The inhuman roar did not travel through air or eardrums.
It was something far more fundamental — a filthy ripple that struck directly at the soul, carrying with it the purest malice and madness as it exploded outward in all directions.
Standing at the rear, Gildarts' expression darkened. For someone as overwhelmingly powerful as him, even he felt a creeping coldness rising from the depths of his soul — a viscous pressure, like countless wet tendrils slithering toward his mind. He was forced to channel his immense magic power, building a firm barrier around his consciousness just to keep the corruption at bay.
Erza gave a low groan. Pain flashed across her crimson eyes as her grip on her sword instinctively tightened.
Mental pollution. Spiritual distortion.
This was one of the shadow demon's most poisonous — and least defendable — methods of attack.
Yet the same spiritual assault that could drive any mage to their knees brushed against Arashi like a gentle breeze.
His mind was a boundless ocean of stars.
His magical core, the blazing essence of the heavens themselves.
This petty darkness could not even stir a ripple within his awareness.
"Too slow."
Arashi's calm voice cut cleanly through the roar, sharp as a blade.
He faced the massive, pulsing bulk of the creature — a mass of shadows and scarlet eyes surging toward him — with eyes as tranquil as still water.
The next moment, his figure vanished.
Not blurred by speed, not concealed by illusion — he truly disappeared, erased from existence for a breath of time.
No sound. No trace of magic. It was as if the space he occupied had been physically carved away.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Under the black dome of the cavern, threads of silver light suddenly flared — only to vanish in the next instant.
They were lightning made of starlight, trails of falling comets weaving through the darkness.
Each flash crossed another, intersecting wildly, forming a tightening web of pure light. And at the center of that web, ensnared and helpless, was the massive shadow demon.
Arashi's speed had gone beyond what even the eye — or instinct — could track.
Even Gildarts, the man known as Fairy Tail's strongest, could only faintly sense the afterimages through battle intuition, glimpsing flickers of light too fast to comprehend.
Each flicker marked a spatial jump.
Each appearance, a strike landing with pinpoint precision at the weakest points of the demon's defense — the clusters of sickening, red eyes.
And then came the blows.
BOOM!
A low, thunderous impact resounded.
Arashi appeared upon the demon's left shoulder — the densest cluster of eyes.
On his right fist, starlight condensed to its absolute peak, forming the burning core of a miniature star, and he drove it straight into the pulsing mass of shadow.
There was no blood or gore — only the sharp hiss of corruption being vaporized.
The dozen or so eyes and the surrounding mass melted in an instant, dissolving under the divine heat of pure light.
A gaping wound glowed white-hot at the demon's shoulder.
"ROAAARRR—!!"
The pain twisted the creature's bellow into a shriek.
Dozens of thick, serpentine tendrils of shadow erupted from its body, whipping through the air like furious pythons, smashing toward Arashi with mountain-crushing force.
But every strike landed on nothing.
Only fading remnants of starlight.
BOOM!
Another explosion — this time from its back.
Arashi's form appeared behind it, and his leg, charged with spiraling force, smashed into another cluster of eyes, shattering them into light.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The assault did not pause.
Arashi moved like a phantom weaving through dimensions — an emissary of starlight sent to judge the dark.
Each strike landed with surgical precision and crushing power.
Every punch, every kick seared the demon's body with the purifying might of the stars, leaving behind glowing wounds that widened, burning the creature from within.
The dark energy writhed and boiled under the relentless light.
In Erza and Gildarts' eyes, the once invincible, terrifying shadow demon had become little more than a sluggish, helpless sandbag — pounded into submission by the storm of starlight.
It couldn't even counterattack.
Its enormous body withered before their eyes, its roars shifting from fury to agony, from agony to terror.
Arashi's blows continued — but his focus shifted deeper.
He was measuring.
Calculating.
Waiting.
And when the demon's size had been reduced to less than half, when its roar weakened into a dying whimper, when every trace of resistance had vanished — he knew.
"It's time."
He launched his Resonance Magic.
In that instant, the world changed.
The noise vanished.
The cavern dissolved.
Even the demon's hulking form blurred away.
Everything became streams of energy, a world painted in flowing magic.
And deep within the demon, one distinct source pulsed — a black heart.
It was not flesh. It was the fused essence of the Black Sails Guild's past masters — their fragmented souls bound to a demon's contract. The core of its existence.
Now.
Arashi flashed forward one last time, appearing at the creature's chest.
They were face-to-face. Hundreds of red eyes reflected his calm silhouette, contracting in terror as his right hand rose.
That dragon-scaled, radiant hand drove straight into its heart.
It felt like plunging into cold, rotting mud.
"ROAAAAARRR!!!"
The demon screamed — not with voice, but with soul.
"Magic Engraving Furnace — Forge!"
Golden light erupted from Arashi's eyes, twin suns blazing.
The celestial furnace within him roared to life, devouring with unstoppable force.
An overwhelming pull erupted from his arm — dragging the demon's very essence, its corrupted soul and contract magic, into his body.
"No… no—!!"
The demon's final cry was drowned in the roar of collapsing magic.
The torrent of black energy was sucked into the depths of his soul — into the star-forge that burned within his spirit.
BOOM!
A brilliant inferno of starlight surged upward, engulfing every fragment of chaos, madness, and hatred.
Refining.
Purifying.
Condensing.
All impurities — the souls of guildmasters, the twisted wills, the curses — were consumed, leaving behind only the purest concept of Shadow itself.
When the last trace of darkness faded, Arashi slowly withdrew his hand.
In his palm, the remaining light collapsed inward, coalescing.
A new Magic Engraving formed — a mark blacker than ink, deep enough to swallow light itself.
And yet, across its surface ran fine silver veins of starlight, flowing like a living galaxy.
The aura it released was utterly paradoxical — at once abyssal and divine.
—"Shadow Engraving," successfully forged.
(End of Chapter)
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