The Magnolias Hinterlands had become a theater of war unlike anything Fiore had ever seen. High above the rocky canyons, the headquarters of the Dark Guild Tartaros—the Cube—hung in the sky, a broken monument to Blake's power.
Split cleanly down the middle by the Dark Cloak Dimension Slash, the two halves of the massive stone island drifted slightly apart, connected only by crumbling bridges of rock and the desperate, failing gravity magic of the core. The fissure allowed sunlight to pierce the gloom of the demon fortress, but it also turned the interior into a chaotic, exposed battlefield.
Smoke billowed from the breach. Explosions bloomed like ugly flowers against the grey stone.
Perched on the high ridge overlooking the floating ruin, Blake Corvus sat with the stillness of a statue. His eyes scanned the destruction with cold calculation. Beside him, Brandish $\mu$ sat with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of green hair, looking utterly bored despite the apocalypse unfolding above.
"They're fighting hard," Brandish noted, watching a flash of crimson lightning detonate a section of the eastern wing.
"That's Natsu," Blake exhaled a plume of smoke. "If he's quiet, he's losing. Noise is good."
"Are we going back in?" Brandish asked. "I could just shrink the whole island into a pebble, you know. It would save a lot of time."
"No," Blake said, his gaze shifting to the highest spire of the fortress, where the magical signature of the Underworld King, Mard Geer, pulsed. "Not yet. We need the clock to strike midnight."
"Midnight?"
"Face," Blake said, the word heavy. "The weapon to wipe out magic. It has to activate."
Brandish frowned, her apathy slipping for a second. "You want them to wipe out magic? That seems... counter-productive to the whole 'saving the world' thing."
"I don't want magic gone," Blake corrected. "I want the response to the threat. Face is the alarm clock. When it rings, the sleepy heads wake up. And when they wake up... the big dog comes sniffing."
---
Inside the split Cube, chaos reigned.
The Fairy Tail mages had descended like avenging angels.
Erza Scarlet was a blur of steel and magic. Wearing her Clear Heart Clothing, she danced through a squad of armored demons. Her twin katanas were extensions of her will, carving through the enemy lines.
"Push forward!" Erza commanded, kicking a demon off the ledge into the open sky. "Secure the perimeter! Wendy, destroy the Face control link!"
"I'm on it!" Wendy Marvell shouted. She was in her Dragon Force mode, her hair glowing pink, wind swirling around her like a hurricane. She blasted through a wall, heading for the central control pillar.
But the Nine Demon Gates were not fodder.
Ezel, the tentacle-armed demon, intercepted Wendy. "A little girl? I'll tear you apart!"
Franmalth was absorbing the souls of unsuspecting guild members, growing larger and more grotesque.
Keyes, the Necromancer, floated through the battlefield like a mist, raising the fallen soldiers to fight their former comrades.
Lucy Heartfilia found herself cornered by a horde of minions led by Lamy.
"Open, Gate of the Lion! Loke!" Lucy screamed.
Loke appeared in a flash of light, punching two demons at once. "Sorry I'm late, my love. Traffic in the Spirit World."
"Less flirting, more fighting!" Lucy yelled, cracking her whip.
But Lamy cackled, sending a wave of slipping slime across the floor. "Slippery, slippery! You can't stand!"
Suddenly, the ceiling above them vanished.
Or rather, it didn't vanish; it became microscopic. A massive chunk of masonry that was about to crush Lucy was instantly reduced to the size of a grain of sand.
Brandish dropped down from the upper level, landing softly beside Lucy. She wore her long coat and a disinterested expression.
"You're making a mess," Brandish sighed.
"Brandish?!" Lucy gasped. "You came to help?"
"Blake told me to stretch my legs," Brandish muttered. She looked at Lamy.
"You're annoying."
Lamy giggled. "And who are you, human?"
Brandish raised her hand. She pinched her fingers together.
"Command T."
Lamy's head... shrank.
Her body remained the same size, but her head became the size of a pea. Her voice turned into a high-pitched, unintelligible squeak.
Lamy ran around in a panic, flailing blindly.
"Ew," Brandish stepped aside as the demon tripped. She looked at Lucy. "Is that all?"
"You... you're terrifying," Lucy sweat-dropped.
"I know," Brandish turned away. "I'm going to find another entertainment. Try not to die."
---
High in the central spire of the Cube, Mard Geer Tartaros sat on his throne. He held a book in his hand—the Book of E.N.D.
Kneeling before him was the traitor, former Chairman Crawford Seam.
"I did it!" Crawford wheezed, his eyes manic. "I transferred the Organic Link! The codes are yours! I found the last key! Now, give me my reward! Make me immortal! Make me one of you!"
Mard Geer closed the book. He looked at the human with eyes that held no compassion, only an ancient, botanical cruelty.
"You have served Mard Geer well," the Underworld King spoke in the third person. "The Face network is linked. Three thousand magical pulse bombs across the continent are ready."
"Yes! Yes!" Crawford reached out.
"However," Mard Geer stood up. Vines of thorns began to grow from his throne. "There is a slight complication. To activate the link remotely... a living key is required. But a dead key... is so much more stable."
"What?" Crawford froze.
"Thorn Curse."
SQUELCH.
A massive vine erupted from the floor, piercing Crawford's chest. The old man gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, as he was lifted into the air.
"You... promised..."
"Mard Geer promised you a place in the new world," the demon said smoothly. "You shall be the foundation."
Mard Geer channeled his curse power through Crawford's dying body. The necromancy took hold. Crawford died, but his magical signature remained active, frozen in a state of perpetual activation.
Click.
Across the entire continent of Ishgar, deep underground, three thousand statues opened their eyes.
The ground began to rumble.
FACE ACTIVATED.
The Reaction
A white light began to pulse from the Cube, signaling the broadcast of the anti-magic particles.
In the split hallway, Erza fell to her knees as the air suddenly felt heavy. "What... what is this?"
Warren's voice screamed over the telepathy network. "Master Mavis! Blake! The sensors are going crazy! Face has been activated! The countdown has started! We have less than an hour before all magic on the continent is erased!"
On the ridge, Brandish stood up, alarmed. "Blake! It's happening! If magic disappears, even my power goes away. We have to stop it!"
Blake remained seated. He took a long drag of his cigarette.
"Wait."
"Wait?!" Brandish yelled. "Did you hear me? We lose everything!"
"We don't," Blake said, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Because they are waking up."
"Who?!"
" The Kings."
---
While the world panicked, a battle of silence and ice was raging in the western wing of the Cube.
Gray Fullbuster slid across the frozen ground, panting heavily. His shirt was gone, discarded to allow his molding magic faster casting. His body was covered in bruises and ice burns.
Opposite him, Silver Fullbuster stood with his hands in his pockets. He hadn't broken a sweat.
"Is that it?" Silver taunted, kicking a sculpture of ice that Gray had created. "Ice-Make... it's a toy. A parlor trick. You cannot defeat a Demon Gate with sculptures."
"Shut up!" Gray roared. "Ice-Make: Cannon!"
He fired a massive cannonball of ice.
Silver opened his mouth and inhaled.
The cannonball shattered into snow and was sucked into Silver's gullet.
"Tasty," Silver wiped his mouth. "But cold. You have your mother's touch."
Gray froze. The anger that had been simmering boiled over.
"Don't you talk about her! You... you're using my father's face! My father's voice!"
Silver chuckled darkly. "Your father? Mika and Silver died in Deliora's attack years ago. I am merely the vessel that remains."
Gray's magic flared. It wasn't the clean, blue magic of before. It was jagged. Angry.
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
Gray charged. He abandoned defense. He crafted swords, hammers, lances—an endless barrage of ice.
Silver blocked, dodged, and ate the attacks. He countered with Ice Devil's Rage, a breath attack of purple blizzard that blasted Gray into a wall.
Gray crumpled. He was outmatched. His ice didn't work on a demon who ate ice.
Think, Gray told himself. Ur taught me to be flexible. If he eats ice... I have to give him something he can't eat.
Gray looked around. The debris from Blake's dimensional slash was everywhere. Stone. Metal. Rubble.
He grabbed a rock.
He eats ice. He doesn't eat rocks.
Gray stood up. He was bleeding from his forehead.
"Ice-Make... Vambrace!"
He coated his arms in ice armor.
"Come on, Deliora!"
Silver scoffed. "More ice?"
He raised his hand to catch Gray's punch, intending to freeze him solid.
Gray threw a punch.
But at the last second, he channeled his magic not into the ice, but around it. He used the ice as a catapult.
"Ice-Make: Debris Cannon!"
Gray slammed his hands onto the rubble. He froze a massive chunk of stone from the ruined fortress, encased it in a thin layer of ice, and launched it.
Silver laughed. "I told you, I eat—"
He bit into the projectile.
CRUNCH.
His teeth hit solid stone.
"Gah!" Silver gagged, spitting out the rock. "Stone?!"
"You can't eat the castle!" Gray screamed.
He didn't give Silver a moment to recover.
"Ice-Make: Vambrace... SEVEN SLICE DANCE!"
Gray closed the distance. He wasn't using ice projectiles. He was using the ice on his elbows and knees to boost his speed, turning himself into a human missile.
He punched Silver in the gut.
He kneed him in the chin.
He spun and kicked him in the temple.
Silver stumbled back, actually hurt for the first time.
"You clever little brat..."
Gray grabbed a piece of steel rebar protruding from the floor. He flash-froze it into a spear.
"This is for my father!"
He threw it.
Silver caught it—but the moment he touched it, Gray yelled:
"Clone!"
An ice clone of Gray materialized behind Silver, holding another stone.
SMASH.
The rock connected with the back of Silver's head.
Silver fell to his knees.
Gray stood over him, breathing hard. He formed a massive sword of ice, holding it to Silver's neck.
"It's over."
Silver looked up. The malice in his eyes faded. The dark aura vanished.
He smiled. A genuine, warm smile.
"You win, Gray."
Gray paused. The sword trembled in his hands. "What...?"
"You've grown strong," Silver said softly. "Stronger than I ever was."
"Stop it!" Gray shouted. "Stop sounding like him!"
"I am not a demon." Silver admitted, his voice fading. "I am Silver Fullbuster. I died seventeen years ago. Keyes, the Necromancer, brought me back as a corpse doll for his experiment. But I retained my soul."
Gray dropped the sword. "Dad...?"
"I wanted to die," Silver said, tears forming in his undead eyes. "But I couldn't kill myself. And I couldn't leave knowing the demons were still out there. So I spent years secretly hunting them. Eating them. Learning Ice Devil Slayer Magic to destroy E.N.D."
He looked at his son.
"But then I saw you at the Grand Magic Games. I saw what a man you had become. And I knew... my mission was done. I just needed you to be the one to end me."
"No," Gray fell to his knees, grabbing his father's shoulders. "No! I just got you back! Don't go!"
"I was never really here, son," Silver reached out, touching Gray's face. His hand was cold, but the gesture was warm. "I'm already dead. But my power... my magic... it can be yours."
Silver's body began to glow. Black markings—runic and sharp—began to crawl from Silver's skin onto Gray's arms.
"Accept this gift. The power to slay demons. The power to protect your family."
"Dad..." Gray sobbed.
"Live, Gray," Silver whispered as his body began to dissolve into particles of light. "Live and burn bright. Your mother and I... we are so proud."
Silver Fullbuster vanished.
Gray sat alone in the frozen ruins. The silence was deafening.
He looked at his right arm.
A black tattoo covered half his chest and his arm. The air around him dropped to absolute zero.
Gray stood up. He wiped his tears. His eyes were no longer the eyes of a boy. They were the eyes of a Devil Slayer.
"Tartaros..." Gray whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, cold rage. "I will freeze you all in hell."
---
In the eastern wing, Natsu Dragneel was locked in combat with a regenerated demon.
But suddenly, he stopped.
He clutched his chest.
"Gah!"
"What's wrong?" Lucy yelled, running to him. "Natsu?"
Thump.
A heartbeat. Loud enough to shake the floor.
Thump. Thump.
"It's coming..." Natsu gasped, his eyes widening. "He's... coming out!"
The ground beneath the Cube began to shake violently. Not from the Face bombs, but from something far more primal.
Across the continent of Ishgar, the earth cracked open.
From the mountains. From the oceans. From the valleys.
Sky Dragon Grandeeney emerged from the clouds.
Iron Dragon Metalicana burst from the earth.
White Dragon Weisslogia and Shadow Dragon Skiadrum materialized from the light and dark.
And from Natsu Dragneel's body... a pillar of fire erupted that pierced the heavens.
The flames swirled, coalescing into a form so massive it dwarfed the Tartaros headquarters.
Red scales. Massive wings. A roar that shook the soul.
The Fire Dragon King, Igneel.
"DAD!" Natsu screamed, tears streaming down his face.
Igneel hovered over the split Cube. He looked down at the demons, then at the pulsating light of Face.
"Men of Tartaros," Igneel's voice was like thunder. "You seek to end magic? You are a thousand years too early."
Igneel took a deep breath.
"Iron! Sky! Shadow! White! DESTROY THEM!"
The dragons scattered across the continent with impossible speed. They dove toward the Face statues.
They didn't need codes. They didn't need keys.
They smashed them. They melted them. They tore them apart.
Within seconds, the network that threatened to erase magic was being systematically dismantled by the apex predators of the world.
---
On the ridge, Brandish's jaw was unhinged.
"Dragons..." she whispered. "Real dragons. They were inside the slayers?"
Blake said, finally standing up. "They hid inside to prevent the dragonification of the kids. And to wait for this moment."
"They're destroying Face," Brandish realized. "You knew? You knew they would save us?"
"I gambled," Blake admitted. "But the payout is coming now."
He pointed to the sky.
The blue sky turned black.
Not from clouds. From pressure.
The wind stopped. The birds stopped singing. The world held its breath.
A sound tore through the atmosphere. It wasn't a roar. It was the sound of the sky screaming in pain.
From the rift in the clouds, a shadow descended.
It was black. Pure, abyssal black with blue glowing markings. It had wings that blocked out the sun. It had eyes that looked at the dragons like they were insects.
Acnologia.
The Dragon King. The Harbinger of the Apocalypse.
He roared.
The shockwave of the roar alone shattered the remaining windows of the Cube. It knocked Natsu and the others flat on their faces. Even Igneel looked up with a grim expression.
"ACNOLOGIA!" Igneel roared, flying up to meet the threat.
The two titans clashed in the sky. Fire met destruction. The impact created a shockwave that flattened the forest below.
---
On the ridge, Blake smiled.
It was a terrifying smile. A smile of pure, unadulterated violence.
His aura exploded.
It wasn't the contained power he used for sparring. It wasn't the sharp power he used to cut the Cube.
It was an ocean of Haki. A Conqueror's Haki so dense that the rocks around him began to crack and float into the air. The sky above him turned purple.
Brandish stepped back, trembling. She had never felt this. This wasn't magic. This was willpower manifest.
"He's here," Blake said.
---
The Black Dragon, Acnologia, and the Fire Dragon King, Igneel, were rushing toward one another, their collision destined to shatter the very atmosphere.
On the ridge, Blake Corvus stood still amidst the gale-force winds. He reached up and unclasped his heavy cloak. It slid off his shoulders, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, instantly forgotten. He rolled his shoulders, the joints popping audibly, a boxer preparing for the final round.
"Brandish," Blake said, his voice low but cutting through the roar of the dragons.
Brandish looked at him, her usual apathy replaced by a flicker of genuine concern.
"Keep them safe," Blake ordered. "Don't let the demons interfere. And don't let anyone come near us."
Brandish nodded, stepping back. "Understood. Just... don't die."
Blake didn't answer. He bent his knees, the ground beneath him turning to powder.
"Geppo."
BOOM.
The sound was like a cannon firing. Blake vanished from the ridge, launching himself into the sky like a human missile. He tore through the air, breaking the sound barrier instantly, heading straight for the point of impact where the two dragons were about to collide.
Acnologia, focused entirely on the threat of Igneel, didn't sense the smaller, denser power rocketing toward his blind spot. He pulled his head back to roar, his jaws opening to crush the Fire Dragon King.
Blake appeared right above Acnologia's snout.
He wound his right fist back. His arm turned pitch black, coated in the highest density of Armament Haki, crackling with red electricity.
"GALAXY IMPACT!"
Blake drove his fist down.
The impact was cataclysmic. It wasn't just a punch; it was a concentrated nuclear detonation. Acnologia's head was smashed downward with violent force. The Dragon King's eyes widened in shock as his massive body was spiked out of the sky, plummeting toward the rocky wasteland below.
Igneel hovered in the air, stunned, his momentum halted. He looked at the human floating where the Black Dragon had just been.
"Igneel!" Blake shouted, not looking back. "He's my opponent! Go find Natsu! You have a family to reconnect with!"
"Human..." Igneel rumbled, sensing the familiarity in Blake's aura. "You intend to fight the Apocalypse alone?"
"We have a score to settle," Blake said, his eyes fixed on the dust cloud below. "Go!"
Igneel hesitated, then nodded with a snort of respect, diving toward the ruins of the Cube where Natsu was waiting.
Down below, the dust cleared.
Acnologia rose from the crater. He shook his head, a low, vibrating growl emanating from his throat. He looked up, his slit pupils narrowing as he locked onto the figure descending toward him.
He recognized that scent. He recognized that power.
It was the only human who had ever made him bleed. The only one who had fought him for twenty-one days and nights on Tenrou Island before Acnologia had been forced to retreat.
He looked at his own left side—where a massive scar tissue covered the stump of a missing arm. The arm he had taken.
Blake landed softly on a spire of rock, fifty meters away.
He smirked. "Miss me?"
Acnologia threw his head back and roared, a sound that shook the tectonic plates.
"HUMAN!" Acnologia bellowed, his voice dripping with ancient malice and excitement. "I have been waiting for our rematch! The one who stole my arm... the one who refused to die!"
"You look good, Acnologia," Blake cracked his knuckles. "One arm suits you. It makes you look... vulnerable."
"Vulnerable?!" Acnologia lunged. "I am the Dragon King! I am the end of eras!"
Blake dove from the spire. Acnologia met him halfway.
Blake's fist, coated in Haki.
Acnologia's remaining claw, coated in destruction magic.
CLASH.
They met in mid-air. The shockwave flattened the surrounding landscape, pulverizing boulders into sand. The air pressure dropped so sharply that lightning spontaneously formed around them.
They separated, landing on opposite sides of the canyon.
"Today," Blake said, drawing his black katana, the sealed form of Tensa Zangetsu. "Only one of us lives."
"I was thinking the same thing," Acnologia grinned, a terrifying expression on a dragon's face.
Acnologia flared his massive wings, sending a barrage of magical energy blades toward Blake.
Blake didn't dodge. He unsheathed Tensa Zangetsu.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Moving at blinding speeds, Blake deflected every single energy blade, his sword a blur of motion.
"Is that all?" Acnologia mocked, charging forward to swipe with his tail.
Blake jumped, flipping over the tail, slashing at Acnologia's scales. Sparks flew—the Dragon's scales were harder than diamond.
Meanwhile, near the wreckage of the Cube, the reunion was taking place.
Natsu stood before Igneel. Gajeel before Metalicana. Wendy before Grandeeney. Sting and Rogue with Weisslogia and Skiadrum.
But the reunion was overshadowed by the spectacle in the distance.
"Who is fighting Acnologia?" Sting gasped, watching the black and blue flashes of light tearing up the horizon.
"Is that... a dragon?"
"No," Natsu watched with wide eyes. "That's Blake."
"He's fighting the Black Dragon on equal footing," Metalicana grunted, crossing his iron arms. "That human... he is a monster among monsters."
Back in the canyon, Blake skidded backward, his feet carving trenches in the ground. He was panting slightly. Acnologia was relentless.
Blake stood up straight. The playfulness vanished from his eyes.
He held his sword out to the side. The air around him grew heavy, suffocating.
"Let's start the real party."
Blake gripped the hilt with both hands.
"Show me your true form... Tensa Zangetsu."
BOOOOM.
It wasn't an explosion of fire or lightning. It was an eruption of pure, unadulterated spiritual pressure. A column of black and crimson energy blasted upward from Blake's position, piercing the clouds and dyeing the sky the color of dried blood.
The ground cracked in a spiderweb pattern for fifty meters. The mages in the distance were forced to shield their eyes as a gale-force wind whipped through the clearing.
Inside the pillar of energy, Blake's silhouette began to change. His standard combat attire disintegrated, replaced by woven threads of spiritual energy. The sword in his hand liquefied, reshaping itself, evolving.
As the light dimmed, the guild stared in awe.
Blake stood there, but he looked different. His skin was unblemished and radiating vitality. He was wearing a long, tattered black coat with a crimson interior, the fabric moving as if it were alive, snapping in the aura that poured off him.
Gone was the simple black katana. In its place, held firmly in Blake's grip, was a weapon of terrifying beauty.
It resembled a large, modified Khyber knife. The inner part of the blade was a deep, void-like black, forming the cutting edge and the handle, wrapped in black cloth similar to his old sword. But the back of the blade was different—a slanted, silver-grey steel that jutted out to form a rugged guard.
From the base of the handle, a heavy black chain extended, looping over the top of the blade and attaching near the tip, creating a brutal, industrial aesthetic.
It looked less like a sword and more like a tool designed to butcher gods.
"I haven't used this since fighting Ankhseram," Blake said, his voice echoing with a metallic resonance. He lifted the massive blade with one hand as if it weighed nothing.
Erza, watching from afar, felt a shiver run down her spine. "That form... that's the power that held off the apocalypse for three weeks."
Blake pointed the silver tip of the blade at the Dragon King.
"Ready for round two, lizard?"