The sheer, unadulterated force of Katsuki Bakugo's departure left an indelible mark on the Fairy Tail members who witnessed it. The ground itself had trembled, the air had cracked with a series of deafening explosions, and then he was simply… gone, a rapidly diminishing speck in the sky, leaving behind a lingering scent of ozone and a stunned silence in his wake.
Inside the guild hall, the usual boisterous chatter took a moment to resume, and when it did, it was laced with a new undercurrent of awe and disbelief.
"Did you… did you see that?" a young mage with bright pink hair – Natsu Dragneel – exclaimed, his eyes wide with an almost manic excitement, sparks literally flying from his clenched fists. "He just… WHOOSH! BOOM! Straight up! Like a firework!" He slammed a fist into his palm. "I gotta fight him!"
"Natsu, calm down," Lucy Heartfilia, a blonde celestial wizard, sighed, rubbing her temples. She'd seen a lot of strange things since joining Fairy Tail, but Bakugo's entrance and equally explosive exit were in a league of their own. "He just joined. And he seems… incredibly angry."
Gray Fullbuster, an ice-make wizard who was, as usual, inexplicably shirtless, leaned against a pillar, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Angry is an understatement. But that power… it's raw. Unrefined, maybe, but damn strong. Never seen anything quite like it. Not even Natsu's that… consistently explosive just by existing."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean, Ice Prick?!" Natsu rounded on him, fire already igniting around his hands.
"It means you're a reckless moron, Flame Brain!" Gray retorted, ice beginning to form around his own fists.
"Enough, you two!" Erza Scarlet, the formidable S-Class mage known as Titania, silenced them with a single, sharp glare that could quell armies. Her expression was serious, her gaze fixed on the doorway through which Bakugo had departed. "His power is undeniable. And his ambition… 'Number One,' he said." She crossed her armored arms. "He'll either become a great asset to Fairy Tail, or a colossal problem. Possibly both."
Mirajane, still at the bar, chuckled softly. "He certainly doesn't lack confidence. Taking on three subjugation requests, including the Rock-Scaled Wyrm, on his first day? Even Gildarts might have paused at that." She tapped the scorched marks on her bar. "He leaves an impression, that's for sure."
The consensus was clear: Katsuki Bakugo was a force to be reckoned with. His explosive debut had shaken the very foundations of the guild, both literally and figuratively, and his name was already buzzing through the hall, a mixture of apprehension, excitement, and grudging respect swirling around it. They had no idea where he'd come from, or what his true story was, but one thing was certain: life in Fairy Tail was about to get a whole lot louder.
Meanwhile, miles away, propelled by a relentless series of controlled detonations, Katsuki arrived over the sprawling expanse of the Silverwood. The trees here were ancient, their silver-barked trunks towering, their leaves casting the forest floor in a perpetual twilight. The air was damp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and decaying leaves. According to the crumpled parchment clutched in his hand, the Gravefang Wolves laired somewhere deep within this oppressive woodland.
He didn't bother with a subtle approach. Stealth was for weaklings who couldn't overwhelm their opponents. He descended rapidly, blasting through the dense canopy, snapping thick branches like twigs, and landed with a ground-shaking impact in a small, mossy clearing. The sudden intrusion sent birds scattering and unseen creatures scurrying for cover.
"Oi! You damn mutts!" he roared, his voice echoing through the silent woods, laced with aggressive challenge. "Come out and face me, you cowardly pieces of shit!"
A low growl answered him, then another, and another, reverberating from the shadowed depths between the trees. Pairs of luminous yellow eyes began to appear in the gloom, encircling the clearing. The Gravefang Wolves. They were larger than any wolf he'd ever encountered, their fur a mottled grey and black, their teeth long and wickedly sharp. Their eyes held a feral intelligence, and a palpable hunger. There were at least a dozen of them, their bodies low to the ground, muscles tensed, ready to strike.
"Finally," Katsuki sneered, a predatory grin stretching his lips. This was what he'd come for.
He didn't wait for them to attack. He was the attack. His body became a whirlwind of motion and destructive energy. Nitroglycerin-like sweat coated his palms, ready to ignite.
"Howitzer Impact!"
He propelled himself upwards with a powerful blast, then spun in mid-air, creating a vortex of superheated air and explosive force. He became a living meteor, hurtling down towards the center of the wolf pack. The impact was cataclysmic. The ground erupted in a blinding flash of orange and white light, accompanied by a deafening roar that dwarfed his earlier shouts. Trees at the edge of the clearing were instantly incinerated or thrown skyward, their roots torn from the earth. The very air seemed to boil.
When the smoke and dust began to settle, the clearing was a smoking crater. The Gravefang Wolves were gone, not just dead, but utterly annihilated, vaporized by the sheer, overwhelming force of the attack. There was nothing left but scorched earth and the lingering smell of burnt fur and ozone.
Katsuki landed lightly in the center of the devastation, a faint trail of smoke rising from his gauntlet-less hands. He surveyed the scene with a critical eye. Efficient. Total. He spotted a single, oversized claw, miraculously intact despite the inferno, lying near the edge of the blast zone. He stalked over, picked it up, and examined it for a moment – proof of subjugation, as the barmaid had requested. It was surprisingly heavy, razor-sharp. He tucked it into a pocket of his U.A. uniform, the incongruity of the action lost on him.
One down. Two to go.
He glanced at the crumpled parchment detailing the Rock-Scaled Wyrm's location – Mount Hakobe, to the east. Without pausing to rest, without a second thought, he crouched, his palms already glowing. The familiar, exhilarating surge of power built within him.
Another series of concussive blasts shattered the unnatural silence of the ravaged Silverwood, propelling him skyward once more. He rocketed east, a fiery comet leaving a trail of dissipating smoke against the backdrop of the ancient forest, already focused on his next target. The brief, brutal encounter had done little to quell the inferno of his ambition and rage; it had only stoked the flames higher. He was a weapon unleashed, and this new world would continue to feel his explosive impact.