"Courting death!"
A roar like thunder rolled through the narrow alley.
"Iron Fist" Grol's bones cracked with a hideous series of pops. His already massive body began to distort under his fury. Every muscle fiber twisted, swelled, and hardened. His skin lost its color, turning into a gray-black metal sheen that gleamed with a cold luster.
It wasn't armor. It was his flesh itself turning into steel.
The stone beneath his feet fractured under his sudden increase in density and weight, spiderweb cracks spreading outward as he sank slightly into the ground.
The air grew heavy—crushing, suffocating.
"Let's see you survive my Iron Fist!"
Grol grinned, revealing metallic teeth, his expression brutal and manic.
He raised his fully steel-forged arm, his massive fist blocking the moonlight at the mouth of the alley, casting a shadow of death. He twisted his torso, channeling all his power into a single strike.
The fist flew.
It wasn't a punch anymore—it was a cannon shell. The air screamed as it tore apart, a visible ring of compressed air forming around it.
His target was Arashi's head.
That blow could have smashed through Hargeon's harbor walls—could have pulverized a mountain.
The Black Sails thugs lining the alley wore cruel, gleeful smiles. To them, the black-haired boy was already dead—his skull about to burst like a watermelon struck by a hammer, a blood-splattered offering to their superior.
One nearby thug even licked his cracked lips, eyes shining with morbid excitement.
High above, on the clock tower—
The night wind tossed Erza's crimson hair, but she felt no chill. A wave of dread rose from within her, making every muscle tense.
The boy looked so fragile.
Against Grol's mountain-crushing strike, he seemed like a lone leaf before a storm, about to be swallowed whole.
Her fingers whitened on her sword hilt. Instinct screamed louder than reason; her magic was already surging, waiting for her command to flash forth.
But in that fleeting instant—
Facing a strike that would make even elite mages blanch—
Arashi didn't move.
He stood still, as motionless as a statue, wind stirring his cloak and hair.
He slowly raised his right hand.
No glowing magic circle. No outburst of power.
His motion was calm, unhurried, almost graceful—like brushing dust off his shoulder.
And as Grol's roaring fist swept the air before his face, Arashi spoke softly—so softly it was nearly lost in the wind.
"Jūryoku Chinatsu (Gravity Suppression)."
Hummm—
The world fell silent.
A formless, soundless, weightless, yet irresistible power descended from above, engulfing the entire alley.
It was not wind. Not force. Not any known element.
It was the rewriting of reality itself.
The weight of space—had been changed.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely.
Grol's fist stopped less than half a meter from Arashi's nose.
Frozen.
Defying all physical law.
Its terrifying momentum vanished as if erased by an unseen god's hand.
Grol's face shifted in an instant—
From rage, to shock, to utter incomprehension—ending in raw terror.
He felt it.
Not a blow.
But his own body—his proud, iron flesh—every cell, every drop of blood—suddenly grew unbearably heavy!
An invisible mountain had manifested within his soul and crushed his body beneath it!
"Guh…"
A strangled sound escaped his throat.
Then—
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"
A scream tore from him—inhuman, shrill, broken.
His steel body crumpled like paper under that unseen weight.
Crack! Snap!
A storm of bone-breaking sounds filled the air.
His legs gave way. He crashed to his knees, the cobblestones denting deeply beneath him.
But it didn't stop.
The invisible gravity grew stronger—tenfold, a hundredfold.
"Im… impossible…"
Grol's eyes bulged, veins bursting. He tried to move, to summon magic—but his mana was frozen solid inside him, immovable.
He could only feel his bones grind to dust.
And he wasn't alone.
Behind him, every Black Sails member screamed in terror.
Their bodies were pinned by invisible hands.
Their magic, their training, their strength—all useless. No matter how they strained, they couldn't move an inch.
One by one, they were forced down—knees bending, spines arching, faces crushed into the dirt.
Then—
BOOM!
The alley caved in, forming a crater more than ten meters wide. Cracks raced outward like lightning, debris flying.
From Grol's punch to their total collapse—less than three seconds.
The battle ended in an instant—
Absurdly, impossibly, completely.
On the clock tower—
Erza's brown eyes were wide with disbelief. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her hand trembled around her sword.
She had imagined countless outcomes—
The boy might dodge faster. Counterattack harder. Don armor and block the blow.
But not this.
He hadn't even moved.
He'd spoken two words.
And the fight was over.
Even Gildarts, usually unshaken and lazy, the strongest mage of Fairy Tail, stood tense and silent.
His gaze fixed on the boy standing calmly in the crater below. In his eyes roiled a storm.
"What… kind of magic is that?"
Erza's voice was hoarse, dry.
"I don't know…"
Gildarts' voice was the same. His broad hand had clenched into a fist.
"No known system matches that. Gravity magic exists, but it always leaves clear mana waves and visible circles. That kid didn't use a single one…"
His mind raced, searching his vast magical knowledge, finding nothing.
It wasn't magic.
It was authority.
A divine authority—power that bent reality to words alone.
He stared at the black-haired boy, calm, composed, as if he'd done nothing at all.
Gildarts' pupils tightened sharply.
That boy… was an unfathomable monster.
(End of Chapter)
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