Fairy Tail: Kyoka Suigetsu

**Suicide Bomber**

[The Devotion of an Atheist]

The inn I found was decent—warm, quiet, with a mattress soft enough to sink into. I had spent the entire day and night resting there, yet as dawn broke, an unshakable unease settled into my bones. It was as though I had waded through a nightmare so profound that my mind, in an act of mercy, erased it the moment I awoke.

Despite the comfort of the bed, sleep had been anything but restful. A strange paranoia gripped me, like unseen hands clawing at my back. The air felt thick, suffocating, as though something lurked just behind me, watching, waiting. It was worse than fear—worse than death itself. This wasn't an overactive imagination; this was certainty.

Still, paranoia or not, my stomach remained indifferent.

*"I guess I'll get some food."*

I left the inn, stepping onto streets that felt... emptier. The contrast struck me immediately. Yesterday, the town had been lively, bustling with people, voices, movement. But today? A strange stillness clung to the air. The few people walking about moved with an unspoken urgency, their eyes darting about like wary prey.

*"A festival, maybe?"*

I dismissed the thought and focused on the aroma of food instead. Finding a restaurant wasn't difficult. Only a few patrons sat scattered inside, and the quiet hum of conversation made the space feel almost sacred. The meal was unexpectedly good—so good that, for a moment, I forgot the gnawing dread that had followed me since waking.

Then—

**Baam!**

A deafening explosion split the air.

I froze, mid-bite, irritation flaring before fear could settle. The sound rattled through my bones, reverberating like a war drum announcing calamity.

I closed my eyes, exhaled, and placed my utensils down with deliberate care.

**How insufferable.**

Few things in life anger me more than an interruption during a good meal.

With reluctant steps, I rose from my seat, tossed a few coins on the table, and made my way toward the source of the blast.

The explosion had left the air thick with dust and confusion, its echo still ringing in my ears. The marketplace, once filled with idle chatter and the scent of freshly baked bread, had been swallowed by a suffocating silence. Yet, as always in public calamities, curiosity overpowered fear. A crowd had already gathered around the scene, murmuring in hushed tones, their faces caught between fascination and unease.

I approached a woman standing near the edge of the gathering—a lady in her late twenties, perhaps, draped in a modest but well-kept dress. The subtle tremor in her hands betrayed her shaken nerves, and her hazel eyes darted between the wreckage and the arriving authorities.

*"Excuse me, madam. I'm a wizard. Can you tell me what happened here?"*

She turned to me with a worried expression, her lips parting slightly as if unsure whether to speak.

*"I-I'm not really sure,"* she finally admitted, her voice laced with uncertainty. *"But… there was a child. He suddenly shouted—"* she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper, *'"Everything I do is for the sake of Order!" Then… then he exploded."'*

*"Huh?"*

The sheer absurdity of the statement struck me before the weight of its implications settled in.

*"What about other casualties?"*

The woman clutched the folds of her dress, shaking her head. *"I-I don't think anyone else died… other than him."* Her stutter betrayed both her fear and disbelief.

*"Then, can you tell me more about his appearance? Anything else?"*

Before she could respond, a murmur rippled through the crowd. Heads turned in unison toward two separate groups arriving at the scene. Unlike the civilians, who wore expressions of unease, these newcomers carried themselves with practiced authority.

*"Oh, they're finally here. We can rest easy now,"* a man beside me muttered, his tension visibly easing.

I followed his gaze.

One group moved with discipline, clad in uniformed attire—**the Constabulary.** Their presence alone brought an air of control, officers already dispersing among the crowd, gathering statements and maintaining order. These were the kingdom-sanctioned enforcers, responsible for human affairs beyond the jurisdiction of the Magic Council.

The second group, however, exuded a different kind of authority—one less bound by laws and more by faith. **The Inquisitors.**

Their robes, dark and adorned with sigils of the church, seemed to drink in the daylight itself. Even without knowing their names, I could feel their presence gnawing at the air—sharp, unwavering, absolute. They did not need to command respect; they demanded it simply by existing.

*"Who are they?"* I asked the woman.

She looked at me as if I had just spoken an absurdity, her eyes widening before realization dawned. *"You don't know them…? Oh, right!"* She clapped her hands together, as though a lightbulb had gone off in her head. *"You said you were a wizard. Usually, the Magic Council deals with rogue mages, but they won't interfere in ordinary affairs. That's where the Constabulary comes in—they're the local authority permitted by the kingdom."*

Her voice wavered as she shifted her gaze toward the second group.

*"As for the other group…"* she hesitated. The way her voice dropped in volume didn't escape me. She leaned in slightly before whispering, *"They're the Inquisitors… from the Church."*

I noted the way she lowered her tone, the way her eyes flickered as if expecting someone to overhear.

*"So, it's taboo to speak about them openly?"* I mused, though I didn't say it aloud.

*"Thank you."*

Before our conversation could continue, one of the Constabulary officers approached. His sharp gaze assessed me in an instant, lingering just long enough for it to feel like scrutiny.

*"Are you a wizard?"* His tone carried neither hostility nor warmth—just measured detachment.

I gave him a firm nod.

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes—resentment. But he swallowed it down, keeping his composure.

*"This is our jurisdiction. Rest assured, we will handle it."*

The underlying message was clear.

*"This is a matter for us. Wizards have no place meddling in human affairs."*

I had intention of interfering… but I made note of his bitterness.

Turning my attention back to the Inquisitors, I let my gaze linger on them for only a moment. **They were hiding it well, but two among them were powerful mages.** Their presence was an enigma, a contradiction to their title. If they were truly men of faith, why did they wield dark magic?

Sensing the danger of lingering too long, I averted my eyes before they could notice my scrutiny.

For now, I simply melted back into the crowd, observing.

The town stretched before me like a labyrinth of unanswered questions, its narrow streets whispering rumors I struggled to piece together. Gathering information was never an easy task. It was a dance between truth and deception, sifting through gossip and hearsay, chasing shadows that dissolved before they could be grasped.

I exhaled deeply, leaning against the cold metal railing of a bridge, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun bled into the sky, its dying light reflecting in the rippling water below, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos.

*"According to the locals, this is the third time it's happened."*

I let my words drift into the air, half-speaking to myself.

*"The first bombing was two days ago—ten dead at the train station. The second, worse—thirteen casualties in a hospital. And now..."*

The weight of my own thoughts pressed against my chest. The only common factor? **Every bomb had been a child.**

A grim silence stretched between my breaths. **Who would use children as weapons?** A terrorist group? A dark guild? There were too many unknowns, too many missing pieces.

With no concrete leads, I was left with only one choice: to wait. I loitered in the streets, moving from one location to another, keeping a sharp eye on the flow of people. If I couldn't gather information from the victims directly, then I would witness the next attack myself. Perhaps I would even become a target. It was a grim thought, but at least it would offer some clarity.

And then there was the church.

It silenced anyone who spoke of it—whether their words were in reverence or condemnation. **It controlled the flow of information.** Even with the Constabulary's suspicions, there was no solid evidence against them. Their hands were spotless, yet the undercurrent of unease in the town spoke volumes. **Seventy percent of the townsfolk supported the church. The remaining thirty stood with the Constabulary.**

A fragile balance, teetering on the edge of collapse.

**"You look troubled, young man..."**

A voice, gentle yet ancient, drifted from behind me. I turned my head slowly.

The figure before me was an old man, his white beard cascading down his chest, a weathered staff resting against his palm. His robes bore the marks of time, yet his posture was steady, composed. But what struck me most was his eyes—**or rather, the absence of sight within them.**

Blind.

I felt my body tense. **A blind man, appearing so suddenly after a bombing carried out by a blind believer?** It was too much of a coincidence.

*"Who are you, old man?"* My voice carried an edge of suspicion, my instincts sharpening like a blade. But I forced a smirk, tilting my head. *"Though, I must say… you seem to see quite clearly despite your condition."*

He only chuckled, stroking his beard as if amused by my provocation.

*"Ho... Ho... There's no need for such wariness, young man. In fact, I owe you a debt."*

*"A debt?"* I narrowed my eyes. *"Is he talking about that woman?"*

*"You saved a child under my care,"* he explained, his voice carrying an almost grandfatherly warmth.

Realization struck like a slow-moving tide. *"You mean..."*

*"Yes. And for that, I am grateful. But allow me to introduce myself properly—"* He straightened, inclining his head slightly. *"My name is Viren Duskhorn, a fortune teller."*

Fortune teller eh?

*"Kyoka Suigetsu,"* I responded in turn, studying him carefully.

He simply smiled, an unreadable expression etched across his aged face.

*"Now,"* he continued, *"as repayment, how about I offer you something valuable? Information that may solve your problem."*

I raised a brow. **A free answer? For something as simple as saving a child?** It was too convenient—but not an offer I could afford to refuse.

*"I'm listening, gramps."*

He stepped forward, resting his hands against the bridge's railing as he gazed into the sunset.

*"This town is under the influence of the Order of Blind Faith."*

The words settled heavily between us.

*"The Order of Blind Faith?"* I echoed.

**The name of the cult?**

*"Is that your organization, old man?"* I asked bluntly.

He chuckled again, though there was a distant sorrow woven into it. *"Ho... Ho... That was a long time ago. Back when we sought true faith."*

*"A long history, huh?"*

*"Indeed. The Order was established by a few believers, years ago."*

*"And every member is blind?"*

Viren nodded. *"As the name suggests, yes. Blindness is the price of power."*

I frowned. *"Power always comes with a price..."*

He turned his head toward me, smiling knowingly. *"You, of all people, should understand that."*

I stiffened.

*"You know about me?"*

*"Not exactly."* He gave a lighthearted shrug. *"I see the future, not the past. But I have a feeling you carry burdens of your own."*

His words dug under my skin, though I refused to let it show.

*"The Order's strength comes from a book,"* he continued. *"A tome left behind by the gods—the Black Bible. It contains the beginning and end of the world."*

*"A cursed book, then, similar to Zeref's demon?"*

"Ho... Ho... Not quite. Unlike Zeref's Demons, which are creations of a man, the **Black Bible** is… something else entirely. A gift—or a curse—left by the gods. The further you read, the stronger you become. But the price is steep. I stopped at Genesis. Any more, and I feared I would lose myself."

"So they blinded themselves… in exchange for power?"

Viren smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That… and more."

*"Losing oneself for the sake of power, huh..."*

*"Exactly. That is the true nature of sacrifice."*

I remained silent, letting the information sink in.

"More importantly..." A sharp exhale left my lips as I stared at the old man.

"So, you predicted my arrival, me saving your kid, and now… this whole mess?" My tone was flat, edged with suspicion.

Viren only chuckled, stroking his beard.

"You're quite perceptive, young lad."

I clicked my tongue in irritation. "You're a cunning old man, aren't you? From the looks of it, you've been struggling to deal with the **Order of Blind Faith** yourself. And since you couldn't do it alone, you dragged me into the pits of hell with you."

His knowing smile didn't waver.

"Manipulating the strings behind the scenes while pretending to be a harmless fortune teller—what a clever scheme. You even set up a compensation to make it seem fair." I let out a deep sigh. "Really? Throwing me into your problems and then offering me a 'reward' as if that balances it out?"

Viren simply laughed.

"Ho... Ho... I won't deny it, young lad. But tell me, isn't fate an amusing thing?"

I scowled. "You sound awfully entertained for someone who's gambling with my life."

His smirk deepened. "Ho... Ho... I won't ask for your help for free," Viren continued. "In exchange, I'll divine your fate."

I crossed my arms, unimpressed. "So you get to push your problem onto me *and* I get a cryptic prophecy in return? Sounds like a scam, old man."

This old man… he wasn't just a fortune teller. He was a strategist, someone who pulled the threads of fate with practiced ease. He wasn't lying when he said he owed me, but he also wasn't just paying me back—he was steering me toward something bigger.

Then, Viren turned to me, amusement flickering in his blind eyes. *"But enough about that. Let's discuss something more... personal."*

I narrowed my eyes.

*"Personal?"*

*"A prophecy,"* he mused. *"One that may interest you."*

I raised a brow. *"And what would that be?"*

He smirked. "A glimpse of your fate."

I snorted. "Fine. Let's hear it."

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. *"Your future wife will arrive in five seconds."*

I blinked. *"My what?"*

*"Let's count, shall we?"* He chuckled.

I sighed, deciding to humor him. *"Fine. Let's see what kind of nonsense this is."*

I closed my eyes and counted aloud.

*"Five."*

*"Four."*

*"Three."*

*"Two."*

*"One—"*

*"Ah! Grandpa!"*

A voice—light, yet oddly familiar—rang out in the distance. My eyes snapped open.

A figure approached, short hair ruffled by the breeze, emerald eyes bright with relief.

A boy?

No. Something was off.

I turned to Viren, eyes narrowed. "You tricked me, old man. You seriously think *he* is my future wife?"

The newcomer halted, blinking in confusion. "F-Future w-wife?!" A furious blush spread across his cheeks.

I ignored the stammering and shot Viren an unimpressed look.

"Ho... Ho... I swear it on my life," he said, chuckling.

My expression soured.

I turned to the "boy," muttering under my breath.

"Tungsten, Hydrogen, Yttrium, Argon, Uranium, Gallium, Yttrium…"

Cassian blinked. "U-uh… I don't understand what you're saying, but for some reason, I feel offended."

I shook my head. "Never mind that. Anyway, I'm glad you're doing fine. I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?" Without waiting for an answer, I extended my hand. "Kyoka Suigetsu."

He hesitated for a moment before grasping my hand, cheeks still tinged pink. *"A-ah... um... My name is C-Cassian Valkyr. N-nice to meet you."*

A chill skittered down my spine. *'This guy is definitely gay.* I thought inwardly, my lips twitching in a suppressed grin.

But what the Suigetsu didn't know was that **Cassian** was actually a girl—one who looked like a boy due to her short hair and the loose, boyish clothes she wore. She hadn't fully developed yet, her features still soft and youthful, but to anyone unfamiliar with her, she was just another young boy in a crowd.

Viren, however, seemed to know better about him. He didn't miss the subtle hints, but instead, he found it amusing, choosing not to correct his misunderstanding. In fact, he seemed to enjoy watching the confusion unfold.

**Cassian**, if she ever found out about the mix-up, would likely bury herself in embarrassment. The very thought of being mistaken for a boy—especially in such an intimate setting—would be enough to make her flush with shame. But for now, the old man held onto the secret, and the moment was allowed to pass in quiet amusement.