Kyoka screamed out as a gout of shadow swept over her. It had erupted through the wall, a stray blow from the Northern Mage’s crusade of destruction against Tartaros’s home. And when it had passed the avian featured woman found that she possessed only one knee and no feet, falling to the floor below. Plutogrim - the demon which was Cube’s true nature - was doing its best to heal from the wound, but for a moment the 7 surviving Demon Gates of Tartaros, and their acting leader Mard Geer, could see the Northern Mage.
As a force the demon gates were dreadfully powerful. Avian featured Kyoka’s enhancement curse could turn someone’s own senses against them, or simply enhance her own power. The bestial Tempester’s magic barrier particle explosion had held back the Northern Mage before. The skeletal Keyes possessed necromancy. His corpse-puppet, Silver, stood in for the ice demon Deliora, wielding powerful, demon slayer magic. The four armed Ezel’s cutting curse could create blades to cut through nearly anything. The lizard-esque Torafuzar’s cursed water could flood an area with poisonous fluids. And the strangely, round Franmalth’s absorption curse allowed him to take the powers of others and claim them as his own. And then there was Mard Geer, whose power was enough to contend with the likes of the Celestial Spirit King.
And they were against one man. Their victory was almost certainly assured. Or it might have been if the demons of Tartaros had ever learned to fight as a group, and not simply rely on their own raw power.
Tempester and Torafuzar rushed forward as Ezel unleashed his curse. Ezel’s curse might have reached Arthur even through the intervening mass of Plutogrim, but he was forced to turn his curse aside to avoid cutting down his allies. Even Tempester and Torafuzar ended up having to push past each other in the narrow corridor. If they had any chance of the element of surprise it was lost.
That was when Cube began to truly change into its Plutogrim form. Fleshy tendrils began to shoot from the walls, filling the hallway around the Demon Gates.
“Plutogrim, I did not give you the command!” Mard Geer shouted, as Plutogrim’s demonic flesh struck Keyes and Franmalth.
“I don’t think you’re the one it’s taking commands from,” Silver noted.
Of the demon gates and their commander, it was only Silver who Plutogrim was not targeting with its change. Something which Mard Geer did not fail to notice, as he conjured a thorn-covered vine to cut through Plutogrim’s flesh. The thorny vines were holding back Plutogrim’s flesh, keeping it from filling in around them. Keyes had escaped, transforming into a black mist of magic barrier particles to slip free. Franmalth, though, was half submerged into Plutogrim’s flesh.
“Ezel, cut your way to the Northern Mage,” Mard Geer stated with firm commitment.
Arthur knew he had to get a hold of his rage. It might be more useful than guilt. But rushing into a 10 on 1 fight was not a good idea. And his Archive had detected the Demon Gates. Or at least 8 of them.
His darkness magic shot out to was over them, hoping to do some damage. And then he used his Territory Magic, disappearing down a half dozen floors. A moment later he was giving a command to the Cube itself. He’d been given time to make use of his Takeover Magic, and its ability to compel demons. The Cube, or more properly named Plutogrim, had not been easy to take over as the b.R.A.I.N. device had apparently discovered with its own failure to do so.
He didn’t have the time to properly access the b.R.A.I.N. device in full, and it still scared him enough to hold him back from trying. But just by activating Cube’s transformation into its true form and forcing it to turn upon the Demon Gates, Arthur could buy himself time.
Time to make a plan. Time to get his bearings. Time to figure out how to actually fight the Demon Gates. Rage was the mind killer. It was a little death of self, which right now could bring total annihilation. He needed to let it pass through him without moving him.
He couldn’t take down the demon gates in a single rage fueled blast. He needed to be smart.
With Plutogrim no longer fighting him, his Archive was already designating the locations of his enemies. And the shift from Cube to Plutogrim form was successfully separating them.
It was time to divide and conquer.
Kyoka, Tempester, and Torafuzar had all been separated from the main group. Mard Geer didn’t like that. Arthur had managed to deal with 3 demon gates at once before. And now he had Plutogrim working for him.
They needed Plutogrim back on their side, and the demon was designed to obey Mard Geer himself. The hell commander was able to communicate with all his fellows telepathically, coupled with Plutogrim’s design as his vehicle, he might be able to free Plutogrim from the Northern Mage’s control.
Unfortunately that was hard to do while Plutogrim’s flesh was attacking them, and the mass produced etherious were being channeled in through tunnels to attack them. Their curse power was low, and their darkness curse couldn’t deal lasting damage to Mard Geer himself, but their numbers were an annoyance, and even his regenerative abilities had its limits.
“Hold them off, and keep me safe. I’m going to free Plutogrim,” Mard Geer ordered, and the other demons formed up closer to him.
Mard Geer focused his mind, for he was now beginning a mental battle. It was his skill and thoughts against the magic which held Plutogrim under the mage’s sway. Mard Geer was not one to shape the conflict into pseudo-physical symbolic terms. He was simply working to remove it, using his own curse energy to disrupt and destroy portions of the magic which had rooted through Plutogrim, just like he had to help it overcome the b.R.A.I.N. system’s attempt to override its will and replace it with the system’s. He was tempted to follow the magic back into its caster, and attempt a mental confrontation with Arthur himself, but it was something to be feared as well. He had re-written one of the maker’s books. He might win such a conflict.
The demon gates battled the horde of mass produced demons. Their foot soldiers were no match for the demon gates, but they were not weak. Only Silver’s ice demon slayer magic took them down quickly, otherwise even when Ezel cut them in half they kept fighting. Franmalth’s absorption allowed him to defend himself, but it was less than the best weapon against such mass numbers. Keyes also was more specialized in fighting humans, with his use of magic barrier particles, leaving him with only a darkness curse which as similar wielders the mass produced soldiers were resistant to.
Mard Geer didn’t have the ability to focus on that right now. He didn’t notice how, despite being the most offensively critical but least defensively protected, Silver was not attacked by the mass produced etherious. The bald, maggot white fleshed, large eared, pointy fanged demons rushed for Ezel, Keyes, Franmalt, and Mard Geer himself, but they never once attacked Silver.
Mard Geer was winning. He could feel the magic constraining Plutogrim falling away.
And then darkness exploded in the hollow they had carved from Plutogrim’s flesh.
Dealing with Kyoka had been simple. She had been trapped by Plutogrim, and had already lost her legs. She was a sitting duck, one whose soul Arthur was able to drink deep and quickly. Tempester and Torafuza had been somewhat more difficult, but even with their demonic resistance to Plutogrim’s curse, entangled in its flesh they had been made much more vulnerable.
Between surprise and an unhesitating willingness to be lethal he had dealt with them very quickly. Rewriting them like he had with Seilah was something he had considered. But he didn’t feel like spending the time was tactically justified. Besides, he was still angry, and as angry as it had made him when he’d done it to Seilah, he wasn’t certain he could do it when this angry to begin with. It wasn’t easy, and it took at least a touch of empathy.
Right now he didn’t feel empathy for the demons of Tartaros. Increasingly he was just numb. The immensity of the number of people who must have died when the cannon had fired in the city was… No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to shut down Cube, and destroy Tartaros.
With three of the demon gates removed, it was time to deal with the remaining cluster. He could feel his magic controlling Plutogrim slipping. Mard Geer or one of the others must be working to free Cube, and when that inevitably happens the balance would shift against him again.
He opened his Archive’s communications. And then, once he’d gotten the information he needed, he teleported into the hollow which the Demon Gates had formed.
He had the visual information he needed. He appeared with two celestial spirits already summoned, and his own magic ready. Darkness erupted, and behind it came Scorpio - the golden spirit provided him by Angel whose weapon was sand - and Orion - the spirit who he had once lost and forged a new key for himself.
Scorpio attacked Keyes, hoping to smother the barrier particle fog that the etherious changed into with a deluge of sand. Orion went for Ezel. Arthur wasn’t sure the giant was the right choice here. No. He was certain the giant wasn’t the right choice, but he’d promised Orion he’d let him fight some hard fights. And it’d been too long since he kept that promise. Still he trusted Orion to be sufficient, even if Enif would be the better choice.
He launched himself towards Franmalt. There was something clownish in his opinion about the demon. They were yellow and very round, head one with their body. They weren’t a circle, more a domed tube, with limbs and an overly large mouth. Their absorption curse worked by touching with their hands. Hands which could stretch out.
Seilah had known all about their abilities. And all of her memories were still in the depths of his Archive.
He couldn’t even allow Franmalt to touch his territory. Because any magic that Franmalt absorbed would be a tool he could use to tip the scale of battle. Right now Arthur was confident that while this was not a true checkmate for Tartaros yet, it was a mate in a matter of moves. He just had to make the right moves.
He teleported himself forward towards Franmalt, slipping past his stretched out arms. Franmalt pulled away, belching blackness towards Arthur’s face - the absorbed darkness curse of the mass produced etherious. But he had fallen into the ploy. Arthur’s right hand was only connected to Arthur through his territory, reaching through a teleportation portal to touch Franmalt from behind. And that touch was enough to initiate his takeover.
His black claws dug into Franmalt’s back, and he teleported the rest of his body to rejoin it, leaning in and forward and using his fangs bit down onto the demon and he drank deep of its soul.
How much of its power he could manage to scavenge through takeover he didn’t know. He’d learn that later. At that moment, he still needed to end this fight.
Thorny vines burst from the walls, only for ice to form around them and shatter them. Silver was holding his own, but it would only take an instant for Keyes to release his soul before he could take his revenge against the demons. Arthur was glad he had remembered that part of Silver’s motivation; he wasn’t really loyal to Tartaros, but wanted to destroy them, merely biding his time and trying to get close enough to do it and succeed. Arthur was disgusted he’d not done anything about the cannon.
Still at least Silver was taking advantage of the opportunity he was giving him. But Silver couldn’t beat Mard Geer, only keep him busy. Still if he bought enough time for Arthur to assimilate Keyes - though he wasn’t looking forward to rewriting him - then this battle was as good as over.
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Taberius plunged through the burning structure. The exceed didn’t know how the fire had started. It could have been the cannon itself, the heat and force of the magical explosion having ignited something, or it could have just been that the shockwave had knocked something over.
What he knew was that there was a fire spreading across the city. Minerva was doing her best to handle it, but while she could snuff out the flames, doing so without harming those inside of the burning structures was somewhat harder.
It became Taberius’s task to go in and save them. With his dragon takeover he could consume the flames, using them to maintain the very magic he used to brave the flames and extinguish them. Still the work was hard, and he had to go about it swiftly. It wasn’t a matter of stamina, Taberius was determined to be a proper knight and to work until he collapsed to protect those who could not defend themselves, but right now those were innocents trapped in burning buildings and that put a sort of time limit on his task.
He worked quickly, his wings carrying him into a building, his scaled, dragon-powered arm wrenching a door from its hinges. But finding those who screamed was difficult. And he had to keep checking places for those who had already fallen into the black grip of a sleep that could become death, as the smoke had filled their lungs and denied them the oxygen needed to maintain their consciousness.
Outside Lady Adler of the Magic Council did her best to ensure they lived. Those who were well enough were coordinated into helping each other, and those who were not were placed under stasis into one of the lady’s blank cards. She couldn’t heal them, but she could keep them from dying until they could be given proper medical care.
Or at least that was the theory. As Taberius emerged from one of the blazing buildings, a pair of children in his arms, he saw a group of soldiers surrounding the aged councilwoman. The gray haired woman was taller than any of the men, her back straight and head held high even as they pointed their long pole-mounted blades towards her, shields at the ready.
He could hear them condemning her for the attack on the city. She stood proud, even as they hurled their verbal vindictiveness at her. There was talk of a bomb.
And then Taberius was landing between Adler and the men. His Takeover magic had given him the shape of a large tiger-man with gray fur regularly interrupted by stripes of red scales. His head was almost more reptilian than feline and more animalistic than humanoid, and the wings from his back had shifted from feathered and angelic to scaled membranes reminiscent of a traditional demon’s. He held two crying children under his arms, completing the appearance of a demonic monster.
The soldiers stumbled backwards. Taberius roared. It was equal parts lion and dragon, a sound like that which might come up from the earth when hell’s gates swung wide and the hellfire poured out onto the surface in plumes of orange. Fire shot from his mouth and men screamed in pain.
“Taberius, do not hurt them!” Adler commanded harshly. “They do not know what they do.”
“When do humans,” the exceed said in a growl. “What sort of knights do you consider yourselves to be, though. First you attack an aged woman in the act of helping the wounded and now you quake and cower at the first hint of an actual foe to face.”
The soldiers were doing just that. At least those who were not howling from the burns which covered them. But their leader stood straight. “See, this is the magic council’s true colors. They turned to a demon of the flames and when their bomb was stopped they had him start fires to end our city.”
“Are you crazy?” Taberius asked. The two children still wailed in terror beneath his arms. “We didn’t start this fire. It was that cursed magical cannon. It’s no use talking to fools…”
“But we need to try,” Adler said. “We need more hands. And people will die if we waste time fighting the Pergrande royal army.”
“They are vicious knaves, and…” Taberius began.
“They have been lied to,” Adler cut in. “They might should learn to be less gullible, but we should enlighten them, not bludgeon them.”
Suddenly the weapons of the men disappeared from their hands. Minerva had returned. Heads turned towards her, but it was not her show at this time. Adler was stepping forward and displaying why she was on the magic council. It was not a position of pure magical power; one had to have a certain level of that to qualify, and it was not low, but the magic council was not full of wizard saints for a reason. It wasn’t supposed to be about power to subjugate an enemy by force; the council was not a war council. It was a matter of governing and leading the magical world.
She began to talk with dignity and certainty. “Your commanding officers told you that there was a bomb in the ship that was approaching. That the council was planning, what? A military conquest of Pergrande as the beginning of seizing dictatorial control over Ishgar? But what have you seen with your own eyes? Did the ship explode like some city-wiping bomb when blown away? Or did the cannon blast do this damage to your city? Your people are dying. They are wounded. They are tired. They are hungry.” Her arms swept towards those she’d been treating. There were limits to what she could do, but she had given them first aid. And many of them had simply been trapped in the flames, not yet burned, not yet collapsing from smoke inhalation. They had been rescued and the people she had saved were beginning to gather around her. Citizens of the city. People who the soldiers might recognize. Potentially even friends and family of them.
“They need to be saved. I am going to save them. If I had come here to destroy this city, I would be letting them die. But I am not going to waste time arguing that point here and now. I am going to save them. If you want to cut me down while I do that, do so. But once you do, save them. It doesn’t matter if we are the council Council or army, Ishgar or Pergrande, our reason to exist is to protect and save them. So I am going to do just that. Taberius put down those children and go back to your duties of rescuing more individuals. Minerva, did you complete the firebreak?”
Taberius still fumed. He wanted to be in the fight, not playing at some rescue mission. He wanted to show the pompous fools who tried to attack him. He wanted to beat on them until they realized they were in the wrong. Instead they were looking away and shuffling their feet, faces down cast and turned away in shame.
And Adler pointed at one. “You. You’re a strapping, fit, young man. There’s got to be people in more of these buildings. You can help Taberius get them out. And you. And you. And you. That glaive you carry might not be an ax, but it should still be able to cut open a doorway to rescue those trapped inside.” The soldiers straightened. “And you help me tend to the wounded. And you. And you, captain, get to your business and start leading your men. Someone go and report back on the flames, and start organizing a larger movement.”
She spoke in a tone that did not brook dissension. It was not a harsh tone. It was not a tone that threatened one’s life. It was a tone of confidence and surety of one who knew what she was doing even in the midst of a crisis. There was no panic in her voice. There was no fear. Whatever she felt inside, she was calm on the outside. And the men, panicked by the destruction, and the idea of war with the magic council, responded to that certainty. They stepped to their tasks.
Arthur snapped his fingers. With Franmalth dead he no longer needed to hold his best magic back.
Around him the battle slowed to a near standstill. Mard Geer’s thorns were still moving, but where they had been crashing forward at a speed to press the finest swordsman to react now it was barely perceptible that they were. Arthur could watch Silver’s ‘absolute zero’ devil slayer ice forming across them ever so slowly.
It wasn’t Dimeria’s Age Seal, but Arthur’s use of Slow Magic had reached the point of a near temporal freeze.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t in a hurry, though. Keyes could kill Silver the moment he had the concentration to do it. And Arthur didn’t want that to happen. He’d gone as far as lying to Silver that not only was his son alive - which Grey was alive - but that he would die if Silver didn’t manage to pass his Devil Slayer Magic to him to give Silver a reason to live past his grudge.
He wanted to give Grey at least a chance to meet his father. He deserved that much. So he didn’t want to let Keyes kill him. And stopping that was going to take time and effort. The slow magic had hopefully bought him the former, but it was time to put in the latter.
Reaching Keyes was a quick thing. He leapt forward, his wings spreading, and braking his movement to let him land in front of Keyes. He reached forward and grabbed the skeletal face of the demonic necromancer. He was reaching into Keyes’s very being, coming to understand it, and to control it. He could feel the sickening sense of evil; the malice and contempt for the living which made the skeletal demon. The sense of its purpose and nature. The sheer smug superiority he felt. Humans were his toys. Because they were mortal. They died. And his power made them his puppets. He would use them to better understand death. To perfect his necromancy and make them his eternal playthings.
And he would feel despair. Arthur was in control. He had taken over the demon, and he was already beginning to rework his fundamental programming. Right now. It was just a thing to ensure that he didn’t kill Silver, or help Mard Geer.
Still, Arthur felt sick as time resumed its normal flow. The sheer, disgusting self-importance of the demon had his skin crawling. And the utter contempt he was feeling about the demon… was that his own contempt, or was that an echo of the demon’s own sense of superiority.
It was better to consume the soul and use that to takeover the power, than to risk the mental backwash and corruption of attempting to truly take them over.
Or at least that was Arthur’s justification in deciding not to try and lay claim to Mard Geer’s totality and to take that easier, quicker path. It was not worth the risk of losing himself to Mard Geer’s pride and corrupt soul.
Arthur snapped his fingers and things slowed to a crawl once more. He moved then, a sword - not his black sword - flashing out to cut the thorns from Silver’s body and pull him away from the mass which had burst around him. He released Silver, and turned his head towards Mard Geer. The undead Devil Slayer was losing. But that was alright. He’d done his job. He’d given Arthur the chance to kill Franmalth and thus dominate the battle.
Arthur requipped his artificial hand, swapping that silver hand which had been gifted to him by Selene for the black iron hand he had created himself. It twisted to suit his Chaos Soul, the metal growing long and talon like. It was a conduit of demonic magic, one to transform his dragon slayer magic into devil slayer magic, and to help him tap into the Curse energy which powered demons.
He plunged it into Mard Geer’s chest. He could see Mard Geer’s recognition spreading over his face in slow motion. The etherious had impressively swift reactions to have noticed Arthur’s approach before his arrival. But he was still too slow to save himself.
Arthur leaned forward, his own demonic fangs clamping down on Mard Geer’s throat, as his devil slaying flames blossomed inside of the etherious to hollow him out as Arthur drank his soul.
Tartaros had been destroyed. Mard Geer Tartaros who acted as its guild master had died rather unceremoniously for a foe who had been among the worst that Fairy Tail ever faced. He had fought the Celestial Spirit King, though he’d only ‘won’ because Lucy had been unable to sustain the king. He had taken the worst Natsu could hit him with. He had in all honesty put up a much better fight than Bloodman of the Spriggan 12. In all honesty Arthur had expected him to be a threat above an average Spriggan.
But Arthur had a serious ‘type advantage’ in the fight. He had been able to control the battlefield and stack the deck in his favor. Keyes and Silver were the only survivors of Tartaros’s main forces. No. Keyes, Silver, and Plutogrim.
Arthur had to decide what to do with the Cube. It was a war machine, integrated with the dangerous b.R.A.I.N. device. He could control it through Takeover, but in so doing he had destroyed its natural equilibrium leaving it vulnerable to usurpation from the b.R.A.I.N. device. It would be hard to keep them both under control. Easy enough in the short term. Or if he stayed on the vessel. But unless he wanted to become bound to the war machine, he couldn’t be certain how long his control would last. Eventually it would fail, and he didn’t have some timer to tell him when.
There was also the issue of the Cube itself. The Magic Council could - eventually - figure out how to control Plutogrim. Arthur didn’t want to give them the sort of fire power which Plutogrim now represented. At the same time the evidence was on Plutogrim. If he destroyed Plutogrim it could look like he was trying to hide something. Like he had been in contact with and working with Tartaros and having decided to betray them tried to use them to undermine the cohesion of the Council. Or something. He didn’t know what conspiracy theories the council would formulate about him. But he really did not want to give them that cannon.
And a part of him wanted to destroy it as if doing so would somehow remove from him the stain of guilt at not having stopped it. If he’d acted faster. If he’d done something instead of hesitating. He could have stopped it from firing. If he’d been smarter. If he’d been faster. If he’d been better.
Arthur lashed out, a burst of shadows erupting from his hand to tear through the walls of the Cube. He’d used Satan Soul too thoroughly. It made his emotions harder to control. And the numbing guilt and rage over the deaths were still there. A city had been carved up by magic he could have stopped. If he had simply been more competent and capable.
Destroying Plutogrim to alleviate that sense of guilt would be wrong. Worse than wrong, it would be a mistake. Plutogrim’s cannon combined Spirit Arts, Curse Arts, and Magic into one weapon. He wasn’t certain if Acnologia could eat it or not. It might be the weapon he needed to ensure Acnologia didn’t kill countless.
Or it could be a weapon that the Council would use to cause untold destruction and damage.
Arthur hated this sense of responsibility and the feeling that lives depended upon him and his decision. But with great power comes great responsibility. And if he didn’t want to be stuck as a mortal living in a world of mad gods, he needed to get the power to be a god himself. But would the responsibility drive him mad? And choosing to ignore the responsibility was just another path of madness.
Lives depended upon his decision. And he had to be the one to make it.
So much easier in a video game. Or a tabletop RPG. Something where it’s not real. If he chose wrong would it break him?
He lashed out again, blasting away with one hand. And then he sagged to the ground and curled up. He hated this sort of responsibility. He didn’t want to be responsible for the fates of others. He wanted a life of ease and relaxation. Books. Youtube. TV shows. Distraction and the fine things in life.
But instead he needed to fight a dragon king lest he allow a world to be scourged clean of life. Instead he had to deal with the fact that he had killed dozens himself and that his mistakes had killed… thousands? Tens of thousands? Millions?
And for a time, Arthur was alone to wallow in his ill-placed, and undeserved angst.