Fairy Tail: Swallow the Fire

46. Oni

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A young woman, draped in a cloak and a tusked mask that hid every part of her figure, watched from atop a tree in disgust as the "beasts" tried and failed to penetrate the dome formed by the dogs of the Magic Council.

"Useless no matter what form they take."

Her attention turned towards the sword tied to her waist, its weight feeling like a call to action as she so desperately wanted to go and claim the prize of her hunt for herself. The gift from her saviour, the one who taught her the pleasure of turning the predators into prey, would make that barrier completely useless.

But she stayed her hand. No matter how desperately she wanted to move, to act and make herself known, she knew it would be too much of a risk.

Best case scenario, she would eventually get her hands on the Etherion. Worst case scenario, she would kill all of her pets and leave.

The thought made a smile flit across her face. Maybe she would. After all, she was only supposed to probe the Magic Council's defences. At least that's what she was told. Getting the Etherion would just be a bonus. A way to impress him.

But the idea of slavish loyalty to her cause of choice was replaced with confusion and vitriol as the land and sky both were bathed in violet flames. Familiar violet flames.

Her white-knuckled grip on the sword forced the blade to rattle its scabbard as her whole body shook with rage and disgust.

'It's here!? That old bastard said he killed it and yet it's here!?'

Her chest heaved heavily as the picture of red and violet flames clashed afore her as her home was reduced to ashes. She and her older sister's sobs shook them both as violently as she was shaking now, and that feeling, the raw memory of that day forced her breath to hitch. She forced her body to be calm with measured breaths and nodded as her grip on the sheathed katana became composed once more.

'No. No weakness. Now is my chance to move beyond this. It will die here today.'

As her body and mind synced in both composure and purpose, a branch snapped from behind her and instincts took over. Her muscles flexed and audibly creaked as she drew the blade from its sheath with lethal familiarity, the air distorting and sound cracking booming as the blade instantaneously cleaved through the area where the branch snapped.

But she hit nothing.

She was confused for a brief second before she heard the air swirling around an object flying towards her, which she deflected. She traced the sight of the rock that bounced off the spine of her sword towards a girl much younger than her, no more than fifteen, casually bouncing a rock in her palm and holding a large bundle of them to her chest standing at equal height to her on a separate tree.

All she had on was an open-back crop top turtleneck and baggy sweatpants. Her feet, strangely, were bare and she had no way to keep warm from the winter air, but considering the fire trapping them all in the girl likely didn't even need it, the swordwoman considered.

The only sense of protection she had were the black bracers on her wrist that stretched from her elbow to her knuckles. She thought her foolish until she saw the black symbol on the girl's lower stomach.

'Phantom Lord,' she recognised, instantly earning an internal scoff, 'Just another arrogant wizard then. Maybe she'll prove to be a more powerful pet than the rest if nothing else.'

In a fraction of a second, she studied the girl's demeanour. Leisurely relaxing with an armful of rocks in a tree easily thirty meters high. A blank expression on her face save for a bored smile etched onto her face.