Chapter 11: Her body is quite destructive

**Her body is quite destructive!**

[The Veil of Silence]

In a shadow-cloaked chamber far removed from the gaze of the world, five figures gathered under the oppressive weight of authority. The air was thick with foreboding, and shadows danced like sentient phantoms along the cracked stone walls, illuminated only by the flickering light of crimson torches. Their glow painted the room in ominous hues, the crimson fire seeming to devour the darkness rather than dispel it. 

"I've heard whispers... Your subordinate, Aura, was slain by a mere Wizard from Fairy Tail? Have I not already made it clear? We cannot afford to reveal ourselves to the world so soon. Yet here you stand, letting reckless incompetence jeopardize everything. Do you even fathom the consequences of a single misstep?!" 

The voice rang out like the clash of thunder, low and gravelly yet imbued with a sharpness that cut to the bone. Seated upon a jagged obsidian throne, Lord Dahmer's figure was the very essence of malevolence. His eyes, cold and merciless as winter's grasp, bore into his subordinates as though willing them to crumble to dust under his glare. His aura—a monstrous, suffocating force—pulsed through the room, making the walls tremble as though the earth itself quaked in terror. It was as if a magnitude-10 earthquake had been summoned to the chamber, yet no stone shifted, no pillar fell. Only the weight of fear grew heavier with every passing second. 

"My deepest apologies, Lord Dahmer," came the trembling voice of the accused, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the ground. His words were laced with desperation, every syllable carefully chosen to placate the wrath of the elder. "That wretched dog, Aura, acted entirely of her own volition. I did not expect her to be foolish enough to establish a branch cult without your command." 

His voice wavered, cracking under the oppressive aura that pressed down upon him like a boulder poised to crush his fragile frame. He dared not meet Dahmer's gaze, his eyes fixed on the cold, unforgiving floor as though it might offer salvation. Yet his plea, a cowardly attempt to shift blame, seemed only to stoke the elder's fury further. 

Dahmer leaned forward, his skeletal hands gripping the jagged armrests of his throne as the temperature in the chamber seemed to plummet. "You think blaming the dead will absolve you?" His voice was a low growl, like the prelude to a predator's strike. The torches flared violently, casting his gaunt face in hellish relief. "Incompetence is a sin I do not forgive." 

A chilling silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint, rapid breaths of those who dared to stand in his presence. The shadows seemed to grow hungrier, inching closer to the trembling subordinates as though feeding off their fear. Each of them knew one thing with absolute certainty: in Lord Dahmer's court, mercy was a concept reserved for fools. 

Slam!

Whack!

Splash!

Thud!

With an air of deliberate cruelty, he raised his ornate magic wand—a thing of dark beauty, forged from blackened wood veined with shimmering crimson, as though it pulsed with the very essence of malice. His movements were slow, almost ceremonial, as if savoring the moment. 

The wand descended in a swift arc, connecting with the bowed head of his trembling subordinate. The impact was neither rushed nor frenzied—it was calculated, precise, and laced with the chilling efficiency of one accustomed to dominance. A sickening crunch reverberated through the chamber, though no cry of pain escaped. Only silence followed, a silence that felt far louder than any scream. 

The unfortunate figure crumpled to the cold, unyielding floor in a grotesque stillness. The once-pristine black stone beneath him was sullied by a spreading pool of crimson, rich and vibrant against the darkness. Threads of blood snaked outward like the roots of a tree, weaving a macabre tapestry that bore testament to the elder's pitiless nature. 

Dahmer stared down at the lifeless form with an expression devoid of pity, his piercing gaze colder than the chamber itself. To him, this was no act of savagery—it was justice, a message carved not with words but with brutal precision. The room seemed to shudder under his presence, the air heavy with the iron tang of blood and an aura of suffocating dread.

"Clean it up," he commanded, his voice low and unfeeling, each word laden with the weight of unquestionable authority. 

Without hesitation, a tall, gaunt man appeared as if conjured from the shadows themselves. He was the embodiment of precision and grace, dressed impeccably in the austere black-and-white attire of a butler. His pale complexion and hollow eyes lent him an otherworldly air, as though he existed not as a man, but as a specter bound to serve. 

"Yes, my Lord," the butler intoned with a voice as smooth as silk, bowing slightly before extending a gloved hand. A flicker of fire leapt to life in his palm, its glow an unnatural, ghostly blue. The flames danced with eerie elegance, their light casting long, flickering shadows across the chamber. 

With a single, deliberate gesture, the fire descended upon the lifeless remains. It devoured the corpse in an instant, burning hotter and brighter than any mortal flame, yet it left the surroundings untouched. The room bore no scent of smoke, no heat, no residue—only the faint shimmer of ash that lingered for the briefest of moments before being whisked away by an unseen force. 

The task complete, the butler straightened with an elegance that seemed almost choreographed. Without another word, he stepped backward into the darkness, his form vanishing as silently and seamlessly as it had appeared, leaving behind nothing but the unsettling certainty that he had ever been there at all.

The elder turned his piercing gaze toward the remaining three, their foreheads pressed to the cold stone floor in utter subservience. They dared not lift their heads, their trembling forms evidence of the tension that hung in the air like a storm about to break. The blood of their fallen colleague still lingered faintly, yet none of them spared even a glance. Instead, they felt relief—a shared, unspoken satisfaction that the weak link among them had been severed, leaving them momentarily safe from their master's wrath. 

"Then, I trust you already have a complete report on the matter?" the elder intoned, his deep voice echoing through the chamber with a cold, commanding resonance. His eyes, sharp and calculating, bore down upon the kowtowing figures like a predator inspecting its prey. 

"Yes, my Lord..." One of them—a man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with a voice steady yet carefully measured—dared to respond. He paused, gathering his thoughts as though weighing every word with caution, before delivering his report. 

"The one responsible for Aura's death is a wizard who recently joined Fairy Tail. Their encounter seems to have occurred while he was completing a commission. His name is known as Kyoka Suigetsu, though he is also referred to as 'Black Calamity,' a moniker given by his victims. His first recorded appearance was three years ago, in a forest village, where he single-handedly annihilated a dark guild attempting to invade. 

"Since then, he has moved from one place to another, actively hunting dark guilds. His movements suggest no clear destination or overarching motive, though he did stay for a year near the Kingdom of Fiore, where he remained largely inactive. His actions became more frequent and focused following his recent affiliation with Fairy Tail." 

The man hesitated for a moment, as though reluctant to continue, but pressed on. "Furthermore, he is shrouded in a powerful illusion magic that not only conceals his true appearance but makes it impossible to recall his face with clarity, even after direct encounters. Beyond his mastery of illusions, he is an exceptionally skilled swordsman. The battlefield where he clashed with Aura bears witness to his strength—entire sections of the mountain were sheared cleanly as though carved by a blade. He is also known for employing advanced combination magic, blending multiple forms of attack in ways that defy conventional strategy." 

The man fell silent, lowering his head further in deference. 

The elder stroked his long, silver beard, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate motions as he fell into deep contemplation. His expression betrayed no emotion, though his eyes gleamed faintly with intrigue. "Hunting dark guilds, you say..." His voice trailed off, as though he were speaking more to himself than to those groveling before him. 

Finally, a faint smirk curved his thin lips. "He may be of interest. Perhaps he could be persuaded to join us."

The elder's words hung in the air like a thunderclap, sending a ripple of shock through the three still kneeling on the cold stone floor. They couldn't suppress the widening of their eyes, though they dared not lift their heads to meet his gaze. His statement was so unexpected, so chilling, that even the faintest rustle of their movements betrayed their unease. 

"My Lord, may I ask… how you arrived at such a conclusion?" ventured the man who had delivered the report, his voice careful, laced with a mix of curiosity and dread. 

The elder's lips curled into a sinister smirk, an expression so steeped in malice that it sent an icy shiver down their spines. Though they kept their gazes fixed downward, they could feel the weight of his expression bearing down on them. It was the kind of smile that promised torment, a glimpse into the dark abyss of his mind. 

"It's just a hunch," the elder murmured, his voice dripping with unsettling certainty. "But I think he harbors the same desire… the same craving to see this world reduced to ash and ruin." 

A tense silence followed, broken only when the subordinate gathered enough courage to speak again. "I see… My Lord, would you like me to extend an invitation to him?" 

The elder waved a dismissive hand, his aura radiating absolute control. "That won't be necessary. It's too soon for us to emerge from the shadows. But… monitor him. Learn his movements, his habits, and his limits. When the time comes, we will know what to do." 

"Understood, my Lord." 

"Good. You are dismissed." 

With those final words, the elder vanished, his form dissolving into the air like a wisp of smoke. In an instant, the three remaining figures found themselves teleported elsewhere, their surroundings replaced by an open field bathed in cold moonlight. The oppressive atmosphere of the chamber was gone, replaced by a tranquil, eerie silence. 

As they straightened, the light revealed their faces—each one unnervingly similar to Aura's. Their features bore the same sharp contours, their expressions shadowed by veiny foreheads and unseeing, blind eyes that gleamed with an unnatural hue. And yet, the chill of their presence persisted, faintly lingering in the still night air. 

"I never thought that useless Azazel would meet his end so easily," sneered the woman among them, a wicked grin spreading across her face. 

"Regardless," she continued, her voice sharp and commanding, "I'll handle the surveillance on Kyoka Suigetsu myself. As for your subordinates, warn them—anyone who dares act on their own initiative will face the same fate as Azazel. If they can't follow orders, kill them." 

"Roger that, Captain!" The woman next to her offered an enthusiastic salute, her grin mirroring the first. 

The other man gave a solemn nod, his silence conveying agreement more than words ever could. Without further exchange, their forms faded into the night, leaving the moonlight-drenched field empty and ominously still.

**A Few Hours Earlier...** 

'Ow, ow, ow...' 

I could only groan inwardly as I shifted my body, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through my battered frame. Torn flesh, several burns—each wound screamed in protest despite the treatment I'd received. The lingering ache was a constant reminder of the battle, a dull thrum beneath the surface. 

With a heavy sigh, I glanced toward Cana, who sat nearby, her expression a mix of concern and quiet relief. 

"I never would've thought a dark guild would involve themselves in a simple D-rank mission," I muttered aloud, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. 

President Makarov, who sat on the chair next to my bed, folded his arms as he spoke, his tone heavy with thought while Cana left the room in silence. "The difficulty of that mission was far beyond D-rank—closer to A-rank, at the very least. And there's something even stranger. I investigated the commissioner for that C-rank forest investigation you mentioned, and it seems as though they've vanished entirely. It's like they never existed—no traces, no leads." 

I nodded grimly, the details settling uncomfortably in my mind. The commission I'd taken had seemed innocent enough: investigating a certain forest. By sheer coincidence—or perhaps not—that forest turned out to house the hideout of a dark guild. It felt too convenient, too deliberate, as though someone had laid the pieces out just so, leading us to destroy them. 

"President, I think whoever sent that commission knew about the dark guild's activities, especially the abduction of children," I said, voicing my suspicions. "And to slip it in alongside a seemingly unrelated wood-gathering commission? Doesn't that feel like a deliberate ploy? Could this be part of some larger conspiracy?" 

Makarov frowned, deep in thought, before finally rising from his seat. "You may be right, but for now, I'm going to report this to the council. In the meantime, take a few days to rest before you tackle another mission." 

I gave him a light nod, appreciating his concern. He left without another word, his short frame disappearing out the door. 

As the room fell quiet again, a soft rustle of movement drew my attention. A woman with striking silver hair, her age apparent but her presence strong, stepped into view. Porlyusica. She had been the one responsible for my treatment, and while her manner could be brusque, her skill was beyond question. Without a word, she sat down near me, her sharp eyes studying me intently. 

"What are you?" she asked finally, her voice calm but firm. "You look human, but there's something... off. I can tell you're not entirely one." 

'She noticed, huh?' I thought to myself. It wasn't as though I'd been trying to hide it, but hearing her voice the observation so bluntly still caught me off guard. 

A wry smile touched my lips—not that she could see it. "I'm a combination," I said simply. "A thought-body and a living weapon in one." 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at my response, curiosity flickering in her expression. "Additional magic, then? Where's your real body?" 

I laughed bitterly, rubbing the back of my head. "My real body? It's stranded in a different dimension. I'm stuck here with no way to return." 

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she closed her eyes, nodding in acknowledgment. "I see. Well, take the rest you need. You should leave tomorrow." 

"Thank you," I said, bowing my head slightly in gratitude. 

She didn't respond, her figure already moving toward the door. Without another word, she left, leaving me alone in the quiet room. The faint scent of herbs and medicine lingered in the air, mingling with the distant echoes of voices from outside, as I settled back against the bed to rest.

**The Next Morning** 

As the morning sun cast its golden rays over the bustling town, I wandered aimlessly, searching for a place to stay. The lively chatter of townsfolk and the tempting aroma of fresh bread filled the air, yet my thoughts were elsewhere. Suddenly, a vivid memory resurfaced—the corpse of the woman I had retrieved from the battlefield. 

Abandoning my search for lodgings, I made my way toward the forest, a secluded spot where no prying eyes would follow. Once I was deep enough into the trees, I opened my inventory. 

With a faint shimmer of light, the corpse materialized in front of me—a severed head and a headless body falling to the ground with a dull *thud*. 

I crouched beside it, examining the body with an inquisitive gaze. "Time to figure out what you really are," I muttered under my breath. 

From the outset, I could sense something unnatural about her. The faint, lingering aura of malevolence clung to the remains like a second skin. It wasn't magic in the traditional sense—it felt darker, heavier, more oppressive. 

To avoid unnecessary risks, I decided to focus on the body first, leaving the severed head untouched for now. I carefully stripped away her tattered clothing, revealing pale skin marred with strange markings. My attention was drawn to her chest—not by form, but by the unmistakable presence of a magical emblem etched into her skin. It resembled the guild marks of my world, though the intricate design was far more sinister, pulsing faintly with residual energy. 

I hesitated for a moment before placing my fingers lightly on the emblem. The moment my hand made contact, a sudden surge of magic energy burst forth from the symbol. The air around me crackled with power, and my instincts screamed of imminent danger. 

Without hesitation, I leapt into the air with all my strength, propelling myself high above the treetops. Yet even that wasn't enough—the danger hadn't passed. 

As I hovered in the sky, desperately scanning for a solution, my eyes locked onto a bird soaring toward me. Its beady eyes met mine in what felt like a moment of shared understanding. 

'**Tsukuyomi!**' 

My magic flared to life, ensnaring the bird in an instant. Reality bent around us as we were transported to my inner dimensional space. 

Before the shift completed, a deafening explosion ripped through the forest below. 

**Boom!** 

The sheer force of the blast sent shockwaves rippling through the air. Even within the safety of my space, I could feel the heat clawing at the edges, threatening to swallow me whole. If I had lingered for even a second longer, I would have been reduced to nothing. 

I stayed within the space for a few tense moments, my heart pounding in my chest. The bird squawked nervously, its feathers ruffling from the residual magic. Finally, I released the creature and returned to the physical world. 

What greeted me was nothing short of apocalyptic. A massive mushroom cloud of smoke and ash loomed over the obliterated forest. The once-vibrant greenery was now a smoldering wasteland, scorched earth stretching as far as the eye could see. 

"Her body is quite destructive," I muttered, the words escaping my lips in a daze. I hovered in the sky, taking in the sheer scale of the devastation. A shiver ran down my spine—not from the cold, but from the realization of how close I had come to death. 

"Having a self-destruct mechanism built into their bodies..." I murmured, landing on the charred ground. "This group is far more insane than even the darkest guilds." 

It became abundantly clear—these people were not just prepared to die for their cause. They were willing to take everything and everyone around them down in a catastrophic blaze. 

I clenched my fists at the thought of Cana, of what could have happened if I hadn't acted decisively. A chill spread through me as I imagined her life being snuffed out in the aftermath of this madness. 

"I'll need to be more careful from now on," I said to myself, exhaling a deep, shaky sigh.