Welcome to my first attempt at a chaptered fic. Let me know what you think! :)

Epoch

In the fields of chronology and periodization, an epoch is an instant in time chosen as the origin of a particular era. The "epoch" then serves as a reference point from which time is measured.

The arena smelled of dirt and blood as usual. E.N.D inhaled deeply, the flare of his nostrils almost indistinguishable with his large intake of breath.

He lived for this scent, it meant he would again be able to test his strength against the very best. To him, an undefeated champion, it meant victory.

The gladiator squatted down briefly, grabbing a fistful of dirt and rubbing it over his face, bare arms and chest as he stood to face the opposite side of the arena and the archway from which today's opponent would emerge. This was a personal ritual the seasoned warrior performed before every match he fought.

The mustiness of the Colosseum dirt would mix with the salty scent of his sweat as the fight progressed, a constant reminder of all of his past fights, motivating him to perform again and again.

It also acted as a sort of crude war paint, the sweat would make tracks through the fine layer of dust coating his body as it trickled down his face and shoulders. Each battle he fought left a different pattern, decided by the way his body moved as he exchanged blows.

The Colosseum itself was gargantuan.

An enormous elliptical stone structure built on towering columns and intricately detailed pillars that could seat tens of thousands. These numbers always amassed when the mighty E.N.D was rumoured to fight.

He was the people's favourite gladiator, always giving them an entertaining match before brutally ending it all, usually with a showy finishing blow.

He looked up to the tiers of seating and the waiting spectators. He could sense their excitement and it only fueled his anticipation and his need.

His appetite for violence was insatiable. Always itching for his next fight. Whether it be in the heat of battle, or in the case of the Colosseum, whoever or whatever had the terrible misfortune of being presented to him.

This particular gladiator took great pleasure in his craft.

E.N.D was a slave to the arena. To the uproarious cheers of the crowd as he fought. To the thunderous applause each time he defeated an opponent.

Some called him a demon –which, he kinda was, so the joke was on them really. Others called him the harbinger of death –which, in the case of those unlucky enough to catch him on a bad day, was also true.

No matter the name or phrase, the meaning behind his monikers was perfectly clear. Wherever E.N.D went, death and destruction followed in his wake.

His magic power and physical prowess enabled him to defeat any opponent he faced. Man or beast, or both. He was a gladiator of Tartaros, a large troupe of demon-gladiators based in the capital of Vistarion.

He was their leader, the strongest of the demons and the very best fighter in his country, perhaps even the best on the entire continent. The "almighty E.N.D" he was called. The pride of Alvarez.

Nothing could stand in his way.

The deafening roar of the crowd escalated yet again as he began to pace back and forth on his edge of the arena. Occasionally the gladiator would throw his arms wide and spin before the crowd, making gestures to further encourage their cheers.

The bloodthirsty symphony of ten thousand voices could be enough to unnerve the most seasoned of warriors, but it was music to his ears. It drove him, pushed him to fight harder.

The thrill of defeating other warriors was what he craved. It was like an addiction. This is what he was born to do, no, it was what he was made for.

The chase. The battle. The kill. It fueled the primal urges in his body and set fire to his blood.

Sometimes he fought outside of the arena too.

If any neighbouring countries looked to be getting too powerful, or if they didn't give in willingly to the emperor's demands the black mage was sure to smite them swiftly. E.N.D was the perfect tool for this, if ever the emperor wanted a problem dealt with quickly and efficiently he would call on his creation.

For he was an etherious, a demon created by the emperor Zeref.

E.N.D's role fighting in the arena as a gladiator was mostly to keep the people of Alvarez entertained. He didn't mind the task as it kept him busy doing something he enjoyed, fighting.

On the battlefield it was another story. He fought solely for his brother -the emperor's- will. This was less enjoyable as it often came with limitations, and E.N.D liked going all out in everything he did.

A sudden outburst of cheers erupted from the seats above, drawing him back to reality and he snapped his head up, looking to the opposite archway once more as his opponent entered the arena. Finally.

Clad in a black steel helmet and breastplate and carrying a large spiked metal club it was difficult to tell exactly who he would be facing. Judging by the hulking frame of the armoured gladiator he concluded at the very least that he was male.

Not that it mattered who was behind the mask. Whoever it was would end up being crushed, same as always.

He grinned.

E.N.D's specialty was fire magic and he took great pleasure in using his abilities to burn his opponents to ashes.

He felt the familiar buzzing thrum in his veins like the twang of a tightly wound string as he conjured his magic and held it at the brink, ready to be released in a fraction of a second if necessary.

He slowly prowled towards the centre of the arena, a sinister grin spread across his face, his pointed fangs the only indication of his demonic nature. The sandy dirt floor was soft against his bare feet and he curled his toes instinctively with each step, feeling the soft earth beneath to keep him grounded.

His opponent also lumbered towards him, his metal armour scraping where the seams met, grating on the demons nerves.

The two warriors reached the centre of the arena at the same moment. The more seasoned warrior's calculating eyes already darting over every single inch of his opponent now that he could see him better.

From the thick, dark mane of hair billowing out from beneath a shining onyx helmet to drape down his back, to a hulking frame and aggressive stance, E.N.D could already sense he was going to enjoy this battle immensely. His grin widened into something almost maniacal.

Somewhere off to the right a gong sounded the beginning of the match, E.N.D taking a reflexive step to the left and leaning his body to avoid an eager first swing from his opponent with that spiked metal club. His challenger was wasting no time in getting the fight started, something the demon appreciated.

Already recognising weaknesses in his opponent's moves and defensive stance, the demon decided to play a little with the slower, armor-clad figure for a while before ending it all with what would be an easily lethal blow.

Give the crowd more to cheer for.

He sidestepped again, to the right this time, avoiding a second swing of the club and almost laughing at the ungainly efforts of the gladiator before him.

Had this man even trained in an arena before?

His movements seemed to indicate not, as he began to steadily back the large man towards the edge of the Colosseum with his fists. Something a seasoned gladiator was trained to avoid as it led to too many disadvantages.

The demon's face pulled into a hard sneer as his fist lashed out with terrifying speed, landing a well placed strike into his opponent's ribs, steel armor denting with a dull clang under the force of the blow. His hand stung a little as he withdrew, but the dull pain only served to increase his adrenaline fueled excitement even further.

This was too easy. He hadn't even had to use magic yet.

The figure –definitely a man judging by his pained grunt– stumbled back against the edge of the arena momentarily before regaining his footing and charging at E.N.D once more, but the more seasoned gladiator was already expecting such a move.

Catching the spiked metal bat in his left hand with a barely audible hiss of pain as the sharp points dug into his skin, he ignored the blood that began to trickle down his forearm as he held it steady. The pink haired gladiator arced his right fist upward in a tight hook that connected underneath his opponents jaw with a satisfying crack.

The tall man grunted in pain and pulled back with a quick step, spitting some blood into the dirt in front of them before ripping his helmet off to reveal a harsh face.

Metal studs lined either side of his nose and were dotted across his chin and brow in the place of eyebrows. E.N.D couldn't help but sense a theme going on here and for the first time this match he was actually curious of what type of magic user this man was -if any.

"What's the matter big guy?" he sneered, leaning in closer to the hulking figure while goading him on, "had enough already?"

The large man in front of him responded by tossing his helmet to his left, dropping his bat and cracking his knuckles.

"In yer dreams ya little punk," he spat, and E.N.D couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as a nasty smirk pulled his studded eyebrows into a V and twisted his mouth upwards, "I'm jus' gettin started".

The large man unfastened his -now dented- breastplate too then, letting it clatter unceremoniously to the floor to his right.

Oh yes, the demon's own smirk mirrored that of the fighter in front of him, eyes alight and sharp fangs bared, he was going to enjoy this very much.

-[:¤:]-

"I've called you all here to inform you of Gajeel's successful arrival in Alvarez."

An ageing white haired man, with a deeply receding hairline and bushy white moustache, addressed the mages that stood behind the large desk in his cramped office. "I'm even told he is to fight his very first Gladiator match in the Vistarion Colosseum, against none other than E.N.D himself."

The mages in front of him collectively took sharp intakes of breath and began barking out a jumbled string of questions all at once.

The short statured man simply raised both hands to silence them, "my children, please-"

"Are you certain that this is the correct course of action Master?" an ever-serious redhead interrupted.

Her arms were crossed over her shining breastplate and her eyebrows were knitted together, a small frown pulling her red lips downwards, "surely there was no immediate need to endanger Gajeel's life by sending him to that place."

"We don't have time to argue the details now Erza," the tiny old man said, leaning back in his desk chair while stroking his moustache thoughtfully.

"Besides, it's done, he's gone, and we can't exactly get him back now without blowing his cover. And I'm sure you of all people understand the complications that would create."

The old man straightened up, planting both hands firmly on the table and looking around the room at the capable mages before him.

"My sources tell me that Zeref is planning something," his face scrunched up, making the folds of his wrinkles appear even deeper, "and I intend to keep an eye on the situation, just in case we will need to involve ourselves later."

He slammed one of his small fists against the table, causing everyone in the room to quiet down immediately and a few of them to jump, startled by the sudden gesture, "this is bigger than any one of us!," he cried frustratedly, "innocent lives could be at stake! And I will not simply sit back and do nothing when the worst dark wizard in history is potentially plotting the end of the world as we know it."

A scowling dark haired mage spoke next, unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it onto the floor as he did so, "did this source by any chance provide details on exactly what that evil bastard and his demon pet might be planning?"

The old man opened his mouth and was about to answer but was again cut off, this time by a different voice.

"I seriously doubt it", a deep rumbling voice interjected with an air of disinterest.

The voice belonged to a towering blond haired man with a jagged scar across one eye, who, leaned in from the shadows in the corner of the room before adding, "your sources are never that reliable, are they Gramps?"

The master interlocked his fingers on the desk before him and looked up with a serious expression, "while it's true that we do not yet know the full details of the threat," he began looking around to them once more, "that is exactly why Gajeel volunteered to put himself in such a precarious position."

He flashed them a smile then, "have faith in Gajeel my children. With him keeping an eye on Zeref and E.N.D, he should be able to provide us with more details of their plans."

"Juvia knows Gajeel can take care of himself," a blue haired girl exclaimed, never removing her eyes from the –now shirtless– dark haired man who had spoken before, "Juvia believes in Gajeel and everyone else should too!"

"Juvia is right," a tall girl with long silver hair spoke, her voice seeming to have a calming effect the others in the room, "Gajeel is one of Fairy Tail's strongest mages and he is a good person. I'm sure he will do his best for the guild and the rest of Fiore."

The rest of the mages in the room murmured their agreement and the old man sighed as he leaned back into his chair. At least he finally had their agreement.

He cleared his throat, "alright, now out of my office all of you! I expect you all to work hard too!"

Once they had all filed out of the small room he couldn't keep a small frown from creeping onto his weathered face.

Gajeel was no doubt having a tough time right now. If the rumors were true about the demon E.N.D, he may very well be fighting for his life. He sighed again and returned to his paperwork.

There was no use worrying now, all he could do was wait for Gajeel's first communication, and hope for the best.

-[:¤:]-

Meanwhile, Gajeel was beginning to think that he had seriously underestimated the challenge this pink haired brat would present.

He had finally managed to skirt himself away from the outside edge of the Colosseum by taking a few quick steps to the right and twisting to the side while meagerly fending off another hit from that bastard.

He knew he was in trouble when he was barely matching his opponents blows and the annoying little punk hadn't even used any magic yet.

Well, Gajeel hadn't exactly used any either, but that was more because he couldn't keep up rather than him holding back.

So far their fight had consisted mainly of hand to hand combat, with lots of swift kicks and bloody fists.

He had already tossed his helmet aside and abandoned his preferred weapon, a spiked metal bat, as both only served to slow him down and this "E.N.D" was proving to be too good a fighter for Gajeel to let him have any unnecessary advantages.

Yes. He sighed, Gajeel knew who he faced.

As if the crowd would let him forget. Their constant chants of "E-N-D, E-N-D" echoing all around this bloody huge arena and making his ears ache –or maybe that was just an ache from the fist he hadn't managed to avoid a minute ago. But he had also been warned of the demon by master Makarov back at the guild.

"The mighty E.N.D" they called him. Gajeel scoffed, he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. The famous gladiator was just a kid of average height, not much to him in the way of muscle or bulk, and what was with that ridiculous pink hair anyway?

The old man had been very serious when he told him to be cautious not to anger this particular demon, as he was known to have killed opponents in the arena before. Opponents that were not only strong, but had trained in Colosseum fighting for most of their lives.

Gajeel hadn't trained in one at all before coming to Alvarez and had only been told some basics by his handler when he had first arrived. Which he was beginning to realise was really not enough for a professional fight like this. He was actually a little surprised that his cover hadn't been blown then and there.

He shook his head, Don't get distracted Gajeel. Even if the kid looked harmless enough, his sheer physical strength and fighting skill proved otherwise. Not to mention the way his eyes glinted maliciously and his lips curved up into that creepy smirk every time he landed a hit that made Gajeel involuntarily grunt in pain.

This bastard enjoyed inflicting pain.

Gajeel was used to pain by now, the mage had been fighting on the streets for most of his life before meeting them. He had spent his younger years through to his early teens moving between gangs, participating in meaningless crime and never really fitting in anywhere.

When he had been found by the old man, rummaging through a dumpster for some food after getting kicked out of yet another gang for disobeying orders, he had been offered a second chance at life. With the promise of a warm bed, food and a roof over his head seeming too good to be true Gajeel had been hesitant to go with him at first.

Eventually, when he had become hungry enough to ignore his distrusting nature and shown up at their door, they had taken him in and shown him all the kindness and generosity he could never have dreamt of while living on the streets.

Gajeel had made a promise to himself that day to repay that debt with his absolute loyalty and respect for the rest of his life.

For now though, he needed to focus solely on not getting killed.

"All right," the black haired mage shouted over the deafening roars of the spectators in the tiered stone benches above them, "guess nows'a good a time as any to kick yer ass pinky!"

E.N.D just stood firmly in place, feet planted apart in a wide stance and fists balled at either sides of his body, his chest puffed out slightly in defiance, and with that ever cocky grin still spread across his face.

Gajeel grit his teeth, he just wanted to use his fist to wipe it off of his stupid face.

He lunged forward into a run towards his opponent, black hair whipping behind his head, he quickened his pace as he felt his magic being pulled from within. The black haired mage was could not wait to teach this punk a lesson.

When he felt his magic reach a point that it was ready to burst from his body, Gajeel channeled it into covering his arms and face in irons scales. They rippled out from beneath his skin, shining subtly where the flickering yellow torchlight circling the arena contacted them, and causing many in the seats above to gasp at his sudden transformation.

Good, Gajeel thought, Let them watch now as I teach their beloved E.N.D a lesson he won't soon forget.

"Iron dragon's sword!" the big man roared, his right arm quickly transforming into a long blade with razor sharp teeth along its edges.

He reached E.N.D a fraction of a second later, whose smirk seemed marginally less pronounced than it had been, the pink haired demon's eyes tightening at the corners and becoming more focused as he jerked both fists up from his sides with blinding speed to cross in front of his face, right before Gajeel's sword connected.

Had he actually surprised him?

Gajeel hoped so.

His hope was short lived, however, when he realised that E.N.D's arms had suddenly caught fire and successfully blocked his attack without so much as a scratch.

Gajeel then found himself being flung backwards, the fire mage using his crossed arms to his advantage. The demon channeled the momentum of dragging them apart into an uncrossed position coupled with a forward thrust to throw his opponent off with terrifying ease.

Damn, Gajeel thought as his whole body was pushed backwards, he was good.

Gajeel hit the floor a few meters back, barely regaining his footing but somehow managing to stumble into a defensive stance while he re-centred himself. He looked over to the fire mage, trying to asses how much damage his opponent had taken compared to him so far.

Shit. Why didn't that pink haired brat seem to have a scratch on him?

Gajeel knew he had gotten in some hits earlier that would shatter most ordinary people's bones. But the fire mage seemed unfazed by any of it.

He himself could feel every new bruise from where the other gladiator had struck his body before he'd transformed. His muscles were aching from the strain of fast paced hand to hand combat. The iron dragon slayer knew he was already beginning to tire.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the black haired mage decided that his best course of action would be to proceed with attacks from back here for the time being, E.N.D was just too physically strong to get into more close quarters combat when he was already this battered from their earlier brawl.

Maybe he could re-engage his opponent face to face once he had weakened him a little from a distance first.

"So, you're an iron dragon slayer eh?" E.N.D guffawed, even having the nerve to hunch over with his hands planted firmly on either thigh while he laughed.

"What's so funny brat?" Gajeel seethed, his red eyes narrowing into slits.

How dare this kid make a fool out of him.

Rising to once again meet Gajeel's eyes with that same annoying smirk, the fire mage just said, "Nothin'".

Gajeel's rage intensified and he prepared his next attack. Planting his feet shoulder width apart and inhaling deeply he bellowed "Iron Dragon's roar", releasing a powerful tornado from his mouth that glittered as it carried sharp metal fragments, hurtling towards the fire mage.

Mimicking the iron dragon slayers stance exactly and gulping a large mouthful of air E.N.D countered, "Fire Dragon's ROARRRR!" his voice boomed, the force of his billowing fire tornado crashing into Gajeel's iron one and causing the very foundations of the Colosseum to shake.

The crowd screamed in unison as their stone seats shuddered beneath them and dust from stone rubbing against stone swirled around them. One unlucky spectator lost his balance completely and ended up plummeting to his death from 3 tiers up. Gajeel's stomach reeled and he abruptly turned his head away from the fleshy corpse that had landed not 10 feet away from him, mentally trying not to gag.

No wonder E.N.D had found his magic so damn funny. He had known the demon used some kind of fire powers from the rumors, but he never imagined the bastard would use the same type of magic he did!

Damn it!

That was supposed to be his trump card.

Dragon slaying magic of any kind was incredibly rare. He had only ever met one other with the same style – and she was nothing like this beast. And since when did demons know dragon magic anyway? Didn't they generally use curses rather than magic?

Once the blast from their combined magical attacks had dissipated, the pink haired slayer remained standing in his breath attack stance, his black beady eyes narrowed, throwing Gajeel a glare so cold that it caused the iron dragon slayer to shiver involuntarily.

The smirk from earlier had been wiped clean off E.N.D's face, in its place had materialised a much more serious look. Gajeel had gotten his wish, but he wasn't sure he like this look much better.

The demon's lips were pulled together into a hard line, his eyes had narrowed into black slits and his brows were furrowed in what Gajeel assumed must be...anger?

Oh great. Now he'd pissed him off.

Just wonderful.

Well, there was nothing else for it. He would have to use his brains as well as his brawn if he was going to win this thing.

Not that he was a great strategist –he usually relied solely on his fists to finish a job like this– but it was clear that this adversary was too strong for even Gajeel to beat head-on, alone at least.

Gathering what little stamina he had left the iron dragon slayer surged towards E.N.D once more, his magic transforming both of his arms into long iron clubs as he ran.

Reaching the pink haired demon in a matter of seconds he feigned a swing with his right club that the fire mage moved to block as before, except Gajeel veered off at the last instant, rolling to his opponent's left and emerging at his back and rising with a wide sweeping arc of his left arm that succeeded in knocking the fire dragon slayer off of his feet.

E.N.D didn't give the iron dragon slayer a moment to celebrate his small victory, however, leaping from the ground and thrashing his arms through the air in a circular pattern as he twisted his body to face the black haired mage once more shouting, "FIRE DRAGON'S WING ATTACK!".

Long, vicious streams of flame-like whips erupted from his hands and struck Gajeel across the chest, the impact sending him flying backwards and crashing to the hard ground with blunt force.

The iron dragon slayer just lay there, unable to move his bruised and battered body and, slowly, the iron scales began to recede from his skin. Every part of his body was aching, the physical exhaustion finally reaching a limit he couldn't push past.

At least his scales had saved him from getting burned.

The last thing he saw before his vision blurred was that smug pink haired bastard actually waving to the crowd as he stalked over to where he lay. The nerve of this guy.

Gajeel slipped out of consciousness then, deaf to even the roaring cheers of the crowd as his eyes slid shut and his body slumped further into the dirt.

-[:¤:]-