The sky was a graveyard of clouds. After twenty-one days of relentless combat, the atmosphere above Tenrou Island had been reduced to a turbulent wasteland of ozone and mana. The sun hung low, a blood-red eye witnessing the conclusion of a myth.
Blake Corvus and Acnologia floated five hundred meters apart, two specks of absolute power amidst the desolation. They were panting, the sound of their labored breath echoing in the silent stratosphere.
Blake's chest heaved. His vision was tunneling. The spiritual pressure that usually flowed like a raging river within him was now a trickling stream. He looked at the Dragon King. Acnologia was battered, his scales chipped and dull, but his eyes... his eyes were burning with a renewed, apocalyptic fury.
Acnologia stopped his panting. He straightened his massive neck. The air around him began to warp.
"Enough," Acnologia growled. The word wasn't spoken; it was vibrated into existence. "I have grown tired of this dance, human. I have grown tired of your tricks. I have grown tired of YOU."
The Dragon King raised his right claw. It was the limb of a god, covered in scales that had withstood the breath of time.
Blue arcane energy began to swirl around the limb. It wasn't the chaotic explosion of a roar; it was compression. Acnologia was condensing the power of a nuclear detonation into the physical tips of his talons. The light was so intense it turned the surrounding air into plasma. Space itself seemed to crack around the claw.
"I will erase your existence," Acnologia declared. "Not even ash will remain."
Blake watched the light gathering. His Observation Haki screamed at him. It showed him a future where that claw connected, and in that future, Blake Corvus ceased to exist. There was no blocking this. There was no deflecting it.
"All or nothing," Blake whispered to himself.
He gripped the handle of True Tensa Zangetsu. The chain rattled against his wrist.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
Defend? No. If I keep some power for defense, my attack won't be strong enough to hurt him.
It was a suicide gambit.
Blake recalled every ounce of Haki shielding his skin. He withdrew the Anti-Magic barrier protecting his organs. He stripped his body of every layer of supernatural defense he had cultivated.
He became, for all intents and purposes, a normal human made of flesh and bone.
And he poured it all into the sword.
The Khyber-knife blade turned from black to a void-like singularity. Red lightning—thick, viscous, and crackling with the weight of a King's will—draped over the steel. The blade hummed with a sound that made teeth ache miles away.
"I'm betting everything on this one swing," Blake hissed through gritted teeth.
And they both charge towards each other.
There was no signal.
Simultaneously, the air behind them detonated.
BOOM.
They broke the sound barrier instantly. Two comets—one blazing blue, one darker than night—collision course set for the center of the sky.
The Magic Council ships, miles away on the ocean surface, saw the streak of light.
"Reading a massive energy spike!" a sensor mage screamed. "It's... it's off the charts! Everyone brace for impact!"
High above, time seemed to slow down.
Blake saw the dragon's face rushing toward him. He saw the hate in the blue eyes. He saw the glowing, sun-like claw descending to obliterate him.
Wait for it, Blake told himself. Wait... wait...
The claw was ten meters away. Five. Two.
The heat was already blistering his unprotected skin.
"DIE!" Acnologia roared, swinging the condensed energy slash.
NOW.
Using the last dregs of his physical strength, Blake didn't dodge left or right. He engaged Geppo on the air compressed by Acnologia's own attack.
He kicked off the shockwave.
He vaulted upward, his body passing mere inches over the deadly blue talons. The heat singed his hair, but the attack passed beneath him.
He was now directly above Acnologia's extended right arm.
The dragon's eyes widened. He had overcommitted.
Blake raised his sword. The blade felt like it weighed a thousand tons. It was vibrating with so much Haki that it threatened to shatter reality.
"Divine Judgement..."
Blake swung down.
The spiritual pressure didn't just cut; it took shape. The black and red energy poured out of the blade, manifesting into a massive, spectral dragon head composed of pure shadows and cutting intent.
"...KURAOKAMI!" (Dark Rain Dragon God).
The spectral dragon roared and bit down on Acnologia's outstretched limb.
The blade connected with the hand.
Usually, Acnologia's scales were impenetrable. But Blake had concentrated everything into his sword. The Anti-Magic disrupted the dragon's defense. The Conqueror's Haki crushed the physical structure. The Armament Haki provided the edge.
SHRRRRRRAAAACK!
The sound was wet and sickening. It was the sound of the invincible being dismantled.
Then the dragon bites on Acnologia's right hand and tears it off.
The blade sliced through scale, muscle, tendon, and bone. The spectral dragon of Blake's attack swallowed the energy.
With a spray of glowing blue blood that looked like liquid neon, Acnologia's massive right hand was severed completely from his body. The severed limb tumbled away into the clouds, dissolving into mana.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The scream was primal. It wasn't anger; it was agony. For the first time in four hundred years, the Dragon King felt the cold shock of amputation. The pain blinded him. The shock rattled his very soul.
But Acnologia was a beast of war. Even in blinding pain, his instincts were razor-sharp.
"You... WORM!"
Reflexively, wildly, Acnologia swung his remaining left arm. It was a backhand sweep, fueled by pure, unadulterated hatred.
Blake was mid-air. He had just delivered the strike. His sword was extended. His body was completely devoid of Haki. He was a glass cannon that had just fired its shot.
He couldn't dodge.
Ah, Blake thought calmly. This is going to hurt.
CRUNCH.
The left claw slammed into Blake's back.
It didn't cut him in half, only because Acnologia's swing was sloppy from the pain. But the impact was devastating. The dragon's claws raked across Blake's defenseless flesh.
Blake was launched like a rag doll. The air was knocked from his lungs. Blood—red, human blood—sprayed in a mist, mixing with the blue dragon blood in the air.
He tumbled uncontrollably, spinning end over end, crashing through cloud banks.
The pain hit him a second later. It was a white-hot branding iron searing his spine.
The claws had gouged three deep trenches from his right shoulder down to his left hip. The flesh was flayed open. Through the torrent of blood, the white sheen of his ribs and scapula was visible to the open air. It was a mortal wound for any normal being.
Stop, Blake screamed internally. Stop flying back. If you fall now, he wins. If you look weak now, he attacks again.
He slammed his heels against the nothingness.
"Geppo..." he choked out blood.
He skidded to a halt in the air, leaving a trail of red vapor.
His body was screaming Collapse! Die! Sleep!
His mind screamed STAND!
He forced his legs to straighten. He ignored the feeling of his back muscles tearing apart. He turned around.
He floated there, a broken, bloody mess, but upright.
Across the battlefield, Acnologia was clutching the stump of his right arm. Blue energy leaked from the wound, trying to cauterize it, but the Anti-Magic residue from Blake's attack was preventing it from healing instantly. The dragon was hyperventilating, his eyes wide and dilated.
Blake slowly, agonizingly, raised True Tensa Zangetsu one last time. His arm trembled, but he locked the elbow. He pointed the black blade at the Dragon King.
He summoned a mask of absolute apathy. He pushed down the pain. He pushed down the fear.
"Is this enough, Acnologia?" Blake asked. His voice was steady, magnified by the last drops of his spirit. "Or shall we go on? I can take the other hand if you like."
The dragon stopped howling. He looked at the human.
He saw the blood pouring from Blake's back. He saw the exposed bone.
But he also saw the sword pointing at him. He saw the eyes that refused to dim.
Fear—a cold, forgotten emotion—crept into Acnologia's heart. Not fear of death, but fear of defeat. He was missing a hand. He was exhausted. And this human... this monster in human skin... was asking for more.
Acnologia made a calculation. If he fought now, he might win. But he might lose another limb. He might be weakened enough for the other humans to finish him.
It wasn't worth it.
"Don't think you have won, human," Acnologia hissed, clutching his bleeding stump. "This isn't over. I will heal. I will return. And when I do, I will be stronger than ever. I will have my revenge on you!"
Blake knew he had to sell it. He had to sell the lie that he still had gas in the tank.
He scraped the bottom of his soul. He took the life force that kept his heart beating and converted it into intimidation.
BZZZZT.
A wave of black and red Conqueror's Haki erupted from Blake. It was a bluff. It was empty. But it felt heavy.
"Run then," Blake said coldly, staring the apocalypse in the eye. "Heal up. Get stronger. I'll be right here waiting. I'll be ready for the challenge whenever you want."
The bluff worked.
Sensing the spike in pressure, Acnologia glared one last time—a look of pure venom—and then turned.
With a heavy, uneven beat of his single good wing and his tattered wing, the Dragon King ascended. He didn't look back. He climbed higher and higher, trailing blue blood, until he vanished into the upper atmosphere, retreating to the ends of the earth to lick his wounds.
Blake stands there and watches until Acnologia is out of his Observation Haki range.
Blake didn't move. He held the sword pointed at the empty sky.
He kept his Haki active.
One mile. Five miles. Ten miles. Fifty miles.
He watched the presence of the Dragon King fade from a roaring fire to a candle flame, and finally to nothingness.
The second the dragon was gone, the strings were cut.
The sword fell from his hand, dissolving into motes of light.
Blake's eyes rolled back.
"It's... over..."
The adrenaline vanished, leaving only the catastrophic reality of his injuries. The pain from his back overwhelmed his brain instantly.
His body went limp.
He tipped forward.
He began to plummet from the stratosphere.
The wind rushed past his ears, but he didn't hear it. He was already in the dark. He was falling like a broken Icarus, trailing blood towards the island he had saved.
Down on Tenrou Island, the S-Class mages were watching the sky with bated breath.
"He's leaving!" Cana shouted, pointing at the retreating dragon silhouette. "Acnologia is retreating!"
"He did it," Gildarts breathed, sinking to his knees in disbelief. "That crazy bastard actually did it."
Then, Erza gasped. "Look! He's Falling!"
They saw the small, limp figure tumbling from the clouds.
"Blake!" Mirajane screamed.
"Satan Soul: Sitri!"
Mirajane didn't hesitate. She transformed into her demon form, the Sitri wings spreading wide. She kicked off the ground, a blur of pink and black magic.
She tore through the sky, intercepting the falling warrior.
"I've got you," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
She caught him.
The impact was heavy. His blood immediately soaked her demonic armor. She felt the warmth of it, the sheer amount of it.
She looked at his back and stifled a scream. The wounds were horrific.
She descended carefully, gliding down to the clearing where others were waiting.
Mirajane landed softly, the dust settling around her. She reverted to her human form, gently placing Blake on the grass.
Blake Corvus lay on the ground of Tenrou Island. He was broken, flayed, and unconscious. But above him, the sky was clear. The dragon was gone. And the guild lived to see another day.