The year was X776. Blake Corvus, now thirteen years old and a seasoned S-Class mage of Fairy Tail, felt the familiar itch of foreknowledge. He knew this was the year. According to the anime timeline, this was when a traumatized, one-eyed girl with scarlet hair would stumble into the guild, her life defined by the horrors of the Tower of Heaven.
He couldn't let that stand. The rebellion in the anime was a desperate, bloody affair that cost so many lives, including that of Jellal's innocence and Rob's life. Why wait for them to suffer?
He approached Makarov, who was dozing at the bar. "Master," Blake said, his tone casual. "I'm feeling a bit restless. I think I'm going to do some sightseeing for a while. See the southern isles, maybe."
Makarov cracked an eye open, looking at the boy who was already taller than most grown men in the guild. "Sightseeing? Or are you hunting something you're not telling me about?"
"Just sightseeing," Blake replied with a disarming smile. "Need to see the world. I'll be back in a few weeks."
Makarov grunted, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. Go. Just... try not to sink any of the islands you're 'sightseeing'."
Blake's journey was swift. He knew his destination was an island prison south of Akane Beach. He took the fastest train to the coastal town, and upon arriving, didn't even bother booking a room. He walked to the pristine, empty beach, took a deep breath of the salty air, and then launched himself into the sky.
Using Geppo, he ran on the air itself, a black speck moving at incredible speed over the open ocean, heading south. He kept his Observation Haki spread wide, scanning the horizon. After running for an hour, his senses finally brushed against it—a massive, dark structure on the horizon, an ugly monolith clawing at the sky. The Tower of Heaven.
He landed on the highest parapet, silent as a shadow. The place was crawling with robed cultists, all armed, all radiating a low-level malice. His Observation Haki spread like a net, infiltrating the entire structure, mapping its layout, counting its occupants, and sensing the deep, agonizing pit of misery in the basement where the prisoners were held.
But first... compensation.
He moved stealthily, a ghost in the stone corridors. His target was the upper chambers, the living quarters and studies of the cult leaders. He moved from room to room.
Before entering, his Haki would "see" inside. A single guard? Blake would flicker in with Soru, and a Shigan (Finger Gun) to the temple would end the man's life before he could even register the intrusion. Two guards? A flicker of his blade, coated in Haki, would ensure they fell without a sound.
He was a phantom, an angel of death clearing the upper echelons. He wasn't just here to free the slaves; he was here to eradicate the sickness.
He searched the rooms, his Haki sensing the subtle hollow spaces behind walls and under floorboards—secret compartments where the cult leaders kept their personal spoils. He found stacks of gold, chests of jewels, and, most importantly, a small, hidden library.
He grabbed a large, empty sack and began filling it. He found several rare and powerful magic books: a thick tome on Archive Magic, a manual on Wind Magic, a dark, heavy book on Shadow Magic, and, most surprisingly, a book detailing the fundamentals of Magma Magic.
Once he had stored the books, gold, and jewels in his bag, he slung it over his shoulder. The looting was done. Now, the liberation.
He made his way down, his steps silent, his speed terrifying. He reached the basement, a dark, damp, and foul-smelling place. His Haki counted twelve slavers on patrol around the prison block.
He didn't hesitate. He was a black gust of wind in the corridor. Before the first guard could even turn his head, Blake's hand, hardened with Armament Haki, chopped him at the base of the neck.
He used Soru to flicker to the next two, killing them with simultaneous Shigans to their hearts. In less than ten seconds, all twelve guards were dead, and not a single one had cried out.
He stood before the massive, rusted cages. They were packed with people—old men, women, and dozens of children, all in rags, their eyes hollow.
He brought his foot back and kicked the lock on the first cage. The metal broke with a loud CRACK.
Instantly, the entire facility blared to life. Alarms started to riing, red lights flashing in the dark corridor, the sound of heavy boots thundering from the floors above.
The prisoners screamed, terrified.
"QUIET!" Blake's voice, infused with a touch of Conqueror's Haki, cut through the panic. He moved with blinding speed, kicking and smashing the remaining cages open. "Everyone, out! Huddle together!"
The newly freed slaves, dazed and terrified, scrambled out, grouping behind their young savior. The thundering of boots was getting closer. The stairs were a death trap.
Blake turned to the massive, solid stone wall that led to the outside. He grabbed Tensa Zangetsu with both hands, pouring his energy into it. He coated the blade in a dense, swirling layer of Advanced Armament Haki and then layered his Anti-Magic over that, the blade sizzling as it ate the air.
He took a low stance.
"BULL THRUST!"
He rushed at the wall with a speed that seemed impossible, thrusting the sword forward with all his S-Class might. The blade hit the stone. The Anti-Magic vaporized the reinforcement runes, and the Haki sent a shockwave of destruction through the masonry.
BOOOOM!
A massive hole was blasted in the wall, revealing the dark night and the crashing waves of the Blue Sea below. The cult's supply boats were present outside, tied to a low dock.
"GO!" Blake roared. "Move quickly and board the boats! Get out of here!"
He began to move them, pushing the hesitant prisoners toward the opening. As they scrambled out, Blake's Haki sensed the danger. A large group. Fast. "Lot of people coming towards his direction." He counted them: 16 slavers, and one powerful opponent was among them, his presence like a hot, angry needle.
"Hurry up!" he yelled at the escaping slaves. He saw a red-haired girl, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and fierce defiance, helping a small, blue-haired boy.
Blake ran to her, shoving his heavy bag of loot into her arms. "Hold this. Keep them safe. Don't let anyone take it."
The girl stumbled under the weight but held it tight, nodding, her eyes locked on his.
Blake turned back to the corridor, drawing Tensa Zangetsu. He was the rearguard. He moved to intercept the slavers.
They burst into the prison level, a squad of robed magic-users, finding the cages empty and a giant hole in their wall. Then, they saw him, standing alone, sword in hand.
"Kill him and get the slaves!" one shouted.
Blake smiled. He moved like lightning. He used Soru to vanish, appearing in their midst. Shing. Shing. Shing. Shing. Shing. He flickered past them, his blade a precise, silent whisper. He reappeared by the hole, sheathing his sword.
Five of them stood frozen for a second, confused. Then, as one, their heads and torsos slid apart, and they collapsed in a bloody heap. He had killed them before they could even see him move.
The remaining 11 stared in pure, abject terror.
"If you want to pass," Blake said, his voice cold, "you have to first kill me."
Enraged and terrified, the slavers unleashed their power. "Burn him!" "Shred him!" A barrage of fire, wind, and earth magic shot down the corridor.
Blake just stood there. He channeled Anti-Magic into his sword and swung it in a single, clean, horizontal arc.
A wave of black energy, a pure void, erupted from the blade. It met the incoming magic... and cut it in half. The spells didn't explode; they simply ceased to exist, nullified instantly.
The slavers were stunned, their mouths open, staring at their useless hands. Their magic was gone.
Blake didn't give them time to recollect themselves. He charged again. This was not a fight; it was an execution. He moved through them, his blade a blur, his Armament Haki shattering their magically-reinforced armor. In three seconds of brutal, efficient swordplay, 8 more of them were dead.
Now, there were only 3 remaining.
The leader, the one with the powerful aura, looked at Blake with horrified realization. This was not a normal mage; this was a monster. "I will occupy him!" he roared at his two minions. "You two, go and bring back the slaves!"
Hearing that, his minions gave a desperate nod and tried to dash past Blake toward the hole.
Blake didn't even turn. He kept his eyes on the leader. He simply flickered his free hand back, his fingers extended. "Shigan." Two high-speed, Haki-infused "bullets" of compressed air shot from his fingertips, piercing the minions' skulls instantly, killing them before they took two steps.
Seeing his speed, the leader was shocked, but his training took over. He let out a roar, his body glowing with magical power. "You will pay for that, you demon!"
The leader attacked. He was fast, his power level hovering somewhere between A-Rank and S-Rank. He launched a powerful magical beam, which Blake simply side-stepped. He followed up with a magically-enhanced punch.
Blake blocked it with his forearm, the impact shaking the stone beneath them. The leader was strong, but Blake had faced Gildarts. This was nothing.
The leader, seeing his attacks fail, gathered all his power for one final, desperate blast.
Blake didn't give him the chance. He raised Tensa Zangetsu, the blade crackling with the black lightning of his Conqueror's Haki.
"This fight is over," Blake said. He didn't even need to move.
"Divine Departure."
He swung his sword. It was not a physical cut. A wave of pure, condensed, black Haki, shaped by the blade, shot forward. The leader didn't even have time to scream. The attack hit him, and his entire body was vaporized, his magic and his life extinguished in an instant. Blake's attack killed him.
The corridor was silent, save for the blaring, useless alarms.
Blake sheathed his sword, the black lightning receding. He turned and walked back out onto the dock, the sea breeze a welcome relief. The prisoners were all on the boats, their eyes wide with awe.
He walked over to the red-haired girl, who was still clutching his bag. He gently took his bag from her.
"Thank you," he said.
He looked at the sea of faces—confused, hopeful, and free for the first time in years.
"Follow me," he commanded, his S-Class aura giving his words an undeniable weight. "We'll hit the mainland. Find a town and you'll find a new life. And never, ever look back."
He turned, and with a single Geppo, launched himself into the night sky, as the boats followed him.