Clover Canyon
Wind blades screamed across the canyon.
Yume's response was immediate.
"Shadow Shield!"
Darkness solidified into a dome around him. The wind strikes hit like artillery shells—CRACK CRACK CRACK—each impact sending spider-web fractures across the shadowy surface. One blade penetrated through a weakened point, carving a line across his shoulder.
Blood welled. The wound burned.
[HP: 94%]
The shield held. Barely.
Yume dismissed it and dove right as the next volley arrived, hitting the ground in a roll that brought him behind a boulder. Wind blades carved through the stone like it was foam, but the momentary cover gave him breathing room.
Fast. Powerful. And he's not even trying yet.
"Running already?" Erigor's voice carried amusement. "I expected more from someone bold enough to challenge me."
Yume didn't respond. He was already moving—Shadow Shift carrying him thirty meters left to a different position, both gunswords tracking Erigor's hovering form.
He fired.
Six darkness bullets in rapid succession, each one aimed at different angles to account for wind deflection.
Erigor didn't dodge. Wind spiraled around him in a defensive vortex, and the bullets simply stopped mid-air before dissolving into nothing.
"Cute." The Reaper spun his scythe lazily. "But you'll need more than parlor tricks to—"
Yume fired again.
At the canyon wall above him.
The darkness bullets punched into the stone, and with a sound like thunder, a section of the cliff face collapsed. Tons of rock plummeted toward Erigor's position.
"STORM MAIL!"
Wind condensed around Erigor's body, forming visible armor. The falling rocks hit the wind barrier and shattered, reduced to gravel that scattered harmlessly.
But it forced him to move. To break his hovering position and relocate.
There. He prioritizes defense when surprised. Good to know.
Yume was already in motion, calling four Pandora Orbs. They rippled as they transformed—not into weapons this time, but into something unexpected.
Smoke grenades.
He hurled them in an arc across the canyon. They detonated mid-air, releasing thick black smoke that spread rapidly, obscuring vision across a hundred-meter radius.
"Smoke screen?" Erigor's voice carried genuine annoyance now. "What are you, a stage magician?"
Inside the smoke, Yume moved silently. Batman's training made him a ghost—footsteps placed with perfect precision, breathing controlled, every movement calculated.
He pulled shadows from the smoke itself, weaving them into constructs.
"Shadow Hands—spread formation."
Twenty dark tendrils emerged from the smoke in different locations, striking toward where Erigor had been hovering. Not to hit him—Yume knew they wouldn't—but to force movement, to map his position.
There.
Erigor dodged left, wind clearing the smoke around him in a localized burst.
Yume was already there.
Both gunswords thrust forward in a pincer strike aimed at Erigor's torso from behind—
The Reaper spun impossibly fast, scythe sweeping in a wide arc. "WIND BLADE BARRAGE!"
Dozens of cutting winds erupted from the scythe's edge in a three-sixty degree radius.
Shit.
Yume Shadow Shifted backward, but several blades caught him mid-transition. His left arm. His side. His leg. Each cut was shallow but painful, blood spraying in thin lines.
[HP: 86%]
He landed hard, rolling to absorb impact, came up with both gunswords raised.
The smoke was clearing now, dispersed by Erigor's wind.
Both combatants stood roughly thirty meters apart, reassessing.
Erigor's expression had changed. The casual arrogance was gone, replaced by focused interest. "You're better than I expected. That smoke tactic, the falling rocks—you actually think tactically instead of just throwing magic around." He grinned, showing teeth. "But tactics won't save you from overwhelming power."
"We'll see."
"STORM SHRED—ENHANCED!"
This time, the wind blades were bigger. Faster. More numerous. They didn't just cut—they *carved*, each one capable of bisecting a grown man.
Yume called two Pandora Orbs.
"Umbral Arsenal!"
The orbs exploded with shadow-infused darkness, transforming into massive chains. They lashed out, intercepting the wind blades mid-flight. Metal met wind with sounds like screaming ghosts.
Some blades were deflected. Some cut through the chains. Three made it past his defense.
Yume twisted, dodged two, took the third across his chest. The impact drove him backward, boots skidding across stone.
[HP: 79%]
He's not holding back anymore. Good.
Blood dripped from multiple wounds now. His breathing was heavier. But his eyes were bright, focused, alive.
This was what he'd come for.
"Darkness Blast—Rapid Fire!"
He extended both hands, gunswords temporarily dismissed back to orbs. Condensed spheres of dark energy erupted from his palms in a continuous stream—twenty, thirty, forty shots in ten seconds, each one tracking Erigor's position with guided precision.
Erigor flew higher, wind boosting his speed. Most blasts missed. The ones that connected were deflected by his Storm Mail.
But they forced him into a pattern. Forced him to keep moving, keep defending.
Predictable movement means vulnerable movement.
"Shadow Snare Field!"
The ground beneath Erigor's flight path erupted with binding shadows. They reached upward like grasping fingers, trying to catch his ankles, his cloak, anything.
Erigor saw them, adjusted his flight path—
And flew directly into Yume's real attack.
"Darkness Slash—Convergence!"
Five crescent waves of cutting shadow energy, launched from different angles, all converging on a single point in the air where Erigor would be in exactly 0.4 seconds based on his current trajectory.
The Reaper's eyes widened as he realized the trap.
He couldn't dodge all five. Not at this speed.
So he didn't try.
"EMERA BARAM!"
Wind exploded outward in a sphere around him—absolute, devastating, the kind of technique that flattened forests and carved canyons deeper.
The Darkness Slashes hit the wind sphere and annihilated each other. The collision created a shockwave that cracked the canyon walls and sent Yume sliding backward twenty meters, boots leaving twin furrows in stone.
[HP: 74%]
When the dust cleared, both fighters stood their ground.
Erigor was breathing harder now. His Storm Mail flickered, magic reserves depleting from that massive output. Small cuts appeared on his exposed skin where the Darkness Slashes had partially penetrated.
Yume's entire left side was bruised from the shockwave. Blood seeped from a dozen shallow cuts. His jacket was torn in three places.
But he was grinning.
"Not bad," Erigor admitted, rolling his shoulders. "You actually made me use Emera Baram. Most opponents don't survive long enough to see it." He raised his scythe, wind gathering again. "But playtime's over. I've wasted enough time on you."
"Agreed."
Yume called all eight Pandora Orbs simultaneously. They emerged from the shadows around him, orbiting faster than before, darkness bleeding off them like smoke.
"Let's finish this."
Erigor's grin turned feral. "STORM MAIL—OVERDRIVE!"
Wind armor condensed around him until it was visible even in daylight—a swirling shell of compressed air that distorted everything behind it. His scythe began to glow, wind magic channeling through the weapon until it screamed.
"WIND SCAR!"
He thrust his free hand forward, and a massive palm-shaped blast of wind large enough to crush a building erupted across the canyon.
Yume's response was immediate.
"Night's Embrace!"
Pure darkness exploded outward from his position, meeting the wind palm head-on. The two forces collided in the center of the canyon with enough force to crack the ground beneath them.
Inside his zone of absolute darkness, Yume could see perfectly. Outside, Erigor was blind.
Three seconds before he disperses it with wind. Make them count.
Yume's shadows flickered differently—thicker, heavier,
taking on almost physical weight. Not yet, he thought.
Wait for the right moment.
"Shadow Shift."
He dissolved into the darkness, reappearing directly beneath Erigor's hovering position. Both hands extended upward.
"Abyssal Chains!"
Massive chains of pure darkness erupted from his palms, each link the size of a fist, all of them seeking Erigor's form with guided precision. They wrapped around legs, arms, torso, the scythe—binding, constricting, dragging downward with terrible force.
"WHAT—"
Erigor tried to fly upward, but the chains held. Tried to cut them with wind blades, but they regenerated faster than he could sever them.
He was caught.
"STORM SHRED APOCALYPSE!"
Desperate now, Erigor unleashed everything. Wind blades erupted in every direction simultaneously—hundreds of them, each one lethal, turning the air into a blender of cutting force.
The Abyssal Chains shattered under the assault.
But they'd done their job.
Erigor was grounded. Standing on the canyon floor now, magic reserves visibly depleted from that desperate technique.
And Yume was ready.
Six Pandora Orbs shot forward, positioning themselves in a triangular formation around Erigor. The remaining two orbs joined Yume's hands, and shadows flowed into all eight simultaneously.
Reality bent.
The orbs transformed into something massive weapon.
A triple-barreled rocket launcher.
Each barrel was as thick as a grown man's torso. Darkness bled from the weapon like liquid night. The targeting system—purely magical, purely intuitive—locked onto Erigor's position with absolute certainty.
Erigor stared at the weapon, at Yume holding something that massive with perfect stability, and for the first time, genuine fear crossed his face.
"What the hell is that?!"
"Overkill."
Yume pulled the trigger.
"ECLIPSE BARRAGE!"
All three barrels fired simultaneously.
The rockets were condensed darkness given physical form and propulsion—each one carrying enough destructive force to level a city block. They screamed across the canyon, trailing shadow-fire, their trajectory unavoidable at this range.
Erigor threw everything he had left into defense.
"EMERA BARAM—MAXIMUM!"
Wind exploded outward in a desperate sphere, the strongest defensive technique in his arsenal, burning through his remaining magic reserves in a single catastrophic burst.
The rockets hit the wind sphere.
And punched through.
The first rocket caught Erigor in the chest, detonating on impact with force that cratered the canyon floor. The second hit half a second later, expanding the crater. The third followed, and the combined explosion was visible from Oshibana.
Dust and smoke filled the canyon.
Yume dismissed the rocket launcher, breathing hard, sweat dripping despite the cool air. His entire body ached. His magic reserves had dropped significantly.
[MP: 41%]
[HP: 74%]
But he remained standing, both gunswords re-formed in his hands, watching the smoke clear.
When it did, Erigor was still there.
Barely.
The Reaper knelt in the center of a ten-meter crater, his Storm Mail completely shattered. His scythe lay three meters away. His dark cloak was gone, burned away. Blood seeped from dozens of wounds across his body.
And his left leg below the knee was simply gone, severed cleanly by the concentrated force of the explosions.
He looked up at Yume, his expression caught between rage and disbelief.
"You... you actually..." He coughed, blood flecking his lips. "What kind of magic... is that?"
"The versatile kind." Yume approached slowly, weapons ready in case this was a feint.
It wasn't.
Erigor tried to stand, failed, collapsed back to his knees. "Damn it... DAMN IT!" His fist slammed into the ground. "I'm the Reaper! I've killed dozens! Brought down guilds! And some... some brat with shadow magic..."
"You underestimated me," Yume said simply. "That's why you lost."
Erigor laughed—bitter, broken. "Maybe. Or maybe..." His eyes focused, sharp despite the pain. "Maybe I underestimated how far someone will go when they're not fighting for justice or revenge. Just for the thrill of it."
"Got a problem with that?"
"No." Erigor's grin returned, though weaker now. "Actually... I respect it more than all those self-righteous legal guild hypocrites. At least you're honest about what you are."
Yume said nothing.
"So what now?" Erigor gestured at his ruined body. "You going to kill me? Turn me in? Legal guilds love their moral superiority—bet you'll choose the 'honorable' option."
"Neither."
Yume called Rika.
The temperature dropped ten degrees. Reality bent as the cursed spirit manifested— monstrous face expressionless, eyes holding only instinct and loyalty.
She had to stay within five meters of Yume, but that was fine. He gestured to Erigor's severed leg.
"Consume it. Copy what you can."
"MERA MERA MERA!"
Rika moved immediately. Her maw opened impossibly wide and she devoured the limb in seconds—flesh, bone, everything disappearing into whatever space she used for absorption.
Erigor watched with wide eyes. "What... what is that?"
"Mine." Yume's tone was flat, matter-of-fact.
[Rika: New abilities absorbed]
[Wind Magic -Available for lending]
[- Wind Resistance (Advanced) - Available for lending]
[- Enhanced Aerial Mobility - Available for lending]
[- Scythe Mastery (Partial) - Available for lending]
Useful. Wind resistance would help against future wind mages. Aerial mobility could be lent to any shikigami that needed flight enhancement.
"Good. Return."
Rika dissolved without ceremony.
Yume walked over to where Erigor's scythe lay, picking it up. The weapon was well-balanced, the blade wickedly sharp, marked with runes that suggested wind magic enhancement. Quality craftsmanship.
"That's... that's my..." Erigor's voice was weak.
"Was yours." Yume stored the scythe in his inventory. "Now it's mine. Loot of battle."
"You... you really are just a battle junkie..." Erigor coughed again. "No speeches about justice. No moral superiority. Just... victory and spoils."
"That's right."
Erigor was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed—genuinely this time, though pain made it come out as more of a wheeze. "Fine. You won. Fair fight, no complaints." His eyes focused on Yume one last time. "But you should know... Eisenwald's plan doesn't end with me. Even if you stopped me, they'll still—"
"I know. And I don't care."
"You—" Erigor blinked. "You know about Lullaby and you don't care?"
"Someone else will handle it." Yume turned to leave. "I got what I came for."
"Who the hell are you?!"
"Already told you. Yume of Fairy Tail."
He started walking back toward where he'd left Swift on watch.
Behind him, Erigor's voice called out one last time, weaker now. "Hey... brat..."
Yume paused, glanced back.
"Next time we meet... I'll kill you."
"Looking forward to it."
He left Erigor there in the crater, bleeding and defeated but alive. The Magic Council or another guild would find him eventually. Not Yume's problem.
He'd gotten his fight. Tested himself against an S-Class equivalent and won.
That was enough.
***
Yume had just finished storing Erigor's scythe when he heard it—a distant, high-pitched voice cutting through the canyon air.
"NAAAATSUUUUU!"
He looked up.
A blue cat—flying blue cat—came into view, wings flapping desperately as it struggled with its cargo. Hanging from the cat's paws, looking airsick and furious, was Natsu.
They crashed about twenty meters away in a graceless tumble. Natsu immediately rolled to his feet, looking around wildly.
"Where is he?! Where's the wind bastard who—" His eyes landed on the massive crater. On the scattered debris. On Erigor's broken form slumped in the center. "—trapped us in that... stupid..."
The words died.
Natsu's brain visibly processed the scene. Crater. Destroyed landscape. Defeated Erigor. And Yume standing there looking only moderately roughed up.
"You..." Natsu pointed at Yume, then at Erigor, then back at Yume. "Did you... did you fight him?!"
"Yeah."
"AND YOU WON?!"
"Yeah."
"BUT I WAS SUPPOSED TO—" Natsu caught himself, took a breath, then grinned with genuine enthusiasm.
"Aww." Natsu's disappointment was comically exaggerated. Then he perked up. "Wait, is he dead?"
"No. Just missing a leg and his will to fight."
Happy flew over to investigate, peering at Erigor from a safe distance. "He doesn't look very scary now, does he?"
"He's the Reaper," Natsu said, as if that explained everything. "He's supposed to be super dangerous!"
"He was." Yume's tone was matter-of-fact. "But he underestimated me."
Natsu studied Yume with new interest. "You're that guy from the guild. The one who doesn't talk much."
" Yume."
"Well, Yume," Natsu grinned wider, "that was awesome! Fighting an S-Class dark mage and winning! I wanted to punch him myself, but this is almost as good!" He paused. "Almost. I still wanna punch something."
"You can fight me."
"Really?!" Natsu's eyes lit up.
Before Yume could respond, another sound reached them—an engine.
A Magic Mobile came into view, weaving through the canyon at dangerous speeds. It skidded to a halt near them, and Erza emerged from the driver's seat with Lucy and Gray stumbling out behind her looking distinctly green.
End of chapter.