The timeline shifts back, returning to the Tower of Heaven.
Here, the battle had only just begun.
"It seems our guess was correct."
From a distance, Hoteye watched as the Etherion blast descended. The immense torrent of magic was absorbed into the Tower of Heaven, finally unveiling its true form. A faint smirk curled on his lips.
"Then all that's left is to resurrect Zeref."
The long-haired man chuckled, satisfaction spreading across his face. Everything had gone exactly as planned.
Not only had the Tower of Heaven been perfectly set in motion, but they had even secured the most vital offering.
Jellal… what a generous man.
Wielding his owl-like wings, Fukuro descended onto the top of the tower, carrying the two with him. Jellal remained unconscious, yet a deep unease stirred within Ikaruga's chest. Her instincts screamed at her that Jellal would not be so easily subdued.
"Wait. Let's probe him first."
She raised a hand, stopping the long-haired man who was eager to step forward.
"Hm… very well."
He gave her a strange look—surely in a situation like this, what was there to test?
Still, after working together for so long, he chose to trust her judgment.
His sleek black hair unraveled into countless strands, slithering forward like serpents toward Jellal. Once they coiled tightly around him, the hair began channeling magic into his body, probing for resistance.
Nothing. No reaction at all.
"No issues here."
"Perhaps it was just my imagination…" Ikaruga murmured, finally suppressing her unease.
"Then let us begin the ritual. Place Jellal inside the lacrima—the preset array will dismantle his body, fuse it with Etherion, and finally reconstruct it into Zeref's vessel."
Her voice carried calm assurance, but her eyes strayed toward the lower floors. There were still two unstable factors beneath them.
"I'll head down—"
She never finished.
TWANG!
The sharp twang of strings filled the air, carrying a piercing, magical resonance. The sound stabbed into their minds like knives, rattling their thoughts, deafening their focus. With a shriek, the black serpentine hair hardened into blades, lashing out toward Ikaruga and Fukuro's vital points.
Fukuro had no time to react—his heart was pierced clean through. In an instant, he was gone.
Ikaruga barely twisted away, landing a counterstroke mid-air that severed the black strands.
"Wulodidas, what do you think you're doing?!" she snarled, eyes flashing.
"Heh… this world belongs only to me! Everyone else—DIE!!"
Wulodidas spread his arms in manic delight, tongue lolling grotesquely from his wide-open mouth.
"Die! Die! DIE!!!"
His shrieking voice released a torrent of cursed sound, an ear-splitting wave aimed straight at Ikaruga.
"Mugetsu-ryu."
Her eyes narrowed, her mind became deathly calm. One smooth slash, and the world itself stilled—like the reflection of a placid lake.
Click.
She slid her blade back into its sheath. Ripples faded.
Wulodidas froze mid-scream. A line of crimson blossomed across his chest. He collapsed lifelessly.
But it wasn't over. The cutting edge of her strike continued forward—toward Jellal's unconscious body.
It was stopped.
A single hand caught the blade-light as if it were glass and crushed it into nothingness.
Standing there, eyes open and coat discarded, was Jellal himself. He looked down at Ikaruga with mocking amusement.
"Impressive. If this had been another time, I might have considered welcoming you under my command."
"My, such an honor, Lord Jellal."
For just an instant, she hid her smile behind her hand, her tone teasing, almost girlish. But curiosity burned in her eyes.
"Still… how did you wake up? That strike of mine—it landed. I know it did."
"You're right. It did." Jellal shrugged, pressing his fingers to his temple as though brushing off a lingering ache. "A little more, and I would have truly fallen. All of my plans… turned into your triumph."
BOOM!
A blast crater erupted where Ikaruga had stood moments earlier. She had leapt back just in time.
"Ara, ara… ambushes hardly suit you, Lord Jellal. Was that how you took down Wulodidas?" she quipped coolly, though her grip on her blade tightened.
He smiled thinly. "Correct. You did cause me quite a bit of trouble."
As though signaled, both moved at once.
"Garuda Flame!!"
"Seven Stars Sword!!"
Their attacks collided midair, detonating in a storm of flames and light that shredded the platform, scattering debris like dust in a storm.
"Meteor!!"
Jellal's body blurred into golden streaks of light, darting freely around the Tower of Heaven.
"Too slow! Too weak! Did you think you could defeat me—me, Jellal—and claim the honor of resurrecting Zeref?!"
Even as he attacked, his taunting voice echoed in her ears, pressing like poison.
"There's no need to struggle so hard. If there is one Tower of Heaven, there can always be another. When Zeref conquers the world, resistance will rise. As the one who revives him, you could use them as the material to restore yourself. What do you say?"
He whispered in her ear, only to vanish again before she could counter.
"Decide quickly, Ikaruga. Otherwise, I'll kill you here and now, and fulfill my dream without you."
Golden light streaked endlessly, darting from angle to angle, faster than sight could follow.
Ikaruga's breath slowed. Her guard lowered slightly, her body loosening as though she were truly considering his words.
"…Indeed. If what you say is true… then perhaps offering myself as a sacrifice would be best." Her tone was quiet, as though she spoke only to convince herself.
For an instant, Jellal faltered. His movement paused ever so slightly, perhaps intending to halt his attack.
And that instant was enough.
"Mugetsu-ryu!!"
Her blade carved out a perfect arc, cleaving the golden streak in two. Jellal's form split cleanly down the middle.
Ikaruga exhaled deeply, relief softening her features.
"Is that so? What a pity."
The words came from behind her ear.
Before she could react, a hand burst through her abdomen. Agonizing pain roared through her body. Blood gushed from her lips. Her blade slipped from her fingers.
She looked down in disbelief at the bloodied hand piercing through her. "Impossible…"
"You didn't think I'd invite you here without preparing, did you? You've lingered in this tower for a month. You suspected you were nothing more than spare sacrifices. And yet you still let your guard down."
His mocking voice was like venom, sneering at her foolishness.
"…I see. So it was decided from the beginning."
Her eyes dimmed, but her hand—shaking, bloody—reached up to caress Jellal's face gently, as though to etch into her soul the visage of the man who had killed her.
Her voice rasped, weak and broken, yet carrying the weight of finality:
"Then… Lord Jellal… may you succeed."
"Don't worry. I'll revive you—so long as this ritual succeeds."
Jellal crouched before her, brushing a finger across her cheek.
Whether those words were genuine or simply to buy time until her life drained away, no one could know.
With a wave of his hand, the lacrima beneath them rippled like liquid. It swallowed Ikaruga whole.
Her eyes opened one final time, a streak of crimson slipping down her cheek. Then she smiled faintly.
The world will never move according to your designs.
Jellal!!!