31-35

Chapter 31: "What the Hell Are You Rambling About?!"  

Crack—  

A faint sound echoed through the forest.  

The two men beneath the tree instantly dodged in opposite directions. The one holding the child even hurled the kid backward with enough force to cripple an adult—let alone a child.  

Save the kid or kill the enemies?  

A choice had to be made.  

Rayne, diving from above, had to admit: these guys were professionals. Even mere grunts had sharp reflexes and terrifying awareness.  

"Your turn."  

Laxus’ voice cut through the tension. Without hesitation, Rayne kicked off a tree trunk mid-air, altering his trajectory to catch the flung child.  

As for the two enemies? Rayne wasn’t worried.  

Not with the rage simmering in Laxus’ tone.  

The lightning mage was furious—both at being spotted and at having the "weakling" he despised witness it. That fury needed an outlet.  

And these two would do.  

Crackle—BOOM!  

Golden lightning erupted, drowning out the forest’s chirps and buzzes.  

Thud.  

Rayne landed softly, knees bent, and glanced back.  

One charred, smoking lump twitched on the ground, sporadic sparks still dancing across it. Meanwhile, Laxus had already closed the distance to the second man in a flash.  

His body coiled low, fist clenched at his hip.  

"Lightning Fist—!"  

A spiraling punch lashed out, golden snakes of electricity writhing around his arm.  

"LYLE!!!"  

The man barely had time to scream before the fist connected. His eyes bulged as he instinctively channeled magic for defense—  

—Too late.  

CRASH!  

The impact sent him flying like a ragdoll, smashing through a tree trunk with enough force to shake the canopy. Leaves rained down as his body crumpled into a grotesque "C" shape.  

Alive, but not for long.  

"Tch."  

Laxus flexed his wrist, lightning flickering around him, his expression dark.  

For a second, Rayne wondered if the Thunder God would’ve punched him too—just to erase the embarrassment of being seen needing help.  

"So much for stealth."  

Shaking off the thought, Rayne turned toward the vine-wrapped treehouse.  

Even without the dying man’s shout, the burst of magic would’ve alerted the others. If grunts were this sharp, their boss wouldn’t be slacking.  

"Hah! Leave the rest to me!"  

Laxus jammed his headphones on, blasting music. His magic pulsed in sync with the beat, surging violently.  

After securing the child safely away, Rayne eyed the golden-haired mage.  

"Seriously? Battle music? Maybe I should compose a ‘Fairy Tail Main Theme’ for extra hype."  

A grin tugged at his lips as his own magic ignited, embers flickering deep in his pupils.  

Above, figures emerged from the treehouse.  

"Useless idiots. Can’t even handle two brats?"  

A green-robed man—likely their leader—glared at the corpses, then at Rayne and Laxus.  

"Borg. Clean up this trash." He flicked his wrist dismissively.  

Child mages? Prime merchandise. The dead lackeys? Consider it their first useful contribution.  

"Understood."  

A hulking axe-wielder stepped forward—  

BOOM!  

—and landed like a meteor, shaking the earth. Dust and leaves billowed up, obscuring his form—  

SHING!  

—until a crimson axe cleaved through the debris, revealing the squad behind him.  

["Now… LET’S SLAUGHTER THEM!"]  

Ddraig’s voice roared in Rayne’s mind, ecstatic. Fighting the Moonlight Bear was fun, but human combat? That was her true craving.  

Rayne obliged.  

"Ddraig."  

Crimson particles materialized, encasing his right arm in draconic armor. The green jewel on its back gleamed as claws flexed with a metallic snick.  

The air itself seemed to tremble.  

"That’s his weapon?"  

Laxus side-eyed the transformation, brow twitching. The armlet radiated danger—especially that eerie jewel, like a giant eyeball staring into his soul.  

And the kid’s aura?  

It’d gone from a calm lake to a raging storm.  

"Why’s this brat always surrounded by freaky shit?"  

No time to dwell. Laxus refocused on the enemies—  

—Just as their leader puffed up his chest.  

"Listen well, whelps! You face the mighty—"  

THUD!  

A boot slammed into the tree beside his head.  

"What the hell are you rambling about?! Nobody cares!"  

Rayne’s voice dripped with mocking impatience.  

Laxus blinked.  

…Since when did this kid get so damn loud?  

Then his own grin turned feral.  

Oh hell no. If anyone got to be the arrogant one here, it’d be him.  

"I’m taking them ALL!"  

Lightning erupted. Gold met crimson as both mages charged—  

—And the forest became a warzone.  

Chapter 32: The Gauntlet's Second Mode  

"...Which guild are these guys from?"  

The green-robed man atop the tree was dumbfounded. Who starts a fight without even asking their opponents' affiliation? And charging headfirst despite being outnumbered—what kind of idiots are these?  

But no matter how much he questioned their recklessness, he wouldn’t get an answer.  

Rayne’s focus was laser-locked on the giant axe-wielding brute.  

Mid-sprint, however, he noticed a magic circle forming in front of one enemy. The ground beneath him loosened—the same magic used to build those vine houses.  

"So he’s the mage."  

Realizing this, Rayne pushed off the ground with explosive force, leaving a deep footprint as his speed surged.  

A split second later—  

Whoosh!  

Vines erupted from the earth like emerald serpents—only to snap at empty air.  

"You looking down on me?! You lot handle the one in the back—I’ll take this brat!"  

The axe-wielder, realizing he was being targeted by both, burned with indignation. Crouching low, he lunged forward like a raging bull.  

Meanwhile, the vine mage redirected his attack, sending tendrils snaking toward the golden blur—Laxus.  

The remaining mages activated their own spells, launching a barrage of attacks at the lightning user.  

"Tch—!"  

Laxus barely dodged the vines when a razor-sharp wind blade sliced toward him.  

"YOU BASTARDS!!"  

His temper flared. Forget "sharing" prey—this was war.  

Crackle—BOOM!  

Thunder roared. Golden lightning split the gloom as Laxus punched straight through the wind blade, shattering it.  

The enemy mages paled, immediately shifting to full defense.  

By now, Rayne had closed in on Borg.  

The towering man’s muscles bulged, straining against his near-ripping clothes. With his height, reach, and weapon advantage, he swung his massive axe downward in a cleaving strike—  

"DIE!"  

Fury made him reckless. He’d even forgotten his ally’s earlier warning.  

The axe, thick as a barrel, split the air with a blood-curdling whoosh. Before it even connected, the sheer pressure made Rayne’s skin prickle. A metallic, coppery stench flooded his senses.  

Wind whipped Rayne’s black hair back, revealing eyes sharp with focus.  

"Always keep a reserve."  

A lesson learned day one against Makarov.  

Seemingly reckless, Rayne had kept 30% of his strength in reserve. With a powerful sidestep, he dodged—  

BOOOOM!  

The axe cratered the earth, sending spiderweb cracks radiating outward. Dirt and leaves exploded like shrapnel. The impact alone made Rayne’s legs sting—proof of the brute’s monstrous strength.  

Not missing a beat, Rayne counterattacked. Five crimson streaks tore through the air toward Borg.  

But the guild’s top enforcer was no amateur. Anticipating the dodge, he’d already yanked his axe back while retreating—just barely avoiding Rayne’s swipe.  

Cold sweat dripped down Borg’s neck.  

"That was close...!"  

His shirt hung in tatters, sliced open by the glowing red gauntlet. Had he been slower, his flesh would’ve fared no better.  

Rayne clicked his tongue. His small frame limited his reach, letting Borg escape.  

After the Moonlight Bear fight, Rayne had realized something:  

The Boosted Gear wasn’t just for multipliers.  

As a Longinus-class Sacred Gear, its very material was peerless. Fused with a Heavenly Dragon’s soul, it transcended mortal weapons.  

Beyond its boosting ability, its defense and edge were unmatched.  

So this time, Rayne summoned the gauntlet not just as armor—but as a blade.  

Though his strike missed, the test was a success.  

Now understanding its offensive potential, Rayne lunged again.  

Crimson light streaked like a meteor.  

If reach is the issue, just get closer.  

Borg, however, had learned his lesson.  

"DO NOT LET HIM NEAR!"  

Gripping his axe with both hands, he spun it like a whirlwind—creating an impenetrable barrier of steel and force.  

The sheer momentum forced Rayne back, denying any opening.  

"A giant... with this level of technique?!"  

Rayne gritted his teeth.  

Appearances were deceiving.  

"This is wasting energy. Begin, little one."  

Ddraig’s voice echoed in his mind.  

A glance to the side showed Laxus dominating his foes—one already charred black on the ground.  

No more holding back.  

"BOOST!!!"  

The emerald gemstone flared. Power doubled in an instant.  

Rayne’s veins burned. His heartbeat pounded like war drums.  

"Haaah..."  

Steam hissed between his teeth. Flames flickered in his pupils.  

Magical energy condensed around his palm, materializing into searing fire.  

Then—  

A presence awakened in the forest.  

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"  

Even Laxus froze mid-battle, snapping his head toward the surge of power—nearly eating an enemy spell for the distraction.  

BOOM—  

The earth trembled. Leaves exploded upward as Rayne vanished, leaving only a crimson afterimage. 

Chapter 33: "He Won't Last Seven Seconds!"  

"What the—?!"  

Borg’s instincts screamed as the boy’s magic power exploded.  

Before he could react, Rayne’s right arm snapped upward.  

Crimson mana—dyed deeper by his gauntlet—slammed into the ground like a tidal wave of blood-red fire.  

It surged toward Borg like a shark through water, shredding fallen leaves into dust, carving a trench in its wake.  

Borg leapt aside, eyes darting to Rayne’s position.  

Straight-line attack. Not the kill move.  

But—  

Even anticipating it, Borg couldn’t counter.  

By the time his gaze refocused, the boy was already in his face.  

Body coiled low, a spring primed to release.  

"He’s too fast!!"  

Borg’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.  

His beloved axe, once a source of pride, now weighed him down.  

No matter how he tried to swing, Rayne would tear him apart first.  

Time refused to freeze for his panic.  

Rayne’s clawed gauntlet ripped through the air.  

"Hmm~"  

A flute’s melody drifted through the trees.  

Rayne felt nothing—but his ears caught the whisper of wind.  

He aborted his strike, twisting backward.  

Thwip!  

Silken white threads speared into the earth where he’d stood, weaving a spider’s web in midair.  

Had he hesitated, they’d have pinned or bound him.  

Borg seized the opening.  

"HRAAAGH!"  

His axe cleaved downward with monstrous force, muscles bursting through his tattered shirt.  

Rayne didn’t dodge.  

Dragon-infused mana, amplified by Boost, forged his body into something inhuman.  

Feet braced like artillery mounts, he fired his fist like a cannonball—  

—straight into the falling axe.  

CLANG!!!  

The collision rang through the forest.  

A shockwave tore through the clearing, scattering leaves like shattered glass.  

Rayne’s boots sank into fractured earth, bones vibrating from the impact.  

Pain seared through him—yet his grin only widened, wild and feverish.  

Borg staggered back, arms numb. His axe’s edge was dented, cracks spiderwebbing across the metal.  

BOOM!  

A tree exploded behind them, obliterated by stray crimson energy.  

No one cared.  

The green-robed man—Lyle—had descended.  

His last subordinate rushed toward Laxus’s battle.  

And in the chaos, a small figure darted through the canopy, vanishing into the vine-wrapped hideout.  

"Lyle?"  

Borg grimaced at his damaged axe before glaring at his ally.  

"End this quickly."  

Lyle’s flute gleamed coldly—but his gaze burned as it locked onto Rayne’s gauntlet.  

Hungry.  

Rayne smirked.  

Of course.  

Boost’s effects were obvious. This vulture wanted the Divine Dividing for himself.  

His eyes flicked to the flute.  

That melody earlier…  

No way it was just for ambiance.  

"Brat, that green bastard’s magic manipulates minds," Ddraig’s voice rumbled in Rayne’s skull.  

"Those missing kids? Probably walked out of their villages like puppets."  

A pause.  

"But with me here? His tricks are worthless."  

The confidence in her tone was absolute.  

She’d spent centuries suppressing the grudges of past Sacred Gear hosts.  

A mere flute’s hypnosis wasn’t even a nuisance.  

"Damn reliable," Rayne mused.  

His muscles tensed, gaze sharpening.  

"Seven seconds."  

Dirt erupted as he launched forward—  

—blurring across ten meters in an instant.  

Borg cursed.  

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to clash head-on.  

His axe couldn’t take another hit.  

Without it, he was dead.  

But Rayne gave no choice.  

"Seven seconds!"  

Lyle’s voice cut through his panic.  

"That form lasts seven seconds tops! Survive that, and he’s done!"  

"Got it!!"  

Borg’s grin returned.  

Seven seconds? With Lyle’s support? Easy.  

He missed the doubt in Lyle’s eyes.  

"My magic didn’t affect him…?"  

"Is it the gauntlet?"  

Lyle kept silent. If Borg knew, he’d fight him for it.  

Greed was predictable.  

Especially for a weapon-obsessed mage like Borg.  

(•̀ᴗ•́)و✧ 

Chapter 34: Endgame  

The Execution 

Borg’s massive axe cleaved through the air—only to be caught mid-swing by Rayne’s crimson-gauntleted hand.  

CLANG!  

Sparks erupted as the blade struck the armored palm. Not a scratch. Not even a dent.  

"This...?!" Borg’s confidence shattered. He barely had time to yell "Leer, hel—" before Rayne’s fingers pierced the axehead like wet paper.  

The blacksmith’s son twisted his grip, shattering the weapon with a screech of metal.  

Borg kicked wildly, but Rayne intercepted it with a raised knee. Then—  

WHIPLASH!  

A heel-drop hammered Borg’s guard arm into his own skull. The giant crumpled, eyes rolling back.  

Swarm 

"Rustle... rustle..."  

The forest came alive. Hundreds of crimson eyes blinked open in the shadows—a tidal wave of rats surging from every direction.  

Leer’s green robe billowed as his magic circle pulsed. "Drown in despair, brat."  

Rayne didn’t flinch. He yanked Borg’s broken axe free as scarlet mana erupted around him like hellfire—  

BOOM!  

A golden thunderstorm annihilated the swarm from above. Laxus hovered mid-air, lightning arcing between his teeth. "Quit hogging the fun, Rayne!"  

Leer’s pupils shrank. That mark—the black Fairy Tail emblem on Laxus’ chest—meant game over.  

No Negotiations 

"I’ll make the kids jump to their deaths if you—!" Leer screeched, flute raised.  

Rayne laughed.  

The axe became a crimson guillotine as he spun—  

SPLAT.  

Leer’s torso separated mid-air, his final sight being a small, expressionless girl (Kanna) standing atop the vine hut.  

No children leaped. No hostages lost.  

"Tch. Backup?" The upper half of "Le"er hit the ground just as his own rats—now frenzied by blood—swarmed his twitching remains.  

"NO! STOP! AAAAAAGH—!"  

The screams lasted precisely 6.3 seconds.  

Epilogue  

Rayne flicked gore off the axe handle. "Told you we didn’t need a plan."  

Laxus landed, lightning still crackling. "Damn right. Weaklings."  

Above them, Kanna poked a surviving rat. It froze, then fainted.  

"Dinner?" she asked.  

The guild stamp on Rayne’s shoulder gleamed in the moonlight.  

Somewhere, Makarov sneezed.  

Chapter 35: The Hidden Problem Child  

Laxus panted heavily, his aura still blazing—but after prolonged combat, even his magic reserves were running dry.  

His eyes darted between the surrounding dark mages, a silent struggle flashing in their depths.  

If I use that spell, cleaning them up would be easy...  

But he wasn’t alone here.  

Rayne’s presence complicated things. If that observant brat noticed anything unusual, it’d spell trouble.  

Meanwhile, the enemy mages hesitated.  

Their coordinated attacks had revealed one truth: even exhausted, this lightning-wielding monster could take at least two of them down before falling.  

And in a dark guild? No one volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb.  

"Let’s wait for Lyle to finish off the other kid first."  

The same cowardly thought echoed among the five remaining mages. Their tense silence broke only when—  

WHOOSH—CRASH!  

A familiar sound tore through the forest.  

The wire-controlling mage grinned. "Hah! Your death’s here, brat—"  

SPLAT.  

His torso split diagonally before he could finish, blood spraying as a massive axe embedded itself into the ground.  

The battlefield froze.  

Every eye followed the axe’s trajectory—to where Rayne sprinted toward them, his path littered with the bisected remains of Borg and a headless Lyle.  

"Wha—?!"  

This defied all expectations. The dark mages had envisioned their leaders victorious, not butchered by a child.  

Even Laxus blinked. He used the rat swarm distraction to kill both?  

One mage barely registered the warm coil draped over his shoulder before realizing—  

—it was his own intestines.  

"Lighning Bolt: Surge!"  

Laxus seized the opening. Golden magic circles erupted as thunder split the sky, electrocuting the gutless mage into a charred, twitching husk.  

"Mercy! We surrender!"  

"Take us to the Magic Council! We’ll give you all our savings!"  

"Lyle forced us into this!"  

The remaining two dropped their weapons, groveling.  

Laxus paused, glancing at Rayne. Standard protocol was handing prisoners to the Council—most mages avoided outright execution.  

"Young master...?"  

The pleading mage looked up hopefully as Rayne approached—  

CRUNCH.  

A crimson-armored fist obliterated his face before he could blink.  

"Kill them!"  

The survivors lunged in desperation, but—  

CRACK!  

Rayne’s uppercut shattered ribs, launching one mage skyward like a broken puppet.  

The last man snarled, magic circle flaring—  

ZAP!  

—only for Laxus to intercept, his lightning fist sending the mage flying. The unfinished spell fizzled out.  

"Thanks."  

Rayne landed lightly, dismissing the [Boosted Gear] as its timer neared its limit. Red particles scattered like dying embers.  

"...Why?" Laxus eyed the dissolving armor. "They surrendered."  

"Their victims didn’t get that choice."  

Rayne’s smile was serene, but his next words dripped ice:  

"Let the dead decide if they’re forgiven. My job’s just delivery."  

As he walked toward Conner’s hiding spot, Laxus stared after him.  

This kid...  

He’d thought he was Fairy Tail’s resident problem child. But compared to Rayne’s chilling pragmatism? He might as well be a choirboy.  

"Old man...you’ve really outdone yourself this time."  

A grin tugged at Laxus’ lips.  

Makarov’s future headaches were going to be legendary.