We were now actively scouting the picturesque, surprisingly dangerous outskirts of Magnolia, following the somewhat vague, frequently contradictory, occasionally utterly useless information we had patiently managed to extract from various guild members (and some unlucky passers-by on the street), in search of the last known location where the infamous, apparently very active bandit gang had been seen in full, glorious criminal action.
The main road, which snaked through verdant fields and small forests, was, to our surprise, surprisingly busy, full of hurried travellers with anxious expressions, noisy merchants' carts with visibly valuable cargo, and the occasional, colourful group of dodgy-looking adventurers, probably from some smaller, less well-resourced guild. We decided, at my 'brilliant', entirely original suggestion to interact with the locals, to ask some of these passers-by what they knew, or thought they knew, about our illustrious, wanted targets.
As we chatted with different people along the road – an old farmer with a beard that looked like it housed a small ecosystem, a young fabric merchant with a tongue sharper than her scissors, a travelling bard with an out-of-tune lute and many exaggerated tales – each of them seemed to have a different, unique, increasingly unbelievable, fanciful version to tell about the terrible, feared bandits. Some of the more recent, understandably more frightened victims described them with tears in their eyes as true, fierce, relentless, bloodthirsty monsters, with razor-sharp teeth, red eyes that glinted menacingly in the darkness, and a peculiar, worrying taste for gratuitous, unnecessary violence.
Others, usually the more experienced, jaded, deeply cynical merchants, who had probably been robbed countless times in their long careers, spoke with amused disdain of a utterly disorganised, lamentably incompetent, surprisingly ridiculous group of mere chicken thieves with an entirely unjustified overconfidence and a glaring, almost comical lack of real skill in combat or any other activity requiring a modicum of intelligence. It was hard to know who to believe.
We patiently, with a healthy dose of scepticism, collected a truly impressive diversity of information, the vast majority of it likely grossly exaggerated, entirely fabricated, or, at best, based on third-rate tavern gossip. We also investigated, with due caution and my keen sense of danger, some of the most probable, strategically positioned ambush points along the trade route, those dark, isolated places with plenty of trees to hide behind. And so, gradually, with a bit of logic, a lot of deduction, and a dash of pure luck, we began to form a slightly clearer, somewhat less fanciful, considerably more realistic idea of where, in the blazes, the secret base and hideout of said wanted bandits might be located.
"Well, considering the prevailing wind direction over the past few days, the curious phase of the moon we'll have tonight, and the particularly auspicious alignment of stars in the Capricorn quadrant, I'd say, with a minimal margin of error, that this must be the last, most crucial, utterly irrefutable piece of information we needed to finally, with mathematical precision, triangulate the exact location of their secret, probably malodorous den," I said, with an air of false, deep arcane wisdom, an arched eyebrow in contemplation, and a conspiratorial wink at Erza, whilst discreetly, without her noticing, I mentally asked good old Eos to mark the most probable location, based on her data analysis algorithms and not my entirely fabricated astrological observations, on our shared internal map.
As soon as the small, discreet, glowing dot appeared in my peripheral vision, indicating a dense area of forest a few kilometres away, I began to walk with renewed confidence, surprising energy, and an air of someone who knows exactly what they're doing, towards the indicated point, with Erza confidently, unquestioningly following beside me, her eyes shining with a mixture of admiration for my supposed wisdom and a growing anticipation for the imminent battle. Children. So easy to impress with a bit of theatrics and a few difficult words.
As we walked along the narrow, winding path that now delved deeper and deeper into the dense, dark forest, smelling suspiciously of imminent danger, Erza, who seemed to have completely recovered from her morning irritation and was now fully focused on the mission, commented with a small, amused smile on her lips: "You know, Azra'il, despite all your eccentricities and constant sarcasm, you've always had a surprisingly good, almost infallible sense of direction. Entirely, completely unlike our dear Natsu, who usually runs randomly in any direction like a dizzy cockroach with its hair on fire, without the slightest concern or consideration whether he's going the right way, the wrong way, or, as has happened a few times, straight into the mouth of an erupting volcano or the nest of some hungry, bad-breathed creature."
I laughed, a genuine, amused laugh, as I remembered with almost painful clarity a particularly chaotic, hilarious, utterly disastrous mission I'd had the dubious pleasure, or perhaps the sadistic, secret pleasure, of undertaking as a team with the impulsive Natsu and his inseparable, equally troublesome flying blue cat, Happy, a few months ago. An experience that still gave me nightmares and an uncontrollable urge to bang my head against the wall repeatedly.
"Ah, don't even get me started on Natsu's navigational skills! I still get shivers just thinking about it! I remember perfectly, with all the traumatising details, that time when he and Happy, in their brilliant, genius, utterly misguided search for a supposed 'secret, magical shortcut' to reach our destination faster, got completely, spectacularly lost in the forest, like two incompetent children on a picnic gone wrong. And, somehow inexplicably, defying all laws of logic and probability, they ended up clandestinely, with the discretion of a rhinoceros in a china shop, on a pirate ship very poorly disguised as a merchant vessel, which was, by one of those unfortunate coincidences that only happen to Fairy Tail, conveniently anchored in a nearby, suspiciously isolated river, and which was, to complete the picturesque scene, completely crammed to the brim with goods of highly suspicious, probably illegal, certainly very dangerous origin. It was total, absolute chaos, complete with hair-raising chases through the ship's dark corridors, colourful, entirely unnecessary explosions caused by an overly enthusiastic Natsu, and a very, very irritated pirate captain, with a sharp hook for a hand, an ill-mannered parrot on his shoulder, and an extensive vocabulary of nautical curses."
"Yes! I remember that story!" Erza said, shaking her head with an amused smile and an expression of pure disbelief as she recalled the absurd details of that mission. "And the worst part, or perhaps the funniest, is that they, the two geniuses, still thought for a good while they were on a grand, exciting, secret international espionage adventure, and not that they had just got themselves, up to their necks, into a huge, dangerous, potentially deadly mess with dangerous, cruel, bad-humoured arms smugglers!" She laughed heartily. "Meanwhile, we, the supposedly responsible, minimally competent, vaguely sensible members of the team, were running around the forest like headless chickens, desperately trying to figure out where on earth those two noisy, trouble-prone idiots had got to, and, more importantly, how we were going to get them out of that whole mess without causing an international war, a diplomatic crisis, or, worst-case scenario, the complete destruction of the ship and all its illegal cargo."
"Exactly! It was an epic, memorable spectacle in its pure, crystalline stupidity!" I continued, immensely amused by the vivid memory of their monumental incompetence and the general panic that ensued.
"And when we, finally, after many hours of fruitless searching, bribing local squirrels for information, and veiled threats to forest goblins, found the two espionage geniuses, they were, to our utter, absolute despair, completely, totally surrounded by a considerable band of surly-looking pirates, with rusty knives between their teeth, murderous glares, and a clear lack of patience for intruders. And, of course, the pirates had not the slightest, most remote idea that the queasy pink-haired lad and the talking blue cat were, in fact, surprisingly powerful mages from the infamous Fairy Tail Guild. Natsu, as always happened when he was on any sort of vessel or transport, was terribly seasick, green as a sea cucumber, and bravely, though not very successfully, trying not to vomit all over the pirate captain holding him by the collar. Meanwhile, poor, desperate Happy flew in frantic, chaotic circles around him, futilely trying to fan him with his small, ineffective wings and crying for help in his high-pitched, irritating little voice! It was, without a doubt, a truly memorable, utterly embarrassing scene that provided much laughter in the guild for weeks."
The rest of the journey through the forest proceeded relatively peacefully after that, with only the soft sounds of nature around us and our occasional, amused laughter breaking the afternoon silence. But, despite the apparent calm and funny recollections, with every step we took towards our objective, my mind focused more and more intensely on the mission ahead. I knew, from painful personal experience, that however funny, absurd, harmless the stories about Natsu's and other guild members' countless, unbelievable misadventures were, our current task was serious, and we, especially Erza, needed to be completely prepared, focused, alert for any unexpected, dangerous, or simply irritating situation that might arise in our path. Bandits, even the most incompetent, amoeba-IQ ones, could still be dangerous, especially when in a group, desperate, or simply bored.
"Well, Azra'il, let's just make sure that we two, with our superior intelligence and unshakeable common sense, don't end up in a situation remotely similar to Natsu's today, or any other day, right?" Erza commented with a cheeky smile, a glint of defiance and newfound confidence in her eyes.
"Absolutely, stubborn little redhead," I replied with an equally confident, perhaps slightly smug smile, as I could already visualise, with my sharpened senses and supernatural perception, the bandits' improvised, malodorous base a few precious metres ahead, cunningly, predictably hidden amongst the dense trees and moss-covered rocks.
"We'll finish them off quickly, efficiently, and, if possible, with a minimum of unnecessary mess and excessive noise," I continued, my voice now low and focused. "And, most importantly, we'll ensure that innocent travellers, greedy merchants, and perhaps even a few unlucky postmen can finally pass along this route in complete, absolute, unquestionable safety again. And then, and only then, will we go for that strawberry cake."
After a few more hours of cautious, silent, increasingly tense walking through a dense, dark forest smelling suspiciously of imminent danger and lack of bathing, we finally found what we were looking for, or rather, what the bandits were trying so hard to hide: a rudimentary, improvised, very well-hidden camp amongst the trees and rock formations of the region. Before us, nestled in a small, discreet, strategically positioned clearing, stood a few rustic, crude, clearly poorly constructed huts, hastily made from stolen wood, dry branches, and a lot of hope.
The camp's perimeter was 'protected' by a series of primitive but potentially painful, certainly humiliating traps, carefully arranged to deter unwary intruders or particularly stupid animals. The atmosphere in the camp, despite the apparent, deceptive tranquillity of the afternoon, was tense, charged with nervous energy and palpable paranoia. And the strong, characteristic smell of a poorly extinguished campfire, dubiously roasted meat over embers, and the unmistakable, rather unpleasant odour of unwashed human sweat and repressed fear drifted lazily through the air, unequivocally betraying the recent, continuous presence of its unsavoury inhabitants.
"Bingo. There's our illustrious target, Erza," I whispered to my redhead companion, who was crouching with surprising grace beside me, behind a particularly thick, conveniently positioned bush for observation. I discreetly gestured with my chin towards the largest hut, slightly better constructed and looking marginally less miserable than the others, strategically positioned at the back of the camp, probably serving as the sumptuous, malodorous headquarters of the gang leader and as the storehouse for their stolen treasures. "That one there, with the lazy smoke still rising from the improvised chimney and animal skins hanging on the door, is probably where they keep the precious loot and where their big boss, the great, feared 'Lord of Chicken Thieves', takes his well-deserved, noisy beauty naps."
Erza observed the site intently for a few long, silent moments, her eye sweeping every detail of the camp with the cold, calculating concentration of an experienced predator assessing its prey. "From what I can see from here, and considering the worrying number of still-lit campfires, the muffled conversations I can hear, and the amount of dirty clothes hanging out to dry, I'd say there must be about forty bandits around here, perhaps a few more. They don't seem very organised or disciplined, judging by the general mess, but they are definitely numerous. We'll need to be extremely strategic, quick, and precise if we want to avoid a direct, prolonged, potentially dangerous confrontation." She was absolutely right. Their numerical superiority was a factor to be seriously considered.
Whilst I carefully assessed the tactical situation, possible routes of approach and infiltration, and the probable weaknesses in the camp's improvised defence, I couldn't help but remember, with a certain weariness and a hint of irritation, the specific details and annoying restrictions of the mission we had accepted at the guild: defeat the bandits, yes, but, more importantly and considerably more tedious, was to call the competent local authorities to arrest them and, if possible, recover the stolen goods to return them to their rightful, probably very ungrateful owners. Which, to be completely, painfully honest with myself, bothered me deeply and tested the limits of my millennial patience, was this irritating, inefficient, frequently dangerous guild policy of 'don't kill, just incapacitate and hand over to justice.'
For me, a jaded veteran of countless bloody wars, interdimensional conflicts, and small-scale genocides over many, many varied lives, it would be infinitely easier, considerably faster, much more efficient, and, I must admit, immensely more satisfying to deal with the current situation by simply… permanently, quietly eliminating these inconvenient, socially useless bandits. Without leaving a trace, without problematic witnesses, without unnecessary bureaucracy, and, most importantly, without future problems. Simple, clean, and straight to the point. But, as always happened, the bloody guild, with its noble, lofty ideals, its questionably pacifist morality, and its concern for public image, had its irritating rules, its tedious guidelines, and its 'good deeds' policies.
(Frankly, it's a right pain in the arse having to hold back so much and act like a babysitter for incompetent criminals,) I thought with palpable frustration and an internal eye-roll, knowing that, deep down and despite my cynicism, I couldn't entirely blame them for this rather naive policy. If Fairy Tail, or any other self-respecting mages' guild wanting to maintain its legal licence, openly adopted a policy allowing, or worse, encouraging its members to kill their opponents indiscriminately, they wouldn't, in practice, be so far removed from the infamous, feared dark guilds, which gladly accepted assassination contracts, spread terror wherever they went, and had dreadful taste in interior decorating.
It was a thin, dangerous, frequently blurred line between justice and vengeance, between protecting and oppressing. And I understood, albeit reluctantly and with a large dose of scepticism, the pressing need not to cross that line lightly. But that, of course, didn't mean I, personally, liked or agreed with this excessively… civilised approach.
"We need to find an effective, and if possible, minimally noisy way to deal with all of them without… without causing unnecessary fatalities or excessive bloodshed," Erza said suddenly, as if, once again, she had read my dark thoughts and my more… direct inclinations. Her voice, breaking my reflective silence and my fantasies of efficient carnage, brought me back to reality. She looked at me with her usual seriousness, her eye fixed on mine, awaiting confirmation.
"Yes, I know, I know, my little, morally upright scarlet righter-of-wrongs," I replied, with a slight, resigned sigh, as I mentally pushed away the satisfying images of exploding bandit heads. Damn newfound conscience and its irritating influence on my tactical decisions. "Although, technically and according to the law, it's not strictly forbidden or morally condemnable to eliminate an enemy in clear, indisputable self-defence or when facing a direct, deadly threat to one's own life or the lives of innocents, what we have here, much to our great, profound frustration, is just a group of low-level bandits, probably dafter than genuinely evil, and with terrible career planning. We cannot, and, much to my great regret, we must not, become like them, using excessive, unnecessary, and, above all, ill-justified violence." The words, incredibly noble and entirely out of my usual character, sounded strange, almost hypocritical, coming from my mouth. I barely recognised myself. Eos was probably having a fit of laughter in my mind.
Erza nodded slowly, an expression of relief and new determination on her face. She trusted my judgement, even when my words sounded strangely noble. "So, let's plan our attack carefully, Azra'il. We need to be quick, precise, silent, and use our element of surprise to our advantage. No mistakes. No unnecessary casualties on either side, if possible." Her compassion was, at times, a burden. But it was also one of her greatest strengths.
With the bandits' camp now clearly visible and analysed before us, I quickly began to draw up a detailed plan of attack in my mind, considering all tactical variables, possible complications, and the personalities of our targets. I knew, from experience, that we absolutely could not underestimate the simple fact of their numbers, even if they were individually incompetent and with a collective IQ probably not exceeding that of a burnt toaster.
Forty against two, even if one of those two was me, was still a considerable numerical disadvantage that demanded an intelligent approach and not just brute force. But our greatest, most significant advantage, as Erza herself had observed with her usual, shrewd tactical intelligence, was the element of surprise and, of course, my… peculiar, highly effective skills for sowing chaos and mental confusion. I looked at Erza, who awaited my instructions with a tense calm and almost palpable anticipation in her eyes. She was ready.
"Right then, little redhead. Listen very carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. This is the plan," I proposed, my voice low, firm, laden with the authority of one who has led armies and toppled empires, as I mentally traced a detailed three-dimensional map of the camp and the estimated positions of guards and lookouts. "We are going to use the growing darkness of the surrounding forest and their natural complacency, sheer stupidity to our absolute, total advantage. We need to sneak as close as possible to the camp perimeter, like two hungry shadows, without being seen, heard, or sniffed out by those disgusting guard dogs of theirs. And then, my dear Erza, when we're in position, we'll create a small, noisy, chaotic, utterly unexpected diversion to sow panic, chaos, and the most delicious, paralysing confusion amongst them. Whilst they are understandably busy, terrified, trying to figure out what in the blazes is happening and where the imaginary monsters are coming from, you, with your speed and strength, spring into action like a bolt of lightning. I, on the other hand, with my subtle charm and mental persuasion skills, can… shall we say, 'subtly' enter their minds, starting with the weakest, most suggestible, least strong-willed, and cause some particularly vivid, creative, deeply unpleasant visual and auditory hallucinations. Something like making them firmly believe they're being attacked by a swarm of giant, carnivorous wasps, or that their own criminal companions have suddenly transformed into disgusting, slimy monsters with an uncontrollable desire to devour their insides. That will, without the slightest, most remote shadow of a doubt, sow pure terror, widespread panic, delicious, useful discord amongst them, completely, irreversibly breaking any pathetic semblance of organisation, discipline, or bravery they might possess." A cold, cruel, utterly satisfied smile played on my lips as I imagined the chaotic, hilarious scene. I loved using my mental powers to play with the weak, easily manipulated minds of mortals. It was so… relaxing. And educational.
Erza nodded in silent agreement, her eye shining with a peculiar mixture of fierce determination, reluctant admiration for my subtly sadistic plan, and perhaps a hint of concern for my mental sanity. "Understood, Azra'il. An excellent plan. Whilst they are suitably distracted, in complete panic, likely hysterically attacking each other in their induced paranoia, I can use my Requip skills to deliver a series of swift, precise, utterly incapacitating attacks. We'll focus first, full force on the largest hut, the one that seems to be their leader's den, and quickly neutralise anyone inside, especially the big boss. And then, we'll take care of the remaining lackeys, one by one, if necessary." She was frighteningly efficient, focused, utterly relentless when she wanted to be. And I loved that about her.
"Perfect, Erza. A simple, elegant, efficient plan with a statistically high probability of success, controlled destruction, and, most importantly, much, glorious fun," I replied with a satisfied smile, feeling the familiar, welcome, addictive rush of adrenaline begin to slowly rise in my veins, banishing any lingering remnants of boredom, laziness, or existential worries. The battle was about to begin. "I'll take up a high, strategic position, preferably atop that large, leafy, conveniently positioned tree over there in the corner," I pointed, "where I can have a clear, privileged overview of the entire camp and can thus better, more precisely direct my… shall we say, mental 'incentives' to maximise the panic effect. As soon as I start sowing chaos and madness and you hear the first screams of terror and confusion, you advance with the fury of a thousand demons and attack without mercy. The primary, non-negotiable objective, remember, is to completely destabilise them, break their fragile morale, pulverise any semblance of resistance, before they can even react in a minimally coordinated manner or even understand what in the blazes hit them."
With the battle plan duly defined, approved by both parties, and with growing enthusiasm, we found, with my discreet help and a small dose of luck on our side, a high, well-hidden, strategically perfect observation point behind some tall, dense, conveniently leafy trees, at the edge of the small clearing where the camp was set up. From there, I could clearly see, like a predator observing its helpless prey, the numerous bandits moving carelessly, entirely relaxed around the camp, laughing loudly, drinking something from a suspicious barrel, eating dubiously, poorly cooked meat over a crackling fire, completely, utterly oblivious to the small but deadly storm about to break over their ignorant, probably unwashed heads. Poor, stupid idiots. They had no idea what awaited them.
"Right then, my dear, furious little redhead. Get ready," I whispered, a predatory, cold, utterly satisfied smile slowly spreading across my lips, as my eyes shone with a dangerous light in the forest's gloom. "Let the spectacle of psychological horror and physical destruction commence! And try not to have too much fun." I closed my eyes for an instant, concentrating all my will and mental power. With a minimal, almost imperceptible effort of pure, crystalline will, I began to channel my considerable, though still limited, mental powers, extending my subtle, invisible consciousness like a complex, inescapable web over the entire camp. I felt the weak, scattered, unprotected minds, full of trivial, lustful, violent thoughts of the bandits around me, like small, flickering, vulnerable lights blinking intermittently in the vast darkness. And, with a subtle but incredibly powerful, precise impulse of my ancient will, I began to invade their superficial, unprepared consciousnesses, carefully, precisely planting the black seeds of purest fear, deepest confusion, most delicious, paralysing paranoia.
— (Wake up, you useless, lazy, horribly smelly worms!) — I thought, projecting the mental message with the overwhelming force of a silent but deafening scream, directly into their small, unprepared, easily influenced minds. — (You are completely, utterly surrounded! Deadly, bloodthirsty enemies everywhere! Creatures of shadow hungry for your souls! Flee while you still can for your miserable, insignificant lives! Save yourselves if you can!) —
Immediately, as if by black magic or a fit of collective madness, I saw, with sadistic satisfaction, their previously carefree, relaxed, arrogant expressions change drastically, almost instantly to palpable, growing confusion, then to clear, uncomfortable apprehension, and finally, to abject, primitive, utterly irrational terror that froze the blood in their veins and made their hearts pound wildly in their chests.
The first, carefully crafted hallucinations, created by me with a touch of evil genius and a healthy dose of knowledge about the deepest, most primitive fears of the human (and bandit) psyche, began to take vivid, terrifying form in their suggestible, now utterly unprotected minds: dark, long, menacing shadows moving stealthily, with supernatural speed amongst the forest trees, grotesque, misshapen creatures with razor-sharp teeth and multiple gleaming red eyes appearing from nowhere with guttural growls, the solid ground of the clearing trembling violently beneath their feet as if an earthquake were happening, and the air filling with sinister whispers and demonic laughter.
The bandits, caught completely off guard, utterly unprepared for this psychological assault, with not the slightest, most remote idea of what was truly happening, began to scream in panic and terror, some desperately throwing themselves to the ground in search of non-existent protection, others pathetically trying to hide behind any object offering minimal, illusory cover, and some, the most suggestible, impressionable, weakest-nerved, already beginning to hysterically attack their own, equally terrified companions, firmly convinced they had suddenly transformed into the horrible monsters of their hallucinations. It was glorious, chaotic, wonderfully efficient pandemonium. And I, I confess, was only just beginning to truly enjoy myself.
"Now, Erza! That's your glorious cue! Make your entrance and have a bit of fun with these poor blighters!" I shouted to my impatient, eager redhead companion, who was already poised like a hungry predator ready to strike, her muscles tense, her eyes shining with almost palpable anticipation. And she, with the lethal grace of a panther hunting in the night and the contained fury of a storm about to break, advanced silently, deadly into the now utterly chaotic camp, plunged into pure terror, her silver armour shining sinisterly, menacingly under the faint, filtered light of the forest beginning to darken. With an elegant, incredibly swift, brutally precise movement, she delivered a powerful, accurate, utterly incapacitating blow to the first of the bandits who, in his hallucinatory terror and pathetic attempt to flee an imaginary monster, had the misfortune to cross her path.
Whilst Erza, with her growing combat skill, impressive physical strength, natural, almost frightening ferocity, began to efficiently, non-lethally (much to my slight disappointment) 'take care' of the nearest, unluckiest, noisiest bandits, I continued to use my telekinesis subtly, discreetly, almost invisibly, just to ensure things tilted decisively in our favour, to minimise risks for Erza, and, of course, to add an extra touch of chaos and amusement to the already chaotic situation. With small, almost imperceptible gestures of my hand, or just with the power of my mind, I deflected objects that could be used as improvised weapons against us, made swords and axes mysteriously fall from the trembling, sweaty hands of the terrified bandits, and even, in a moment of particular inspiration and dark humour, made a particularly large, heavy, conveniently fallen log nearby lazily rise into the air and launch itself with considerable force, perfect comedic timing against a small, unlucky group of two or three bandits who, in a rare, stupid moment of lucidity or perhaps collective, suicidal stupidity, were trying to sneak up on Erza from behind with clearly hostile intentions, knocking them to the ground with a dull, satisfying, probably painful thud. Small, subtle adjustments to ensure the plan's efficiency and, of course, for my personal entertainment.
"This is absolutely, utterly incredible, Azra'il! I've never seen anything like it!" Erza exclaimed with a guttural war cry and a wild, almost maniacal grin on her dirty, sweaty face, as she delivered an impressive series of swift, precise, powerful, surprisingly non-lethal cuts with her newly-requipped sword, which now glinted menacingly, almost hypnotically in the scant, weak sunlight still stubbornly filtering through the dense forest trees. She was clearly in her element, dancing amongst the panicked enemies like an angel of vengeance with hair of fire. "Keep it up! They're completely, utterly disoriented and terrified! They're dropping like flies!"
"I'm almost there, little redhead! Just one more small, gentle nudge into the abyss of complete, total madness!" I replied with an equally satisfied, perhaps slightly sadistic smile, as I focused my mental attention, psychic powers on a larger group of bandits who, despite the widespread chaos, palpable terror, still stupidly, with a stubbornness bordering on suicidal, tried to gather, organise some pathetic, desperate defence near the leader's main hut.
With a slightly greater effort of concentration, a touch of creative cruelty, I intensified their hallucinations to a truly epic, cinematic level, making them see, with terrifying, vivid, utterly convincing clarity, a gigantic, hungry black dragon, with scales like sharp obsidian, incandescent eyes of pure liquid fire, fetid breath smelling of sulphur, death, eternal regrets, menacingly approaching them with enormous wings darkening the sky, insatiable hunger clearly visible in its gaping jaws full of dagger-like teeth.
Pure, absolute, utterly irrational terror spread even faster, more effectively than any forest fire, and they, as one would expect from men with walnut-sized brains, even smaller courage, began to run in all directions like frightened, dizzy cockroaches, screaming hysterically, tripping over each other in their desperate flight, abandoning in the process any remnant of bravery, organisation, dignity they might have possessed at some remote, unlikely point in their miserable, insignificant lives. Ah, poor, impressionable humans and their overly fertile imaginations. So incredibly easy to manipulate. And so amusing to watch in a panic.
Whilst I observed with almost guilty pleasure the beautiful, chaotic spectacle of widespread panic, absolute disorder, unbridled cowardice I had so skilfully, artistically orchestrated, I briefly conversed, with an air of superiority, with my faithful Eos in my mind.
(You know, Eos, my dear, efficient multi-purpose tool, these mental powers of mine, telekinesis, telepathy, even in my current, limited, somewhat underdeveloped form, are incredibly, wonderfully, deliciously convenient, amusing to use. Why, tell me, should I even bother to dirty my delicate hands with the filthy blood of these worms, or physically tire myself with unnecessary effort, when I can simply, elegantly do all the dirty, tedious, unpleasant work with the superior, refined power of my brilliant mind, a healthy dose of creative, well-directed sadism?)
Eos's voice, always so calm, so logical, so irritatingly analytical, but with an unmistakable hint of restrained amusement, perhaps even a small, almost imperceptible trace of reluctant admiration for my… abilities, echoed softly in my mind. [Ah, Azra'il, my dear, cunning, occasionally frighteningly lazy ancient entity! You are, once again, with almost palpable pleasure, using your considerable, dangerous mental powers inherited from that particularly powerful, volatile, somewhat dramatically unstable incarnation of yours as the omega-level mutant known as Jean Grey, one of your many, varied, frequently explosive past lives in alternate universes with dreadful urban planning. And I must admit, with a certain scientific reluctance, that even with only a minuscule, almost insignificant fraction of your true, overwhelming, potentially planet-destroying telepathic, telekinetic power currently available in this small, fragile teenage body of yours, these psychic gifts of yours are, indeed, without the slightest shadow of a doubt, quite broken, utterly unbalanced, incredibly effective, dangerously amusing for causing maximum confusion, chaos, psychological terror with minimal physical effort, maximum sadistic satisfaction. I vividly recall, with a certain degree of retrospective alarm, when you, at the tender, innocent age of nine in this current life, to maintain your disguise as a normal, harmless child, first displayed your 'powers' to the other, noisy members of the Fairy Tail guild. You pretended, with an Oscar-worthy performance of dramatic acting, an expression of superhuman effort, that it was an almost fatal challenge, a feat of willpower merely to lift a simple, light, probably empty ale tankard with the power of your mind, all to appear weak, pathetic, harmless, utterly mediocre in their eyes. The irony of the situation was, and continues to be, absolutely delicious, noteworthy.] She never missed an opportunity to remind me of my more… theatrical moments.
I chuckled silently at the vivid memory of that pathetic, hilarious, utterly convincing scene. (Ah, yes! Good, innocent times those were, weren't they, Eos? They, the poor, gullible, easily impressed blighters of Fairy Tail, had, and still have, not the slightest, most remote, most insignificant idea of what I truly was, what I am, what I am truly, frighteningly capable of doing when I'm in the mood. Or when I'm particularly bored. It was, and continues to be, rather comical, immensely amusing to observe their reactions of genuine astonishment, paternal concern, misguided admiration at my supposed 'enormous effort', my 'limited powers'. The art of deception, my dear, logical Eos, is, and always will be, a powerful, useful, incredibly amusing tool to master.)
With the vast, overwhelming majority of bandits now in complete, absolute, total panic, fleeing uncontrollably through the forest like frightened, headless chickens, or utterly incapacitated by Erza's righteous, implacable fury, it was only a simple matter of time, a bit more sadistic, creative fun on my part to spice things up, until the 'battle', if one could truly, honestly call it a battle and not a one-sided, psychologically traumatising massacre, turned into a clear, crushing, utterly inevitable, I must admit, somewhat anticlimactic victory for both of us. But, even so, I continued to weave, manipulate, play with their weak, terrified minds with new, creative, increasingly disturbing illusions, making them see a scene of pure, abject destruction, of imminent, inescapable death, their worst, deepest, most secret nightmares materialising vividly around them with all the horrible details.
Confusion, fear, pure, absolute terror reigned supreme, uncontested in the once so arrogant, self-assured camp. And soon, as was to be expected from a band of incompetent cowards with less willpower than a squirrel, the few, pathetic bandits who hadn't yet been brutally knocked out by Erza's fury, or weren't completely catatonic with pure, absolute fear in some dark corner, began to flee in blind, pathetic desperation through the dense forest, leaving behind in their cowardly escape their weapons, their loot, their less fortunate companions, any remnant of dignity, bravery, intelligence they might have possessed at some remote, unlikely point in their miserable, insignificant lives. Cowards. Predictable. And, as always, hilariously pathetic in their defeat.
"We need to capture them and ensure they can't escape and cause more trouble around here, Azra'il!" said Erza, her breath a little ragged, uneven from the battle's exertion, but with an unmistakable glint of triumph, satisfaction in her eyes, as the so-called 'battle' finally, rather anticlimactically reached its predictable, inevitable end. "They can't continue to terrorise innocent travellers and tarnish the reputation of this peaceful forest!" Her thirst for justice, her concern for others' safety were, as always, admirable. And, occasionally, a little tiring for my more… pragmatic taste.
With victory easily, quickly, predictably assured, the battlefield now looking more like an open-air lunatic asylum than a bandit camp, we two, with cold, calculating efficiency, joined our considerable, varied forces to quickly capture the few, pathetic bandits still trying, with the speed of frightened slugs, to flee through the forest like terrified rats, and to securely, efficiently, perhaps a little too tightly bind those remaining in the camp, the vast majority of them still in a state of deep shock, babbling incoherently about hungry black dragons, slimy monsters, murderous shadows. Poor blighters.
They'd probably need a lot of therapy after this. Or a good exorcism. Next, like two good, responsible, law-abiding mages from a legal, respectable guild (most of the time, anyway), we 'summoned', via a mechanical carrier pigeon I conveniently 'found' in my inventory, which seemed to possess an inexplicable sense of direction, the competent local authorities – or at least, the sleepy, badly paid guards from the nearest village – so they could, with due bureaucracy, lack of enthusiasm, take these incompetent, traumatised, likely in-need-of-psychiatric-treatment criminals to face the slow, tedious justice of men. Or, what was far more probable, considerably less satisfying, to slowly, forgottenly rot in some stinking, dark, overcrowded dungeon.
I, honestly, couldn't help but think, with a deep sigh of resigned boredom, a persistent, ill-contained frustration, how infinitely simpler, considerably faster, much more efficient, I must admit with a certain guilty pleasure, immensely more satisfying it would have been to use my telekinetic powers to simply, elegantly explode all their heads in a beautiful, cathartic, artistically gratifying shower of blood, brains, bone fragments, instead of having to go through this whole elaborate, time-consuming plan of psychological distraction, this charade of restrained battle, worst of all, this tiresome, hypocritical pantomime of mercy, respect for mortal laws.
Throughout my numerous, varied, frequently bloody lives, I had already killed, without the slightest, most infinitesimal trace of remorse or hesitation, countless, uncountable people, both good and bad, for far more trivial, futile reasons, or simply out of sheer, absolute boredom. To me, all this irritating bureaucracy, this excessive concern with 'not killing', this selective, convenient morality seemed, most of the time, entirely unnecessary, incredibly inefficient, frankly, a bit pathetically hypocritical. But, such are the occupational hazards of trying to be a 'heroine' in this world.
But, for now, and to my great, profound sigh of relief, justice, or at least something vaguely resembling it, satisfying the mission criteria, had been done. The bandits were caught, traumatised, likely in need of many years of therapy. And the innocent travellers, greedy merchants, unlucky postmen of the region could, at least for a considerable time, continue their journeys in relative, welcome safety. And Erza, my little, furious Scarlet Valkyrie, was visibly happy, proud of herself, probably already dreaming of the strawberry cake we would devour as a reward. And that, for some strange, disconcerting, utterly illogical reason I was still trying to understand, seemed to be, for the moment, enough for me. For now.
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Author notes:
This chapter ended up being longer than I expected, but whenever I write something involving action and fights, I tend to get a bit lost in the words, and by the time I notice, it's already over 10,000 words longer than I'd originally planned. 😂