Of course, Gildarts didn't miss such a movement. I applied the same tactic. I let my presence be detected, not making it too obvious.
"So he is hiding in that direction." He mused. "I felt a little magic fluctuation earlier; he's likely taken the bait and is preparing himself to set up a field."
Gildarts pretends he didn't notice anything and keeps on searching. The first house yielded nothing, so he moved on to the next.
"I suspect that there's a possibility there's no survivor; instead, it was a sound he made intentionally as a diversion."
"There are so many holes."
Even so, he still reluctantly continues. Assume there's a survivor; he could get additional information about the attacker.
Since pinpointing the exact location was impossible, brute force was his only option.
Buried under the rubble, Gildarts found an elderly man, likely in his seventies, in an unimaginable state. Drenched in blood, his severed limbs lay nearby, his left eye had been gouged out, and deep cuts marred his torso—clear signs of prolonged torture. But the worst of it was the massive, rusty rod impaling his crotch, piercing straight into his stomach. The wound was so severe that even the slightest movement could end his life. It was a miracle he had survived this long, clinging on by sheer willpower alone.
"You..."
Gildarts sighed inwardly as he examined the man's condition, quickly making a grim judgment.
"You... You won't last much longer..."
Although he only thought those words, the victim had likely realized it himself.
Seeing this, he clenched his fists in frustration.
"What a demon..."
Gildarts silently swore to make the culprit pay. He crouched beside the elder, carefully shifting his head and cradling it with care so the man could see him.
Despite his miserable state, the elder still registered his presence. His remaining eye met Gildarts' gaze, squinting and twitching violently—a sign that his vision was fading fast. He was on the verge of collapse. There was no time to waste.
"I'm Gildarts Clive, a mage from Fairy Tail... I'm sorry I arrived too late, but..."
His voice was low and steady, yet hesitant.
"Can you tell me who did this?"
A stupid question? Perhaps, but every little bit of information counts when facing an unknown enemy. Just a simple guild naming could save a lot of time and focus on their target.
Looking at the elder's trembling lips, Gildarts tried to calm him down, offering what little comfort he could. It might seem cruel and foolish, knowing he was here on a commission to eliminate dark guilds, but gathering even a shred of information about the perpetrator was invaluable.
"It's okay, don't rush..."
He gave the man time, letting him breathe despite his body being on the brink of collapse.
"B..."
The faint sound yanked Gildarts back; he focused on the elder, who struggled desperately to form words.
"…?"
"B... Be..."
"What is it?..."
Gildarts leaned in, his every muscle tense, straining to catch the barely audible whisper slipping from the man's parched lips. He pressed his ear closer, but the elder's rigid breaths made it nearly impossible to hear.
Then, with a sudden, shocking force, the elder seized Gildarts' shoulder. His hand, frail but desperate, dug into his flesh. In a final, desperate cry, his ragged, broken voice shattered the silence.
"Nngh... Ahhhh... BEHIND YOU!!!"
With those last words, he exhaled one final breath—then went still.
"!?"
Gildarts spun on his heel, every sense sharpening, bracing for whatever danger lurked behind him, and activated his advanced magic, Crush!
A shimmering aura of power erupted around him, filling every gap, reinforcing his body like an impenetrable shield against whatever attack might come.
Through the haze of confusion, he focused—and caught sight of the figure standing there.
"A kid!?"
Standing not far away from him was a child, no older than 9 years old, cloaked entirely in black: a long-sleeved T-shirt, trousers, shoes, gloves, and a mask that covered his face entirely, concealing not just his identity but perhaps something far more sinister.
Gildarts began his monster evaluation. His eyes then lingered on the mask, devoid of any opening.
"That mask... Is it a magic item that conceals his magic power? That would explain how the boy remained undetected. But if it was something else..."
"The condition of the corpses, the way the elder's limbs were severed—it was precise, deliberate."
Then, his gaze shifted to the white katana resting on the child's waist.
"There's no doubt now. These wounds came from a sword."
Gildarts tightened his fists, his resolve solidifying. Regardless, his skill was beyond ordinary. He didn't need to guess any longer. This opponent was S-class.
He had immense experience in the field and had witnessed countless things others might find unbelievable. So, even if the killer before him was just a child, he wouldn't let him escape. Gildarts was fully prepared to strike him down.
Yet, despite facing such overwhelming pressure and killing intent from Gildarts, the child stood there—unwavering—as if Gildarts held no meaning.
Who is the child in this situation? His calmness in the face of danger sent a jolt through Gildarts. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the boy's every movement, prepared to catch even the slightest twitch, every flicker of intent.
He judged him as a cautious individual, yet he refrains from conducting an ambush and instead voluntarily shows himself. Which is odd.
"Did I misjudge him?"
Gildarts asked himself. Perhaps he miscalculated his plans earlier, and he intentionally leaked his presence. Regardless, his plan had been foiled, and there's no point thinking about it.
"Interesting..."
He couldn't suppress the thrill surging inside him. This was the excitement of battle—the true exhilaration of facing a formidable opponent!
"Hey, kid, what are you—"
But before he could even finish his question, Gildarts saw the boy begin to unsheathe his sword—slowly, almost agonizingly so. Even a snail would be faster.
He could have dodged it with his eyes closed. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, his body refused to move. No—he couldn't move at all!
"What?" He was dumbfounded.
"Is it time? No, wait… my perception… It's slowing down?!"
The sensation was unmistakable—a horrifying distortion of time. One second stretched into an eternity.
This wasn't just skill; this was the kind of manipulation only someone of immense power could wield. Or worse… a being far beyond his own strength.
"Is he really that strong!?"
A sudden chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively wiped the cold sweat dripping from his forehead.
The grace and beauty of the boy's swordplay stole his breath away. For a moment, he forgot the danger. He felt nothing but an insatiable desire to witness the entirety of his technique—a rare spectacle.
Perhaps because of his Super Magic Crush, he felt confident that he would be protected when the sword made contact. Or maybe… he simply didn't care.
But before he could fully savor the sight, a deafening sound pierced his ears—louder than anything he had ever heard.
"Ding!"
The shrill ringing echoed like the toll of a bell—an almost physical force that struck his eardrums with brutal intensity.
"Huh…?"
Gildarts blinked, disoriented. The world around him seemed to collapse for a brief moment. It was then that he realized—the sound wasn't coming from a bell. It was the sound of a sword being drawn.
"Shit!"
He snapped his gaze back to the boy, forcing himself to stay composed. Calculating the distance between them—around ten meters. They were quite far apart, yet something felt off.
What the boy performed was a simple slash. And yet, within that simplicity lay a hypnotic beauty.
"Beautiful—"
The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. The sword was drawn and then sheathed.
Gildarts felt a prickling sensation crawl along his neck. He felt an unnatural lightness in his body, as if he were floating on the softest clouds, but that serenity quickly turned to dread.
His vision distorted, the world tilting unnaturally—flipping upside down. And then, with sudden, horrifying clarity, realization struck.
"My head… It's been severed!"
This detached head rotated slowly in midair as he watched his body crumple lifelessly beneath it. It had all happened so quickly, so seamlessly, that it felt unreal.
The kid's swordsmanship had bypassed his Crush Magic.
"This is impossible…" Gildarts thought numbly.
Whether it's physical or magical, if there's contact, the Crush magic should be effective yet...
Confusion clouded his final moments. But it was too late to dwell on such things. There was only the bitter truth of it all. It has been proven that a severed head can remain conscious for at least a minute. With that time, he could do nothing now but reflect on his life and accept his fate.
Gildarts knew that dying during a mission was not uncommon. Yet, deep down, lingering regrets gnawed at him. Not from the fear of death—but from a deep, unshakable dissatisfaction with himself.
He could only smile bitterly in his mind. Once, he had longed for strength, and he had succeeded—gaining recognition, respect, even fear. Gildarts became the strongest mage in the west, rivaled only by the Four Gods of Ishgar.
He had achieved his goal. And yet, in this moment, regret clung to him like a shadow. He had worked so hard, and yet… in the face of this child, it felt as if he hadn't worked hard enough.
"I wish I could fight you again… when I'm stronger…" The words echoed in the void, whispered to the wind as his vision faded into darkness.
Gildarts was dead.
[Meanwhile in Fairy Tail Guild]
Crash!
A small figure—no more than nine years old—stood frozen, her slim, tanned frame rigid with shock. Mid-back-length brown hair cascaded behind her, with two shoulder-length strands framing her face.
The child, Cana Alberona, stared at the aftermath of her mistake. She had been absentmindedly wiping a wine glass when it slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the floor. The violent shattering sent shards scattering, glinting under the light like tiny fragments of a broken moment.
The noise immediately drew attention. Conversations hushed, and worried gazes turned towardher.
Are you okay? A voice asked, laced with genuine concern.
Cana nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the broken glass. A strange unease gnawed at her—a sensation she couldn't quite explain. Her thoughts drifted to her father, Gildarts.
It had been a month since he left for a mission—to fight dark guilds attempting to seize [Red Blossom Village]. She knew his strength. No one in the guild was stronger than him. And yet the nagging worry refused to leave her.
Father… please, alright… She cast her gaze into the distance, offering a silent prayer. Hoping that he would return safe and sound...