’re scared… aren’t you?” She whispered.

“Maybe. But I dug my own grave.” He responded, turning around, “I… killed you…” he muttered, voice low, rough, like it hurt to admit, “I wish I had never seen you that night. But I know I can't be here just cause of that, I was a piece of shit.” He clenched his fists, angry at his realization. “I deserve this, and that's why I don't want your help, alright.”

“Ok…you don't want my help, but…I need yours, please help me.” She whispered, wringing her hands before her.

He sighed, looking up at her, dressed in her pajamas, her hair flowing wildly around her. He could tell she was shaken up.

“Fine. I guess having a pretty thing like you following me around instead of rotting monsters ain't too bad.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, blushing at his comment but chalking it up to playful banter.

He didn’t look at her when he answered. “Don’t thank me.”

He gestured for her to follow him as he walked down the riverbank, careful to keep his distance from the edge. The boiling water hissed and spat, each bubble releasing the faint echo of voices that didn’t sound human anymore. His feet scraped against the blackened rocks, the skin blistering, smoking faintly from the heat, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch.

Levy trailed a few steps behind, hugging herself, her eyes darting between the river and the jagged cliffs above. Every few feet, something shifted in the shadows, a whisper, a face that wasn’t there when she looked back again.

“Where are we going?” She asked softly.

“Somewhere quieter,” he muttered, not looking at her. “River’s too loud.”

She frowned. “You mean dangerous.”

He shrugged, jaw tight. “Same thing.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound the crunch of stone beneath their feet and the hiss of the current beside them. After a while, she noticed him limping slightly, his soles red and raw from the heat.

“Your feet—”

“They’ll heal.” He cut her off, tone clipped and final.

She sighed but didn’t press. “I healed earlier,” she said quietly. “I fell like… twenty stories. I felt every bone shatter, but I healed so fast.”

That made him glance back, just for a heartbeat. His eyes, dark, hollowed, and exhausted, met hers before flicking away again. “Pain’s kind of the point down here,” he muttered. “I think this place makes you heal quickly on purpose. Torture’s no fun when there’s nothing left to torture.”

Levy grimaced, her shoulders curling in as if trying to make herself smaller. “Jesus… this place sucks.”

“Definitely,” he said flatly, stepping over a crack in the scorched ground. After a beat, he added under his breath, “And we ain’t even seen the worst of it.”

The two of them fell silent, the river hissing beside them like it was laughing.

Levys eyes darted up across the river after they had been walking for what felt like days, “Oh my god, look!” She held out a hand, pointing ahead to a crumbling building, pressed up against a large mountain.

Gajeel followed her gaze and gave a low whistle. “But it’s across the river.”

“There has to be a way for us to cross,” she said, rubbing her chin in deep thought, a flicker of hope cutting through her profound exhaustion.

“I have an idea,” he responded, rolling his broad shoulders with determination. “But you might not like it.”

Before she could ask him to explain, iron scales began to emerge on his skin, creeping up his neck and arms, giving him a faint gleam in the dancing firelight. If he hadn't killed her, maybe she would have thought his magic beautiful.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You… you still have your magic here in this place?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I haven’t tried,” she admitted, her voice a little shaky. Taking a deep breath, she flicked her fingers through the air, attempting to conjure her powers. Glowing letters sparked briefly, but then faded away just as quickly. “Solid Script Light!”
Silence followed.

The atmosphere grew still, and her hands began to tremble with worry. “It’s gone,” she whispered in disbelief.

He said dryly, watching her frustrated expression. “Hell likes to mess with you, make you think you’ve got some kind of control when you clearly don’t.”

Levy frowned, frustration tightening in her chest. She hated not feeling in control, it gnawed at her. Maybe that was why her magic wouldn’t work. Maybe that was Hell’s idea of fun, stripping her of everything that made her feel safe.

The thought crawled under her skin like something alive. Down here, she wasn’t strong. She wasn’t safe. If this place decided to sink its teeth into her, there was no way to fight back.

Her gaze flicked to Gajeel as he moved closer to the riverbank. The steam wrapped around him, hiding his form, and the glow of firelight carved sharp shadows across his face. He looked too calm for someone trapped in Hell, too used to it.
If he decided to turn on her…

Her stomach twisted. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand a little straighter, to keep her tone light even as her pulse quickened. She needed to stay on his good side, or at least close enough not to end up like the things in the river.

Because if there was one thing she’d already learned about Hell, it was this: being alone was worse than being scared.

Gajeel crouched down and carefully dipped his armored hand into the churning, boiling water. The hiss of steam was deafening, filling the air with a burning mist that made Levy cover her mouth.

“It’s not too hot for my scales,” he said, half to himself. His voice came out hoarse and grim. “I think I can cross.”

Levy took a step closer, staring at the red current that seemed to breathe and pulse like a living thing. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “But what about me?”

He looked back over his shoulder, one brow lifting. “Simple,” he said with a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I leave your ass here, survival of the fittest.”

“Don't joke about that!” she snapped, glaring at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax. I’m just messin’ with you. I’ll carry you across.”

An uneasy knot tightened in Levy’s stomach. “Why didn’t you cross before?”

“I didn’t have a good reason until now. I'd pretty much given up,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer, his presence making her heart race.

She instinctively backed away, feeling the tension in the air between them grow thicker.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges but softened by an undercurrent of concern that cut through the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice faltering as emotion threatened to choke her syllables. “I just… I’m… I don’t know.”

He exhaled a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes in exasperation, but his demeanor held a gentle touch this time. “You’re already dead. I ain’t gonna hurt ya now come here!.”

Before she could retreat any further, he caught her wrist with a firm but gentle grip, pulling her toward him. The strength in his hold was steady, preventing her from trembling in fear. In an unexpected motion, he swept her up into his arms with effortless ease. She gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck as the world dropped away beneath her. His skin flickered brightly as iron scales climbed across his skin. It was strange she assumed his scales would be cold, but they were warm to the touch.

“Cozy?” He teased, a lopsided half-smile breaking through his tough exterior, a flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Levy shot him a glare, tears glistening in her wide eyes. “Please don’t drop me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as a shiver of vulnerability washed over her.

Gajeel cast a glance down at her, his grin faltering just a touch, replaced by something more sincere. “I won’t,” he muttered, the promise heavy in the air.

The heat was unbearable as he stepped into the swirling river, the boiling water hissing around his scales, steam coiling like ghostly tendrils into the air. His jaw clenched tightly, and he tightened his grip on her, navigating deeper into the treacherous waters with brute determination.

The anguished wails of those lost souls trapped in the current rose around them, spectral hands clawing at him, desperate to drag him under. With a fierce kick, he brushed them aside, pushing through the chaos with a relentless drive.

Levy buried her face into the hard plane of his shoulder, as she shut herself off from the nightmare unfolding around them. She could see his scales turning a bright red, then glowing orange and yellow, heating up exponentially. “You’re burning,” she whispered, feeling the heat radiating off him.

“Yeah,” he grunted in response, his voice strained but steadfast, “keep holding on.”

Gajeel gritted his teeth, each muscle in his form quivering with the strain of holding her aloft above the blistering water. Clawing hands surged from the depths, scraping at his armor, desperate to pull him and her into the abyss.

Then a hand wrenched from the river, grabbing hold of her hankle that had been hanging looser than the other. She felt a flare of pain as her bare foot sank deep into the boiling rapids, her skin blistering under the intense heat. Panic surged through her, and she screamed, a heart-wrenching cry that shattered the air around them.

“AHHHHHHH!” Her voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks in a torrent of fear.

Gajeel nearly jerked down with her, his grip tightening as he fought not to fall. “Let go!” He screamed and, with a mighty heave, he yanked her away from the claw-like grip that had wrapped cruelly around her ankle, swinging her toward the muddy bank. As he crawled onto the solid ground, his scales began to fade, steam rising from his shiny body, revealing that he had emerged unscathed. He knelt beside her, his gaze sharp and focused as he assessed the damage.

“Oh god… it hurts! I can’t… I can’t breathe!” She cried out, panic flooding her chest like icy water.

Levy writhed in his arms, her screams swallowed by the hiss of boiling water and the roar of the river. Her skin was blistered, her foot blackened where it had touched the current. Gajeel’s grip tightened around her, his voice cutting through her panic.

“Shut up and breathe! You’re gonna be alright—it’ll heal!” he barked, his tone rough but trembling beneath. He dropped to his knees beside her, the stench of burnt flesh stinging his nose.

But when he looked closer, his breath caught. Beneath the torn skin of her ankle, something gleamed.

Not blood.

Not muscle.

Crystal.

It shimmered faintly under the hellish firelight, ridescent and soft, like fractured light caught under glass. For a moment, even the flames seemed to dim in its glow. He leaned in, his eyes wide, the reflection of her soul flickering in the surface of her wound.

“What the hell…” he whispered. His calloused fingers hovered just above it, afraid to touch.

Levy panted, biting her lip through the pain. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, still staring. The crystal pulsed once—then the skin began to knit back together, glowing faintly as it sealed.

Her breathing steadied as the pain slowly ebbed. Gajeel sat back on his heels, still watching, that brief flash of light burned into his mind. It didn’t belong here, not in hell. He had his answer, and it was concrete. She definitely wasn't meant to be here.