After leaving the guild, Rudra headed straight for the railway station, his pace steady and silent. Behind him followed Jura, Mirajane, and Erza, each lost in their own thoughts. The tension from the earlier encounter still lingered in the air, thick and unspoken.
A few more minutes of walking brought them to the bustling station. Without exchanging many words, they purchased tickets bound for Crocus and made their way to the platform. The train arrived shortly, its whistle cutting through the midday air, and they boarded together.
Inside, they found a quiet compartment and settled in. Rudra chose the window seat, leaning against the glass as he gazed out briefly at the passing crowd. Jura sat beside him, calm as always, while Mirajane and Erza took the seats across from them.
As the train slowly began to move, the rhythmic chugging and the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled the atmosphere into calm. Rudra let out a quiet sigh, his eyes growing heavy. The journey to Crocus would take time—enough for a brief rest.
"I'm going to sleep for a while," Rudra murmured, turning slightly toward Jura. "Wake me when we arrive."
Jura nodded silently. "Understood."
Without another word, Rudra closed his eyes, letting the motion of the train pull him into sleep. His face relaxed, the weight of recent events temporarily forgotten.
Across from him, Mirajane watched with mixed emotions—conflicted memories flickering in her eyes—while Erza kept her gaze outside, the wind tugging at the edges of her red hair.
None of them spoke for a while. The only sounds that filled the compartment were the rhythmic rumble of the train over the tracks and the occasional call from the conductor echoing faintly through the corridors. The mood was heavy, contemplative, as the landscape slowly shifted outside the window.
Finally, Erza broke the silence. "Jura," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the stillness. "Can you tell us the job description? Why are we heading to Crocus?"
Jura let out a soft sigh, folding his arms. "Erza-dono, to tell you the truth… I don't know the full details."
Both Mirajane and Erza blinked, surprised. Mirajane leaned forward slightly, frowning. "What do you mean by that?"
Jura nodded solemnly. "A few days ago, the Magic Council received a letter from the royal family. They were asking for assistance regarding strange incidents happening in Cronus—though the nature of these incidents wasn't clearly mentioned."
Erza narrowed her eyes. "Then what about Rudra? Why was he specifically requested?"
"There was a second letter," Jura continued. "Separate from the first. It came directly from the royal family as well, stating clearly that Rudra of Fairy Tail should be brought along. It also referenced a connection to the dark guild incident on the island last year."
Mirajane tilted her head. "What happened on that island? Can you tell us the full story?"
Jura nodded again, this time slower, as if recalling difficult memories. "Last year, Princess Hisui was kidnapped by a dark guild. After some intense investigation, we located their base on an isolated island. A task force was sent—myself included—to storm the island and rescue her."
He paused, then added, "While searching their underground facility, we found Rudra. He was already there, pursuing his own mission."
Erza's brow furrowed. "What was he doing there?"
"I don't know," Jura admitted. "He never said. But we were attacked shortly after. A monstrous demon appeared—it had merged with Princess Hisui, using her as a vessel. We tried to fight it, but… we were completely outmatched. Our spells barely scratched it."
He looked down for a moment, then continued. "If Rudra hadn't been there, we all would've died. He fought the demon alone—and won. After that, we managed to extract the princess safely."
Erza leaned back, visibly absorbing the weight of the story. "Was that demon really that powerful?"
Jura nodded grimly. "Yes. I've fought many strong foes, but that one… it was beyond what most mages could handle. Rudra didn't just save the princess—he saved all of us."
Silence fell again. Both Erza and Mirajane turned their eyes toward Rudra, still fast asleep by the window. His expression was calm, peaceful, almost at odds with the person Jura had just described.
After a moment, the two women exchanged glances, then slowly turned back in their seats. Though they said nothing, the air between them was now thick with thoughts—of mysteries, of power, and of a man they still didn't fully understand.
Several hours passed in quiet. The gentle rocking of the train and the soothing rhythm of the tracks lulled everyone into sleep. Jura sat still, arms crossed and dozing. Mirajane leaned against the wall, her breathing soft and even. Rudra remained motionless by the window, eyes closed. Only Erza stayed awake, her crimson gaze fixed on the shifting landscape outside. Something gnawed at her—a strange unease she couldn't shake.
As the train neared Crocus, Erza was lost in her thoughts when she was approached by the conductor. He wore a friendly smile, though something about him felt off.
"Hello, beautiful," the conductor said smoothly. "May I see your ticket?"
Erza frowned slightly but reached into her pouch, retrieving her ticket. She was just about to hand it over when a loud cry split the air. She spun around in shock—and froze.
The conductor's body was pinned against the wall, a katana embedded deep into his skull. Blood painted the compartment wall, and his limbs twitched grotesquely. Standing before the corpse was Rudra, his hand still on the hilt of his blade.
"Rudra! What have you done?!" Erza shouted, leaping to her feet.
The shout startled the others. Mirajane blinked awake, confused. "Erza? What's going on? Why are you yelling?"
Erza pointed a trembling finger. "Rudra... he killed the conductor!"
Mirajane turned to look—and gasped in horror at the gruesome sight. Jura stood quickly, approaching Rudra with a stern expression.
"Rudra-dono, explain yourself," Jura demanded. "Why did you kill him?"
Rudra's eyes, cold and sharp, turned to Jura. "Look around the compartment."
The three did as he said. Their eyes scanned the seats, the aisles—and realization struck them like a hammer. The train car was completely empty.
"W-What...?" Erza muttered. "There were people here... I heard them. Just an hour ago, this compartment was full. Where did everyone go?"
"Erza... look outside," Mirajane whispered, tapping Erza's shoulder rapidly.
Erza turned to the window and her breath caught in her throat.
The sky outside was blood-red, swirling with dark clouds and lightning. The train was no longer on the tracks—it was floating in mid-air, suspended in a ruined, otherworldly landscape. Twisted remains of buildings and mountains floated in fragments around them.
Jura stepped back, stunned. "Rudra-dono, what is happening?!"
Rudra pulled his katana—Yamato—from the conductor's skull. The body convulsed before transforming, its flesh melting into black, crackling energy as a horned demon was revealed beneath. Within moments, the demon's form disintegrated into dust.
Mirajane and Erza both looked on in disbelief.
"We've shifted dimensions," Rudra said calmly, returning to his seat. "We entered a demonic realm created by a powerful entity."
Erza shook her head. "But everything was normal just half an hour ago."
"The moment we left the last station," Rudra explained, "we were already inside the dimensional rift. This realm is layered over reality—subtle enough to go unnoticed until the trap closes."
Jura tensed. "What about the passengers?"
Rudra was about to answer when his gaze snapped toward the window. His expression darkened.
Floating outside, suspended in the crimson sky, was a towering statue-like figure. Its three eyes glowed ominously, watching them.
Rudra's jaw tightened. "Mundus... he's watching us."
Without another word, Rudra swiftly pulled the curtains shut.
Erza stood. "Why did you do that? What is that thing?"
Rudra didn't respond immediately. He rose to his feet and walked toward the compartment door. Just before opening it, he turned back.
"Listen carefully, all of you. First: do not remove the curtains from the windows, no matter what you see or hear. Second: if anyone knocks on the door, do not open it—even if they sound like me or someone you trust. Third..."
He stepped closer to the door and placed Yamato against it like a seal. Its blade glowed faintly with protective energy.
"Do not go outside. Not until I return. Understood?"
The three of them nodded solemnly.
"Rudra, wait!" Mirajane called. "Where are you going?"
Rudra glanced over his shoulder. "To check if anyone else survived."
And without another word, he phased through the door like a ghost, vanishing into the unknown darkness of the demonic train.
Time crawled as the three sat silently in the dim compartment, the eerie red light from the sky seeping through gaps in the curtains. The soft creaking of the train was the only sound, a groan of strained metal and unnatural forces suspending them in a broken void. The air was thick, heavy—as though even the oxygen in this place wasn't real.
Mirajane sat curled in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, the brightness usually lighting her features long gone. Jura's fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden armrest, his gaze fixed on the sealed compartment door. Erza sat stiff and unmoving, sword across her lap, every muscle taut like a drawn bowstring.
Then, a figure appeared.
A large, shadowy silhouette loomed just outside the window, its shape warped and inhuman, yet unmistakably watching them through the narrow slit in the curtain.
Mirajane gasped, her voice tight with fear. "S-Someone's standing outside the window…"
Erza's head snapped toward her, and then all three slowly turned to look. The shadow remained, unmoving, faceless.
Jura's voice was steady but quiet. "Remember what Rudra told us. No matter what… we follow his instructions."
Erza nodded grimly and turned her gaze away from the window, pulling the curtain fully shut. "Volunteering for this mission was a really bad idea."
Jura let out a dry breath. "Tell me about it."
That's when they heard it—footsteps. Slow. Uneven. Drawing closer from down the corridor.
Tap… tap… tap…
The steps stopped right in front of their compartment.
Then—Knock. Knock.
"Excuse me?" a man's voice called out, muffled through the door. "I need help. Please, can someone open the door?"
The three remained frozen, saying nothing.
"I'm hurt," the voice repeated. "Please… I need help."
Silence returned. It seemed whatever it was had gone.
But then, the voice changed.
Now it was high-pitched, feminine… familiar.
"Erza! Mira! Jura! It's me, Wendy!" the voice cried out, sobbing. "Please, they're hurting me! Help me! Open the door!"
Mirajane covered her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. "That… that's Wendy's voice…"
"I know," Erza whispered, grabbing Mira's hand and squeezing it tightly. "But it's not her."
Jura's jaw clenched, but he didn't move either. The voice outside wailed again, calling out in pain.
Then it stopped.
Another voice replaced it—deeper, warm, and heartbreakingly familiar.
"Erza… it's me. Rudra."
Erza's breath caught in her throat.
"The one who's always loved you," the voice said gently. "Why won't you open the door? Let me in."
Mirajane looked up, eyes wide, but Erza's expression had shifted. Her grip on her sword loosened slightly.The voice was perfect—his tone, his rhythm, even the little breath he always took before saying her name.
She remembered… how the real Rudra had confessed his feelings to her—and how she had always turned him down.
But even now…She didn't move.
The voice outside grew darker, angrier. "Open. The. Door."
The knocking turned into violent pounding.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The door shook violently, almost buckling, but the glowing Yamato held firm like an iron seal, anchoring it in place.
Then suddenly—nothing.
Silence.
They held their breath, straining to hear. After a moment, footsteps again—this time fading, walking away into the distance.
They waited several minutes before finally exhaling.
Mirajane wiped her tears. "It almost got us…"
Erza's voice was quiet. "Whatever it is… it knows how to dig into our hearts."
Jura looked to the door, the rumble of the train echoing through the car. "Let's hope Rudra returns soon. Because I don't think that thing's done with us yet."
****
Meanwhile, on the other side of the train, Rudra walked with calm precision. Every step he took was met with carnage as demons lunged at him from the shadows. He responded with brutal efficiency, smashing heads with his fists, each blow exploding in a spray of dark blood. His eyes, cold and calculating, glanced out the window where a grotesque statue with three eyes floated alongside the train, drifting like a dark omen.
"So you're telling me," Rudra muttered, speaking to the system "that Mundus is the Underworld itself? But because of the demon who created this dimension, he can project himself here?"
[Yes, host,] the system replied, its voice cool and emotionless. [That three-eyed wannabe god can only observe. Like a pervy uncle watching from behind a curtain.]
Rudra snorted at the system's crude analogy. He stepped over the mangled corpses of passengers who had been slaughtered, their remains littering the floor. There was no time to grieve. Another demon leapt from the side, snarling and swinging a jagged claw. Rudra twisted smoothly, letting the attack miss before driving a Chidori blade into the demon's skull. The electric crackle was brief, and the body dropped without another sound.
"Tell me," Rudra said, wiping blood from his face, "is the area around Crocus riddled with portals?"
[By my calculations, only places with a high volume of human traffic serve as functional portals,] the system answered. [Roads. Stations. Trains.]
Rudra nodded grimly. "So, public spaces. Makes sense."
He continued down the narrow aisle, stepping past torn seats and shattered windows. Demons shrieked in the distance, but the car he entered was eerily silent. The stench of death hung heavy in the air. Bodies lay slumped in unnatural angles, torn open, half-eaten.
Rudra stood still for a moment, gazing over the carnage. He exhaled a long, tired breath. "Too late again," he muttered.
He turned around and began walking back toward the others. The three-eyed statue still drifted alongside the train like a silent witness, watching.