Endralian surfaced from a restless, shallow sleep, the rough texture of the cot beneath him a familiar anchor against the swirling mental currents left by the previous night. The storeroom was steeped in pre-dawn dimness, pierced only by the faint grey light filtering through the high, dust streaked window. A dull throb persisted behind his temples, a phantom echo of the void energy backlash, but it was the internal static – the impossible truth of the Ender Dragon Egg nestled within his soul, warring with the equally jarring memory of Luxia Dreyar's unexpected vulnerability – that truly disturbed the quiet. Her confession, her frustration with her own physical limits mirroring his own terrifying lack of control, had been startling. And his response, offering his real name, 'Leo', felt like casting a fragile line across a chasm. A secret shared, binding them in an uneasy, unspoken pact.
He pushed himself up, muscles protesting with a low groan. The physical toll of the magic overload was fading, but the mental and emotional weight felt like a lead cloak.
He splashed cold water on his face from the basin in his corner, the shock momentarily clearing the fog. Time to face the day. Time to face… the awkwardness.
He slipped out of the storeroom's relative peace and into the awakening guild hall. The familiar symphony was just beginning: the clink of mugs, the low murmur of early risers, the scrape of chairs. Macao and Wakaba were already setting up a card game near the bar, their voices a familiar, boisterous counterpoint to the quiet morning. And there she was. Luxia. Seated alone at a table, meticulously dissecting a croissant, projecting an aura of intense concentration that felt entirely feigned. Faint shadows lingered beneath her eyes, betraying a night perhaps as restless as his own, but her posture was straight, a fortress of aloof indifference.
Their eyes met across the cavernous room for a charged microsecond. A jolt, like touching a live wire, passed between them. He saw a flicker in her guarded expression – surprise? Annoyance? A mortifying echo of last night's vulnerability? – before her gaze snapped down to the pastry crumbs as if they held the secrets of the universe. Endralian quickly mirrored the action, turning towards the bar for juice, a betraying warmth creeping up his neck. Right. Operation Pretend-Nothing Happened was officially underway. Safer that way. Probably.
He claimed his usual corner table, sipping his juice, trying to project an air of casual observation while his senses remained acutely tuned to her presence across the room. A few minutes later, Makarov emerged from his office, his gaze sweeping the hall with that familiar blend of warmth and sharp perception. His eyes lingered briefly on Endralian, then on Luxia, and the barest hint of an amused, knowing smile touched his lips before vanishing.
The Master ambled over to Luxia's table first, navigating the sparse morning crowd with practiced ease. "Morning, Luxia. Rest well?" "Morning, Grandpa," she replied, her voice meticulously neutral, betraying none of the previous night's turmoil. "Fine. Just considering my training regimen. Perhaps a simple task to maintain focus."
Makarov nodded, his expression approving. "Good, good. Diligence is the foundation of strength." His gaze flickered towards Endralian, a subtle but unmistakable gesture.
"Perhaps young Endralian might benefit from joining you? Working together seems to bring out… interesting results in both of you, despite the initial… energetic disagreements."
Luxia's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "Maybe," she conceded, her eyes darting towards Endralian for a split second before focusing intently on the wood grain of her table. "Yeah, Le…" She stopped dead, the syllable hanging in the air like a struck bell. Panic flashed in her eyes before she quickly clamped down on it, forcing the correction out, her voice a fraction too loud, too sharp. "Endralian is probably looking for something too. If he thinks he can keep up." She finished with a pointed sniff, directing a vaguely disdainful look somewhere past Endralian's left shoulder, a classic Luxia deflection.
Endralian, who had been concentrating very hard on the condensation patterns on his juice glass, felt his ears burn. He didn't dare look up. Makarov, however, merely raised a thoughtful eyebrow at his granddaughter's verbal stumble, a curious glint in his eye.
He seemed content to let the moment pass. "Well, the request board awaits inspiration," he said cheerfully, before turning to greet the now-arguing card players.
Luxia let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh of relief, her rigid posture relaxing fractionally before snapping back into place. Endralian risked another glance. She was pointedly ignoring him again, radiating 'do not approach' signals.
Remembering Makarov's pointed suggestion and the unspoken agreement forged in the aftermath of their respective magical meltdowns, Endralian pushed himself up and headed towards the request board. He deliberately kept his focus on the D-rank section, ignoring the siren call of the more challenging C-rank flyers. Control. Finesse. Those were the watchwords now. No more reckless power surges, especially not after last night's humiliating display.
A moment later, he sensed Luxia's presence nearby. She wasn't directly beside him, maintaining a careful buffer zone, pretending to scan the C-rank quests with feigned interest before inevitably letting her gaze drift down to the D-rank section near where he stood. The awkward orbit continued.
Endralian scanned the familiar litany of mundane tasks: retrieve The Old lady perpetually escaping prize canary (seriously, that woman needed a better cage), deliver a crate of fresh bread to the South Gate bakery, help The Farmer patch a fence damaged by overly enthusiastic Plue impersonators. Simple, low-risk, perfect canvases for practicing control under minimal duress. His eyes drifted upwards, past the colourful flyers, towards the large, detailed map of Fiore pinned beside the board. He'd glanced at it before, of course, in his first confusing days, trying to get his bearings, but his mind had been too preoccupied with the sheer shock of his arrival to absorb much detail.
Now, feeling slightly more grounded, he let his gaze wander northwards, tracing the lines of rivers and mountains, trying to place Magnolia within the larger continent.
Magnolia… Oak Town… Oshibana… Further north… Hargeon… Then, his eyes snagged on a cluster of smaller settlements nestled deep in the northern highlands. One name, printed in small, unassuming type, leaped out at him, triggering an avalanche of stored data from his past life. Brago.
The North… Gray Fullbuster. The connection hit him like a physical shock, cold dread pooling in his stomach. Gray's from the North. His family… his town… destroyed by Deliora. His mind raced, frantically accessing the story details he'd practically memorized from the anime. Deliora… the Demon of Destruction, impervious to most magic. Ur Milkovich, his Ice-Make master. Lyon Vastia, his fellow student, Ur's other surrogate son. Ur used the ultimate forbidden spell, Iced Shell, to seal Deliora, sacrificing her physical body, becoming the living ice prison itself. He struggled to pinpoint the current year accurately. He'd only been here maybe for less than a month, maybe a little more. Luxia seemed around eight or nine. That placed the calendar firmly in X768, perhaps early X769 at the latest. Deliora's attack on Brago… he remembered from the story that happened in X774. A cold certainty washed over him. X774. That's… five, maybe six years from now. His breath hitched.
That means… Ur is still alive. Right now. Somewhere in these northern lands, likely near Brago, training a young, Lyon if he's not mistaken. They have no idea what's coming. Ur doesn't know her own daughter, Ultear, is alive, twisted by grief and manipulation, plotting revenge.
The sheer weight of the future, the preventable tragedy, pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. Could I… change it? The question screamed in his mind, an instinctive, desperate plea. Could I find Ur? Warn her? Tell her about Deliora, about Ultear's survival ? Could i prevent Ur from casting Iced Shell? Save Gray from shouldering that immense burden of guilt and grief? The possibilities spun, intoxicating and terrifying. But the cold hand of reality clamped down just as quickly. How? I'm just… Leo. His magic was a chaotic mess tied to a dragon egg. He had no power, no influence, no credibility after only a month here. Showing up in some remote northern village spouting prophecies? They'd lock him up as a lunatic or execute him as a dark mage's spy. Interfering, even with the best intentions, could shatter the timeline in unforeseen ways, potentially creating something far worse. He remembered the cardinal rule from countless stories in his old world: messing with time travel or fixed points was a fool's game.
He dragged in a shaky breath, forcing the frantic pulse of 'what if' down. No. Not now. Maybe not ever. He needed information, reliable information about this world's current state, not just potentially inaccurate memories from an anime. He needed power, real, controllable power. He needed control. Before he could even entertain the hubristic notion of rewriting fate, he had to master himself, understand the intricate workings of this world, and unravel the mystery of the Ender Dragon Egg thrumming silently within him. The knowledge about Gray and Ur remained, a heavy secret settling in his gut. He turned back to the D-rank board, his expression carefully neutral, but a new layer of grim, troubled determination hardening his gaze.
"Find anything remotely tolerable that doesn't involve slime removal or chasing lost farm animals?" Luxia's voice, dripping with its usual faint layer of disdain, cut through his heavy thoughts. She had drifted closer, now pretending to examine a C-rank flyer requesting monster subjugation -something far beyond their current solo capabilities, let alone their D-rank focus.
Endralian blinked, pulling himself back to the present. "Just looking," he mumbled, his voice slightly hoarse. He pointed towards a flyer depicting cartoon birds. "Elderly couple on Elm Street (this name is not related to the nightmare Elm Street) needs help retrieving escaped pet birds. Apparently, they like playing hideand-seek on rooftops."
Luxia made an exaggerated face. "Birds? Again? Seriously? Is this guild secretly an avian rescue service? How utterly thrilling."
"It's a task," Endralian repeated flatly, refusing to be drawn. "And it pays. Besides," he added, a deliberate edge to his voice, "maybe it requires… finesse." He plucked the flyer from the board before she could voice further objections.
Elm Street was a picture-perfect residential lane, all quaint houses, blooming flower boxes, and ancient, leafy trees casting dappled shadows. Their client, a sweet, flustered old woman named Martha, wrung her hands as she explained the situation. Her three beloved songbirds – Pip, Squeak, and Wilfred – prize-winners at the last Magnolia Pet Fair, had staged a daring escape from their cage and were now enjoying a rooftop tour of the neighborhood.
"They're quite tame, dearies, but oh, so easily spooked!" she fretted, peering anxiously upwards. "I just need someone nimble and gentle enough to get up there and coax them down before Bartholomew next door lets his dreadful cat out!"
"Nimble, huh?" Luxia smirked, casting a pointed look at Endralian. "Guess that falls to you. Try not to fall off."
Endralian shot her an irritated glance but focused on scanning the rooftops. He quickly spotted Pip, a vibrant yellow canary, perched nonchalantly on a chimney pot three houses down, preening as if he owned the place. "Okay, I see one. Stay here," he instructed Luxia, "and try not to emit any sudden, bird-terrifying lightning bolts." He took a steadying breath, visualizing the chimney pot, focusing on the landing. Short distance. Controlled. Stable. He gathered the void energy, felt the familiar spatial distortion, and Ender Stepped.
He reappeared on the roof tiles beside the chimney, stumbling only slightly as his feet found purchase. Close enough. Better than materializing inside the chimney itself. Pip chirped in mild alarm but, surprisingly, didn't bolt. Below, Endralian heard Luxia let out an unmistakable snort of amusement.
"Nice recovery. Almost stuck the landing!" she called up, her voice laced with laughter.
Endralian resolutely ignored her, turning his attention to the canary. He approached slowly, murmuring what he hoped were soothing, non-threatening sounds. This was the finesse part. He tried to tap into his Void Sense, not for power, but for connection, attempting to project calmness, to read the bird's emotional state. He felt… a faint buzz of anxiety, like distant radio static. Not precise, not truly empathetic, but maybe… maybe it was something. He extended a hand slowly, palm open… Suddenly, a shower of bright sparks erupted from a nearby electrical junction box, old
wiring shorting out with a loud crackle. Pip squawked in terror and launched himself into the air, flapping frantically towards the dense foliage of a tall oak tree across the street.
"Dammit!" Endralian muttered under his breath, watching the flash of yellow disappear.
He heard Luxia stifle another laugh below.
"Need a hand there?" she taunted, clearly enjoying his frustration.
Endralian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Just… see if you can spot the other two escapees."
What followed was an hour of frustrating, comical rooftop tag. Endralian managed two more Ender Steps – one surprisingly perfect landing on a flat garage roof, the other resulting in an undignified slide down slanted tiles before he managed to arrest his momentum inches from the gutter. His Void Sense proved utterly useless for pinpointing the small, fluttering birds, offering only vague, unhelpful impressions of movement in his peripheral awareness. Luxia, despite her obvious impatience and frequent sarcastic commentary, actually proved helpful. She used tiny, precisely controlled sparks – aimed well away from the birds themselves – to gently startle Squeak, a blue budgie, from one hiding spot towards another where Endralian could carefully scoop him up. Wilfred, a stubborn finch, required a more coordinated effort. Luxia, after much complaining, created a brief, harmless static field near one side of the oak tree, making the leaves stand on end just enough to encourage the bird to flutter towards Endralian, who was waiting patiently on a lower branch.
They finally returned the trio of feathered fugitives to a tearfully grateful Martha, collected their modest reward (plus a bag of slightly stale cookies), and headed back towards the guild hall, the earlier awkwardness momentarily forgotten in a comfortable, bickering rhythm.
"My brilliant static field application totally saved the day with Wilfred," Luxia declared smugly, tossing her hair.
"Only after my perfect maneuver got me into the optimal retrieval position," Endralian retorted, rolling his eyes. "And let's not forget you almost scared Pip into the next town with your random sparking earlier."
"Did not! That was clearly faulty municipal wiring! Not my fault this town is falling apart!"
Deciding to capitalize on their momentum, they immediately picked up another D-rank quest: cleaning residual magical energy and associated goo from a failed potion experiment in a local alchemist's cluttered workshop.
The workshop smelled strongly of sulfur, burnt sugar, and profound disappointment. Globs of sticky, faintly iridescent purple goo coated a large workbench, several alembics, and a significant portion of the floor. "Right," Endralian said, wrinkling his nose as he surveyed the disaster zone. "This looks… significantly less charming than birds."
"Less boring, anyway," Luxia commented, poking a particularly large glob cautiously with the toe of her boot. It wobbled ominously.
Endralian saw another opportunity for practical application. He focused, concentrating on forming a small, stable Void Orb, envisioning it not as a weapon, but as a tool for containment. He attempted to gently levitate the shimmering orb towards a patch of goo on the workbench, hoping to envelop and lift the mess cleanly. The orb hovered, wobbled, seemed to struggle against the goo's sheer stickiness, and then dissipated with a wet plop, splattering nearby surfaces (including Endralian's boots) with more purple residue. Epic fail.
"Smooth move" Luxia snickered from a safe distance.
Endralian scowled, wiping goo off his trousers. He tried a different approach, attempting to infuse a sturdy cleaning cloth with a tiny amount of void energy, hoping it might neutralize or dissolve the magical residue. He rubbed the cloth vigorously against a stubborn patch on the floor. The cloth felt strangely cold, almost numb, and seemed to vibrate faintly in his hand, but the goo remained resolutely attached. Another dead end.
"You know, they invented soap and water for a reason," Luxia suggested dryly, leaning against a bookshelf and observing his struggles with detached amusement. "Maybe try actually scrubbing?"
"I am trying to apply magical solutions!" Endralian insisted, though he had a sinking feeling she was right. His attempts at magical finesse were still clumsy, his control far too rudimentary for such delicate, sticky work.
Luxia sighed with theatrical impatience. "Fine, let me demonstrate actual efficiency." She stepped forward, holding out her hand. Concentrating, she formed a small, steady ball of golden light above her palm, its clean radiance cutting through the workshop's gloom. Then, focusing on the spilled goo, faint sparks of static electricity began to crackle around her outstretched fingers. She waved her hand slowly over the mess.
Surprisingly, the lighter particles of dust and dried residue lifted from the surfaces, drawn towards her hand by the static charge, leaving the stickier patches underneath exposed and easier for Endralian to tackle with a conventional brush and cleaning solution.
"See?" she said, looking undeniably pleased with her demonstration of practical magic.
"Sometimes simple, controlled electricity is far more useful than your weird, messy purple stuff."
Endralian had to admit, her precise application of basic static electricity was significantly more effective than his failed void experiments. "Okay, point taken," he conceded grudgingly, grabbing a scrubbing brush. "Thanks."
They worked in an unexpectedly efficient rhythm, Luxia using her light to illuminate
shadowed corners and her static to lift loose debris, while Endralian handled the messy, manual scrubbing. Eventually, they managed to restore the workshop to a semblance of order, much to the relief of the flustered alchemist.
Returning to the guild hall late that afternoon, tired, slightly sticky, and smelling faintly of alchemical reagents, they collected their second modest reward. Macao spotted them.
"Well, well" he called out, grinning broadly. "Back from slumming it with the D-rank chores! Rescuing any damsels in distress today, kids? Or just polishing doorknobs?"
"Just cleaning up other people's messes," Endralian replied tiredly, accepting a glass of water from the counter.
"Keeps you humble, I guess! Builds character!" Wakaba added, chuckling as he dealt a fresh hand of cards.
Makarov, observing the exchange from his customary stool at the bar, gave them both a quiet, almost imperceptible nod of approval as they passed. Consistent work, even simple, mundane work, done together without major property damage or interpersonal explosions. That, in his book, was definite progress.
Endralian retreated to the relative sanctuary of the storeroom, sinking onto his cot, the fatigue of the long day settling deep into his bones. The magic practice integrated into the tasks had been… frustrating. His control was still laughably poor for anything requiring real precision or finesse. Yet… he had managed a few mostly controlled Ender Steps. He had formed stable orbs, even if they hadn't achieved the desired effect. It was agonizingly slow, painstaking progress, measured in millimeters rather than miles, but it was progress.
His thoughts drifted inevitably to Luxia. Annoying, arrogant, impatient, prone to sarcasm… but also surprisingly vulnerable beneath the surface, unexpectedly helpful when she chose to be, and clearly working on her own control with a fierce determination. Their dynamic remained confusing, exhausting, a constant tightrope walk over a pit of potential arguments, but it was undeniably… real. A strange, reluctant partnership forged in shared secrets, midnight confessions, and the mundane reality of D-rank quests.
Then, as the exhaustion began to pull him towards sleep, his mind inevitably circled back to the map, to the North. To Brago. To Gray, Lyon, Ur. To Deliora. The weight of that future, the chilling knowledge of the impending tragedy, felt immense, a suffocating pressure in the quiet darkness. X768… maybe early X769 now. Five, perhaps six years.
The desperate urge to intervene, to change that horrific future, warred with the cold, hard reality of his own limitations. He was just a rookie mage barely a month into this world, with unstable, alien magic tied to a dragon egg. What could he possibly do against a Demon of Zeref, against the currents of fate?
Control, Leo reminded himself fiercely in the privacy of his own thoughts, clenching his fists in the dim light. Get stronger. Get smarter. Understand this world, its magic. Understand the Egg. Only then, maybe, just maybe, could he even dare to consider tempting destiny. The burden of his secrets felt heavier than ever, a silent promise and a terrifying responsibility. But beneath it, a quiet, stubborn resolve hardened within him. He had to. There was no other choice.