We climbed.
And we kept climbing.
And we climbed some more.
The spiral staircase inside that unholy tower seemed to have no end, a lazy and terribly literal metaphor for a journey to hell. Each black stone step was identical to the last, worn smooth by time and, I suspected, by the tears of generations of slaves. The torches that burned with a sick, green light on the walls seemed to flicker at a regular, unnerving interval, like the eyes of some colossal creature slumbering in the bowels of the structure, watching our passage with a hungry indifference. The air, with every flight of stairs we conquered, grew thicker, more charged with that sick energy that emanated from the very structure of the tower, a smell of ozone, dark magic, and regret that clung to the back of my throat.
"How many… pant… how many floors… does this cursed tower have…?" Natsu gasped a few steps below me. For someone who, a few hours before, was ready to fight an army, his current physical condition was, frankly, pathetic. Apparently, steep stairs were his second and most wicked mortal enemy, right after any form of transport invented by humanity.
"More than your deplorable cardiovascular endurance and your apparently ornamental legs can handle," I replied, without slowing my rhythmic and efficient pace, not even looking back.
"Oi! My legs are brilliant! They're dragon legs!" he protested, his breath failing. "It's just that… climbing stairs is… it's terribly… boring!"
"Of course. 'Boring'. That's exactly why you're breathing like a blacksmith's bellows with asthma."
"Shut up, you know-it-all white wolf!"
[A fascinating observation, Azra'il,] Eos's voice sounded in my mind, with the tone of a scientist observing the bizarre behaviour of a new species. [Natsu Dragneel's physiological data indicates that he can maintain a high-intensity combat level for hours, without showing significant signs of fatigue. However, fifteen minutes of constant vertical ascent leave him at the limit of his aerobic capacity. The physiology of Dragon Slayers is, indeed… peculiar and utterly devoid of logic.]
(Peculiar is the most polite way I've ever heard of saying "completely and utterly without the slightest sense." It's as if his stamina only works if he's shouting and punching something.)
[I was trying to be diplomatic, considering he is part of your… team.]
(Since when do you care about diplomacy, Eos?)
[Since I realised that diplomacy, occasionally, spares me from having to listen to your long, exasperated sighs. It is a matter of optimising auditory resources.]
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of identical steps and a symphony of Natsu's panting complaints (punctuated by Gray's not-at-all helpful comments about "flame-brains who get tired easily"), the staircase opened into a large hall. I stopped abruptly on the threshold, the rest of the group piling up behind me. My eyes instantly scanned every corner, every shadow, every particle of dust in the air, with a caution that came from millennia of experience with places that seemed too good to be true.
And this place definitely seemed too good.
The hall was vast, with a vaulted ceiling so high it was lost in darkness, supported by massive pillars of polished black stone. And it was lit. Not by the sick green light of the torches, but by immense crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, emitting a warm, golden, and welcoming light, a contrast so stark and so purposeful with the oppressive atmosphere of the rest of the tower that my internal "obvious trap" alarm started to blare loudly. Rich tapestries, woven with gold and silver thread, covered the walls, depicting scenes of celestial battles and the coronations of forgotten kings that, I was almost certain, I would rather not examine too closely. And in the centre of it all…
A table.
A single, long table, made of a dark wood so polished it reflected the light of the chandeliers, covered from end to end with a banquet. An absurd, opulent banquet, worthy of a hedonistic king or an extremely obvious trap for a group of hungry and not very clever heroes. There were pyramids of fresh and exotic fruits, roasted meats still steaming, golden and crusty breads, platters of cheeses of all kinds, crystal jugs filled with red wine, brightly coloured juice, and elaborately decorated cakes that would make Erza have a nervous breakdown of pure happiness. Steaming dishes of pasta and stews released an aroma that was, without a doubt, delicious. And, above all, deadly.
"This…" I began, my instincts, honed by countless lives of avoiding poisonings, ambushes, and particularly dull family dinners, screaming on red alert. "Is ridiculous."
"FOOOOOD!" Natsu roared, and all the weariness from the stairs vanished in an instant, replaced by the primal hunger of a dragon. He shot past me like a pink blur and, without the slightest hesitation, without a shred of suspicion, threw himself into the nearest chair. In less than two seconds, he was already stuffing an entire roasted leg of some animal into his mouth, his eyes closed in ecstasy.
"Finally! Something decent in this cursed tower full of stairs!" Gray, who, to my surprise and disappointment, seemed to have completely lost any shred of common sense or self-preservation instinct, sat down on the other side of the table and, with a relieved smile, began to help himself generously to a platter of roast meat.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to process the scene.
(Eos. Please tell me I did not just witness two supposedly experienced mages, who are in the middle of an infiltration and rescue mission in an enemy tower controlled by a lunatic, sit down to cheerfully eat a mysterious banquet that has magically appeared out of thin air. Tell me it's a hallucination.)
[I regret to inform you, Azra'il, that your visual perception is functioning with perfect and painful clarity. They have indeed, in fact and without a shadow of a doubt, done exactly that,] Eos replied.
(And at no point, in their underdeveloped brains, did the remote and insignificant possibility cross their minds that the food could be, I don't know, POISONED? A MAGICAL TRAP? A PSYCHOLOGICAL TEST ON IMPULSE CONTROL?)
[Apparently, hunger, in specimens of Fairy Tail, handily trumps the basic instinct for survival. It is a fascinating and utterly counter-productive evolutionary trait. A noteworthy observation for my anthropological dossier.]
"ARE YOU TWO COMPLETELY, TOTALLY, AND IRREDEEMABLY, MAD?!" Lucy's voice exploded beside me, verbalising exactly what I was thinking, but with a volume and an indignation that I rarely allowed myself to express out loud. She was standing on the threshold of the room, her fists clenched at her sides, her face red with a frustration I understood perfectly. "We are in the MIDDLE of a life-or-death rescue mission! In an ENEMY TOWER controlled by a psychopath! And you idiots stop for a BANQUET?!"
"Cahm dahm, Luthy, relahx," Natsu tried to reply with his mouth completely full of food, bits of meat and bread flying in all directions. "We neehd a loh' of enuhgy to figh' upstaihs…"
"I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND A SINGLE BLOODY WORD OF WHAT YOU JUST SAID, YOU ANIMAL!"
"He said that we need energy to fight," Gray translated, surprisingly fluent in the "Natsu with a full mouth" dialect, which suggested that this scene was far more common than I had imagined. "And he's not entirely wrong, Lucy. We don't know what we'll be facing on the upper floors. It's better to go with a full stomach and our energy recharged."
"BUT WHAT IF THE FOOD IS POISONED?! OR CURSED?!" she shouted, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Gray, who was about to take a large bite of a piece of bread, paused for an instant, the bread halfway to his mouth. He looked at the bread. He looked at Lucy and her panicked expression. And he shrugged, as if the possibility of an agonising death by poison were a minor inconvenience. And he bit into the bread anyway, chewing with satisfaction. "Well, if it were poison, Natsu would already be dead, bloated, or, at the very least, puffing purple smoke from his ears. He's eaten half the table in the last thirty seconds."
"BUT THAT'S NOT AT ALL REASSURING!"
Juvia, for her part, oblivious to any danger, had strategically positioned herself in a chair next to Gray, just watching him eat with an expression of pure and absolute adoration. "My beloved Gray-sama eats in such an elegant and manly way…" she sighed, her heart-shaped eyes shining. "Juvia could watch Gray-sama chewing bread for the rest of eternity… It would be Juvia's paradise…"
"That's… extremely disturbing, Juvia," Gray muttered between bites, visibly uncomfortable with the intensity of her gaze.
"Juvia's true love for Gray-sama knows no bounds, nor the conventional and bourgeois concepts of what is or is not 'disturbing'!" she declared, with a conviction that was almost frightening.
I watched this pathetic scene for a moment, weighing my options. On the one hand, I knew, with an almost absolute certainty, that this was a trap. Perhaps not poison. Perhaps something more subtle. A sleep spell, a paralysis spell. Something to incapacitate us. On the other hand… they weren't entirely wrong about the need to recover their energy. We had fought, swum against the current, climbed endless flights of stairs. They were tired, even if Natsu and Gray were too stubborn to admit it. A brief, controlled break wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. And, as Gray had so astutely observed, if Jellal wanted to poison us, there were far more efficient and less theatrical ways to do it. And, of course, there was my more pragmatic and less altruistic thought…
(Besides, if they really do die from poisoning due to their own stupidity, at least I'll have fewer noisy and impulsive people to protect later. It would be a tragedy, of course, but a tragedy that would considerably simplify my mission.)
[That was dark even for your usual standards, Azra'il,] Eos commented.
(I know. I'm in a terrible mood. I haven't had my tea yet. And Erza is not here.)
I sighed, pushing myself off the pillar. The decision was made. If I couldn't stop them from being idiots, the least I could do was ensure they didn't die in the process. And maybe get something to eat as well. Those cakes did look really good. I approached the table and, with deliberate gestures, began to inspect the dishes, my eyes glowing subtly as I used a form of arcane sight to detect magical auras or poisonous substances.
"Is Azra'il not eating?" Juvia asked, momentarily distracted from her obsessive devotion to the chewing Gray.
"First, I'm checking if our host wasn't… overly hospitable and added some extra and unwanted ingredient to our banquet, such as, for example, arsenic, naga venom, or some slow putrefaction curse. Second," I finished my scan, and, to my surprise, found nothing but an excessive amount of butter and salt, "I'm not hungry. For now."
(How strange. No magical trap, no poison. Just… food. What is Jellal planning with this?)
While I pondered our enemy's tactics, I heard Lucy call for one of her spirits. I knew what was coming next. Privacy was a concept lacking in this group. I respectfully turned to the opposite side, facing one of the tapestries on the wall, which depicted a particularly bloody and tasteless battle between angels and demons. I knew how important privacy was, especially for a girl. I would give her this small and rare luxury, even if it were just for a few minutes. And it would give me an excuse not to have to watch Natsu eat.
I heard the soft sound of celestial magic, Lucy's voice asking for clothes. And then, the predictable and inevitable chaos ensued. Lucy's indignant scream, Gray's defensive protest, and Juvia's operatic outburst of jealousy. I just closed my eyes and sighed. That group's ability to turn the simplest situation, like a mere change of clothes, into a drama worthy of a fifth-rate soap opera was, at the same time, exhausting and, in a way I refused to admit, almost admirable.
"There," Lucy finally announced, her voice still carrying a remnant of irritation and shame. "You can look now. And Gray, if you dare to make ANY comment about… anything, I swear by all my twelve spirits that I will ask Virgo to bury you in a very, very deep hole."
I turned around, and I had to admit, the spirit Virgo had impeccable taste and, apparently, an ironic sense of humour. The dress was an elaborate creation of silks and tulles in shades of green, absurdly impractical for a rescue mission in a demonic tower, but which, somehow, suited Lucy perfectly, transforming her from a novice and slightly clumsy mage into something resembling a princess from a forgotten kingdom. She looked beautiful. And uncomfortable.
"You look… ready for a ball, not for a battle," I commented, with a slight smile.
"It was Virgo! And at least I'm not in a bikini anymore!" she defended herself. "Gray! Don't use Natsu as a human dryer!" I heard Lucy scold, exasperated.
"But why not? It's honestly the only real use he has in a damp environment."
"OI! I HEARD THAT, YOU SHIRTLESS PENGUIN!"
"THAT WAS EXACTLY FOR YOU TO HEAR, YOU WALKING LIGHTER WITH MOTION SICKNESS PROBLEMS!"
They faced each other, sparks, literal ones, in Natsu's case, flying between them. And Lucy sighed, the sound of defeat. "I give up on you two." Then her eyes turned to me, and she frowned, her gaze scanning my beach clothes, which were now dry but still wholly inadequate for the situation.
"Azra'il…" she began, her voice full of a growing disbelief. "With all the respect in the world, but… are you really going to try and save Erza dressed LIKE THAT?"
I looked down, at my loose Hawaiian shirt with its flower print, at my denim shorts, at my sandals. I shrugged. "What's the problem? It's comfortable. And aerodynamic."
"WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! Azra'il, you are about to invade a fortress of evil to rescue the woman you love, who is in the hands of her arch-enemy! This should be epic! Romantic! Worthy of a song! And you're going to show up dressed as if you're going to a Hawaiian luau after an afternoon at the beach?! That's not romantic! It's not epic! It's… it's… DEEPLY DISAPPOINTING!"
I stared at her for a long moment, processing her outburst of aesthetic indignation. "…Seriously? That's your biggest concern right now? My attire?"
"IT'S NOT ABOUT THE ATTIRE, IT'S ABOUT THE MOMENT! IT'S ABOUT THE ATMOSPHERE! THE DRAMA OF IT ALL! You should show up there, powerful, imposing, dressed in something that makes Erza look at you and think 'wow, she came to save me, and she looks absolutely stunning'! And not… and not in this!" She gestured at my Hawaiian shirt with an expression of pure aesthetic despair, as if it were the greatest offence she had ever witnessed.
And, for an instant, I saw it. I saw what she was saying. It wasn't about vanity. It was about… the gesture. About the importance of the moment. About showing Erza, through every detail, how seriously I was taking this, how important she was.
I sighed. A long, heavy sigh of pure resignation. (She… damn it, the blondie isn't completely wrong. I have been acting flippantly since the beach. Maybe… maybe it's time to stop.)
"Alright," I said finally, to everyone's surprise, taking my small rucksack from my back. "You win, Lucy. By the logic of romance and drama. I'll get changed."
"S-seriously?!" her eyes shone with a renewed hope.
"Seriously." I held up a finger, with a warning look. "But… you two, you curious perverts," my gaze swept over Lucy and then Juvia, who seemed suddenly very interested in the conversation, "will have to turn around."
"P-perverts?!" Lucy stammered, her face as red as a tomato. "I'm not a pervert!"
"Juvia vehemently protests this unfounded accusation!" Juvia declared, lifting her chin with an offended dignity that was almost convincing. "Juvia only has eyes for the sculpted body of my beloved Gray-sama! Juvia has not the slightest, most infinitesimal, interest in Azra'il's body! Even if, objectively speaking, Azra'il has a very beautiful body and an enviable abdomen that Juvia, with absolute certainty, definitely did NOT notice while she was in a bikini at the beach!"
"…You literally just admitted you noticed," I said, with a dryness that made her choke.
"JUVIA NOTICED NOTHING! IT WAS… IT WAS A TACTICAL ANALYSIS OF THE ENEMY'S DEFENCES! THE FRIEND'S! THE… OH, FORGET IT!"
Gray, on the other side of the table, held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and turned his face to the wall. "I, officially, have not the slightest bit of desire to see you naked, Azra'il. You can get changed in peace. I will be here, very, very busy looking at… at this extremely interesting stone wall. Wow, what a texture."
And Natsu… Natsu didn't even lift his head from his fourth bowl of stew. "Hm? Did someone say something about getting changed? Cool. Oi, this meat here is really good, you should try it…"
(At least one of them, a single one, has his priorities properly in order.)
[Debatable. But I understand your pragmatic point of view.]
"Brilliant," I said, pleased with the embarrassed chaos I had caused and with the promise of privacy. "So, turn around. All of you. Everyone with eyes and a shred of decency. No peeking."
With various grumbles, the group turned, giving me their backs. And I opened my rucksack, reaching my arm inside. To any outside observer, the rucksack was too small to fit anything other than a few basic belongings and, perhaps, a ukulele. But for me, it was the perfect excuse.
(Eos. Access inventory. Formal combat attire.)
[Accessing, Azra'il. Any preference of style or historical era?]
(An appropriate outfit. Something that satisfies Lucy's romantic standards but is still my style. Hanfu. Elegant. Imposing.)
[Understood. Processing… Several options found. I recommend the white silk set with black details and golden embroidery. Traditional style, but with a modern touch. Suitable for combat and for making a lasting impression.]
(Perfect. Materialise.)
I felt the soft fabric under my fingers and pulled. In a fluid, practised movement that took no more than a few seconds, I removed my beach clothes and put on the new set. The silk slid over my skin like water, fitting my body perfectly. It was a hanfu. But not just any hanfu. This was an outfit forged for battle and for royalty, one I hadn't worn in centuries. The inner tunic was of a snow-white silk, followed by a more structured outer layer of the same colour, with deep black details along the edges and wide sleeves that flowed like the wings of an angel of death.
A sleeveless waistcoat, of a black that seemed to swallow the light, with intricate golden embroidery that formed the design of intertwined dragons and phoenixes in patterns that told stories of forgotten ages and battles, covered my shoulders and descended to my waist. A wide sash, in black and gold, cinched my waist with ornamental jade pendants that tinkled softly with every movement.
The lower part was a long, flowing white skirt, with black side panels adorned with more golden embroidery, which moved like an ethereal mist as I walked. I tied my hair up in a partially raised style with a small golden ornament I had materialised, letting some of the long white strands fall over my shoulders. And I put on soft, white fabric shoes, silent and, despite their delicate appearance, perfect for combat.
"There," I announced, my voice a little lower, more… formal. "You can look now, you curious lot."
The group, one by one, turned around.
And the silence that followed was of a completely different quality than before.
Lucy was the first to react. Her eyes widened, then widened some more, as if trying to take in the sight. Her mouth fell open. "That… that is…" she stammered, unable to form a complete sentence. Gray, who was about to tease Natsu again, dropped the piece of bread he was holding, his mouth equally agape. Juvia blinked several times, as if her sensors were trying to process an image that didn't make sense. And even Natsu, the great Natsu Dragneel, stopped eating for a moment, his spoon halfway to his mouth, to look at me with an expression of pure and simple confusion, mixed with something that, to my astonishment, looked like… admiration.
I stood there, in the centre of that improvised banquet hall, bathed in the golden light of the chandeliers. The layers of white and black silk flowed around me with every breath, the golden embroidery catching the light, creating patterns that seemed to move and dance. I was no longer the tourist in the Hawaiian shirt. I was no longer the eccentric and lazy mage. I was not just Azra'il Weiss. I looked, at last, exactly what I was. An immortal cultivator, forged in countless ages of battle. A warrior dressed not just for combat, but for absolute victory. A woman who had, at last, decided to take the task of rescuing her love seriously.
"Wow…" Lucy finally managed to form a single, paltry word, a sigh. "Azra'il… you look… you look…"
"Appropriately dressed for a rescue that your friend considers romantic?" I suggested, with a slight smile that broke my own imposingness.
"YOU LOOK DIVINELY STUNNING!" Lucy exploded, her eyes shining. "Where, in the name of everything, did you get that outfit?! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life! It looks like something out of a fairy tale! Or a high-quality, unlimited-budget historical drama!"
I gestured with my chin at the small, battered rucksack that was now on the floor beside me. "From my rucksack. I'm very good at folding clothes."
Lucy looked at the rucksack. Looked at me. And back at the rucksack. Her romance-writer brain was clearly frying, trying to process how metres and metres of hand-embroidered silk, golden ornaments, and a complete set of clothes worthy of an empress had come out of something that would barely fit a sandwich and a water bottle. "That… that makes no sense," she said, her voice weak, logic abandoning her.
"Many things don't make sense in this universe, Lucy. You, for example, travel with a man who eats fire as if it were cotton candy, with a man who has a pathological aversion to wearing shirts, with a woman who turns into pure water when she's jealous, and you yourself summon spirits from another plane of existence through small, noisy golden keys. Is a rucksack with a little extra space really the strangest thing you've seen today?"
Lucy opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. And then she sighed, and her shoulders relaxed in a resigned and total acceptance. "You know what? You're absolutely right. I give up trying to question it. It's a magic rucksack. Why not? It makes as much sense as anything else in my life since the day I decided to join Fairy Tail."
"A healthy attitude that will spare you many headaches," I approved, with a nod.
"Juvia thinks Azra'il looks like an ice empress," Juvia commented, her eyes still wide. "Or a moon goddess. Or a moon-goddess-empress who commands armies. Juvia is… very impressed, even if Juvia will never admit it out loud. Wait. Juvia just admitted it out loud. Juvia will pretend that didn't happen. And Juvia still thinks Gray-sama is more handsome, of course."
"You look… different," Gray said, still clearly processing the transformation. "More… strong. More… dangerous. Like someone you definitely, under no circumstances, want to have as an enemy."
"Thank you, Gray. That was exactly the goal," I said.
"And you look like you're getting married!" Natsu added, finally swallowing the food that had been in his mouth for five minutes. "Like, a super cool warrior bride or something! That's cool! Are we going to fight now?"
(A warrior bride. It is not, by any means, the worst description I have ever received. I quite like it.)
[Technically, and considering your declared intentions regarding Erza Scarlet the day before, the term "bride" can be considered, by some standards, precognitively appropriate and with a high probability of future success,] Eos commented, and I could almost feel an AI's smile in her transmission.
(Eos. No. Not now. Shut up.)
[As you wish. Just logging the data.]
I adjusted the long, flowing sleeves of my hanfu, feeling the familiar weight of battle silk against my skin. It was comforting, in a way. A different kind of armour, more subtle, but armour nonetheless. And, more importantly, it was a reminder. A reminder of who I was, of where I came from, of all the battles I had already fought, of everything I had already survived to reach this very moment. A reminder of the promise I had made to myself.
"Now," I said, and my voice, now, held no trace of boredom or indifference. It held only a cold calm and an absolute determination. "If everyone has finished eating, admiring my clothes, having cosmic identity crises, and discussing the morality of looking at others' breasts…" I looked at the door on the other side of the hall, the one that clearly led to the upper floors of this tower of nightmares. "We have a certain stubborn redhead to rescue."
"FINALLY!" Natsu jumped from his chair with a war cry, flames already dancing on his fists. "LET'S KICK SOME ARSES AND BRING ERZA BACK!"
"And Happy!" Lucy added, her voice full of a new determination.
"And Happy too, of course! Especially Happy!"
"Juvia will fight with all the strength of her heart by the side of my beloved Gray-sama!" Juvia declared, assuming a determined pose. "And if any enemy dares to stand between Juvia and Gray-sama, Juvia will turn them into a puddle of watery regret and salty tears!"
"That… that doesn't really make sense, Juvia," Gray muttered, already getting up.
"LOVE, MY BELOVED, DOES NOT NEED TO MAKE SENSE! IT SIMPLY IS!"
I walked towards the dark door, the silk layers of my hanfu whispering with every step, the golden pendants on my waist tinkling softly, like little funeral bells. And behind me, I could hear the sounds of their footsteps following me, Fairy Tail in its purest form: noisy, chaotic, completely lacking in self-preservation, but undeniably, unshakeably, loyal to the end. And, at that moment, I was glad they were there. Even with all the noise.
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💬 Author's Notes
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Okay, first of all:
I FINALLY FINISHED MY EXAMS. 🎉😭
Did I survive? Yes.
Did I come out mentally unscathed? Debatable.
Did I pass most of them? Yes.
Was there one specific subject that looked me in the face and said "not today"? Yes, also. I failed it anyway, what can you do. It happens. University life sometimes comes flying in and chooses the victim of the week.
BUT aside from this localized academic humiliation, I'm finally free again and can focus on writing properly, which means:
I have time again to write chaos, trauma, romantic tension, and characters making absolutely questionable decisions more often. As it should be.
Now about the chapter
This chapter was basically a strategic pause between: "let's climb this damn tower" and "let's suffer emotionally and commit magical crimes".
Or, in more technical terms:
an interlude of silk and insanity, exactly as the title promises.
Because honestly? I love it when Fairy Tail goes into that mode:
suicide mission in enemy territory
oppressive atmosphere
danger everywhere
and out of nowhere the bastards stop to have a banquet in the middle of the tower
That's so Fairy Tail it's art.
Natsu and Gray simply sitting down to eat in a clearly suspicious place was one of the most "I trust in the power of offensive stupidity" things they've ever done. And the worst part is that it works. There's always that kind of energy of: "this is an obvious trap" and they respond: "maybe, but I'm hungry."
Icons of survival instinct? No.
Pure entertainment? Absolutely.
And Lucy in this chapter was absolutely everything to me, because someone needed to verbalize what any minimally sensible person would think in that situation. Her freaking out at the group's lack of awareness was the official representative of all of us. But the heart of the chapter, for me, lies elsewhere:
Azra'il finally stops acting like she's just another mess... and decides to present herself as someone who will truly save Erza.
Because deep down, Lucy wasn't just talking about the clothes.
She was talking about the weight of the moment.
And I really like that.
The outfit change seems comical on the surface, and it is, because I have a blast writing about these people being a traveling circus, but it also carries that shift in focus.
Azra'il goes from "tourist mode in a Hawaiian shirt with homicidal tendencies" to "I'm going to get my redhead and whoever gets in the way can pray."
And let's face it... her appearing all in white and black hanfu, gold embroidery, looking like an immortal empress about to declare war?
I really like how this chapter lets Fairy Tail be... Fairy Tail.
Chaotic. Noisy. Clueless. Dramatic.
But, in the end, loyal to the bone.
They can turn an infiltration into a dinner, a change of clothes into a moral scandal, and a rescue plan into a collective shouting match…
but they'll go to the end for their own.
And that always hits home.
Anyway, now that I've finally finished my exams and can breathe like a normal person again, I hope I can focus more on writing again. I'm so happy to be able to come back more consistently.
And tell me:
What did you think of this chapter?
What was your favorite part?
Did the scene of Azra'il changing her look deliver the drama you wanted, or did the Hawaiian shirt still have fans?
And, honestly… how many of you would have freaked out like Lucy seeing two idiots stop to have a banquet in the middle of a cursed tower?