As Aelius dove toward the back end of the warship, he was violently misplaced midair as Hades threw a chain he failed to dodge, or rather, Hades predicted the exact movement and angled the attack accordingly. The black chain screamed through the air and carved clean through the stem of his left wing.
The entire appendage tore apart instantly. The actual support near the base split apart under the strike, the rest of the wing ripping free in a spray of blood as his momentum violently spun him sideways through the air.
Aelius felt a twinge of annoyance, not at the pain. But flying became rather useless if he let his wings get ripped apart more than he lost arms. Odd comparison, but true nonetheless. Wings changed positioning, movement, angles, and momentum, and just like with any winged beast, losing one wing will throw off everything, from balance to even depth perception.
The violent spin nearly sent him over the side of the ship entirely before he corrected. His remaining wing snapped outward hard enough to partially stabilize him while his body twisted through the air in an ugly, uncontrolled motion.
For some reason, the hit brought up a specific memory. The cliff behind the guildhall, the day that damnable reporter, followed by Levy asking him if the reason he feared attachment was because if his purpose shifted, he would turn into something else. At the time, she probably did not realize the wording, but something was very different from someone. He remembered his speech used to be more formal back then, cleaner, and more measured. One of the many ways he tried distancing himself from the others, like if he acted detached enough, spoke detached enough, eventually, he would stop resembling them entirely.
Yet here he was. For all that distancing, he had lost a wing trying to protect them, and that wasn't counting the literal pounds of flesh Hades had taken before.
Aelius hit the deck shoulder-first hard enough to bounce once before immediately using the momentum instead of fighting it. His mangled hands found purchase against the shattered planks, and he shoved himself forward violently, dragging his body low across the deck as another chain came screaming for his legs.
He jumped on instinct. The chain tore through the space where his knees had been less than a second earlier before embedding itself deep into the ship behind him, black magic exploding through the wood and collapsing an entire section of railing into the ocean below.
His remaining wing beat once, uneven now without its counterpart. The motion almost threw him sideways again, but it still gave him enough lift to clear a broken support beam and continue toward the rear structure.
If his cloak had still existed, it probably would have suffered damage from all this. Unfortunately, it had ceased to exist sometime before he and Hades took their little plunge into the ocean. Fire and explosions were rather effective against fabric. Most of what remained clung to him in blackened strips around his waist and shoulders, soaked through with seawater and blood.
Another Grimoire Chain erupted upward from below deck, this one aimed directly for his remaining wing. Not that it actually mattered anymore, mainly because the moment Aelius felt he was far enough into the back end of the ship, he dropped. Literally.
He released plague magic through his boot, and the boards underfoot disintegrated nearly instantly. Wood blackened, softened, and collapsed into wet rot beneath him before the chain could fully adjust its angle. Aelius fell straight through the opening without resistance.
The first lower deck rushed past in a blur of dim lantern light, shattered support beams, and startled crewmen who barely had time to register what they were seeing before he punched through the floor beneath them, too. Then the second deck. This time, he did not destroy it intentionally. His momentum simply carried him through weakened boards hard enough that they exploded apart on impact. Crates burst around him, supplies scattering across the chamber while fungal decay spread across every surface he touched on the way down.
And with every deck he passed through, he felt it more clearly. An odd magic in the air, this reverberated through the wood and steel like a musical tone. A slow pulse that traveled through the entire structure of the vessel. During the fight above, he could not isolate it long enough for it to matter. There had been too much happening, too much destructive magic flooding the battlefield to pick apart one faint signature among the chaos.
But now, closer and momentarily focused, he could feel it properly. Something powerful pulsed deep within the rear of the ship. And part of it felt exactly like Hades, or at the very least, was linked to him.
Aelius twisted mid-fall, his remaining wing catching briefly against the confined air to slow him enough that he landed in a crouch instead of cratering through another floor entirely. Metal groaned beneath him. The chamber around him was darker than the upper levels, lit mostly by dim crimson lacrima embedded into the walls and ceiling. Pipes and thick cables ran in every direction here, built into the structure itself like veins through flesh.
No wonder Hades kept protecting this area.
Aelius took a step forward and immediately noticed the walls changing. The steel plating near the far end of the chamber looked different from the rest of the ship, darker, layered with old runic reinforcement, and thick enough to stop siege weaponry. Several massive pipes converged toward the same direction, all feeding deeper inward. Toward whatever was giving off the magic.
Aelius moved deeper into the rear section of the ship, one hand dragging briefly along the reinforced wall beside him as another pulse rolled through the structure. Up close, the sensation became worse in a way he could not properly explain. The magic was dense enough to feel physical, reverberating through the steel beneath his fingers and through the floor under his boots like some enormous living thing buried inside the vessel. Every few seconds, the pulse strengthened, then receded again, carrying traces of Hades's magic with it each time.
That was the part bothering him most; it wasn't fully identical, but close enough that if he closed his eyes, he could almost mistake the signatures for the same source layered atop one another. It reminded him of his own spores at times. Different strains branching from the same infection.
Behind him, far above the lower decks, another explosion rocked the ship hard enough that dust and splinters rained from the ceiling. The hull groaned violently, metal supports creaking under stress while distant muffled sounds of combat echoed through the lower corridors.
Since Hades had not followed him, that meant the others were keeping him busy. Aelius could imagine the man sneering insults as he tried to break free to reach him, but the four the man was too much for it to be easy.
Aelius continued forward through the dim chamber, his remaining wing dragging occasionally against narrow sections of corridor whenever the ship lurched. The severed left wing had already begun partially regrowing near the shoulder blade, black-veined flesh slowly rebuilding the base structure beneath torn muscle. It was slower now, as he was neither focusing on it nor was he exactly topped off with his magic reserves.
The deeper he went, the stranger the ship became. The outer levels at least resembled a war vessel. Cannons. Barracks. Supply rooms. Engine halls. This place felt different. Older. Less functional and more ritualistic. Thick black runes had been carved directly into the walls and filled with hardened crimson material that faintly glowed alongside the pulse. Massive chains thicker than tree trunks disappeared into the lower sections through reinforced openings in the floor and ceiling alike, all angled toward the same destination.
Toward the heart of the ship. Aelius turned another corner and finally saw it properly. The corridor opened into an enormous circular chamber extending multiple stories downward through the center of the rear structure. Catwalks and heavy support beams lined the outer walls while enormous lacrima conduits fed inward from every direction like arteries. At the center of the chamber, suspended in midair by colossal black chains and rotating runic restraints, hung the source of the pulse.
It was massive. Far larger than he expected. The thing resembled an actual organ more than any magical device, a gigantic dark-purple heart suspended vertically within layers of mechanical reinforcement and magical containment. Veins of black magic crawled across its surface while thick cables fed directly into it through metal spikes driven deep into the flesh-like structure. Every pulse sent visible waves of energy outward through the connected conduits.
The entire ship was feeding from it or being fed by it. Aelius stared upward at the thing as another heartbeat rolled through the chamber. The sound alone made the air feel heavier. Then movement caught his attention. Two small figures hovered near one of the upper support beams.
Happy noticed him first. "Aelius!" the exceed yelled before immediately flying downward. Carla followed only a second later, though unlike Happy, she looked more focused on the giant pulsing organ suspended in the middle of the chamber than relieved to see him alive.
Happy stopped abruptly a few feet away and stared openly at the missing wing. "Oh man," he said, grimacing. "That is super bad."
Aelius glanced toward the half-regenerated stump behind him. "It'll grow back."
"That is not the part I'm worried about," Carla said sharply as she landed nearby. Her eyes remained fixed on the Devil Heart. "We found this while trying to reach the rear engine sections. The magic output here is absurd."
Aelius nodded once. "Feeds Hades."
Carla's ears twitched slightly. "You felt it too."
"Hard not to."
Another violent tremor shook the chamber as explosions echoed from above deck. Dust rained from the ceiling again while several of the restraints around the Devil Heart vibrated under the strain. Aelius looked upward briefly, listening to the distant sounds of combat. Natsu's roar carried faintly even down here. Then another pulse of Hades's magic slammed through the ship hard enough that the chamber lights flickered.
Carla flew upward slightly, inspecting the restraints around the heart itself. "This thing is powerful," she said. "And dangerous. I don't think it's merely powering the ship. The magic circulation is too direct." She looked back toward Aelius. "It may actually be linked to him."
Aelius looked at the massive organ again. That would explain the regeneration. The constant, never-ending magic the man seemed to have. The increasing pressure every time he should have been slowing down. The old monster was not fighting on reserves alone. He had something actively feeding him power throughout the battle.
Happy floated nervously beside Aelius while staring upward at the suspended heart. "Soooo," he said carefully, "bad question maybe, but should we destroy the giant evil heart thing?"
The pulse answered before Aelius could. The Heart beat again, louder this time. The entire chamber darkened for a fraction of a second as black magic surged outward through the conduits. Several chains groaned under the strain while runes along the walls brightened violently.
And somewhere far above them, Hades's magic exploded outward with renewed force.
"Stand back, or better yet, go up top. I'll destroy this thing," Aelius said, staring at the massive purple engine suspended in the center of the chamber.
Another pulse rolled through the Heart as he spoke, thick enough this time that the air visibly distorted around it. The giant organ flexed against its restraints with a wet, unnatural motion before settling again. Black magic flooded outward through the chains and conduits feeding into the ship, and somewhere above them, another explosion thundered across the upper decks.
Happy looked between Aelius and the Heart nervously. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"No," Aelius answered immediately.
Carla folded her arms with a scoff, unconsciously hovering a bit higher. "At least he's honest."
Aelius stepped forward slowly, eyes never leaving the suspended mass. Up close, it looked even worse. The surface was not smooth crystal or carved magical material. It looked organic beneath the reinforced plating and restraints, thick black veins crawling beneath the dark-purple flesh-like exterior, while every pulse forced more magic through the connected pipes. The thing was alive in some capacity. Or at least close enough, the distinction stopped mattering.
Another tremor shook the chamber, knocking him out of his thoughts.
This one was stronger than the others. The ceiling groaned overhead while dust and fragments of steel dropped from the upper support beams. Happy flinched instinctively before glancing upward. "They're really going at it up there."
"Then perhaps we should not leave you alone with the giant evil magic heart," Carla said, like it wasn't the plan anyway.
"And what exactly are you going to do?" Aelius asked, voice littered with annoyance as he glanced back toward Carla. "Annoy him to death?" His remaining wing twitched once behind him while another pulse from the Heart rolled through the chamber. "At least Gajeel's cat can fight, so just listen and go up, or away. I'm being nice and considering this might actually kill you."
Happy grimaced immediately. "Okay, wow, rude."
Carla's eyes narrowed into a glare sharp enough that it probably worked on normal people. "You are insufferable."
"Leave. Now," Aelius said as both palms began glowing with dense green-black magic. The pressure in the chamber shifted immediately around him, plague energy thickening the air until even breathing became unpleasant. "You have three seconds."
Happy opened his mouth like he wanted to argue.
"1."
The massive purple core suspended in the center of the chamber pulsed violently again, black magic flooding through the conduits in unstable bursts now that corruption continued spreading through the restraints.
Carla looked at the growing fractures racing along the surrounding supports and immediately grabbed Happy by the scruff.
"2."
Luckily, the cats left at two. Because they might have actually died from what happened next.
Aelius did not bother wasting breath on three. Instead, he slammed his palms together hard enough that the sound cracked through the chamber like a gunshot. "Plague God's Pestilent Arrow."
The spell formed instantly. Not the earlier versions, he had fired against Hades above deck. This one condensed everything directly into a single point. Black and green magic compressed between his palms until the air around it began decaying from proximity alone. Steel warped. The floor beneath his boots softened into rotting sludge.
Then he fired. The arrow screamed across the chamber like a siege weapon, trailing a spiral of corruption in its wake. Every conduit it passed through blackened instantly, while fungal growth erupted across the walls along its flight path.
The projectile struck the purple core dead centre, and for half a second, nothing happened. Then the entire structure shuddered violently. Cracks began to race across the surface from the impact point outward in jagged, branching lines. The pulse reverberating through the ship faltered once, then again, growing uneven and unstable as green-black corruption forced its way deeper into the damaged structure.
Then the core split down the middle.= The explosion that followed swallowed the chamber. Black magic erupted outward in catastrophic waves as the entire power source destabilized at once. Conduits overloaded instantly, detonating one after another in violent chain reactions that tore through the surrounding structure. The reinforced restraints snapped apart under the pressure while molten fragments and corrupted magic filled the air like shrapnel.
Aelius barely had time to brace as the blast hit him full force and launched him backwards hard enough to crater through the steel wall behind him. Metal folded inward around his body as the impact blasted another shockwave through the lower decks. His remaining wing tore further from the force, while already damaged flesh split open across his arms and torso.
The rear section of the ship lurched violently sideways. Above deck, the entire airship groaned like something dying. Several lower support beams collapsed outright as fire and magical backlash surged through the conduits feeding the vessel. Explosions ripped through adjoining chambers while black-red energy vented uncontrollably from shattered pipes in every direction.
After a minute, Aelius tore himself out of the ruined wall with visible effort. When his eyes focused, he noticed the chamber barely existed anymore. Everything around the destroyed core had become collapsing steel, fire, and unstable magical discharge. Sections of the ceiling continued caving inward while chunks of burning debris crashed into the lower decks below.
Aelius listened for a moment instead of moving, his magic sense spreading slowly upward through the damaged remains of the ship.
Hades was weakened, considerably so. The difference was immediate enough that it almost felt absurd. The crushing pressure that had dominated the battlefield earlier was gone entirely, stripped away alongside the destroyed core. The old monster's magic still remained dangerous, still vast compared to most mages alive, but now it felt grounded. Honestly, it felt around Natsu's level now. Give or take a level or two, depending on how much magic the idiot had burned through already.
Aelius let his head fall back against the ruined steel wall behind him while staring up through the shattered opening he had entered from earlier. Smoke drifted upward through the gap while distant sounds of combat still echoed faintly from above deck.
But the outcome was already decided. They had won. He could feel it. Not just from Hades weakening, but from the others themselves. Fairy Tail's magic had shifted. Earlier, it felt strained, desperate at times. Now it surged confidently through the ship again. Natsu's flames burned hotter. Erza's magic had steadied. Grey's ice no longer carried that edge of forced endurance.
And further out beyond the vessel, he could feel more familiar signatures approaching, Makarov and Gildarts mainly.
The master's magic still felt damaged and exhausted after everything that happened on Tenrou, but it carried that same overwhelming warmth it always had. Gildarts felt exactly like expected, absurdly dense magic approaching the battlefield with the subtlety of a natural disaster.
Aelius closed his eyes and rested there against the shattered wall while the ship continued dying around him.
Today was exhausting. Mentally more than physically, funnily enough. His body would heal eventually. It always did. The missing wing was already slowly rebuilding itself again near the shoulder blade, wet strands of black-veined tissue stretching outward inch by inch. His mangled hands had mostly stopped bleeding. Burned flesh crawled slowly back into place across his ribs and side. But his magic reserves were nearly dry. Probably would be completely dry by the time the regeneration finished properly.
At least his flask still had some poison left in it, so things were not entirely hopeless. Still, for once, he felt content staying where he was. Now that he was out of immediate danger and the adrenaline had faded enough for actual thought to return, he could finally process everything that had happened.
Mainly that vision or dream, whatever it actually was. The realization still irritated him deeply because, of course, the answer turned out simple in theory. For all the fighting, all the forcing, all the attempts to overpower every obstacle in front of him, the path forward apparently boiled down to one thing. Stop resisting what his magic meant.
Aelius looked down slowly at his still-mangled hands. Accepting that he was the product of a god, and likely on track toward becoming one himself, was significantly harder than the vision made it sound.
Especially considering what kind of god. Not one of light, certainly not one that people worshipped because it made them feel safe. His magic created abominations. Parasites. Living plagues that spread and consumed and changed everything they touched. Even his healing worked through corruption more often than restoration. Growth through infection. Adaptation through suffering.
Love through disease.
Aelius understood it now in a way he previously avoided admitting. His magic did not actually hate life, no, that would have been simpler; instead, it loved life too much. Every spore, every mutation, every creature birthed from his power sought the same thing at its core. Preservation. Continuation. Endless existence through adaptation, no matter how horrific the result became.
To keep life forever trapped in stagnation, yet constantly changing all at once. The contradiction made his head hurt.
Because he could see the appeal now, too. That was the worst part. The moment he stopped resisting, the moment he let the magic flow naturally instead of treating it like some chained beast inside himself, he became stronger immediately, faster, stronger, his core grew, and his magic now rivalled that of Gildarts. He even grew wings in some sort of last kick while he was down.
And that terrified him. Because if becoming stronger meant accepting all of that fully, then eventually there might not be much difference between Aelius and the thing his magic wanted him to become.
The ship groaned again somewhere above him. He ignored it. For now, he stayed where he was, eyes half-closed while firelight flickered through the ruined chamber around him. Just tired.
Very, very tired.