Chapter 60: The Owl's Hunger
The cat helmet lay in pieces on the stone floor, its fur singed, its blank green eyes cracked and lifeless. Natsu rubbed his temples where the costume had pressed against his skin, leaving red marks that would probably bruise.
'Finally,' he thought. 'Freedom.'
Happy hovered beside him, having located the release mechanism after several minutes of fumbling. "Aye! We did it! You are Natsu-shaped again!"
"I was always Natsu-shaped," Natsu growled. "I was just... accessorized."
Before Happy could respond, a sound echoed through the tower. Not a physical sound, but something else. Magic. Jellal's voice, projected directly into every mind, every corner of the structure.
"Welcome, players, to the Paradise Game."
Natsu's head snapped up. Happy's wings froze mid-flutter.
"I have gathered you all here for a simple purpose. At the top of this tower, Erza Scarlet awaits. She will be the sacrifice that completes the R-System, that resurrects the great Zeref. Your goal, should you choose to accept it, is to stop me."
A pause. Then laughter, soft and mad.
"Of course, standing between you and me are the members of Trinity Raven. Vidaldus Taka. Fukuro. Ikaruga. They will kill you if they can. And even if you defeat them, there is another obstacle."
The voice dropped, becoming almost conversational.
"The Magic Council has voted to authorize Etherion. The weapon is charging as we speak. Soon, it will fire upon this tower, erasing it and everyone inside from existence. You have an unknown amount of time. Perhaps hours. Perhaps minutes. Perhaps less."
Another pause.
"This is the Paradise Game. The prize is survival. The penalty is death. And Erza? She is the final piece on the board. Move well, players. Or don't. It makes no difference to me."
The voice faded, leaving silence in its wake.
Natsu stood motionless, his fists clenched at his sides. The fury that had been building since the casino, since the shot to his face, since the cat helmet, since everything, crystallized into something cold and focused.
'Etherion. A weapon that can erase the tower. Jellal doesn't care if he dies. He just wants to complete the ritual.'
"Aye..." Happy whispered. "That was... that was really scary. But also kind of exciting? Like a game? Natsu, do you think we can win this game?"
Natsu looked at his partner. Then he grinned. Not his usual grin, but something sharper.
"We're not playing his game, Happy."
Happy blinked. "What?"
"We're cheating."
Before Happy could ask what that meant, Natsu grabbed him by the scruff and launched a jet of flame from his feet. They shot upward, not through the corridors, not through the floors, but straight up through a maintenance shaft, past grinding gears and hissing pipes, toward the top of the tower.
"AYE! THIS IS FAST! THIS IS VERY FAST! NATSU, I CAN SEE THE TOP!"
"Good! Keep looking!"
They burst out of the shaft into a massive open chamber. Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating a space that looked like the inside of a cathedral. Stone pillars. Carved arches. And at the far end, a door that led higher still.
They never reached it.
A shadow fell over them. Not a small shadow. A massive one. Natsu looked up and his blood ran cold.
Fukuro dropped from the ceiling.
The man was enormous, easily eight feet tall, with skin the color of ash and eyes that gleamed yellow in the dim light. His arms were longer than his legs, dragging slightly, ending in fingers tipped with claws that looked capable of tearing through steel. A bird-like crest of gray hair rose from his head, and when he smiled, his teeth were jagged and uneven, rows of them filling a mouth that seemed too wide for his face.
"Prey," Fukuro rumbled, his voice a deep, hungry vibration. "Prey came to me."
He swung one massive arm. The back of his hand caught Natsu and Happy mid-flight, sending them spinning through the air. They crashed into a pillar, stone cracking on impact, and fell toward the floor below.
"NAAAAAATSUUUU!" Happy's scream faded as they plummeted.
Natsu twisted, trying to right himself, but the fall was too fast, the chamber too high. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Happy bounced beside him, tumbling across the stone like a discarded toy.
For a moment, everything was white. Then pain. Then sound.
"Get up."
A voice. Familiar. Natsu forced his eyes open.
Simon stood over him, his dark face tight with urgency. Behind him, the shadows of the chamber seemed to pulse, reaching out toward the walls.
"You have to move. NOW."
Natsu pushed himself up, his ribs screaming. Happy wobbled to his feet, shaking his head.
"What... what is that thing?" Natsu gasped.
"Fukuro," Simon said. "Member of Trinity Raven. They belong to Death's Head Caucus, an assassin guild that takes the most dangerous jobs in the kingdom. He's not like the others. He's a monster."
Above them, Fukuro dropped from the ceiling, landing with a THUD that cracked the stone. His yellow eyes fixed on them, and that too-wide smile spread across his face.
"Running?" Fukuro rumbled. "Prey always runs."
Simon raised his hands. Darkness erupted from him, not the gentle shadow of night, but something thick and absolute, a void that swallowed light and sound and hope. It filled the chamber, blinding and suffocating.
"GO!" Simon shouted. "I'll hold him! Find the others! Protect Erza!"
Natsu hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough to see Simon's face in the last moment before the darkness consumed everything.
Then he ran, Happy clutched to his chest, his feet finding paths he couldn't see but somehow knew.
Behind him, he heard the sounds of battle. Simon's grunts of effort. Fukuro's rumbling laughter. The crash of stone. The wet sound of something breaking.
And then, silence.
The darkness faded.
Natsu turned back, already knowing what he would see.
Simon lay on the floor, his body twisted, his face a mask of blood. His eyes were open, staring at nothing, but his chest still rose and fell. Alive. Barely.
Fukuro stood over him, his massive hands dripping crimson. He looked at Natsu, and his smile widened.
"Darkness is nothing," Fukuro said. "I am owl. I see in dark. I see everything."
He kicked Simon aside, the body rolling limply across the stone.
Natsu's vision went red.
"Death's Head Caucus," he said, his voice low and terrible. "Assassins."
Fukuro tilted his head, bird-like. "Yes. We kill for money. You are money?"
"I'm going to kill YOU."
Natsu launched himself forward, flames erupting around his fists. He swung, a blazing hook aimed at Fukuro's head.
Fukuro moved. Faster than something his size should be able to move. He ducked under the punch and drove his fist into Natsu's stomach.
The impact was like being hit by a boulder. Natsu doubled over, air exploding from his lungs. Before he could recover, Fukuro grabbed him by the scarf and hurled him across the chamber.
Natsu crashed through a pillar, stone exploding around him. He rolled to his feet, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead, and charged again.
'He's strong,' Natsu thought. 'Stronger than Totomaru. Stronger than the guards. But I've fought strong before.'
He feinted left, then came in low, sweeping Fukuro's legs. The assassin stumbled, off-balance for just a moment. Natsu capitalized, driving a flaming uppercut into his jaw.
Fukuro's head snapped back. Smoke rose from the impact. But he didn't fall. He just laughed, that rumbling, hungry sound.
"Fire," Fukuro said. "Warm. Nice."
He swung again, his massive fist catching Natsu in the shoulder. Bone creaked. Natsu spun, using the momentum to deliver a kick to Fukuro's temple. Then another. Then a flurry of blows, each one wreathed in flame.
Fukuro weathered the assault like a mountain weathers storm. He absorbed the hits, barely flinching, and when Natsu paused to breathe, he struck.
His hand closed around Natsu's throat.
Natsu gagged, his windpipe compressed. He clawed at Fukuro's fingers, flames dancing uselessly against the assassin's ash-colored skin. The grip tightened.
"Fire is nice," Fukuro murmured, bringing Natsu close to his face. Those yellow eyes. That too-wide mouth. "But not enough."
He threw Natsu again.
This time, Natsu didn't get up right away. He lay on the cracked stone, gasping, his body screaming in protest. Every muscle burned. Every bone ached. Blood pooled beneath his head.
'Nine minutes,' he thought. 'I've been fighting for nine minutes and I haven't even slowed him down.'
Happy hovered above him, tears streaming down his tiny face. "Natsu! NATSU! Get up! Please get up!"
Fukuro walked toward them, each step a deliberate, terrible THUD. He was in no hurry. Prey never escaped. Prey always died.
Natsu pushed himself up. One hand on the stone. Then the other. Then his knees. He stood, swaying, and faced the monster.
"You... talk too much," Natsu rasped.
He reached deep. Deeper than the cat head. Deeper than Gajeel. Deeper than he had ever reached before. He grabbed hold of the furnace at his core and pulled.
Flames erupted around him. Not orange. Not yellow. White. Pure, consuming white that turned the stone beneath his feet to glass. The temperature in the chamber spiked, the air itself beginning to burn.
Fukuro stopped. His yellow eyes widened.
"Fire Dragon's..." Natsu's voice was barely human now, layered with something ancient and terrible. "ROAR!"
The world became light.
A column of white fire, wider than Fukuro himself, shot from Natsu's mouth. It consumed everything in its path, the stone floor, the pillars behind it, the very air. It struck Fukuro and did not stop. It carried him across the chamber, through a wall, through another wall, through stone and steel and everything in between.
When the flames finally died, Natsu stood alone in a crater of his own making. Steam rose from his body. His chest heaved. His vision swam.
Fukuro lay fifty feet away, embedded in the far wall of what had once been a corridor. His body was burned. His clothes were ash. But his eyes... his eyes still moved.
'Impossible,' Natsu thought. 'He should be dead.'
He walked toward the assassin, his steps unsteady. Each footfall sent agony through his body, but he kept moving. Kept walking. He would finish this. He would end it.
He stood over Fukuro, raised his fist, and called the flames one last time.
"Natsu! STOP!"
Happy slammed into his face, tiny paws pressing against his eyes. The flames died. The world went dark for just a moment.
"Natsu, you can't! He's beaten! You can't just kill him!"
"He's an assassin! He works for people who kill for money! He tried to kill US!"
"But he's not fighting anymore! Look at him!"
Natsu looked. Fukuro hung limply in the crater, his massive body broken, his yellow eyes half-closed. He wasn't struggling. Wasn't fighting. Wasn't doing anything except breathing in shallow, rattling gasps.
'Happy's right,' Natsu thought. 'He's done.'
He lowered his fist.
And Fukuro smiled.
"Good," the assassin whispered. "Close."
His arm moved. Faster than anything that size should be able to move. His hand shot out and closed around Natsu's ankle.
Before Natsu could react, before Happy could scream, before anyone could do anything, Fukuro pulled. Natsu's legs went out from under him. He fell, and as he fell, Fukuro's massive body shifted, his mouth opening impossibly wide, rows of jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light.
And then darkness.
Not Simon's darkness. Something worse.
The world became a tunnel of pain and pressure and heat. Natsu felt himself sliding, falling, being crushed. The sound of his own scream echoed in his ears, muffled by flesh and bone and the terrible, impossible truth of what was happening.
He was being eaten.
Fukuro swallowed.
And Natsu was gone.
"NAAAAAAATSUUUUUU!"
Happy's scream tore through the chamber. He flew at Fukuro, his tiny claws extended, his eyes wild with grief and rage. "GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE NATSU BACK!"
Fukuro's massive hand swatted him aside. Happy tumbled across the stone, landing in a heap. He tried to get up, but his wings wouldn't work. His legs wouldn't work. All he could do was watch as the monster that had eaten his partner turned to face him.
Fukuro's stomach bulged grotesquely, the outline of a human form visible beneath his skin. He patted it, a satisfied rumble escaping his throat.
"Fire," he said. "Good fire. Mine now."
He opened his mouth, and flames erupted from it. Not his flames. Natsu's flames. Orange and hungry and terrible. The blast hit the wall beside Happy, melting stone and sending molten rock splashing across the floor.
Fukuro's smile widened.
"I eat mage. I get magic. That is my gift. That is my power."
He raised his hand, flames gathering around his fingers. "Now. Little blue thing. You die too."
Happy stared at the approaching death, and in that moment, all he could think was: 'Natsu. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'
---
At the top of the tower, in the throne room overlooking the sea, Jellal sat before his chess board. His fingers moved across the pieces, touching each one in turn.
Simon. Defeated. His piece lay flat.
Millianna. Defeated. Flat.
Wally. Defeated. Flat.
He picked up one piece. Pink hair. Scarf. Fists raised in eternal defiance.
Natsu Dragneel.
Jellal examined it for a long moment. Then, with a soft, almost regretful sigh, he knocked it over. The piece clattered against the board, lying still and silent.
"So," Jellal murmured to the empty room. "The dragon falls."
He looked toward the window, toward the sky where Etherion was gathering its terrible power. Toward the future that awaited.
"Erza. Your strongest piece is gone. How will you win now? How will you save yourself when the one who vowed to save you has become nothing but fuel for a monster's belly?"
He laughed. Soft. Mad. Beautiful.
"The game continues."