The darkness was absolute, a void so deep it felt like being submerged in ink. There was no pain, no sound of the roaring wind, no screaming of his friends. Just the cold, suffocating silence of death.
Is this it? Blake thought, his consciousness floating in the abyss. Did I die? Was my strength not enough to stop the Dragon King?
The regret was a physical weight, heavier than the gravity that had pulled him from the sky. He had trained. He had prepared. He had mastered Haki and the sword. And yet, against the Apex of the world, he had been swatted away like a bothersome fly.
Heh... heh... heh...
The laughter cut through the void again. It wasn't the roar of a dragon. It was a sharp, jagged sound, like scraping metal against glass. It was mocking. It was familiar.
HAHAHAHAHA!
Blake's eyes snapped open.
He gasped, sitting up violently, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. But he didn't grasp the rocky soil of Tenrou Island. His fingers brushed against... concrete?
He blinked, his vision adjusting to a brightness that seared his retinas. He wasn't in the forest. He wasn't in the crater.
He was standing on the side of a skyscraper.
Literally on the side.
Gravity had shifted ninety degrees. Below him—or rather, beside him—sprawled a vast, endless metropolis. It was a city of glass and steel, gleaming under a cerulean sky that held no sun, yet was blindingly bright. It was a reflection of the world he had come from before he was reincarnated into Earthland. Tokyo? New York? It was a mishmash of memories, a cityscape constructed from his own nostalgia.
But it was empty. The windows were dark. The streets were devoid of cars. The silence was deafening, broken only by the wind whistling through the steel canyons.
"Pathetic," a voice drawled from behind him.
Blake froze. The voice was his. But it was wrong. It was distorted, layered with a metallic echo, vibrating with a chaotic energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Blake turned slowly.
Standing on the vertical glass pane of a skyscraper opposite him was a figure.
It was Blake.
But it was a photo-negative of Blake.
Where Blake had healthy, tanned skin, this figure was chalk-white, like polished porcelain or bleached bone.
Where Blake had dark hair, this figure's hair was a pristine, snowy white.
Where Blake wore his black trench coat, this figure wore an identical outfit, but it was completely white.
And in his hand, he held Tensa Zangetsu. But the blade wasn't the void-black of the Divine Meteorite. It was white. A long, slender katana of pure, blinding white steel.
The figure's eyes were the most unsettling part. The sclera was pitch black, and the irises were a glowing, toxic yellow.
"Who are you?" Blake asked, his voice echoing in the empty city.
The figure grinned. It was a wide, manic grin that stretched too far across his face.
"Who am I?" The figure threw his head back and laughed. "I am you! I am the part of you that doesn't hesitate! I am the instinct you bury under all that 'planning' and 'protecting'!"
He spun the white katana in his hand.
"I am Zangetsu. I am the predator inside your soul!"
Blake's eyes narrowed. "My Zanpakuto spirit... I thought you were quiet. Why show yourself now?"
"QUIET?" White-Blake roared. The air pressure in the city spiked. Windows on the nearby buildings shattered, raining glass sideways. "I've been screaming! You call that a fight? You call that a slash? You went up against the King of Dragons and you hesitated! You tried to 'push' him? You tried to 'buy time'?"
The White figure lowered his stance, the yellow eyes burning with predatory intent.
"You don't push a Dragon King. You carve him up!"
WOOSH.
There was no warning. No telegraphing.
One millisecond, the White figure was fifty meters away. The next, he was in Blake's face.
The white blade descended toward Blake's neck.
Blake's Observation Haki flared, but it was late. His body reacted on autopilot. He raised Tensa Zangetsu to block.
CLANG!
The impact was heavier than Acnologia's claw.
It wasn't physical weight; it was spiritual pressure. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through Blake's body, cracking the concrete beneath his feet.
"Too slow!" White screamed in his face.
Blake gritted his teeth, pushing back. "Get off!"
He shoved the figure back and swung his own sword. A horizontal slash aimed at the midsection.
White didn't dodge. He parried effortlessly, his wrist flicking with unnatural speed.
Clang-clang-clang!
They traded blows. The speed was blinding. To an outside observer, they would have looked like two streaks of light—one black, one white—ricocheting off the buildings of the inverted city.
Blake leaped backward, landing on a flagpole protruding from a building. "Geppo!"
He launched himself at White, coating his sword in Armament Haki.
"Divine Departure!"
A wave of black energy erupted from his blade.
White laughed maniacally. "That's my move, partner!"
He swung his white sword.
"Divine Departure!"
A wave of white energy, crackling with red electricity, collided with Blake's attack.
BOOM.
The explosion engulfed the city block.
Blake emerged from the smoke, coughing. "He's strong... he has the exact same power output as me."
"WRONG!"
White appeared out of the smoke, his blade aimed at Blake's heart.
"I don't have your power output! I have access to your power, but I don't have your shackles!"
Blake barely managed to twist his body. The white blade grazed his shoulder, cutting through the spiritual fabric of his clothing.
Blake countered with a kick, coated in Haki.
White caught the kick with his free hand.
"I know your moves, Blake!" White sneered, twisting Blake's leg and throwing him through a window. "I know your Haki! I know your habits! I know you favor your right side when you're tired!"
Blake crashed into an office floor, rolling across the carpet. He scrambled to his feet just as White came crashing through the ceiling.
Blake focused. He tried to see the future. He tried to see where the next attack was coming from.
He saw it. A thrust from the left.
Blake moved to block left.
But the attack came from the right.
SLASH.
A jagged cut opened up across Blake's chest. Blood—vividly red in this monochromatic world—splashed onto the grey carpet.
"Gah!" Blake stumbled back, clutching his chest. "How... I saw it. I saw you attacking left!"
White landed softly, licking the blood from his blade.
"You saw what I wanted you to see," White mocked. "You think you're the only one with Future Sight? I'm you! I can see the future you're seeing! And if I know what you see, I can change it!"
It was a stalemate of premonition.
Blake saw White attacking. White saw Blake blocking. So White changed the attack. Blake saw the change, so he adjusted the block. White saw the adjustment and changed again.
It was an infinite loop of prediction happening in a fraction of a second.
But White was winning. Why?
Because White was faster. He didn't think. He didn't process. He just acted.
"You're overthinking it!" White lunged again.
Clang.
"You're analyzing the angle!"
Clang.
"You're calculating the Haki usage!"
Slash.
Another cut on Blake's arm.
"Stop thinking! Use your instinct! Fighting isn't math! It's murder!"
Blake was being driven back. He was bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts. His breath was ragged.
He was leaning against a desk, his sword heavy in his hand.
He's right, Blake realized. My Observation Haki... against someone who also has it... it cancels out. I'm trying to out-predict a mirror image of myself.
"What's the matter?" White stopped, resting his sword on his shoulder. He looked disappointed. "Is this all the 'Black Blade of Earthland' has? You're going to die here. And if you die here, you die out there. And if you die out there... the Dragon eats the little girl. The Dragon eats the card user. The Dragon eats everyone."
The image of Cana crying over his body flashed in Blake's mind. The image of Wendy trying to heal a corpse.
Rage flickered in Blake's chest. Not the hot, explosive rage of Natsu. A cold, sharp rage.
No.
"I won't let them die," Blake whispered.
"Then hit me!" White spread his arms. "Prove it! Bypass my eyes! Make me bleed!"
Blake closed his eyes.
The world of the inverted city faded.
He stopped looking for the "intent" of his opponent. He stopped trying to see the future.
If seeing the future didn't work... he had to kill the future.
He had to become an event that could not be predicted. He had to erase his own presence from the timeline until the moment of impact.
Don't project your intent, Blake told himself. Don't think 'I will slash him'. Be the slash.
Observation Killing.
It was a technique used to prevent the opponent from seeing the future.
He regulated his breathing. He pulled his Haki inward.
Instead of an aura that radiated "I am here," he made himself a void. A hole in the world.
White's yellow eyes widened. "Oh?"
For a split second, White's Future Sight went blank. He looked at Blake, but he couldn't "see" what Blake was about to do. The timeline was fuzzy.
"Now," Blake whispered.
He moved.
He didn't wind up. He didn't tense his muscles in a telegraph. He simply transferred his weight.
He vanished.
White reacted on pure reflex, raising his blade blindly.
SHING.
The sound of cutting steel rang out.
Blake appeared behind White, in a crouched stance, his sword extended.
A beat of silence passed.
Then, a tearing sound.
On the white sleeve of the figure's uniform, a clean, precise slit appeared.
Blake stood up slowly, using Tensa Zangetsu as a crutch to support his weight. He was exhausted. The mental toll of "killing" his presence was immense.
White stood there, frozen. He looked at the tear in his sleeve. He touched the drop of energy.
The silence stretched, heavy and tense. Blake gripped his sword, ready for the counterattack.
Then, slowly, the corners of White's mouth twitched.
"Heh."
The twitch turned into a grin.
"HAHAHA!"
White laughed, but this time, it wasn't mocking. It was triumphant. It was the laugh of a teacher who just watched his student finally solve the equation.
"Finally!" White shouted, sheathing his sword. "You finally stopped thinking like a chess player and started striking like a killer! You killed your presence! For a second there... I couldn't see you at all. It was like fighting a ghost!"
White walked over to Blake. The hostility evaporated, replaced by a strange, intense camaraderie.
"That's it, Blake. That's the key. Against Acnologia, you can't be 'reactive'. You can't wait for him to move and then counter. He's too fast. You have to be the void he doesn't see coming."
White pointed a finger at Blake's chest, right over his heart.
"You unlocked the Observation Killer. It's rudimentary. It's shaky. But it's there."
The world around them began to shake. The inverted city started to crumble, the glass shards dissolving into mist.
"My time is up," White said, his form beginning to fade. "The body is waking up. The little healers are doing their job."
"Wait," Blake reached out. "I still... I'm not strong enough to beat him."
"No, you're not," White agreed bluntly. "But I am giving you my power for this time."
White leaned in close, his yellow eyes burning into Blake's soul.
"...you can make him bleed. You can make him remember the name Blake Corvus."
The white figure began to dissolve into light.
"Go back, partner. We will meet again after the crisis is averted. Next time... I will not let you go until I am thoroughly satisfied."
White grinned one last time.
"Good luck fighting the calamity."
SNAP.
The white world shattered like a mirror struck by a hammer.
"BLAKE-SAN!"
The scream pierced his ears.
Pain rushed back into his body—a tidal wave of agony. Every bone felt like it was grinding against glass. His skin felt like it was on fire.
But he was alive.
Blake gasped, his eyes snapping open.
"He's awake!" It was Wendy. She was hovering over him, her hands glowing with blue Sky Dragon magic, tears streaming down her face. "He's awake! It worked!"
"Blake!" Cana was there, holding his hand so tight her knuckles were white. "You idiot! You scared us to death!"
Mirajane was on his other side, looking relieved but terrified.
Blake tried to sit up. A jolt of pain shot through his spine.
"Careful!" Wendy pushed him back down gently.
"How long..." Blake croaked, his throat dry. "How long was I out?"
"Two minutes," Mira said. "Only two minutes."
Two minutes? The fight in the inner world had felt like hours.
"Where is he?" Blake asked, his voice hardening.
"He's circling," Cana pointed upwards.
Blake looked up.
High above, Acnologia was circling the island like a vulture. He was preparing. He was playing with them.
Blake grit his teeth. He grabbed Tensa Zangetsu, which was lying in the dirt beside him.
"Blake, no!" Cana pleaded. "You can't move!"
"I have to," Blake groaned, forcing himself to sit up despite Wendy's protests.
He looked at his hands. They were trembling.
He stood up, swaying unsteadily.
"Wendy," Blake said softly. "Thank you. That's enough."
"But—"
"Get back to others."
"We're not leaving you!" Mira shouted, transforming into her Satan Soul form. "We fight together!"
"Yeah!" Natsu ran into the clearing, followed by Gray, Erza, and the others. They were battered, broken, but standing.
"We're Fairy Tail!" Natsu grinned, though blood dripped from his forehead. "We don't run!"
Blake looked at them. They were fools. Beautiful, brave fools.
He tightened his grip on his sword.
"I know, but I still haven't used my full power," Blake smirked, the pain fading into the background of his adrenaline. "Let me show this Dragon why he should have stayed in the history books."
He looked up at the circling doom.
"Hey, Acnologia!" Blake roared, amplifying his voice with Haki.
The dragon paused in its flight.
"I'm not done with you yet!"
Blake closed his eyes for a split second, extinguishing his presence.
When he opened them, the fear was gone. Only the killer remained.
"Round Two."