Chapter 93: Battle for Fairy Tail V - Laxus vs Mystogan
The Kardia Cathedral stood at the edge of Magnolia, its twin spires piercing the grey sky like fingers reaching for something they could never touch. The stained glass windows were dark. The bells were silent. The only sound was the wind, and beneath it, the low hum of the Thunder Palace orbs that floated above the city like a net of lightning waiting to fall.
Laxus sat on the steps of the cathedral, his coat open, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the sky. He had been waiting for a long time. Waiting for someone to come. Waiting for someone strong enough to challenge him. Waiting for the fight he had been promised since the day he was born.
The air shifted behind him.
He did not turn. He did not need to. He could feel the presence, the weight of magic that was not quite like any other in the guild. It was heavy and light at the same time, solid and ethereal, the magic of someone who had spent years traveling between worlds.
"Mystogan," Laxus said. "I was wondering when you would show up."
Mystogan stepped out of the shadows. His mask covered his face, as it always did. His five staves were strapped to his back, each one humming with a different color of light. His cloak billowed in the wind, and his eyes, the only part of his face visible, were fixed on Laxus with an intensity that could cut stone.
"Deactivate the Thunder Palace," Mystogan said. His voice was low, calm, the voice of a man who did not waste words. "End this before someone gets hurt."
Laxus stood. He turned to face Mystogan, and a slow smile spread across his face. The smile of a man who had been waiting for this moment for years.
"You have been avoiding me," Laxus said. "Every time I asked for a fight, you were gone. Every time I wanted to prove who was stronger, you disappeared. But now you are here. Now you cannot run."
Mystogan did not move. "I am not here to fight you. I am here to stop you."
"Same thing."
Laxus raised his hand. Lightning crackled at his fingertips, yellow and bright, casting long shadows across the cathedral steps. "I have been waiting for this. You and me. The two strongest mages in Fairy Tail. No interference. No excuses. Just a fight to decide who is the best."
Mystogan's eyes narrowed. "Deactivate the Thunder Palace."
"After I win."
"You will not win."
Laxus laughed. It was a sharp, bitter sound, the laugh of a man who had been told he was not good enough for his entire life. "You always were arrogant, Another."
Mystogan's body went rigid. His hand moved to one of his staves, his fingers wrapping around the wood with a grip that could crush stone.
"What did you call me?"
Laxus's smile widened. "Another. That is what you are, is it not? From another world. Another reality. Another version of a man who should not exist here."
Mystogan's voice was ice. "How do you know that?"
Laxus shrugged. "I have my sources. Maybe I will tell you. Maybe I will not. It depends on how well you fight."
He raised his other hand. Lightning gathered in both palms, crackling and snapping, filling the air with the smell of ozone. "Come on, Another. Show me what you can do. Show me why everyone thinks you are so strong."
Mystogan moved.
He did not draw his staves. He did not cast a spell. He simply moved, crossing the distance between them in a blur of speed that left afterimages in the air. His fist connected with Laxus's jaw. The impact sent Laxus stumbling back, his hand flying to his face, blood dripping from a split lip.
Laxus touched the blood, looked at his fingers, and grinned. "There you are."
He swung his arm. Lightning arced from his fingertips, a whip of yellow energy that cut through the air. Mystogan dodged, but not fast enough. The lightning caught his shoulder, tearing through his cloak and leaving a burn on his skin. He hissed in pain but did not stop moving.
His hand went to his back and pulled one of his staves free. The wood hummed with green light, the lacrima embedded in its tip glowing like a star.
"Skyscraper," he said.
He planted the staff into the ground. The other four staves flew from his back, each one landing in a circle around Laxus, embedding themselves in the stone with a sound like thunder. The runes on the staves flared to life, green and gold and blue, and the world around Laxus began to shift.
The ground beneath his feet seemed to fall away. The sky above him stretched into infinity. He was standing on nothing, suspended in a void of stars and darkness, and beneath him, the earth was gone.
Laxus looked down. He saw the ground far below, shrinking, fading, disappearing into the black. He saw the belts of light wrapping around his arms and legs, holding him in place. He saw the tear in space above him, a wound in reality, and through it, the face of a creature that was not quite a frog and not quite a dragon.
"An illusion," Laxus said. "You think this will scare me?"
Mystogan did not answer. The creature reached through the tear in space, its claws extended, its mouth open wide, ready to consume.
Laxus closed his eyes. The lightning around him flared, brighter and hotter, until it was not yellow but white, not light but pure energy. The belts around his arms and legs snapped. The ground beneath his feet returned. The sky above him became sky again, grey and cold and real.
He opened his eyes. The staves were still planted in the ground around him, but their light had dimmed. The runes were fading.
"Good trick," Laxus said. "But I have seen better."
He raised his hand. Lightning shot from his palm, not at Mystogan, but at the staves. The first one exploded, splinters of wood scattering across the cathedral steps. The second one followed. The third. The fourth.
Mystogan moved. He leaped over the remaining staves, his hand reaching for the fifth, but Laxus was faster. The lightning struck the last staff before Mystogan could reach it, and it shattered into a dozen pieces.
Mystogan landed on the steps, his staves gone, his magic flickering. He reached for his remaining weapons, but Laxus was already moving.
Lightning arced from Laxus's hands, a dozen bolts at once, each one aimed at a different point around Mystogan. They struck the ground, the walls, the railings, sending stone and dust flying in every direction. Mystogan dodged, weaved, spun. One bolt grazed his arm. Another caught his side. A third struck his leg, and he stumbled.
But he did not fall.
He raised his hand. A circle of light appeared before him, shimmering and silver, and the next bolt of lightning struck it and bounced back toward Laxus. Laxus dodged, barely, the lightning grazing his cheek and leaving a thin line of blood.
"Mirror Water," Mystogan said. His voice was steady despite his wounds. "Your lightning will not touch me again."
Laxus laughed. "We will see."
He charged. His body became lightning, a blur of yellow energy that crossed the space between them in an instant. His fist connected with Mystogan's chest. The impact sent Mystogan flying backward, crashing into the cathedral doors with a sound like thunder.
Mystogan pushed himself up. His cloak was torn. His mask was cracked. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead. But his eyes were still sharp, and his hands were already moving.
"Five Layered Magic Circle," he said.
Five circles of light appeared in the air before him, each one layered over the next, spinning and shifting, building power. "Sacred Song."
The circles fired. A beam of pure energy shot toward Laxus, wider than a man, brighter than the sun. Laxus raised his hands and summoned a wall of lightning. The beam struck the wall and the two spells clashed, sending shockwaves across the cathedral steps. Stone cracked. Windows shattered. The ground beneath them shook.
Laxus gritted his teeth. The beam was pushing him back, forcing him to dig his heels into the stone to keep from sliding. His lightning was holding, but barely.
"You are strong," he said. "Stronger than I expected."
He pushed harder. His lightning flared, bright and hot, and the beam began to splinter. Mystogan's circles flickered. His arms shook. He was reaching his limit.
But so was Laxus.
They stood there, suspended in the clash of their spells, neither willing to give ground, neither able to advance. The air between them was a storm of light and sound, yellow and silver, crackling and humming, beautiful and terrible.
Then, at the same moment, both spells gave out.
The beam dissolved. The lightning faded. The two mages stood across from each other, breathing hard, their bodies battered, their magic spent. Blood dripped from Laxus's lip. Blood dripped from Mystogan's forehead. They had been fighting for minutes that felt like hours, and neither had gained the upper hand.
"You are not bad," Laxus said. His voice was rough, but there was something in it that might have been respect. "For a man from another world."
Mystogan's eyes narrowed. "Deactivate the Thunder Palace."
"I told you. After I win."
"You are not winning."
"No," Laxus admitted. "Neither are you."
They stood in silence, the weight of the fight settling between them. The cathedral loomed above, dark and silent. The Thunder Palace orbs hummed in the distance. The storm gathered overhead.
Laxus raised his hand. Lightning gathered at his fingertips, weaker than before, but still dangerous. Mystogan raised his hand. A circle of light appeared before him, smaller than before, but still steady.
They were about to attack again when the doors of the cathedral creaked open.
Natsu and Erza stepped into the square.
Mystogan turned his head toward them, just for a moment, just long enough to see their faces. Laxus saw the opening and took it.
Lightning shot from his hand, not at Mystogan's chest, but at his face. The bolt struck the mask dead center. The stone cracked, split, and fell away in pieces.
Mystogan stood bare-faced in the light of the Thunder Palace, his features revealed for the first time.
The face beneath the mask was the face of Jellal Fernandes.
Erza's breath caught. Her hand went to her chest, pressing against her heart as if to hold it in place. Natsu stood beside her, his face calm, his expression unreadable. He did not look surprised. He did not look shocked. He looked like a man who had already known what he would find.
Mystogan looked at Erza. His eyes, so like the eyes of the man who had built the Tower of Heaven, were soft with regret.
"I am sorry, Erza," he said. "I did not intend for you to find out this way."
Erza's voice was barely a whisper. "Your face. It is..."
"I am not him," Mystogan said. "I am not the man who hurt you. I am not the man who built the tower. I am from another world. A world called Edolas. In that world, I am called Jellal, but I am not your Jellal."
He looked at Laxus, then back at Erza. "I know who he is. What he did. But I am not him."
He bowed his head. "I am sorry. For the secrets. For the lies. For all of it."
He raised his hand. A circle of light appeared beneath his feet, spinning and shifting, the colors of Edolas bleeding through the cracks. He looked at Erza one last time.
"I will leave him to you," he said. "He is your fight now."
The light swallowed him, and he was gone.
Laxus stood alone on the cathedral steps, his lightning fading, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked at the space where Mystogan had been, and his face was carved from stone.
"Fine," he said. "I did not need him anyway."
He turned to face Natsu and Erza. His eyes were burning. His lightning was crackling. His smile had returned, sharper than before, hungry and wild.
"Two of you," he said. "That is even better."
Natsu stepped forward. His hands were at his sides. His scarf was bright against his chest. His face was calm, the calm of a man who had seen this moment coming for a long time.
"Let us finish this," he said.
The storm gathered overhead. The Thunder Palace orbs hummed. And the battle for Fairy Tail continued.
Next Time: Battle for Fairy Tail VI - The Lightning Dragon vs The Fire Dragon