Day 9…
Shun was on his ninth day in Crocus, his self-imposed vacation in full swing. He was leisurely strolling through a bustling market district, enjoying a skewer of grilled meat from a street vendor, when a voice called out from behind him.
"Mr. Shun!"
He turned to see one of Zoltan's bodyguards. The man's name escaped him; he hadn't bothered to remember it.
"Oh, you are…"
"Sir, I'm Debra, one of Mr. Zoltan's subordinates," the man said, bowing slightly. "I was ordered to find you. Mr. Zoltan says the information you requested is ready."
'He's much more respectful now,' Shun noted. 'Probably got a stern talking-to from Zoltan.'
"Sure, lead the way," Shun said, tossing the empty skewer into a nearby bin.
"Yes, sir!"
---
After a half-hour walk, they arrived at a stately mansion in a well-to-do district. It was elegant and spacious, clearly expensive, but not ostentatiously so. Owning a property like this in the heart of the capital spoke volumes about Zoltan's success as a merchant.
Zoltan himself emerged from the grand front door, a few servants in tow, to welcome him. "Mr. Shun! Welcome to my humble abode!" he greeted, his cheer sounding genuine.
"Thanks for the invitation," Shun replied, his eyes briefly scanning the exterior. "So, I heard you have a clue?"
"Indeed, I do. Please, let's talk inside."
The interior of the mansion was tastefully decorated in a palette of warm neutrals, accented with deep, earthy tones in the plush furnishings and rich rugs. It was a space designed for comfort and quiet luxury. They settled into armchairs in a spacious living room, and after a servant served them warm tea and delicate pastries, Zoltan dismissed everyone.
Once they were alone, Zoltan took a sip of his tea and began. "The information you asked for, Mr. Shun. My contacts have confirmed rumors of dark guilds raiding villages in the northern territories, kidnapping citizens for forced labor. The captives are then transported by ship to an island called 'Caelum'. The journey from here takes about a week."
'Caelum Island…' The name didn't ring any bells from the original story, confirming this was the right path. 'Good thing I asked him.'
"Thanks for the information," Shun said, setting his cup down. "I owe you one. I'll pay you back in the future." Without further ceremony, he stood and took his leave. The vacation was over. He had finally found the Tower of Heaven.
---
Nine days of rest had been pleasant at first, but idleness had quickly grown tedious. Shun went straight to the city's port and used his mission reward to hire a boatman, paying a premium of 50,000 Jewels to secure immediate passage and ensure discretion.
The journey itself was a dull, week-long testament to the inefficiency of travel in this world. 'If I just knew the exact direction, I could fly there…' he thought, growing impatient with the slow rocking of the boat.
On the sixth day, the boatman's eager shout broke through his boredom. "Sir! The island is visible!"
In the distance, a landmass rose from the sea. "Alright, I'll get off here. You can return," Shun stated.
"Eh? Here? But the island is still far away—" the boatman protested, turning around. But Shun was already gone.
High above the waves, Shun stood firmly on the air, a pair of nearly invisible, compressed paw-pads acting as platforms beneath his feet. It was a simple but efficient technique he'd developed on Tenroujima, requiring minimal magic power for sustained aerial footing.
After locking onto the island's position, he pulled off his gloves. Placing his bare palms behind his back, he pushed.
PASHOO!
The recoil from repelling the air launched him forward like a bullet, his speed easily eclipsing 100 kilometers per hour. 'The Paw-Paw Fruit is supposed to reach light speed after awakening,' he mused as he flew. 'I could go faster, but there's no need for that yet.'
Within minutes, he was hovering high above the grim, monolithic structure known as the Tower of Heaven.
---
Sorano Agria's POV
'I'm so tired… How long has it been? I just want to go home.'
Sorano Agria curled into a tighter ball on the cold stone floor of her cell. The memory of her old life was a painful, distant dream. A kind mother, a gentle father, and her clumsy little sister, Yukino, whom she always protected from scoldings. She had loved that peaceful life. She had loved Yukino most of all.
That peace was shattered by fire and screams. A cult that worshipped the black mage Zeref had descended upon her village. Her parents were murdered. She and Yukino had hidden in a barrel, Sorano whispering promises of safety through her own tears.
Click-clack. Click-clack.
The sound of approaching footsteps had sealed their fate. Terrified, Yukino had begun to sob. In that moment, a desperate, heartbreaking plan formed in Sorano's young mind.
"Yukino, don't make a sound. Stay hidden," she had whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "If we both stay, we'll be caught. I'll lead them away."
She had looked at her sister one last time, mustering a brave smile, and then ran. She ran with all the strength in her small legs, a deliberate decoy. She was caught within minutes, but as they dragged her away, her only thought was a bittersweet relief: 'At least Yukino is safe.'
Now, trapped in this endless cycle of forced labor, the other child slaves were as broken and silent as she was. There was no comfort to be found. Pushing herself up from the floor, she walked to the small, barred window of her cell, one of the few moments of quiet they were granted. She looked up at the sliver of open sky, watching the birds fly free.
'Ah… my prayer…' she thought, tears welling in her eyes as she gripped the cold iron bars. 'To just fade away into the sky… to disappear like an angel…'
Her poetic thought trailed off.
'Or… like that boy?'
She blinked, her tears blurring her vision. She wiped her eyes hastily and looked again. High above, silhouetted against the sun, was a figure. A boy, standing calmly on nothing but air.
'Ehh?! There's somebody… flying?!'