Chapter 1: An encounter with Gildarts

**An encounter with Gildarts**

Revised by [ChatGPT]

[Beneath the Hammer of Fate]

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood amidst the stillness, his piercing gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape. The man, in the prime of middle age, carried an air of quiet authority, his light brown hair falling to his shoulders in untamed waves, a stubbled beard adding to his rugged demeanor. His black cloak, dark as the looming shadows around him, fluttered subtly with each movement, enveloping him like a second skin.

He was no mere wanderer, but a mage of formidable renown from the legendary Fairy Tail guild. Tasked with an S-rank mission of the highest urgency, he was here to investigate the dark guilds whose malignant influence threatened the peace. The sole S-rank mage of his guild—the most powerful among them—he stood as an indomitable force in the face of the coming storm.

Akagami Shanks?

No, it's Gildarts Clive!

It takes several days and nights, to reach the designated location. Upon arrival, a spark ignites my light blue eyes as I survey the devasted town. Every house was turned into rubbles, with debris scattered across the ground, blocking the way.

But with my physique, nothing hinders me. I crouched low, feeling the tension in my legs, ready to spring into the air, as if the heavens themselves were waiting for me to leap into their embrace.

Swoosh!

Baam!

My feet hit the ground with force, cracking the earth beneath me into a web-like pattern. The impact sent dust swirling into the air, stinging my eyes and clouding my vision. I quickly lifted my right arm, hidden beneath the folds of my black cloak, to shield my face from the blinding haze.

It stretched on for several agonizing seconds, the world frozen in a moment of unbearable tension. 

Gradually, I lowered my arm and allowed my eyelids to flutter open. As the dust of mist lifted, a sudden wave of nausea crashed over me, a visceral churn deep in my gut. 

The air was thick and suffocating, it clung to my skin with the unmistakable stench of decay—of life extinguished far too soon. 

Fresh minced corpses everywhere—an insidious, grotesque miasma staining every structure in sight. Even with the weight of years in the field, the mere sight was enough to make my stomach turn.

"Looks like I'm too late. The village is already lost."

I stared into the empty expanse, my gaze intense, as my fist tightened with frustration.

"Dark Guilds."

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I took a step forward, but an odd sensation halted me, as if something was keeping me rooted in place. There was something off about this.

"This... feels strange. There's no sound. Could it be silence magic?"

The only noise that cut through the silence was the steady drip of blood falling to the ground. No other sounds reached me—not the scuff of my boots, not the rustle of the wind. It felt as though the air itself was thick and heavy, swallowing every noise, as if the very walls were absorbing all sound.

As I got myself lost in thought I heard someone groan.

"Ugh... Ah... Ah..."

"?"

I thought I misheard the sound but unexpectedly I found a sole survivor. After searching one ruins after lifting blocks since the source isn't clear and find a lucky survivor. 

"This is..."

It's even too much to call him lucky. I observe his state and made a quick judgment.

'He won't last longer than a minute his injuries were fatal.' I let out another sigh inwardly as I approaches him. His limbs were cut-off, and left eye gouged out. 

I met his gaze as he felt my presence approaching him. He glance at me with his remaining eye panting heavily. I could tell that he couldn't see me clearly because it's squinting and twitching violently.

I slowly crouched down, my hands trembling slightly as I gently lifted his head, cradling it with care so that he could see me, even if only for a moment of peace.

"I'm Gildarts Clive, a mage from Fairy Tail," I said, my voice low and steady. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

As I took a closer look at his face, a realization hit me—he was older, perhaps a commissioner, someone who had once held authority, now reduced to a shadow of what he had been.

"It's okay, don't rush..." I murmured, offering him whatever comfort I could. 

I gave him time, allowing him to breathe, his body trembling under the strain. He could no longer speak clearly, nor could he see me as I was, but surely, he knew why I had come—to carry out the commission.

His breath hitched, and then he tried to speak.

"...?"

"B... Be..."

"What...?" I leaned in, struggling to make sense of his mumbled words.

He was fighting to communicate, but the effort was barely enough. I moved closer, placing my ear near his mouth, listening with everything I had. The words were faint, slipping like sand through my fingers, but I had to know.

I slowly crouched down, my movements deliberate, and gently lifted his head, cradling it with care so that his tired eyes could find focus upon mine.

"I'm Gildarts Clive, a mage from Fairy Tail," I said, my voice steady but soft. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

As I peered into his face, recognition struck me like a cold wind. He was no ordinary man—an elder, perhaps the commissioner himself, a figure once accustomed to command, now reduced to nothing more than a fragile shadow of his former self.

"It's okay, don't rush..." I murmured, offering him a fleeting moment of peace as I let him gather whatever strength remained.

The faintest tremor ran through him, his efforts to speak strained. His sight was lost to him, yet there was something in his eyes—a glimmer of awareness—that told me he understood why I was here, that I had come to answer the call of the commission.

"...?"

"B... Be..."

"What...?" I leaned in, every muscle tense, trying to decipher the barely audible whispers as they trickled from his parched lips.

He fought to speak, each word a Herculean effort, his body betraying him as he teetered on the edge of death. I pressed my ear closer, my breath still as I strained to hear.

Then, with sudden, shocking force, he seized my shoulder, his hand trembling but resolute. His voice, ragged and fraying, broke the silence in a final, desperate cry: "Ha... Ah... BEHIND YOU!!!"

The words hit me like a thunderclap. Instinct took over, and without a thought, I spun on my heel, every sense stretching, bracing for whatever danger might lie in wait.

I wasn't a fool. The massacre that had torn through this place wasn't the work of a simple raider—it was methodical, precise, and the one responsible was still lurking, waiting, watching. But to my horror, despite every muscle primed, despite my heightened awareness, I felt no presence—no shift in the air, no stirring of a hidden danger. It was as though the world itself had swallowed the threat whole, leaving me in a hollow, eerie calm.

*This man... this opponent... he's far more dangerous than I imagined.*

I activated my Crush Magic instinctively, a shimmering aura enveloping me, a barrier of raw power protecting my every inch in case of an attack.

*The condition of the corpses, the way the elder's limbs were severed—there's no doubt now. It's a sword.* 

I focused, and through the haze of confusion, I caught sight of him—*it*. A child, no older than five or six, cloaked entirely in black. Black sleeves, black trousers, black shoes, black gloves, and a mask that covered his face entirely, not a single hole to be seen, concealing not just his identity but perhaps something far more sinister.

*This... is my opponent?* I thought, a chill creeping up my spine. *That mask... why wear such a thing that blinds you to the world?*

Then it clicked. *It's not just a mask. It's a magic item, one to conceal his presence, to shield his movements from my senses. Or perhaps it's just a simple mask, and the child... the child is something more. His skill is beyond his years. No ordinary child would be capable of such destruction.*

I didn't need to guess any longer. *More or less, he's an S-rank opponent... and I have no idea what I'm truly facing.*

The mask that concealed his face was striking, undeniably so, but it was the white katana at his waist and the pristine scarf wrapped around his neck that truly captured my attention, stark against the black fabric of his outfit. 

*No matter what, even if the opponent is a child, I cannot afford to underestimate him.* He had already displayed his strength, and had the elder not warned me, I might very well have already joined the countless others who had fallen.

I heightened my awareness to its absolute peak, analyzing him in the quiet stillness. He stood there, unwavering, as if the weight of the world bore no meaning to him. His calmness in the face of danger sent a jolt through me. Narrowing my eyes, I focused on his every movement, prepared to catch even the slightest gesture, every twitch, every flicker of intent.

Despite the deadly situation unfolding before me, I couldn't suppress a thrill that surged inside me. *This... this is the excitement of battle, the true exhilaration of facing a formidable opponent!*

*Is he a demon in disguise? Or perhaps an ally of a dark guild?* I sighed inwardly, the question seeming almost absurd in the moment. Asking now would only provoke him, so better to face him head-on and see where the battle led.

"Hey, kid, what are you—"

Before I could finish the question, I saw him begin to unsheathe the katana from his waist, his movements slow, deliberate—so slow, in fact, that I could have dodged it even with my eyes closed. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, my body refused to move.

*Wait... my perception... it's slowing down?!* The sensation was unmistakable, a horrifying distortion of time. One second stretched on like an eternity. This was the kind of manipulation only a mage of immense power could employ—or worse, a being far beyond my own strength.

*Is he really that strong!?* I asked myself, helplessly, though it wasn't his strength that truly caught my attention—it was the grace and beauty of his swordplay.

*Such a simple movement... but it radiates the essence of millennia of practice.* The sheer elegance of it stole my breath. This was no child—he was a prodigy, a being with skills that defied logic. *A child with such talent? Truly monstrous!*

For a moment, I forgot the danger, as though the very concept of my own survival had ceased to matter. Perhaps it was the presence of my Crush Magic, which imbued me with a false sense of invincibility, that made me believe the blade would shatter upon contact. In that moment, I felt nothing but an insatiable desire to witness his swordsmanship in its entirety—a rare spectacle, one that would engrave itself into my soul as an unforgettable legend.

But before I could fully savor the sight, before I could even fully process the movement of the blade, a deafening sound pierced my ears—louder than anything I had ever heard.

*Diiiiiiiiiiiiing!*

The shrill ringing echoed like the toll of a bell, an almost physical force that struck my eardrums with brutal intensity. 

"Huh...?" I blinked, disoriented, the world around me momentarily collapsing into a blur.

The sharp toll of a bell resonated in my ears, pulling me from the abyss of my thoughts. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, instinctively scanning the area. But there was no bell, no source to be found. The emptiness only made the sound feel all the more surreal. 

My focus snapped back to him, and I realized what I had truly heard—the sound of a sword being drawn, its blade whispering from the scabbard with a chilling precision. The distance between us was around ten meters, a comfortable space for most—yet something in the air told me that no distance would save me from the fate he controlled.

I continued to watch, my gaze fixed upon him, not daring to look away, not even as my mind screamed to move. There was an unsettling certainty in the air, a feeling that I couldn't escape, no matter how far I ran.

The strike was so simple—a slash, a sword drawn from its sheath—but in its simplicity lay a profound beauty. The grace of it was hypnotic, like watching a painter's brushstroke caress the canvas, a pure expression of mastery.

"Beautiful…" I whispered under my breath, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

In an instant, the sword was sheathed once more, and with it, an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. My neck prickled as if a slight itch had suddenly appeared, an odd sensation that sent a shiver through me.

"This is..." My thoughts began to scatter as a peculiar lightness overtook me, as if my body had become weightless. It was as though I were floating in the softest clouds, drifting upward in a state of perfect tranquility, as if I had somehow been transported to the very gates of heaven itself.

But that serenity soon turned to dread as my vision began to distort, tilting unnaturally, the world itself flipping upside down. And then, with a sudden, horrifying clarity, realization dawned.

*My head... it's been severed!* 

The shock hit me like a violent wave, and my head, now detached, rotated slowly in mid-air as my body crumpled beneath it. It had all happened so quickly, so effortlessly, that it felt unreal. His swordsmanship had bypassed my Crush Magic, bypassed the barrier I had trusted would protect me.

*This is impossible...* I thought numbly. *I never deactivated it...*

But it was too late to dwell on such things. There was only the bitter truth of it all.

*Dying during a mission is not uncommon,* I reflected, a grim acceptance taking hold of me. Being the strongest, the one with no rivals, had fostered a false sense of invulnerability. Yet, deep down, there had always been an undercurrent of loneliness, an isolation I hadn't fully acknowledged until now. And in the end, it wasn't fear that overwhelmed me but a strange sense of fulfillment, even satisfaction.

*I never thought I'd wish to be stronger again...* 

The thought lingered in my fading consciousness, and even as the words left my lips in silence, there was an undeniable regret that gripped my heart. Regret not for myself—no, I had lived a life full of purpose—but for the companions I was leaving behind, and for the child who would likely suffer the same profound loneliness I had known.

*I wish I could fight you again... when I'm stronger...*

The words echoed in the emptiness, and as I whispered them to the wind, my vision darkened entirely. I was slipping away, the world dissolving into shadows.

---

**Meanwhile, in the Fairy Tail Guild...**

*Crash!*

A small figure, no more than six years old, stood frozen in the wake of the broken glass. Cana Alberona, the newest recruit to Fairy Tail, had been wiping the glass of wine absentmindedly, only to let it slip from her fingers, sending shards scattering across the floor in a violent explosion of sound. 

The noise immediately drew the attention of those nearby, their gazes shifting toward her with concern.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked, laced with genuine worry.

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on the broken shards, the jagged pieces reflecting a feeling of heaviness deep in her chest. A sense of unease washed over her, gnawing at her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

Her mind drifted to her father, Gildarts. He had left for a mission a month ago, a simple investigation into a village. She knew his strength—there was no one stronger in the guild—but still, that nagging worry wouldn't leave her.

*Father... please be alright...*

She glanced into the distance, her heart quiet but filled with silent prayers, hoping against hope that her father would return, safe and sound, from whatever danger awaited him.