It's been 2 weeks since the moment Arto locking himself in Sector 3 with Robin and Erza to train her into something...."I seriously don't want to see how Erza turns out to be," Rias shivers slightly inside the pool "Arto's battle prowess, Robin's intel processing...not mentioning their combine intelligence....maybe I should ask him for that kind of training arc for myself too"
"You're saying like you're not strong enough" Albedo hisses, swirling herself inside the pool, while turning one a ranking board of GSHA, Rias Gremory is right behind....Hoshimi Miyabi "Well, Miyabi has the power of all her ancestors combined into her freaking sword, you being at that position in under a year is impressive enought"
"But it can be more impressive if I get an extensive training arc with my beloved~" Rias purred, tracing lazy circles in the pool's steaming water. "We can spend so much time together when he teaches me how to unleash my full potential—"
Albedo splashed water directly into her face. "Sure, sure, like Master would like his princess looking like a macho military freak." The succubus wrinkled her nose at Rias' indignant squawk "You're too big of a hugging pillow for him to let you undergo that—"
The poolside door slammed open. Robin walks towards the pool and makes a jump into it, splashing Albedo and Rias, interrupting their banter. Robin emerges with a weary sigh, her usual composed demeanor replaced by exhaustion—her fingers twitching slightly as she sank deeper into the heated water.
"Robin?" Rias blinked, her teasing forgotten. "You're...back." Robin exhaled sharply through her nose. "Four years," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "Four years of watching Arto drill spatial mathematics into Erza's skull like a combat manual." Her dark eyes flickered toward the door. "They're still running final simulations before departure."
Albedo's wings twitched. "So she's..." Robin smirked—a rare, exhausted thing. "Terrifying. Imagine Erza's combat instincts fused with Arto's tactical precision." She demonstrated by flicking water droplets into a perfect geometric pattern that held shape for three seconds before collapsing. "She has designed a lot of armors and weapons based on history records we studied in there."
The pool's surface rippled as the door hissed open again. Erza stepped through, her movements fluid in a way that suggested muscle memory overwritten through brutal repetition. The blue flames in her eyes had stabilized—no longer flickering, but burning with steady intensity. Behind her, Arto leaned against the doorframe, and in his hand, a baby is clinging to him, the boy shares Arto and Robin's raven hair and that face is unmistakingly Arto while the eyes is a 1:1 rep of Robin's. The baby looks at Robin with his small hands reaching forward "Mama!" he calls.
Rias choked on her sip of wine. "You—WHAT—when—" Her goblet slipped into the water with a splash. Robin—still submerged—simply raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. "Haha, very funny, my love, look at how panic...." She looks at Rias, Akeno, and especially Albedo "...wrong word, excited they are to have a child with you, shut that illusion down or there will be horny devils lurking this house tonight, that child should only be experimental being for us to practice parenting"
Arto snapped his fingers. The baby dissolved into blue embers, swirling into the shape of a tiny dragon before vanishing entirely. "Apologies," he said, though his grin suggested otherwise. "Temporal dilation plays havoc with the senses. We may have...overindulged in illusionary parenting drills, but you have to admit, it was enlightening."
Robin sighs as she turns to the 3 who were clearly excited to have a child or two with their man "As for you three, don't get too exciting about Arto being a father, he is not a good father I tell you" Arto doesn't deny what Robin said "Yeah, can't argue with that"
He comes sit at the edge of the pool, letting his legs submerged into the water before kicking slightly at Robin's side "Oi, not fair" Robin grumbles before splashing some water back at him "I'm not that bad, am I?" Arto asks as he turns toward Albedo who was clearly not listening—too busy thinking about the future where she is holding his child and they have a happy family.
"Erase that dream from your head, Albedo" Robin speaks sternly as she splashes water at Arto "The time inside Sector 3 didn't just give Erza's time to grow into something extraordinary, it also found a truth that everyone has not been seeing: Arto is a horrible father"
The words lingered like static in the humid air. Arto didn't flinch—just tilted his head, watching water droplets slide off Robin's collarbone. "It's...hard to find a word to say to defend myself, the child was afraid of me, always hiding behind Robin or Erza when seeing me, never looked at me in the eyes and sometimes cried when I tried to hug him" His fingers traced the pool's edge, calloused skin catching on tile. "I've wronged him like how my Creator wronged me"
Grayfia, who was bathing in sunlight just now, came to sit with Arto, Akeno also, she takes the other of his while he looks down at the water, thinking about what he did wrong with that child, even if it's just an illusionary training exercise "Master..." Grayfia murmurs softly "You were just trying to train him like how you train us, but a child doesn't need to be trained like a warrior"
Robin submerged herself deeper, exhaling bubbles before resurfacing. "You taught him battlefield tactics before he could walk. You corrected his grip on a training sword when he should have been stacking blocks." Her voice softened unexpectedly. "And you scared him. Every time you raised your voice—even just to praise him—he flinched."
Arto's fingers twitched against Grayfia's palm. The admission carved something hollow behind his ribs. "That's the only way I knew how to make a person better, through discipline, training, and of course, pain, I applied it on you all" he looks at the women around him "..and it worked, so I thought it could be applied to a child as well....because when I saw that boy, what I could see was...endless potential, so I tried to train him"
Robin flicked water at his knee. "Potential isn't forged through drills before breakfast." Her tone carried the weight of four years' observation. "That boy needed stories. Patience. Not sparring sessions at dawn." Swimming to him, Robin uses his knees to pull herself up from the water "Now we know our genius has no idea what parenting is, meaning he is still a human being, and that makes me happy that I can help you with something that is beyond knowledge and strategy"
The man lets out a bitter smile as he places his hand on Robin's cheek "Thank you for being patience in training me how to be a decent parent, and I'm sorry for letting you carry so much in our time in Sector 3, not only teaching Erza, but also keeping her from my bad influences and giving her a good moral compass, I'm happy that you're still willing to help me despite my incompetence"
Robin leans into his touch, her usual sharp edges softened by exhaustion—and something warmer. "Fool," she murmurs, but there's no bite to it. "You think I'd let anyone else handle your education?" Her smirk flickers back, brief but genuine. "Besides, watching you fail at something was...refreshing."
"Family!" Nami shouts as she comes to the pool with triumphant look, Koneko and Kuroka are with her, Koneko looks extra annoyed while holding a plate of a strawberry cake while Kuroka is just flowing with the beat of Nami's excitement "The ship are done! We can finally set sail for our rescue mission!"
Nami's announcement shattered the lingering tension like glass. Koneko scowled, balancing the wobbling cake plate "Took them long enough," she muttered. "Gremory engineers kept arguing about 'aesthetic cohesion' versus 'tactical functionality.' It seems not having Arto's direction was a problem after all."
Kuroka stretched lazily, her tail flicking droplets onto Nami's tablet. "So~? What's our pretty boat called, Nee-chan?"
Nami's grin turned razor-sharp. "Abyssal Dawn. This will hog all the shipping companies towards us, and it would make the merfolks accept our terms easier." Her fingers danced across the tablet, projecting a hologram of the sleek, obsidian-hulled vessel—its lines a fusion of Gremory's heavy industries and Sitri's precise precision machining. "Fully retrofitted. Silent propulsion, mana-shielded hull, and enough firepower to level a coastal city if negotiations go south."
"Hmhm~" Arto looks at the ship design "Good, good, Stabilizer engine, this model I've never seen before, customly made for this project?" He examines the designs of the engine "Almost endless energy, almost no sound even when operating at full speed, but the precisio machining...did you use Sitri's latest forging technique?" He asks Nami.
Nami smirks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger "Obviously~ Only Sitri's triple-layered mana infusion could handle the stress of your Stabilizer at full output."
Her holographic schematics rotated, revealing cross-sections where microscopic spell arrays reinforced the metal at a molecular level. "Sitri is indeed launching more and more precise machining operations after this to gain more ground other than just light industries and medical, did you know they are making lithography machines using your Stabilizer not just as a power source, but as precise lasers?"
Robin's fingers twitched—this time in professional interest. "They're applying spellcraft to semiconductor manufacturing?" She leaned closer, analyzing the blueprint's lattice structures. "I see it now, they are using Stabilizer's hyper smooth mana flow to refine etching precision beyond current EUV limitations—"
Nami flicked her nose with a scheming grin. "And on a larger scale because each tiny flow can be use as a separate pen point, meaning—"
"—they can print entire chip wafers in one pass," Robin finished, eyes narrowing at the implications. "Stabilizer once again proved its creator a fucking genius, and we are years ahead of ASML now, the chip can now be made on larger scale with fewer errors using ultra thin mana threat as UV light."
Arto exhaled sharply through his nose—the closest he came to laughing. "Good. I'll take a look at it when we returns from our trip because now, it's about time we head to the sea. Nami, inform the crew to prep the ship for departure."
Nami saluted with exaggerated flair, her grin widening. "Aye-aye, captain~" She turned on her heel, her orange hair bouncing as she marched off, already barking orders into her comms device.
[Portugal - Port of Sines]
The group opens the portal to a hidden corner of the port to head into the retrofitted warship—Nami leading the group into the port with an excited skip in her step—they are not heading into the place where container ships are docking, but another part of the dock where vacation ships are, and among the large cruise ships and expensive yachts, their ship stands out like a sore thumb—an ex-military corvette repainted in matte black with gold trims—its sleek, angular hull humming faintly with restrained energy.
"Welcome aboard Abyssal Dawn," Nami announces, spinning dramatically on the gangplank. "The fastest, meanest, and most luxurious warship-turned-expedition vessel in the Atlantic!"
Erza's enhanced eyes immediately lock onto the ship's concealed weapon ports—seamless panels hiding spell cannons. "Luxurious?" Her tone drips skepticism.
Nami scoffs, flicking her wrist. A panel slides open near the bow, revealing what appears to be a heated marble lounging deck. "Hydraulic sunbathing platform doubles as armor plating. Duh."
Rias and Akeno immediately hop onto the deck, inspecting the ship with keen eyes—Rias taps her foot against the reinforced deck plating while Akeno runs her fingers along the railing, feeling the hum of embedded mana circuits. The ship breathes—subtle vibrations beneath their feet betraying the Stabilizer engine's dormant power.
Kuroka, Koneko and Grayfia go to check the rooms while Robin and Erza inspect the medical bay—Robin nods approvingly at the pre-stocked trauma kits and suspended animation pods lining one wall. "At least someone prioritized function over form," Robin mutters, running diagnostics on a holographic display. Erza's Legion-enhanced eyes catch subtle details—the way each pod's mana conduits branch like veins, ready to stabilize even the most shattered bodies.
Meanwhile, Arto stands at the prow, fingers brushing the ship's rail where Stabilizer-fed mana thrums just beneath the surface. The ocean wind carries salt and the faint ozone tang of active spellwork. Behind him, Albedo materializes with a sulky pout, her wings twitching. "Master~ You promised I could test the forward cannons!"
Arto doesn't turn. "After we're twenty nautical miles out," he says, just as Nami's voice crackles over the shipwide comms: "All hands, prepare for departure in five! Non-essential personnel clear the deck!"
"OI, WAIT UP!" A shout came from the deck as Nami turns to the sound with a smirk "Well, it seems they came on time, or else we'll have to call off the bounty" The voice belonged to a running red-haired boy, followed by a guy with his upper body left naked, a blonde girl and a flying cat "So Fairy Tail guild only sent 3 of you on this mission?" Nami asks as they come up the deck.
The blonde girl huffs, hands on her knees "We ran from the train station!" She glares at Nami "You said the ship leaves in five minutes—" "Correction," Nami holds up a finger. "I said prepare for departure in five. We don't actually cast off for another twenty." Her grin widens at the girl's indignant squawk.
"Okay, introduction time, newbies, you go first" Nami snaps her fingers, pointing at the redhead who was still catching his breath. The boy straightened up with a grin that could power a small city. "Natsu Dragneel! Fire Dragon Slayer!"
The blonde girl kicked him square in the shin. "Idiot! You're supposed to say Fairy Tail first!" She flipped her hair with practiced drama. "Lucy Heartfilia, Celestial Spirit Mage—and professional guild member, unlike some—"
The shirtless guy yawned, scratching his stomach. "Gray Fullbuster. Ice Make Mage." He blinked, suddenly noticing his missing sleeves. "We took the mission from Fairy Tail to join you on this mission after specifying the general position of this Tower of Heaven," Gray said, "but we were expecting something more...pirate-y." He glanced pointedly at Nami's designer deck shoes.
Nami's eye twitched. "We're not pirates. We're..." She hesitated. "High-risk relief contractors, we went on this trip for many reasons, now it's time for you to know the crew, first is me, captain Nami Nerona who will be riding this ship and navigate us to our destination"
She then gestures to Arto to see.....another man, 'Boss sure knows how to make arrange the scars on his face to make new identity' Nami thinks to herself before clearing her throat "Vice Captain of this ship....Adam Alket, a stray hunter of Gremory Stray Hunting Agency, he will me minding the defense system"
Adam Alket—or rather, Arto in disguise—nodded stiffly, the jagged scar running from his temple to his jawline pulling taut as he clenched his teeth. His posture was all wrong—too rigid, too military—but the Fairy Tail trio didn't seem to notice. "Nice to meet you all, members of Fairy Tail"
Natsu squinted, nostrils flaring. "You smell...weird. Can we fight?" His fists ignited mid-sentence. Adam arched an eyebrow, the scar twisting slightly before he steps closer with a speed Natsu couldn't follow and pulls the boy into a neck choke with his arms crushing around the dragon boy's neck, making him truggling desperately to get out under the lack of air "Alright kiddo, you'd either behave, or you'll sleep until we arrive at the destination, understood?"
"Actually, Adam," Lucy said "Maybe putting him to sleep is a better option because Natsu has this...." Her words dissolved into a groan as Natsu's knees buckled—his face already tinged green. Gray snorted, tossing his remaining sleeve overboard. "Motion sickness. Hits him harder than my ice spells."
Arto released the dragon slayer just as the first gurgle escaped his throat. Nami's shriek pierced the deck. "NOT ON MY TEAK FLOORING—"
Robin's sprouted arm caught Natsu by the collar, dangling him over the railing just as he emptied his stomach into the sea "Didn't expect a Dragon Slayer to react this badly to travelling vehicles" she pats his back gently "By the way, it's a pleasure to meet you all, members of Fairy Tail, I am Nico Robin, the doctor of this ship and this boy will be absolutely okay after throwing up twice, and a good sleep would help him feel less horrible"
After stabilizing Natsu, Robin uses her extra arms to carry the boy into the ship for him to sleep. Leaving the blue flying cat behind to be chased around by Kuroka "Ohh, come on, little blue, don't run, I just wanted to cuddle a little, at least let me know your name~"
Cat Kuroka makes a precise jump on the blue flying cat's back and pins him to the ground like a captured prey "Happy! My name is Happy!" The blue cat exclaims as Kuroka giggles while stroking Happy's fur like she's petting a dog "Happy~ So cute~"
Meanwhile, Lucy and Gray are meeting the rest of the crew "Rias Gremory, nice to meet you" The red-haired princess comes over to the 2 members of Fairy Tail, extending her hand "I've heard a lot about your guild, chaotic familial camaraderie, I assume"
Gray clasped her hand with a dry smirk. "That's one way to put it." His fingers twitched—habitual stripping forgotten—as Rias' grip proved unexpectedly firm. "Most people just call us 'that damn demolition squad.'"
Lucy's pen stops the moment she sees Rias, because she is not just another girl, she is the youngest author to ever have had an article posted on Magic, the most prestigious academic journal of the supernatural world published by Magic Institute at the age of 17.
Her paper 'The Butterfly Effect in Spellcraft: Methodical Output Modulation through Micro-Adjustments to Foundational Sigils' isn't just an exceptional research on how spells can be modified via small and precise shiftment in the magic symbols, but also practical, being used by many mages across the world—Lucy included—to boost their spellcasting efficiency.
Lucy's fingers twitched around her celestial keychain. "You—you'reRias Gremory?" Her voice cracked halfway through the name. Gray shot her a sideways glance as she fumbled for a notebook from her belt pouch, nearly dropping it in her haste. "Your sigil modulation theory halved my spirit summoning costs! I've been using your mana-redistribution matrices for—"
Rias blinked, then laughed—a warm, unguarded sound that made Lucy's starstruck rambling stutter to a stop. "Let me see that a little," she said, plucking the notebook from Lucy's trembling hands. Her crimson eyes scanned the hastily scribbled diagrams, lips quirking at the margins crammed with frantic annotations. "Hmm. You inverted the tertiary mana channels here—clever, but unstable." She tapped a fingernail against the page. "Try branching the flow through auxiliary nodes instead. Less power, but no backlash."
Lucy's breath hitched. "I—you're correcting my—" Her voice died as Rias casually flipped to another page, scribbling a modified sigil with the ease of someone doodling a grocery list. Gray coughed into his fist, amused. "Never seen her speechless before. Should frame this." Before he notices the head maid of the boat, Grayfia Lucifuge, their cold faces meet as she hands him a tray of chilled lemonade—condensation already frosting the glass. "Hydrate," she ordered. "and welcome aboard, Gray Fullbuster, I am Grayfia, head maid of this vessel, now drink up."
Gray takes the cup, looking at the woman before her, then Rias, Akeno, Kuroka, they are all devils, not just normal devils, powerful ones, Grayfia alone already made him shiver because comparing to her ice magic, his is still a tiny cube in the ocean "Thanks," he says before drinking the lemonade—his fingers numb against the cup, knowing too well acting reckless with these devils and his head will fall first, but he still has to ask. "Uhm, Grayfia...." Gray hesitated, his fingers tightening around the frost-kissed glass. "Do you know.....this woman named....Ur?
Grayfia's fingers froze mid-pour, lemonade sloshing against the rim of Lucy's glass. The deck's ambient noise—Kuroka's teasing giggles, the hum of Stabilizer engines—seemed to dull into silence. Rias' pen stilled against Lucy's notebook. Even Albedo paused her sulky cannon inspections, wings twitching toward Gray like radar dishes locking onto a signal.
Robin emerged from the ship's interior, Natsu draped over her sprouted arms like a damp towel. Her sharp eyes flicked between Gray's tense shoulders and Grayfia's unnaturally still posture. "Ur?" Robin repeated, as if testing the weight of the single syllable. "As in...Ur Milkovich?"
Gray's glass cracked. Not from ice magic—from sheer grip strength. "You—you know her?" His voice rasped like gravel dragged over frozen ground.
Grayfia set the pitcher down with deliberate precision. The condensation on its surface crystallized into fractal patterns without her touching it. "Me and my sister both, accompanied us on a short trip, learnt a thing or 2 before disappearing on her own path, not much memories between us three but in some senses, Ur was our student" Grayfia's voice carried the weight of centuries-old ice shifting beneath a glacier.
Gray's breath misted in the suddenly frigid air between them. His fingers dug into his thighs—not from the cold, but from the effort of keeping his magic from erupting. "She was my teacher," he ground out. "Before she...sacrificed herself fighting Deliora." The name of the demon tasted like ash on his tongue.
"Iced-Shell, wasn't it?" Grayfia asks knowingly, her fingers brushing against the condensation pooling beneath her glass. "It was the last spell we taught her before she left on her own journey.
Yelena, my sister, warned her about its effect, but it seems....." Her gaze fixates on Gray "You're important enough for her to pull that suicide trigger. And it's such a coincidence to meet you here after all this time. But I must ask, how did you know Ur was connected to me?"
Gray's jaw worked silently for a moment. The deck's polished wood creaked under his whitening knuckles. "Her journal," he finally admitted. "Found it in her old cabin after—" His throat clicked. "She mentioned training under 'twin glaciers' who moved 'like mirror images.'" His eyes flicked to Grayfia's reflection in the lemonade pitcher—distorted but unmistakably identical to the sketches in Ur's notes. "Never had names. Just...descriptions."
Grayfia's expression doesn't change, but her voice gets a little softer on the boy "I see, so she held us in such high regard, I am flattered, but....what do you exactly want from asking me about Ur?"
Gray exhaled sharply through his nose, his breath misting in the air despite the Mediterranean warmth surrounding them. "Can you....help her, help Ur? Can you bring her back?" The words tumbled out too fast, cracking at the edges.
The head maid exhaled through pursed lips, her breath crystallizing midair. "That spell was never meant to be undone," she said quietly. "Iced-Shell is..." Her gaze flicked to Gray's missing sleeve—to the guild mark burned into his shoulder. "It was designed to be absolute, to be the final seal against what that could not be defeated by sheer strength...."
But as hope is drained from Gray's eyes, Grayfia comes over, patting the boy on his shoulder "But the new age is coming, so does new knowledge, and maybe it could happen, I'm still learning, and you should too, the tie you have with her seems to be stronger than mine, so it might be a good starting point, what do you think, Gray?" Grayfia asks Gray as the boy seems lost for words, his fingers gripping tighter on his legs.
"Then how do I start?" Gray's voice was raw, stripped of its usual sarcasm. "By learning what your teacher left off, perhaps," Grayfia said, her fingers leave Gray as she steps back, and with a flip of her finger, she is not in the maid outfit anymore, but a more suitable attire for training, a martial artist robe, fitting for an ice mage of her caliber, as she spreads her stance wide open, hands at the ready. "Show me what Ur taught you."
Even with high cold tolerance, Gray still feels freezing from the icy aura of Grayfia, and Lucy finds herself stepping back unconsciously, sensing the sheer pressure emanating from the devil. Gray exhales sharply, his breath crystallizing midair as he gets into his fighting stance, one fist over one open palm—Ur's signature posture.
"Fine," Gray says, his voice steadier than his hands. "But don't blame me if your deck turns into an ice rink."
The air didn't just chill; it crystallized. Gray didn't waste a second, lunging forward with a burst of speed that blurred his silhouette. He slammed his palm against the polished floor of the Abyssal Dawn's reinforced training deck, shouting, "Ice Make: Floor!" A jagged sheet of frost erupted from the ground, racing toward Grayfia like a frozen tidal wave, designed to trap her feet and shatter her balance.
Instead of dodging, Grayfia steps on the ice gracefully like she is wearing an ice skate, making her movements not just faster, but smoother as she glides towards Gray. She doesn't use a spell; she simply tilts her body, letting the momentum carry her into a low sweep that Gray dodges only to find himself vulnerable in the air as Grayfia strikes his chest with a palm thrust that sends him sliding backward across the frosted deck.
"Your foundation is shaky," Grayfia noted, her voice as calm as a frozen lake. "Ur taught you the form, but she didn't teach you how to breathe when the air itself turns against you."
Gray groaned, his chest heaving as he struggled to find oxygen in the plummeting temperature. He realized too late that Grayfia wasn't just fighting him; she was manipulating the atmospheric pressure around him, thinning the air to make his lungs burn. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself up with a burst of desperation. "I'm not done yet!" he roared, slamming both palms down. "Ice Make: Ice Wall!"
A massive, crystalline barricade erupted from the floor, intended to wall him off from her approach and provide a moment of respite. However, the wall didn't last a second. Grayfia's hand blurred in a precise, chopping motion—not a blast of magic, but a calculated strike at the structural flaw of the ice. With a sound like a shattering diamond, the wall disintegrated into a thousand glittering shards.
From the sidelines, Lucy stared in awe, her eyes wide as she clutched her keys. "Is she even using a spell?" she whispered, noticing that Grayfia hadn't chanted once, nor had she gathered a visible circle of mana. "Your ice structure is indeed flawed, it has so many breaking points that I can just break them like glasses," Grayfia remarked, her voice cutting through the frigid air with surgical precision.
Gray snarled, though there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. He didn't retreat; instead, he focused his remaining energy, his palms glowing with a concentrated frost. "Ice Make: Ice Hammer!" He swung a colossal mallet of frozen density downward, intending to crush the deck—and Grayfia along with it.
And when the hammer comes down, Grayfia doesn't move, the ice moves around her, forming a firm structure that deflect the hammer's path to another, deflating all the momentum, and at the same moment she kicks Gray's hand, forcing him to let the mallet go into the sea, a simple dismantle, light as feather, but masterful.
"You rely too much on the mass of your constructs," Grayfia said, her voice as crisp as a winter morning. "Mass is a liability if the opponent knows where the center of gravity lies."
Gray gasped, his eyes widening as he felt a sudden, sharp pressure on his neck. Grayfia had appeared behind him in a blur of motion, her fingertips resting lightly against his carotid artery. It wasn't a strike, but a reminder; she could have ended the bout ten times over while he was still calculating the trajectory of his hammer.
"The lesson is simple," she whispered, stepping back and reverting to her poised, upright stance. "Power without precision is just noise. Ur didn't teach you to be a blunt instrument, Gray. She taught you to be a blade. But it seems she didn't teach you all her trick before she's gone, like she didn't learn all of our tricks before departing on her own way."
Gray stood frozen, not from the temperature, but from the realization that he had been playing checkers while Grayfia was playing three-dimensional chess with the very air around him. He looked at his hands, then at the shattered fragments of ice still shimmering on the deck. The frustration that had simmered in him for years—the gap between his current skill and the legend of the woman who had raised him—suddenly felt less like a wall and more like a bridge.
"How?" Gray asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You didn't just break the ice. You moved with it. You used my own momentum to put me on the defensive."
"The secret is not in the ice," Grayfia replied, her expression softening as she transitioned from the role of a combatant back to that of a mentor. "The secret is in the flow. Ice is a paradox; it is rigid, yet it flows as water. You treated your constructs as static objects—walls, hammers, floors. You forgot that before the frost hardens, it is a liquid. If you can feel the transition, you can control the outcome."
She presses her finger against Gray's temple "Also, try to learn physics more, battling only increases your combat instinct and reflexes, learning helps you make effective plans and countermeasures"
Gray blinked, the sudden transition from a lethal combat zone to a physics lecture leaving him momentarily winded. He looked up at Grayfia, then back at the ruined state of the training deck, which was now more of a crystalline wasteland. "Physics?" he muttered, his voice cracking. "I'm a mage, not a scholar."
"And that is why you were a hammer when you should have been a needle," Grayfia replied, her voice returning to its serene, domestic tone as she flicked her wrist. In a seamless blur of motion, the martial artist robes dissolved, replaced instantly by the crisp, starch-white apron and black dress of the head maid.
She looked as though she had never left the kitchen, despite having just dismantled a high-level ice mage. "Precision is the bridge between effort and result. If you understand the stress points of a crystalline lattice, you don't need a hammer the size of a house to break a wall. You only need a single, well-placed vibration to take everything down, like how I broke your wall."
Gray sat in the silence of his own failure, staring at the shards of his "indestructible" fortress. He felt a strange shift in his chest; the desperate, jagged grief that usually fueled his magic had smoothed out into a quiet, burning curiosity. He didn't feel humiliated—not exactly. Grayfia hadn't mocked him; she had simply corrected him, the way a mathematician corrects a misplaced decimal point.
"Fine, teach me then, teach me what my master hasn't" Gray's voice was barely a whisper, stripped of its earlier aggression. He looked at his hands, then at the shimmering debris of his defeat. For years, he had viewed magic as a manifestation of willpower and emotion—the harder he gripped his grief, the colder the ice became. But Grayfia had just proven that willpower without direction was merely a loud noise in a room where everyone else was speaking in whispers.
"See this as my responsibility to the child Ur left behind....such troublesome student Ur was, first her daughter, now her student, making me adopt them all like this," Grayfia sighed, the softness in her voice betraying a hidden fondness for the woman who had once shared her lethal arts.
She didn't wait for Gray to stand. With a casual wave of her hand, the remaining shards of the ice fortress didn't just melt; they reorganized, spinning upward in a choreographed dance of crystalline geometry. The jagged ruins shifted into a series of precise, floating diagrams—visual representations of pressure points and molecular bonds. Gray stared, mesmerized, as the chaos of his defeat was rewritten into a lesson.
"You believe the cold is an end state," Grayfia explained, stepping closer to the holographic structure. "But the cold is merely the absence of energy. To master ice is to master the movement of energy itself. If you can freeze the vibration of a single atom, you can halt a god. If you can shift the temperature by a fraction of a degree at the exact moment of impact, you create a thermal shock that shatters steel."
Gray reached out, his fingers trembling slightly. He tried to mimic the subtle shift in energy Grayfia had demonstrated. He didn't summon a giant wall this time; instead, he focused on a single, tiny shard of ice floating before him. He didn't push with his grief; he pushed with a calculated, precise intent. A tiny snap echoed through the deck as the shard split perfectly in two, not from force, but from a focused point of tension.
[Control Room]
Arto in Adam Alket's disguise is looking sitting next to Nami as they try to locate the Tower of Heaven, the process is harder than they expect, "The mana scanner is sending back nothing, Boss, what the hell did they use to hide it? Sound waves are not working as well, spells are being initiated to spot the lands or artificial islands, but we are picking up freaking nothing," Nami is annoyed as she checks the map on the monitor and then turns her gaze to Arto who is watching her.
"So you're saying this....the island might not even be on the sea? " Nami groaned, leaning back in her ergonomic chair and tossing a handheld scanner onto the console with a metallic clack. "Exactly. It's not that the island is hidden; it's that the coordinates are shifting. Every time we hit the mark, the mana signature slides ten miles to the west. It's like the island is dancing with us."
Arto leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the erratic pulses on the monitor. He didn't respond immediately, his mind cycling through the empty searching result before his gaze was not on the screen anymore, but at the window, outside "West...." He stands up from his seat and looks up in the sky "Nami, I think I found it"
Nami paused, her finger hovering over a recalibration button. She looked up at him, then followed his gaze out toward the horizon where the sky met the churning Atlantic. To the naked eye, there was nothing but an oppressive ceiling of grey clouds and a sea that looked like hammered lead. "Found it? Arto, the scanners are literally telling us the land is dancing. Unless you've developed a psychic connection to Portuguese real estate in the last thirty seconds, I don't see anything."
"The island is not on the sea, it's in the sky, that big cloud over there is harboring the island" Arto replied, pointing toward a towering, unnatural cumulonimbus that looked more like a mountain of bruised wool than a weather pattern.
Nami squinted, her eyes darting from the horizon back to the mana scanner. She punched in a vertical coordinate shift, pushing the sensor's range upward. Suddenly, the flatline of the monitor spiked into a violent, jagged peak.
The "dancing" signature wasn't moving horizontally; it was rotating in a massive, spiraling vortex of condensed mana, creating a blind spot that fooled the surface-level scanners. "You've got to be kidding me," she breathed, a mix of irritation and genuine awe crossing her face. "A sky-island? Who the hell builds a fortress in a storm cloud? The logistics alone for grocery deliveries must be a nightmare."
"It's not just them, they are seeping resources from somewhere else, somewhere....also within the cloud..." Arto fingers take control of the keyboard as he directs all the detectors into the sky, towards the big cloud up high in the sky, the one that has been flicking signals for them to run behind for hours, but what he found....while expected.....it's hard to believe
"What the hell is this?" Nami leans closer to what the detectors send back, her eyes narrow in disbelief "Robin," she speaks through the mic so the whole ship could hear "Come in here and tell us what in the 9 floors of heaven is this thing?"
Robin entered the control room with a rhythmic, measured pace, her expression one of scholarly curiosity. She didn't need to be told twice. As she stepped beside Nami, her eyes scanned the flickering wireframe rendering Arto had pulled from the cloud's core. The image was a grand construct hidden in the clouds, it looks like....an island, one the size of a country, floating seamlessly over their head in the most unnatural way possible "This? It's Skypiea," Robin answered calmly.
Nami nearly fell out of her chair. "Sky-what? Robin, please tell me you're joking. We are looking for a tower, not a mythological vacation spot." Robin's eyes widen slightly "Well, you actually nailed it, it is indeed a vacation spot, for gods from all the pantheons to reside with their concubines, built by Raijin with the support from Zeus and others. It's an island that exists in a different atmospheric layer, utilizing the gods' blessings and power as a way to keep them afloat in the sky."
"Wait, hold on," Nami interrupted, her financial brain overriding her shock. "You're telling me there's a literal country-sized piece of real estate floating in the clouds? And it's managed by....gods? And from the many pantheons on top of that, are you saying this place is like an Auction Houses of Devil world, a political neutral ground for the divine?" Her eyes began to gleam with the predatory light of a woman seeing a massive untapped market.
"You could say that, and it's not too far away from the truth, Skypiea is indeed a neutral ground where deals are struck between the divine powers, but it's not like Auction Houses where the tension is always high and everyone has to mind what others are expressing, it's still a vacation spot for them," Robin explained, her voice maintaining that serene, melodic quality even as she dropped a bombshell of a revelation.
Arto leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at the readout. The "Tower of Heaven" wasn't just a building; it was a parasitic structure, anchored to the underside of the floating continent. It was hiding in the shadow of a divine paradise, using the massive mana output of the sky-island to cloak its own existence. "So the tower is essentially a barnacle on the belly of a god's resort," Arto murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. "No wonder the coordinates were shifting. It was drifting with the current of the sky-island's orbit."
Nami didn't seem to care about the parasitic nature of the tower. Her mind was already calculating tariffs, luxury tax exemptions, and the potential for exclusive trade rights. "A neutral ground for the divine? Arto, do you realize what this means? If we can establish a diplomatic link with Skypiea, we aren't just talking about rescuing prisoners—we're talking about a direct trade route to the highest echelons of the supernatural world. The luxury goods alone would fund our research for a decade!"
"That's not how things go in Skypiea, Nami," Robin pats the CFO's head "There is no such thing as economy in that place." Her hands place on Arto's, helping him zoom into the flying island, not to find the Tower of Heaven, but for the two to see how the city of gods works. And as the surveillance system approaches the place, they finally get to see the shape of the flying country of the divine being a huge, giant, island as large as Greece with utopia environment and architecture, forests, mountains, and among them all, cities that looked like they were made of ivory and gold.
"Holy cow, this place is..... absolutely overpriced," Nami finished, though her voice lacked any real conviction. She was leaning so far into the monitor that her nose was nearly touching the glass, her eyes scanning the ivory spires and golden plazas with the intensity of a hawk spotting a field mouse. "Look at the architecture! The materials alone—that's not just gold, that's condensed solar ether. The market value of a single one of those street lamps could probably buy a small city in the human world."
"Now I get why you said there is no economy, all of these are built by the power of the gods, and let me guess, all the conveniences are offered for free?" Robin nods "Who would dare place a price before the gods, my dear Nami? In Skypiea, the currency is not gold or gems, but favor and prestige. See those cities? Each one is dedicated to one pantheon, larger cities mean those pantheons are more abundant in number, or powerful in people's belief. And in those cities...."
Robin zooms in, "There are sections, each one is for a god of that pantheon" she explained, her finger tracing the shimmering layout of the ivory metropolis. "The architecture isn't just for show, it's depicted after the gods that own them, but that's not all, there are scattered manors everywhere on this flying country, designated to people who has ascended to godhood via many ways, they are all looked at by other gods, some as peers, some as inferials, some at nothing but a dumb luck"
While Robin is teaching them about the Skypiea, Arto is focusing on locating the Tower of Heaven on this place and preparing a plan for the rescue. Arto shifted his gaze from the opulent gold spires of the divine city to the darker, jagged underside of the island.
The contrast was jarring; above lay a paradise of effortless eternity, while below, clinging like a malignant tumor to the bedrock, was the Tower of Heaven. He could see it now—a brutalist spike of obsidian and cold steel, pulsing with a sickly, rhythmic violet light that clashed with the ethereal glow of the city above.
"The cloaking is sophisticated, but not infallible," Arto murmured, his fingers dancing across the holographic interface to strip away the layers of interference. "They aren't just using the island's mana to hide; they're feeding off it. The tower is a siphon. Whoever is running that operation is stealing a fraction of the gods' energy to power their experiments."
Nami's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from greed to a sudden, sharp professionalism. "Stealing from gods? That's a bold move. Either they're incredibly powerful, or they're incredibly stupid. Which one is it, Boss?"
"Usually, when people try to play god, they fall somewhere in the middle," Arto replied. He began plotting a trajectory, his mind already calculating the wind shear and atmospheric pressure. "The tower is anchored in a pocket of dead air. If we fly the Abyssal Dawn straight in, we'll be spotted by the Skypiea sentries before we even hit the cloud layer. We need a legal approach. Robin?"
Robin leaned in, her eyes reflecting the shimmering gold of the floating continent. "The divine are notoriously proud, but they are also profoundly bored," she noted, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.
"They don't maintain borders like mortals do with walls and checkpoints; they maintain them with standards. To enter Skypiea without an invitation is an insult to the gods and their sentinels, which consists of personal guards of gods like Valkyries or Dvarapalas. The only way to enter Skypiea when not being a god is being in the line of the most retainers of one, they will be provided a pass from their gods to enter Skypiea via their sections."
Nami let out a long, exaggerated groan, leaning back in her chair. "So, essentially, we need a VIP pass from a deity. Great. Just our luck. We're on a ship full of mages, a former thief, and a guy in a fake identity, and our only ticket is a signed note from Zeus." She looked at Arto, her eyes narrowing. "Boss, unless you have a 'God-Certified' stamp hidden in your pocket, we're going to have to fly in through the vents or start a very expensive fight."
Arto didn't look discouraged. Instead, he began scrolling through his phone, looking for a number "Robin, you're saying that when a person reaches godhood, they will be provided a place in Skypiea, right?" Robin nodded, her expression curious. "Correct. Whether through divine ascension, the accumulation of absolute power, or the recognition of the celestial bureaucracy, a new deity is granted a manor and the corresponding status. Though, as I mentioned, it's down to the number of retainers a god has to decide the size of their section, it could just be a small manor if the god has no retainer."
Arto finally found the contact he was looking for and tapped the screen. "The problem is that most of the 'gods' in Skypiea are old money—established pantheons with eons of tenure. But there are some new additions to the guest list who are more... flexible with their invitations." Nami leaned in, her interest piqued. "Who? Don't tell me you actually know someone who can get us a VIP pass to a floating divine resort."
"Yep, I know someone who will help us under our agreement, you might have known her from watching my trip to Europe," Arto said, tilting the screen toward Nami. The contact was a woman whose reputation for eccentricity was as legendary as her taste for high-end fashion and chaos.
Nami blinked, her jaw dropping slightly as she recognized the profile. "You've got to be kidding me. You're calling her? Arto, that woman is a walking natural disaster in a designer dress. She doesn't do 'favors'—she does 'transactions' that usually leave the other party bankrupt or missing a limb."
"Which is exactly why she'll enjoy this," Arto replied with a smirk, already initiating the call. The ringing lasted only a second before a voice exploded through the speakers, loud enough to make Nami wince and jump back from the console. It was a voice that sounded like crushed velvet and shattered glass—sophisticated, predatory, and brimming with an energy that felt like a thunderstorm trapped in a cocktail shaker.
"Arto! Darling! My favorite anomaly!" the woman shrieked with delighted glee. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Missing me already, hmmm~? Or did you finally realize that your life is dreadfully dull without my particular brand of chaos?" Arto didn't flinch at the volume, though Nami looked like she wanted to physically distance herself from the speakers.
"Less talking, more listening, Madame Bayonetta," Arto replied, his voice cool and grounded. "I'm currently in the Atlantic, staring at the underbelly of Skypiea. I need a set of VIP passes—not the kind you beg for at the gates, but the kind that lets you walk through the front door and tell the sentries to move out of the way."
There was a brief, theatrical silence on the other end, followed by the distinct sound of a long, slow sip of something that sounded expensive. "Oh, you naughty boy. Sliding into the divine backyard without a formal invitation? How deliciously scandalous," Bayonetta purred, her voice now dripping with amused conspiracy.
"The sentries are dreadfully dull, Arto. They take the 'divine protocol' so seriously they've forgotten how to actually think. But a pass from me? You know how things are up here, Cheshire, only loyal retainers are allowed, meaning if someone is getting the pass, it's only you I can vouch for, my little knight in shining armor."
"I'm not looking for a title, just access," Arto replied, leaning back and glancing at Nami, who was already scribbling notes about the potential cost of this 'favor.' "The Tower of Heaven is anchored to the bottom of the island. I need a way to get my team in and out without alerting the gods' security. I know you've got a knack for bypassing the 'impossible' entrances."
"Straight to the point! No compliments on my new heels, no 'Bayonetta, you're the only one who can save us'—just business. How heartless!" She laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that seemed to vibrate the very air in the control room. "Fine. I can vouch you all in as my retainers, but you have to attain one....dress code, not you though, darling, you've already gotten your pass, but your entourage? If they show up looking like a bunch of mercenaries or—heaven forbid—tourists, the Valkyries will have them for breakfast. I have a reputation to uphold, and it involves an abundance of style."
"I can handle the wardrobe," Arto said. "Just send the coordinates for the drop-off point and the authorization codes. We'll handle the rest." Nami stops him "Woah, woah, woah, hold it, Boss, you don't know what you're talking about, do you even know what dress code she is talking about? We are talking about Bayonetta, the owner of the state-of-the-art fashion brand Umbra that died like….10 years ago, and we don't currently have any pieces of Umbra available to us, they are like sacred relics in fashion world and getting them out from some aristocrats' wardrobe isn't an easy task!"
Arto stops for a moment and looks a the phone where the call with Bayonetta is still running "So this is our challenge? A fashion show before a rescue mission?"
"Precisely, darling!" Bayonetta's voice practically sang, the sound of a match striking and a long exhale of smoke following. "The divine eye is a critical eye. If you arrive in those drab, functional rags you call 'mission gear,' you'll be mistaken for the cleaning crew. I shall provide the authorization codes, but the moment you step onto my terrace, you must look as though you belong in the presence of the Umbra Witch. Style is the only currency the a goddess as I actually respect."
"I see, can I just...." Arto was about to say something, but Bayonetta chimes in "Ah, ah, ah~Don't think about it, my little knight, no, copying my precious art pieces isn't the way to go. If I see a single fake thread, I shall personally toss you off the terrace of my manor. Ciao~"
The line clicked dead, leaving the control room in a heavy silence. Nami looked like she had just witnessed a murder—specifically, the murder of her budget. "A fashion show," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We are in the middle of a high-stakes rescue mission, and our ticket is 'not looking like a cleaning crew' for the most demanding woman in the supernatural fashion world. Please, Boss, tell me you know how to replicate that signature fabric they used in their prime in the 80s."
Arto sighs "Here is the thing, I don't know shit about the fabric they used in the 80s because I've only just been here like a year ago, the only fabric I know relating to Bayonetta is that one that made her battling suit, which was created by magical hair of Umbra Witches, recreating them is possible but it would take days to do so, not mentioning the materials we haven't prepared yet."
Nami stared at him, her eyes wide. "Days? Arto, we are literally staring at the target! The Tower of Heaven is right there! We can't just put the mission on hold because we aren't wearing the right labels. So where the hell can we find Umbra pieces now?" A voice came from the entrance like a lifebuoy "Who just mentioned Umbra?" Rias asks from the entrance, Lucy is following her, looking slightly bewildered by the sudden tension.
"Rias, do you have any connection to the Umbra brand?" Arto asked, not bothering to hide his desperation. Rias blinked, her expression shifting into one of thoughtful realization. "Umbra? The defunct high-fashion house that specialized in weave-integrated mana fabrics? I don't, but my mother does, she has a lot of Umbra pieces in her personal vault hand-crafted by Bayonetta herself during the height of the Umbra era."
Nami looked like she had just seen a miracle, her eyes practically turning into currency symbols. "The Gremory vault! Arto, if we can get a few authentic pieces from the Gremory collection, we don't just get the pass—we have the most coveted vintage pieces in existence. We could literally walk into Skypiea and the sentries would bow just to get a better look at the stitching!"
"As much as I'd love to raid my mother's closet," Rias said, her voice returning to its usual composed tone, "it's not easy to persuade her to give us those, it's precious to her in many ways, she is one of the largest patron of Umbra, and all those exclusive pieces are only worn in special occasions, like Sirzechs' wedding and my birthday."
Nami let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a scream. "Special occasions! We are talking about the Tower of Heaven! The rescue of prisoners! Rias, please tell me you can just... borrow for a few days, she won't deny if both of her precious daughters ask cutely, right?"
Rias sighed, though a small, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "My mother is a woman of immense grace, big sis, but she is also a Gremory. She doesn't respond to 'asking cutely' as much as she responds to a well-placed social obligation or a promise of future prestige. However," she paused, glancing at Arto, "she has always had a soft spot for her precious son-in-law, among us children of hers, it's undoubtedly that she loves Arto the most...."
Arto's eyes widened "Haha, so now it's my responsibility to play the favorite son-in-law for some vintage lace and silk?" He leaned back, a dry smile playing on his lips, thinking of a way to persuade Venelana, then..."But there is a problem" Rias admitted "My mother has no Umbra pieces for male, which are even rarer since Umbra works mostly on women's attires, meaning either Natsu, Gray and Kiba have to dress in women's clothes to head to Skypiea, which I doubt my mother would allow, or they have to stay down here as the 'cleaning crew' Bayonetta mentioned."
Nami looked at Kiba, who was currently polishing his blade with a focused intensity, and then at Gray, who was still recovering from his bout with Grayfia. The idea of the silver-haired swordsman or the stoic ice-mage in an Umbra cocktail dress was a visual she wasn't sure she could handle, but the alternative was staying behind. "I can help, male outfit of Umbra brand, right?" Lucy comes into the controlling room, her eyes sparkling.
"I've read about them in fashion magazines! While the brand focused on women, Bayonetta did a limited run of 'Gentleman's Umbra'—bespoke suits that blended masculine tailoring with that same mana-conductive silk." Arto raised an eyebrow. "You're surprisingly well-informed, Lucy."
"Well, when your father wears them all the time and constantly brags about them, it's hard not to remember them, I can borrow them for the boys!" Lucy replied with a cheerful beam, though she quickly corrected herself, "Are we in a rush or something? I can make a call right away, I don't know if he would agree because those suits are very precious to him."
Nami didn't even wait for her to finish. She was already on her phone, her fingers blurring as she calculated the market value of a "Gentleman's Umbra" suit. "Lucy, sweetie, darling, wonderful friend of mine—whatever you need! A gold-plated pen? A new bag? I'll personally fund your next three missions if you can convince your father to lend us those suits. Now!"
Lucy laughed, though she looked slightly concerned by Nami's sudden intensity, and stepped away to make the call. The control room fell into a temporary lull, the air thick with the juxtaposition of a high-stakes rescue mission and the sudden, urgent need for haute couture.
Arto watched the holographic display of the Tower of Heaven, the parasitic structure still clinging to the underside of Skypiea like a silver tick. "While Lucy handles the men's wear, we still have the issue of the women's attire. Rias, do you think your mother will actually let us 'borrow' pieces that are essentially museum artifacts?"
Rias hummed, leaning against the console. "My mother views the Umbra collection as an extension of her legacy. If I tell her that her favorite tailor is demanding it, she sure will agree to lend us with tight obligations of keeping it as its original state, and she will demand Bayonetta some more clothes as a trade."
"Wait, she can actually get more?" Nami asked, her eyes practically glowing. "Well, my mother is one of Umbra's biggest patrons, she always considers Bayonetta a sister-in-arms of style. If she tells Bayonetta that her collection is feeling a bit... dated," Rias added with a playful wink, "Bayonetta will be more than happy to send some new pieces just to prove she can still outdo her own vintage."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Venelana giggling with Bayonetta]
Rias and Lucy are both on their phones with their parents "Mother, I have...quite a tall request to ask you" Rias speaks hesitatingly through her phone, her expression shifting from a confident leader to a daughter negotiating a curfew. "Can you let me and the girls borrow your....Umbra attires?
On the other end of the line, Venelana Gremory's voice came through with a melodic, knowing quality that suggested she had already seen the trajectory of this conversation before it even began. "Rias, darling, you know how much those clothes mean to me, what is the purpose of this 'tall' request of yours?" The mother asks "We need to head to Skypiea, and the only way in is via a god's invitation....."
"Uhmhm~I know that, dear, but what does it have anything to do with my attires?" Venelana asks, her voice shifting into a tone of amused curiosity. Rias gulps "Well, because the goddess who will vouch for our entrance is....Bayonetta"
The silence on the other side after the answer make Rias check her phone if she had accidentally ended the call, but no, it's still running. Suddenly, a laugh breaks through the speaker, a rich, theatrical sound that mirrors the energy of the woman they were trying to impress.
"Bayonetta! That delightfully wicked creature is still active?" Venelana's voice suddenly sounds revitalized, as if she had just discovered a long-lost vintage wine. "And she is a goddess who has a place on Skypiea now? I'm not following you, dear, you need to be more specific about the transaction of that woman from a witch to a divine being"
All eyes are on Adam, or Arto, again because up until now, the intel about Bayonetta's ascension came only from him. Rias clears her throat "Right, mother, I'll turn on the speaker, maybe your precious son-in-law has the answer for why Bayonetta is a goddess now."
Arto leaned toward the microphone, his voice adopting a casual, storytelling cadence. "It's a bit of a long story, Mother, but I'll keep it short, in my trip to Vigrid the last December, I was accompanying Bayonetta, and by the end of that trip, I might have handed her the Right Eye of the World, I didn't know how it worked at first, but apparently, when it's paired with the Left Eye she already possessed, it made her a goddess."
There was a profound silence on the line, the kind of silence that usually preceded a tectonic shift in a conversation. Then, Venelana's voice returned, not as a question, but as a purr of absolute delight. "Arto, you wonderful, reckless boy! You didn't just secure a connection; you provided the catalyst for her ascension! My, the social capital you've managed to accumulate in such a short time is simply staggering. I suppose I can hardly refuse a request when the stakes involve a divine fashion statement."
"Does that mean...?" Rias started, but her mother interrupted with a playful, regal chuckle. "Of course it does, Rias! But let's be clear: if so much as a single sequin is misplaced or a thread is snagged, I shall hold Arto personally responsible for the restoration. But before we move on, may I speak to my favorite tailor, it's been 10 years since her disappearance from the mortal markets, and my wardrobe has felt dreadfully stagnant since."
The transition from high-stakes rescue planning to high-society gossip happened in a heartbeat. Arto sighed and handed the phone over to the terminal, patching the call directly through to the line Bayonetta had left open. The moment the connection clicked, the speakers erupted with a synchronized gasp of recognition.
"Venelana! My dearest sister-in-style!" Bayonetta's voice boomed, the sheer volume nearly rattling the holographic displays in the control room. "I could tell by the sudden scent of desperation and desperation-fueled shopping that you'd eventually call. I assume my little knight has been playing courier for your daughter's wardrobe?"
"Only because your standards for entry are as steep as your heels, Netta," Venelana replied, her tone matching Bayonetta's in a dance of aristocratic fencing. "Though I must admit, the thought of my daughters walking into the divine realm in pieces that are practically heirlooms... it does have a certain poetic justice to it. It tells the gods that the Gremory women don't just follow trends; they preserve them."
The two women descended into a rapid-fire exchange of fashion critiques, discussing the evolution of mana-weave and the "tragic decline" of modern celestial couture. For the rest of the group, it was like listening to two hurricanes argue over the correct shade of crimson. Nami, however, was not listening to the gossip; she was staring at the clock. Every minute spent on a social call was a minute the prisoners in the Tower of Heaven spent in misery—and a minute they weren't negotiating the shipping rates for Skypiean spices.
Eventually, the storm subsided. "Fine, fine," Bayonetta sighed, though she sounded pleased. "Send the girls in the 80s vintage; it'll give the Valkyries a nostalgic heart attack. As for the 'Gentleman's' collection, I expect the boys to wear them with a certain... flair. If they look like they're going to a funeral, I'm charging you for the air they breathe on my terrace." With a final, sharp "Ciao!" The line went dead for the second time.
The silence that followed was broken by Lucy, who walked back into the room looking slightly shell-shocked, holding her phone. "My dad... he agreed. But he said if Natsu or Gray lose a single button, he's going to make them do a thousand laps around the estate while wearing the suits. He's sending a teleportation shipment immediately."
Robin nods "Well, then I'll wake up the dragon boy for the fitting, he has been sleeping enough, the medicine should be able to help him withstand the motion sickness"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Natsu fitting uncomfortably in a suit]
The ensuing hour was less of a preparation and more of a tactical deployment of aesthetics. When the Gremory teleportation shipment arrived, it didn't come as a simple box, but as a series of floating, velvet-lined trunks that shimmered with a faint, aristocratic aura. As the trunks hissed open, revealing the deep crimsons, midnight blacks, and iridescent silks of the Umbra vintage, Nami practically swooned. She began distributing the pieces with the precision of a drill sergeant, ensuring that not a single fold was out of place.
"Stand still, Natsu!" Nami barked, aggressively adjusting the lapel of a charcoal-grey Gentleman's Umbra suit. Natsu, looking like a captured animal in a tailored cage, tugged at the collar.
"This thing is too tight! How am I supposed to fight in a tuxedo?" he complained, though his voice lacked its usual fire, likely due to the potent anti-nausea suppressants Robin had administered.
"You're only wearing this until we arrive at the place where the mission will start, so bear with it a little and I'll remove it for you later when we're in Skypiea, it's not like I want you to wear this the entire trip, these clothes worth more than your life," Nami countered, her fingers moving with surgical speed as she pinned the fabric.
Gray, meanwhile, looked remarkably composed in his suit, though he was currently staring at himself in the mirror with a bewildered expression. The mana-conductive silk of the Gentleman's Umbra line seemed to react to his own chilled aura, the deep indigo fabric shimmering with a faint, frost-like luminescence. "I have to admit," Gray muttered, adjusting his cuffs, "the weight of the fabric is... strange. It feels like the clothes are breathing with me."
"That's the signature of the Umbra weave," Robin explained, gliding over to help Erza into a striking, high-collared gown of midnight crimson that managed to blend feminine elegance with a silhouette that didn't hinder her movement. "The fabric doesn't just sit on the skin; it integrates with the wearer's magical flow, acting as a passive amplifier for stability. It's less of a garment and more of a secondary skin."
Erza looked at herself, her expression uncharacteristically soft. For a woman who lived her life in chains, the sensation of high-fashion silk was a jarring contrast, but there was a dignity to the attire that resonated with her warrior's spirit. She looked like a general attending a royal gala, her posture impeccable. "It is... acceptable," Erza admitted, though her eyes sparkled with a hidden pride.
Meanwhile, Kuroka, is being kept in place by Koneko who is now wearing a piece of white Umbra dress Venelana bought for Rias when she was younger, the dress fits her perfectly, except the chest area is feeling some space and the dress is slightly long for her. "Now, now, little kitten," Albedo orders gently while helping Kuroka put on the clothes, "if we even make one tiny scratch, Master will be taken away forever by Lady Venelana and Bayonetta's wrath."
Kuroka lets out a playful huff, though she doesn't resist as Albedo fastens the silk ribbons around her waist. The two of them look like porcelain dolls brought to life, their contrasting colors—Albedo in a deep violet and Kuroka in a shimmering obsidian—creating a visual harmony that would make any divine sentry pause. "I can't believe we're doing this," Kuroka purrs, admiring her reflection. "A mission to rescue prisoners, and we're dressing up like we're attending a tea party for the nobility. Master really knows how to make a grand entrance."
Rias and Akeno are also done with their attires as they step into the room, twirling around in the attire Venelana used to wear in special occasion,
"I must admit, the feeling of these fabrics is quite nostalgic," Rias murmured, adjusting a lace glove. The vintage Umbra pieces didn't just provide a visual statement; they emanated a subtle, rhythmic pulse of power that synchronized with the heartbeat of the wearer. Beside her, Akeno looked like a vision of lethal elegance, the dark silk of her gown clinging to her curves while providing a hidden utility that would allow her to transition into combat in a matter of seconds.
"Okay, Lady Lucy, don't move too much, this needs to be tightened properly" Grayfia orders as she helps Lucy fitting into her own attire while the head maid looks like a total ice goddess in a monochromatic silver Umbra suit that managed to make her look more imposing than any piece of armor. "How do I look, Natsu, Gray?" Lucy asks, spinning around her place in the clothes of Umbra Fashion House, her eyes beaming as she looks at the two boys.
"You look... like a lot of effort," Natsu grumbles, though he is currently fighting the urge to scratch his back because the suit's tailoring is so precise it feels like a second skin. Gray just nods absently, still preoccupied with the strange sensation of the mana-conductive silk.
"Good day to you, everyone, you all look very stunning" Kiba steps into the room with his tux already on, he is the one who is the most accustomed to such attire, and now he is exuding all his knightly demeanor. "Though I must admit, the fabric's response to my mana is far more aggressive than I anticipated. It feels as if the suit is actively trying to refine my posture."
The whole group get into a friendly banter as they were amazed by the clothes they are wearing, they all felt like they were in a dream, a world where they were not fighters, but nobles. Until Adam steps into the room like a anomaly he usually is, unlike everyone who are dressing fancy, he is not wearing any Umbra attires, he is still dressing like a normal summer day, which makes everyone surprised, especially Natsu.
"Hey, wjy does he get to wear comfortably while I have to fit myself into this tight crap?" He tries to wiggle out of the stiff collar, his face twisting into a grimace. "Where's your fancy suit, Adam? Don't tell me you forgot to dress up for the gods!"
Arto shrugged, his expression one of calm indifference as he leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. "I'm the personal commissioner of the goddess who will vouch for our entry, so I don't need to wear fancy clothes, she has already known me and is willing to let me through regardless of my attire." He looked over the group, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. "I see everyone is ready, but I must ask the second team something...."
The mentioning of the 2nd team makes Rias, Akeno, Grayfia, Robin and Albedo stiffen a little, because their sole mission on this trip is heading down Atlantis to strike deals with the merfolks. They were essentially the diplomatic wing, while Arto, Erza, Kuroka, the rest of Rias' peerage and Fairy Tail mages are heading out to find the Tower of Heaven.
"The agreed meeting time is 5 days from now, so if the mission on Skypiea is not done by 5 days, we'll part ways to head to Atlantis, don't worry" Robin smooths the situation with ease "But we also can arrange the meeting to be on Skypiea if Poseidon is available, so us being up there is no problemo."
Adam nods to the arrangement before pulling out his phone to call upon the goddess of fashion and style "My goddess, we're ready"
The response wasn't a voice, but a sudden, violent rupture in the air. A circular portal of shimmering gold and deep crimson tore open in the center of the Abyssal Dawn's lounge, smelling faintly of expensive perfume and ozone. From the void stepped a pair of towering, red-bottomed heels that clicked against the metallic floor with the authority of a gavel. Bayonetta emerged from the rift, her glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, her gaze sweeping over the assembled group with the critical eye of a fashion judge.
The sheer beauty of the woman before them took everyone by surprise except for Adam. Bayonetta didn't just enter a room; she reclaimed it. Her presence was an intoxicating blend of predatory grace and absolute poise, her long limbs draped in a sleek, form-fitting ensemble that made the vintage Umbra wear look like casual attire. She paused, her gaze lingering on Natsu's struggling collar and Gray's bewildered expression, before her lips curled into a smirk that promised both amusement and absolute devastation.
"Oh, darling," she sighed, her voice a rich, velvety contralto that seemed to vibrate in the very air. "I specifically requested flair, and yet you've brought me a boy who looks like he's being strangled by his own wardrobe." She flicked a gloved finger toward Natsu, who opened his mouth to argue, only to be silenced by a sharp, warning glare from Nami.
Bayonetta's eyes then shifted to Rias, Akeno, and the others. Her expression softened, though the critical edge remained. "Venelana certainly has a knack for curation. The 80s cuts are daring—almost nostalgic. You wear them with a certain... desperate charm." She turned to Adam, her gaze warming instantly. "And you, my little knight. Still stubbornly clinging to the aesthetic of a tourist? Your lack of ambition in fashion is almost as endearing as your lack of fear."
"It saves time on the laundry," Arto replied with a lazy grin, completely unfazed by the divine aura radiating from her. "Besides, I've made my mark, so....." His gaze flicks to the guns Bayonetta is holding in her hands and in her heels, his creations, Scarborough Fair, before taking the witch's right hand and places a gentle kiss on it "you'll never forget the man who made you a goddess, will you?"
Bayonetta let out a melodic laugh, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and mischief. "Such a silver tongue. It's a wonder you haven't tricked the world into giving you its keys already." She leans in closer to his gaze, letting her eyes facing his "But was it all just a favor, my little knight~?" She tilts her head like a snake, scanning his expression, searching for something she has been insisting to herself he is possessing, reverence to the woman who has captured his heart "What I saw was a man madly in love with a woman who he saw as a goddess even before her ascension."
"Love is a strong word, Bayonetta," Arto chuckled, though he didn't pull his hand away. "Let's call it a mutual appreciation for the finer things in life. Including the chaos we're about to cause in Skypiea."
"Chaos! Now we are speaking my language," Bayonetta declared, suddenly spinning on her heel. The movement was so fluid it seemed as if the physics of the room shifted to accommodate her. She snapped her fingers, and the golden portal behind her expanded, revealing a breathtaking glimpse of an endless blue sky and floating islands of lush greenery, all suspended within a shimmering atmospheric dome. "Welcome to the threshold of the Divine Realm. Please, do try not to trip over your hems upon arrival. The Valkyries are dreadfully judgmental about posture."
As the group began to file through the portal, the transition was seamless. One moment they were on the cold, metallic floor of the Abyssal Dawn, and the next, they were standing on a bridge of white marble that seemed to float atop a sea of clouds. The air was crisp, smelling of ozone and ancient incense, and the light was an iridescent gold that made the Umbra fabrics of their clothing glow with a renewed intensity.
Natsu stepped out last, finally managing to loosen his collar just enough to breathe. He looked around, his eyes widening as he saw the sprawling architecture of the city afar. "Whoa... this place is insane! Look at those cities!"
Gray and Lucy share the same amazement before the floating country of gods. The city of Skypiea stretched before them—a sprawling metropolis of white limestone and gold leaf, anchored to massive, floating islands of verdant jungle. Waterfalls cascaded off the edges of the land, falling thousands of feet into the mist below, creating perpetual rainbows that arched over the marble plazas. The architecture was a dizzying blend of ancient Mayan influence and celestial grandeur, with towering spires that seemed to pierce the very ceiling of the sky.
"Do try to keep your mouths closed, darlings," Bayonetta teased, gliding effortlessly beside Arto. "The locals find gaping expressions to be a sign of low breeding. Though, given the current company, I suppose 'bewildered' is the only appropriate look."
As the group walked further onto the marble bridge, they noticed the sentries—the Valkyries. Clad in shimmering silver armor that mirrored the clouds, the women stood with spears held at precise angles, their eyes scanning the newcomers with a cold, clinical detachment. As the party approached, the Valkyries didn't move, but the air around them hummed with a sudden, oppressive pressure. It was a territorial warning, a subtle reminder that while they were guests of a goddess, they were still mortals trespassing in a sanctuary of divinity.
Natsu, never one for subtlety, felt the pressure and instinctively shifted into a combat stance, his fist igniting with a small spark of flame. "What's with the vibe? They're looking at us like we're bugs!"
"Natsu, stay still!" Nami hissed, her hand gripping his arm with surprising strength. "We are here as guests of Bayonetta! If you start a fight before we even reach the city center, I'm charging you a convenience fee for every second of the damage!"
The goddess comes first before the guardians of the floating island, her heels clicking a rhythmic, commanding beat that seemed to synchronize with the pulsing energy of the bridge. Bayonetta didn't even glance at the Valkyries; she simply glided past them, her aura of confidence acting as a psychic shield that pushed back the oppressive pressure. As she passed the first line of sentries, the Valkyries stiffened, their spears shifting an inch to the right—a formal acknowledgment of her status—though their cold eyes remained fixed on the motley crew following in her wake.
"Come in, everyone, Skypiea is opened for you" Bayonetta announced, her voice ringing out like a silver bell across the marble expanse.