7.9 Fairy Tale
2nd of June, 2011
For understandable reasons, I took yesterday's evening off from Tinkering after what happened toward the end of the afternoon. And while my adoptive family may have some faults, they aren't exactly braindead, so they obviously caught on that something shook me. I did my best to prevaricate around the issue since I can't – and honestly would rather not – talk about it, but you could still have cut the concern oozing out of my aunt and uncle with a knife, and I even caught Emma throwing me the odd complicated look while I was brooding on the couch.
Some would argue that I lost some of my precious time with my current specialization, but the truth is that I've already started hammering at the next items on my 'must have' list days ago. Well, I worked on the theoretical side of things, since I couldn't exactly use Fairy Tail magic as-is until yesterday evening, but I still spent the better part of four days writing even more Earthland grimoires, firmly catapulting the number of books penned by yours truly beyond the triple digits.
Considering I did all of that in ten days, I definitely had earned a breather, the latest circumstances notwithstanding.
Nonetheless, school today feels like a particularly alien experience to me. I can't even muster the motivation to pretend that I'm paying attention to what Mr. Wilson is saying.
The silver lining in all of this is that I'm successfully managing to ignore the semi-permanent hero-worship I've been subjected to since I took down Leviathan. Win some, lose some, as they say.
"Jacky," Louise's whisper wrenches me away from my thoughts and my idle magical theorizing on my MIU, and I give my friend a lazy side-glance, "Are you alright?"
I blink with my good eye as I register the naked, if hesitant concern carved all over her face, the dark-skinned girl not fidgeting for once while in class, before throwing a half-smile her way.
"I'm… fine-ish," I admit after a beat while making a show of looking back toward the blackboard so that our substitute teacher doesn't have a reason to call us out, "I just have a lot on my mind today."
What passes as silence amid a class full of preteens falls between the two of us, and for a moment I think this is it.
Then Louise low-key startles me by reaching for my gloved hand, and my human eye snaps back toward her right on time for her to give me a comforting squeeze.
"I don't think you're fine," she smiles my way, eyes all crinkled up, "But that's alright!"
"...It is?" I reply somewhat at a loss, not really getting where she's going with this.
"Of course!" she nods faux-seriously, "Since I'm here to cheer you up!"
"Oh, really?" my lips twist into a thin smile.
"We all have our roles to play," she carries on, still keeping the semi-serious act, "You are doing your best to save the world, and I am doing my best to make you smile. Easy as pie."
I can't help it, I let a tiny snort of barely suppressed laughter, mindful that we're still in class.
"Sounds like one of us has it a whole lot easier," my barely there smile turns into a more genuine grin.
"I'll have you know that Jacky-wrangling is a full time job!" she banters back while wagging a finger in my direction, "Take my charge for example: can't look away from her for five minutes, or the next thing you know, she's the next town over blowing up a three story monster! Terrible impulse control, that girl."
I theatrically roll my eye at that.
"My impulse control is perfectly fine," I deadpan.
"It is poorly tempered at best," she shoots back.
I give her an offended stink eye.
"Miss Barnes, Miss Johnson," Louise and I freeze as Mister Wilson calls both of us out, the interruption prompting my friend to let go of my hand as if it is a burning stove, "Am I interrupting something?"
"No, sir."/"No teach!" We answer in concert while the thirty-something man gives the two of us a thoroughly unimpressed look.
A beat passes, and our substitute teacher eventually goes back to his history class after throwing one last squinty-eyed look our way.
"For the record, this is your fault," I whisper.
"Maybe," she hums knowingly, and I see her smiling somewhat smugly through the corner of my eye, "But at least you stopped brooding."
I blink, before letting out a tiny snort of laughter for the second time in as many minutes.
"Thanks, Louise," I beam a smile her way, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
For some reason, she sputters a little at that.
As I look away to pretend once again that I'm listening to our substitute teacher, I feel the metaphorical weight on my shoulders lessen somewhat for the first time since yesterday.
***
3rd of June, 2011
As soon as I realized what the Idea's little gift entailed, I had started brainstorming a way to either excise or seal it. After all, one does not play around the fact that they are a potential living focal point for an extra-dimensional invasion for the forces of a capital E Evil capital G God, the fact that actually using it to its full potential would allow me to deal with my Entity-shaped problem notwithstanding.
Which is when it hit me. I knew of one guy who managed to both seal and weaponize further demonic magic in such a way that he managed to have his cake and eat it too.
Gray "Clothes are so last century" Fullbuster, and his Ice Devil Slayer Magic.
As soon as I got that brainblast, I couldn't manage to get it off my head. Which is why I asked Theia to look for one parameter that is found only in the Fairy Tail verse: its magic juice, Ethernano.
Now, it obviously isn't as simple as just learning Gray's magic and calling it a day. For starter, the only reason the guy managed to stabilize his demonification was because his daddy helped. More accurately, he transferred anti-etherious antibodies to him to fight the 'infection' back before it got to the point of no return.
Again, this isn't something I can apply one-to-one to my own case and the Idea's corruption. What I can do though, is to take some inspiration from this particular case study.
Fact one: a magical contamination can be fought off by its direct opposite.
Fact two: the One True God of the Witchfire verse currently has a stronger claim on my soul than the Idea of Evil.
Fact three: after careful consideration, I can certify that Enchantment Magic, Erza's mom's strongest magic, is absolutely. Busted.
My human eye drills a hole in the chunk of solidified Divine Essence set up in a stainless steel bowl atop my main workbench, my hands hovering on each side. Theia's vessel stands at a distance, although she's currently silent so as to not break my concentration.
~~Liquify.~~ I weave my new magic mojo into the first spell I'm going to use.
I feel the magic leaving me in a rush, and as if answering a divine edict, the dully glowing gold crystal slowly turns into thick molasses wetly sloshing inside the bowl.
I frown. The consistency is a lot thicker than expected, which means–
~~Aerate.~~ I clip decisively.
Another jolt of magic rushes out of my body, and the molasses bubbles, raises, and ultimately settle after a beat.
"Better." I comment under my breath, before carrying on with my task.
I quickly take an already prepared skin sample from my right arm, and unceremoniously drop it into the dully glowing pseudo-batter.
I take a breath, loosen my fingers a little as I carefully go over the mental image for my next spell one last time, before nodding to myself.
~~Anathema.~~ I call.
If before the magic rushing out of me with each spell had been a river, I now have the rather poignant impression of emulating the Niagara falls.
I stumble and hiss under my breath, my focus nearly escaping me for a second, but I'm ultimately too stubborn to give up.
The change isn't visual this time around, no, but I can feel it from here. I intimated to a liquified chunk of Heaven that It Should Hate This One, and it goes at its task with gusto.
My magic eventually settles, but the reaction goes on for a while longer, the dully glowing liquid taking a somewhat deeper shine as it silently bubbles and quivers inside the bowl.
Ultimately, it settles, and a quickly weaved diagnosis spell pulled straight from Super Archive Magic tells me I've hit the nail straight on the head with this one.
I let out a slightly disbelieving snort at that.
"Something wrong?" my brain roomie asks while stepping closer, her head tilted and a finger on her chin.
"No, it's perfect," I answer, my tone betraying my incredulity, "Gotta say, after all the hoops I've had to jump through when using Witchery, it almost feels like cheating."
A pause.
"Well, you somehow found a way to directly imbue concepts, so I suppose this is understandable," she comments back.
"Like I told you, it's limited to the amount of magic I can output myself," I reply a little distractedly while taking hold of a syringe, "So it's not exactly the key to everything and beyond. It works here because I can sidestep the biggest issue with Witchery."
"By pitting a conceptual being against another," she nods in understanding.
"Which I wouldn't have been able to do without Witchery," I hum while carefully filling up the syringe of homebrewed IoE-antibodies, and I give Theia's vessel a glance, "So, thanks for signing my soul to the hell of another universe, I suppose."
Silicon features twist into a pout, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
"I said I was sorry." She grumbles.
I snicker, before shaking my head a little ruefully as I step away from my main workbench with my syringe in hand.
"I'm just messing with you," I tell her with a smirk, "I'm pretty sure I'll find another workaround somewhere down the line anyway."
My eyes drop down to the syringe and my traits turn serious once again.
"But let's deal with the most pressing issue first."
With that said, I quickly move deeper into my workshop, until I stand in front of a lectern I became intimately familiar with over the course of the last ten or so days, a deceptively simple leatherback grimoire lying close on it. It has no flourish and no name, yet it oozes oppression and malevolence. Uncle Alan had the misfortune to get a look at it yesterday evening while it was open and froze like a mouse in front of a very, very big cat.
I can't exactly blame him for his reaction since I wrote the damn thing.
…I'm ninety-nine percent sure that this is going to work, but I can't help but feel slightly apprehensive about the outcome now that I stand at the edge of the metaphorical precipice.
"Jacky?" Theia calls, and I realize that I've been lost in thought for a beat.
"Sorry," I frown, "I got lost in thought for a moment."
I catch her throwing me a knowing look when I side-eye her, and I let out an annoyed huff.
"Alright, yeah, I'm stalling," I admit as my eyes drift back to the grimoire, "...What if I'm wrong?"
"You're not," she replies while stepping next to me, "The theory is sound. I've studied it."
"Maybe, but this is suddenly a lot less theoretical for me right now," I grumble, before sighing, "...I'm stalling, aren't I?"
"You are," she pauses, before adding, "But you shouldn't."
I give her a puzzled look.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I'm trusting my Host, I'm trusting you, to make the right call." She answers simply.
I stare at her for a moment, a mess of complicated feelings bashing against each other in my mind.
"...Well," I cough while looking away, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, I suppose."
"You're welcome," my brain roomie aggreably answers, before saying, "Now quit stalling. I want to see the data."
I huff at that, let out one last breath, and jab the needle in my right shoulder before I can start second-guessing myself any further.
Boiling hot lava slithers in my veins as soon I press against the plunger, and my knees hit the metallic floor of my workshop the next second.
"Jacky?!" Theia calls out, her crystalline voice leaking with concern.
"Little… busy!" I grunt through gritted teeth as I keep pressing against the plunger until the syringe turns empty, before throwing it away with a pained scream as soon as I'm done with it.
Panting and with my head swimming, my human eye lands on my right arm.
"...That can't be good." I comment a little dumbly as I stare at the blood dripping from the eyes and mouths riddling it as they soundlessly scream and weep.
"Then finish what you started already!" Theia snaps.
Right. She's right. Gotta finish this.
Dismissing the idea of standing back up, I sit myself on my haunches, stutter a thanks to Dell as he forwards me the spell I'm supposed to enact right about now on my MIU, and promptly throw myself into it.
It's not a very complex one. I'd even say it's a deceptively simple one. Just a spell aiming at attuning someone's magic with one category in particular, turning complex spellworks into instincts.
Coincidentally, it's the very spell Irene used at the behest of her friend, the Sage Dragon Belserion.
~~E-Enchant!~~ I invoke through gritted teeth and in spite of the lava spreading through my veins.
The world pauses.
Then magic roars the very next moment. I distantly register the unnamed grimoire snapping open, its pages flipping through an unseen wind, and complex formulas that I know, that I designed myself burns themselves into my very being.
Fact of the matter is, Fairy Tail mages can dabble, but they are always at their strongest when they specialize.
Very few have the luxury to design their own magic from scratch though.
But I do.
I survived the nonsense the Simurgh and the Idea threw my way and chose fucking deicide. Then I got stumped when I realized that there wasn't a handy-dandy grimoire of Evil God slaying somewhere.
So I made one myself.
I cross-referenced the three different kinds of Slayer Magic, though mostly Devil and God ones, took some peeks at magic related to space and probability manipulation, compared everything to the readings I had of the Behelith Sword and my arm, and weaponized the shit out of everything!
Fate-Weaving Astral Evil God Slaying Magic, or Evil God Slaying Magic for short, since it's admittedly a bit of a mouthful.
All of a sudden, magic hiccups, then surges, something bubbling inside my lungs.
With a surge of willpower and strength, I look up, my teeth bared in a hateful sneer.
~~Evil God Slayer's–~~
I feel my cheeks and throat bulge unnaturally, and I. Let. Go.
~~–Tyrannical Decree!~~
One instant, there is a roof above me. The next, it is consumed in multiple dimensional vectors by a torrent of ghostly black flames made of screaming ghosts.
Very understandably, the entire ordeal leaves me quite spent, and I fall limply to the side with all the grace of a wet noodle and a rather goofy grin on my face.
"Jacky! Your arm!" Theia calls, her tone excited.
Slowly, almost ponderously, my eyes drift down toward my Stigma.
And my jaw slowly drops.
I watch in slow-motion as the mess of arms and mouths slowly sinks back into my corpse grey flesh, each reliefs turning into dully glowing golden lines on my skin. Thinking quickly, I take a peek at my soul with my Eye–
"It's receding." I utter a little dumbly, not really believing it even as I watch the IoE-antibodies beating back the corruption in real time, isolating it from my wider soul. Not completely beating it back no, but forcing it into a stalemate that it has no hope of ever winning.
After all, I succeeded once. I could always pull it off again.
I turn away from my soul, and take a new look at what's left of my Stigma.
"That's… certainly a thing," I end up saying after a moment spent staring.
Gone is the frankly hideous mess of glassy eyes and perpetually moaning mouth; in its place, a sprawling tattoo of closed eyelids and stitched lips covers most of my right arm.
Admittedly, it's kinda metal, though–
"How do I turn it off?" I joke while gingerly seating back up.
–it's also dully glowing gold.
"Have you tried turning your soul off and on again?" Theia says.
I pause.
"...Did you just make a joke?" I give her a disbelieving look.
She grins smugly, starts opening her mouth to answer–
The door to my workshop bangs open, startling the both of us.
"Jacqueline Margaret Barnes!" Aunt Zoey screams as soon as she crosses the threshold, "What the hell did you do?!"
I can't help it.
In front of my aunt's very understandable ire and still high from my latest success, I start laughing like a loon.
[AN: By virtue of writing every possible grimoires from the Fairy Tail verse she'll ever need and how her version of the ToF works, Jacky dabbles in a lot of magical fields, including but not being limited to Enchantment/Sage Magic, Archive/Super Archive Magic, a shit ton of theoretical fields, and she's basically an academic expert in every possible flavour of Slayer magic under the sun.
Her main magic though? She cobbled it together herself. :3