NOVPUB
Chapter 54 - Erza childhood
(Erza's POV)
I looked down at my hand, fingers trembling slightly.
Something old stirred in me—something I had buried deep. I never liked telling this story. It didn't feel like a memory; it felt like a wound. But today... with Yuuta sitting there, shaken, afraid... I felt something I hadn't in a long time.
I wanted him to know who I really was.
"I was born during the war, " I said lowering my voice.
He asked "war??...With whom?.
"Between humans and dragons," I said softly.
He blinked. "Wait... there was a war? Between humans and dragons?"
I nodded once.
He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "But... dragons are powerful and supreme being, right? Were humans really strong enough to fight you?"
That made me smile faintly—just for a moment.
"Not at first," I said. "But strength alone doesn't win wars. The humans... they had something else. Magic. And a hunger to grow."
His eyes stayed fixed on mine, listening.
"A long time ago, dragons ruled Nova world," I continued. "We weren't tyrants—we were guardians. We lived on high mountain peaks, away from the world, untouched by time. Our lifespan stretched across millennia. For us, everything moved slowly. The world below changed like seasons, but we remained still. Watching."
His voice was barely above a whisper. "And then humans came?"
"Yes," I said. "Small. Fragile. But filled with fire. They brought magic—not like ours, not ancient or primal—but adaptive. Evolving. They were artists of arcane energy. They developed swordsmanship unlike anything we had seen. Crafted weapons, armor, cities... cultures. They sang songs under starlight, carved monuments with meaning. And they did something else."
"What?"
"They shared it," I said, smiling faintly. "With us."
He looked surprised. "They shared their knowledge with dragons?"
I nodded. "Some dragons mocked them at first. But others... grew curious. You see, we who had lived for thousands of years in caves and clouds had never known kingdoms. Never known the sound of instruments. Never written poetry or held a blade crafted by mortal hands. The humans gave us something new."
Yuuta listened, breath held.
"And in return, our ancestors gave them a gift. A land of their own, untouched by dragon rule. A place where no clan, no Elder, could interfere. They called it Eden."
"Eden..." he echoed.
I nodded. "A paradise. Forests blooming with magic. Rivers that sang. It was vast—ten times the size of any mortal realm (earth). There, the humans built wonders. Kingdoms. Temples. Libraries. They honored dragons with their stories, their festivals... and for a time, there was peace."
He exhaled, slowly. "So what went wrong?"
The smile faded from my lips.
"Greed," I said simply. "Quiet at first. Then loud. Too loud. Some humans... wanted more. Eden wasn't enough. They crossed boundaries. Crept into sacred dragon lands. Hunted magical beasts. Claimed artifacts that were never meant to be touched. They enslaved the elf and other speice. Drained the wells of mana. When we tried to stop them..."
I looked away, my voice turning to steel. "They fought back."
He went silent again, the warmth in his face replaced by worry.
"What happened then?" he asked.
"A war," I said. "Not a rebellion. A true war. Sorcery against flame. Steel against claw. And for the first time in our history, dragons... began to die."
His eyes widened.
"Don't worry," I added softly, "they were mostly younglings. Reckless clans. The real Ancients stayed back. But even so, it was enough to stain the skies with ash."
I paused.
"And in the middle of it all... I was born."
He stared, not daring to speak.
"I was born in the Kingdom of Altanis," I said softly, voice barely louder than a breath.
Yuuta's eyes met mine — cautious, listening. I could see the way he leaned closer, not to interrupt, but to understand.
"Altanis... one of the strongest snow kingdoms in Nova," I continued. "A land of frost dragons and endless winters. Our palace stood atop a cliff of ice, the sky always grey, the wind always howling. Soldiers wore white armor. Our banners were red and ice symbol — always red — like the blood we spilled to protect the crown."
I smiled faintly. A broken kind of smile.
"When I was born... I was weak."
Yuuta blinked. "Wait... you? Weak?"
I nodded, not bothering to hide the bitterness. "My aura barely flickered. I couldn't summon ice like the others. Couldn't fly far. Couldn't even roar loud enough to echo through the mountains."
I looked away, my voice tightening.
"I was... gentle. Quiet. Like Elena. I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to kill. I wanted stories. Peace. Dreams."
Yuuta said nothing. But his gaze softened. I saw the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure he should.
"My father... who is warload" I continued. "He saw me as a disgrace. To him, a dragon without strength was worse than a corpse."
I let the silence sit for a moment. My throat burned, but I didn't stop.
"One day, a council elder brought a scroll to my mother — the Queen — demanding a choice. Banish the girl... or kill her."
Yuuta's expression turned horrified. His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came.
"My mother read it in silence," I said, voice trembling, "then she burned the letter in her palm. Her eyes... I'll never forget that fire. She said, Never. Don't ever bring this to me again."
Tears pressed behind my eyes, but I swallowed them.
"After that, no one dared to speak against me. But they didn't need to. They just... stopped seeing me. I trained alone. Ate alone. Even my siblings—strong, proud warriors—they left me behind."
Yuuta whispered, "I'm sorry..."
"My mother..." I said, softer now. "She never abandoned me. She'd stay up at night when I cried. Told me tales of stars that could speak. Of a world without cold. She was the Ice Queen to the world... but to me, she was warmth. My only warmth."
There was a long silence.
Then I took a breath, and everything inside me wanted to stop — to shut it away again.
But I didn't.
"My father believed pain forged strength. When I was five... he captured three human rebels. Spies."
Yuuta's brows furrowed.
"He forced us — his children — to execute one each. Publicly. As proof of loyalty. As entertainment."
His hand twitched again. He looked sick.
"My siblings obeyed. They didn't flinch. But I... I froze."
I stared ahead, remembering that man's eyes. "He begged for his life. Said his wife was pregnant. That he had to see his child. And all I could do was... stand there, shaking."
Yuuta whispered, "Erza..."
"My father screamed. Do it. Or you die next."
I let my hand fall to my lap. I stared at my palm like the blood was still there.
"So I did it. I drove my claw into his skull. I felt the blood. The warmth. The way his body twitched, then went still."
Yuuta's face paled. He looked devastated — not disgusted, but grieving for a child who had no choice.
"I collapsed," I said simply. "Woke up in my mother's arms. She never said a word. She just held me... while I cried."
Silence again.
I didn't expect the next thing.
Yuuta moved closer — carefully, gently — and placed his hand over mine.
His touch was light, but it made my chest ache.
"You didn't want that," he said. "You were just a child."
I bit my lip. My voice cracked. "But I did it. And no one ever let me forget that."
He held my hand tighter.
"I tried to forget," I said. "Tried to live like it never happened. Like peace was still possible."
I swallowed hard. My heart beat too fast. My hands were trembling again.
"But one day..."
I stopped. The words caught in my throat.
Yuuta's eyes were on me now, filled with worry. "What happened...?"
I opened my mouth... but nothing came.
The memory stirred — like a storm beneath ice. My heart pounded, my vision blurred for a second.
"That day..." I whispered, "was the end of everything I knew."
And then I fell silent.
Yuuta didn't ask again.
He just sat there beside me, hand in mine, letting the quiet wrap around us like a blanket.
My voice trembled, no longer steady, as the memory tore itself open again like an old wound that never truly healed.
"There was a day," I whispered, "when the skies over Altanis turned black."
Yuuta sat beside me in silence, watching. Listening. I was glad he didn't interrupt — I needed to let this out.
"A plague," I said. "It came like a shadow crawling across the mountains. It didn't just kill. It corrupted. Dragons, monsters, spirits — even the sacred forests rotted. Nothing we did could stop it. Not barriers. Not rituals. Not even dragonfire."
My fingers clenched in my lap. "We lost hundreds within the first week."
He looked stunned but remained quiet, sensing the weight of what I was about to say.
"My mother... Queen Isilith of Altanis... she was everything our kingdom stood for. Grace. Strength. Dignity.
My voice cracked.
"She saw the suffering. The dying children. The rotting land. And she... she made the choice."
I closed my eyes, the image burned behind them.
"She stood on the Grand Balcony of the Crystal Spire. Thousands gathered below — dragons, warriors, healers, commonfolk — all looking to her. And she raised her arms to the storm, her hair caught in the wind like silver fire."
Yuuta leaned forward slightly, caught in the vision I painted.
"She didn't use any spell scroll or ritual circle. She used herself. Her own life force."
I took a shaky breath. "She poured every drop of her soul into the sky — it was like watching a second sun being born. The plague screamed, twisted, fought — and then vanished."
I looked at him now, tears falling freely.
"But so did she."
I saw it like it was happening all over again.
"She collapsed right there. Her crown tumbled from her head. The guards caught her before she hit the marble, rushed her to the royal chamber. I ran after them... I still remember the echo of my claws against the palace floors."
Yuuta's hand crept toward mine, resting lightly.
"She was pale. Eyes heavy. The warmth in her... fading. I took her hand, sobbing, begging her to stay. And she... she smiled at me. Even in the end. She touched my cheek, brushed my tears with fingers that barely moved, and whispered: 'Stay strong, my daughter. Let your fire burn brighter than my own...'"
My voice shattered completely.
"Then... she closed her eyes. And never opened them again."
A long silence.
Yuuta lowered his gaze.
"I was just seven," I said. "But that was the day I stopped smiling. Something in me broke. The palace was filled with mourning, but all I felt was rage. Cold, burning, endless rage."
"My father... he lost himself too. He screamed to the heavens, blaming humans. Said their magic carried the curse. He was ready for war."
I looked down, voice dull.
"And I... I joined him."
Yuuta flinched at that, just barely.
"I killed, Yuuta. I killed with no mercy. No hesitation. Armies fell I didn't care who they were — soldiers, children, scholars, healers. If they were human... I end them". Cities turned to ash. I became what they called The Disaster Child. They feared me more than death. Even my siblings stepped aside when I walked through the halls."
"My father, who once looked at me with disappointment... began to bow his head in respect."
She took a breath — not a proud one, but a hollow, burdened one.
"I became her," I said. "My mother. Cold. Powerful. Untouchable. Even my older sister — once proud and fearless — wouldn't meet my eyes anymore.
Another pause.
"I was only nine when I slaughtered the Duke of Argenvale with my own hands. He begged for mercy. I gave him silence."
Yuuta didn't look away. He didn't flinch. He just reached forward, gently brushing a tear from my cheek.
And then, after all that silence, I finally said the words I had buried the deepest:
"The reason I lost control at the port... the reason I went into that berserk state..."
I looked into his eyes.
"...was you."
His eyes widened.
"When I saw you lying there — blood spilling from your mouth, eyes dull, body limp — I saw her again. My mother. Her last moments... mirrored in you. That same helplessness. That same warmth slipping away."
My voice cracked again.
"I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't lose you too. So I killed. I destroyed. I didn't care who stood in front of me."
Yuuta didn't speak right away.
Then finally, softly, he said, "...You acted out of trauma."
I nodded, voice barely a whisper. "Yes."
Another long silence passed between us. And then, he smiled — gently, like only he could.
"...Thank you, Erza," he said softly. "For being a terrifying warrior. For being a protective mother. And for being my wife.
Those words... were like a healing spell I didn't know I needed.
I broke. Silently. Gently. But I cried in his arms. For the first time in years, I cried not the painful, haunted sobs from before — but quiet, relieved tears. Healing tears. His words were like a potion poured straight into the cracks of my soul.
He hugged me close, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I won't leave you behind again."
I couldn't speak. I just held him tighter.
After a while, he pulled back slightly, brushing my hair from my eyes.
"So... in your world, dragons won the war right?"
I nodded, wiping my tears with a soft laugh.
"Of course. We scorched the skies and land."
"...Then Eden must've been destroyed, right?"
My smile faded.
"No," I said. "Eden wasn't destroyed."
He blinked. "Why not?"
I turned away slightly, my voice quiet again.
"...Because no dragon can enter Eden."
His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
To be continued...
