Tutu Maru lay amidst cold ashes and damp decaying leaves, his consciousness hovering between excruciating pain and the icy edge of death.
Each faint breath tugged at his tearing wounds, bringing bone-deep agony.
The heavy scent of blood, char, and earth filled his nostrils.
He struggled, extremely slowly, to turn his almost numb neck, his gaze blankly falling on his empty, completely torn, and bloody right hand.
There, he should have been tightly gripping his partner, red hell, whom he regarded as his life and his other half.
His gaze moved with difficulty, falling on the half-charred, twisted hilt remnant, still emitting wisps of smoke, scattered on the scorched rocky ground not far from him.
And around it, scattered dark red metal fragments, already cooled and devoid of all luster.
red hell... the cursed blade that had accompanied him through countless bloody storms, carried all his pride, skill, and even a part of his soul... was gone.
Completely, turned to ash and smoke.
Not even a trace of its former existence could be found.
Deeper than the heart-wrenching physical wounds was a sense of collapse originating from the depths of his soul.
His lifelong pursuit of the Way of the Blade, his proud strength, his belief for survival... in front of the opponent's pure, ultimate crimson Dragon Flame, burning for protection, it was as fragile as a dewdrop in the sun, utterly defenseless.
The power bestowed by Master Jose?
The glory of executing orders?
At this moment, all became pale and ridiculous, along with his broken blade.
"Why..." a very faint, hoarse voice, bubbling with thick bloody foam, was squeezed with great difficulty from Tutu Maru's cracked lips, as if he had used all his strength, "Why... go to such... lengths? For those... so-called... comrades?"
He looked at Natsu, his eyes full of incomprehension and a trace of... bewilderment that even he himself hadn't noticed.
This faint voice, however, clearly pierced the deadly silence of the forest and the low hum of the giant leg in the distance, reaching Natsu's ears.
Natsu wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving violently, but his voice was firm and resolute.
"Nonsense!" He pointed to his heart, where flames seemed to be dancing, "Fairy Tail is my home! Every single person there—Erza, Gray, Lucy, the old man, EZ, Cana, Mira... and Happy!—are my family!!"
His voice suddenly rose, carrying the scorching heat of magma and an undeniable determination, "Whoever dares to destroy my home! Whoever dares to harm my family! I, Natsu Dragneel, will chase them to the ends of hell! Even if I burn my last drop of blood! I will burn them to ashes!!!"
His arm swung sharply, his crimson finger, like a red-hot iron, pointed fiercely at the giant leg of Nirvana, which was rooted in the earth like a tumor, emitting an ominous yellowish-brown light!
"And this damn thing!! For it! For the ambitions of Jose and Brain!! How many people's homes has it destroyed?!"
"That madman Jose wants to drag the entire kingdom down with him! And you?! You so-called'strong ones,' are you willing to be his dogs?! To go mad with him?! To drag this world into hell with him?!"
Home... family... these two words, like two heavy hammers, struck hard at Tutu Maru's already battered mental defenses.
The bewilderment in his eyes deepened.
"Family"?
Such a strange and distant word, a luxury like flowers in a mirror or the moon in water.
He looked at Natsu's golden eyes burning with pure conviction; there was no falsehood, no calculation, only the most ardent will to protect "home" and "family."
He then struggled to move his gaze, looking at the small blue cat—Happy—who had exhausted his strength, collapsed on the ground, yet still tried to lift his little head, looking at Natsu with pure worry and affection.
That kind of gaze... he had never seen it in Phantom Lord.
Defeated... his blade broken... Master Jose's orders... seemed to have an unfulfillable reason, enough to convince himself... Perhaps, this was a form of liberation?
An indescribable sense of exhaustion, like a tide, engulfed Tutu Maru.
It was the physical and mental weariness after something that had been supported for many years suddenly collapsed.
But deep within this exhaustion, there seemed to be a hint of... strange lightness?
As if a heavy burden had been lifted.
With extreme difficulty, he used his left hand, which could still barely move and was covered in blood and ashes, to desperately claw at the cold, rough ground.
His fingernails cracked, and blood seeped out, but he was oblivious. Inch by inch, using all his remaining strength, he dragged his broken body, like a rag doll, from the icy edge of death.
Every inch of movement was accompanied by the faint sound of bones rubbing and the excruciating pain of tearing muscles, but he gritted his teeth, not uttering a single groan.
When he finally managed to support his upper body, half-kneeling in the charred ashes and decaying leaves in an extremely disheveled but unusually stubborn posture, he raised his empty right hand, which was still dripping blood.
There was no anger, no resentment, no unwillingness. Only a weariness that was almost like dust settling, and a faint sense of... relief, as if after escaping a catastrophe.
He raised that hand, his movements slow but unusually firm, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing, yet clearly piercing through all the noise:
"...Stop."
He looked at Natsu's golden pupils, still vigilant and burning with fighting spirit, and tried to pull at his cracked, bleeding lips to form a smile, but only triggered the burns on his face, bringing a spasm of pain.
Finally, that expression settled into an extremely bitter curve, yet with a strange sense of relief.
"Your fire... broke my blade..."
His gaze slowly swept over Happy, who was struggling to look at him, his pink cat eyes filled only with pure worry, not the arrogance of a victor.
"...And it also awakened some... things I had forgotten."
His gaze finally returned to Natsu's face; those eyes, once full of playfulness and laziness, now held only fatigue and complex light.
"Perhaps..."
He paused, as if using his last ounce of strength, to utter that heavy word.
"...You are right."
He slowly lowered his raised hand, as if laying down a heavy burden.
"I lost, Child of the Dragon."
He gave up.
Not surrendering to the opponent's terrifying, all-consuming power, but surrendering to the faint longing for "home" and "comrades" that had been forcibly awakened deep within him, and the long-suppressed doubts about his own path, which had been overshadowed by Jose's fear.
The broken red hell gave him an irrefutable "reason" to face Jose, and also gave him... a chance to breathe.
The crimson Dragon Flame swirling around Natsu slowly subsided and receded like a receding tide.
He looked at Tutu Maru, half-kneeling in the ashes, barely breathing, but ultimately choosing to give up, looking at those eyes that had lost all their sharpness, leaving only complexity and fatigue.
There was no mockery, no victor's declaration, and certainly no pursuit.
He merely let out a heavy snort from his nostrils.
Like distant thunder rolling through the silent forest.
Then, he suddenly turned!
His eyes, burning with fighting spirit, like the most precise ruler, bypassed the defeated figure and locked onto the base of the giant leg, which seemed to connect to the furnaces of hell!
There, the nauseating yellowish-brown magical energy fluctuations emanating from the magic crystal core were as clear as a lighthouse in the dark night!
That was his ultimate goal for this journey!
It must be destroyed!
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