The road beyond Magnolia was quiet.
Ren and Erza sat side by side atop the carriage that clattered along the cobblestone path. A gentle wind stirred the trees lining the way, rustling their leaves like whispering voices. The mission they'd accepted—a simple escort of a magical artifact to a research outpost—was supposed to be low-risk.
But Ren could feel something wrong.
Not with the job.
With himself.
His magic was stirring again. Silently, like a creature waking up from a long sleep.
He kept his hands folded, trying not to show the faint black flickers that shimmered around his fingers.
Erza, ever perceptive, didn't comment. But she glanced at him more than once.
---
By the time they arrived at the outpost—a cluster of moss-covered stone towers nestled into a cliffside—night had begun to fall. The researchers greeted them warmly, surprised but grateful that Fairy Tail had sent someone so "capable" so quickly.
Ren wanted to laugh at the word.
Capable? He barely understood what his magic even was.
The artifact, a glowing white orb sealed in runes, pulsed gently from within its containment box. Its aura was pure, calm, almost musical. Unlike his.
That night, Ren stood on the cliff's edge, away from the others. He held his palm out and summoned a flicker of his Anti-Magic.
Black mist spiraled upward, silent as smoke. It felt colder now. Heavier.
> Why does it always hurt when I use it?
Not physically. The pain was deeper—like every time he drew it out, it carved something out of him. Something essential.
He didn't even hear Erza approach.
"You've been quieter than usual," she said.
Ren didn't turn around. "It's hard to explain. It's like… my magic doesn't want to be used. Like it's trying to punish me when I call on it."
Erza stepped beside him, looking out over the dark forest below.
"I've known pain like that," she said softly. "Not from magic, but from memory."
He looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice.
"When I first learned Requip magic, it didn't come naturally. My body bled from the inside. The magic tore me apart until I mastered it."
Ren's eyes widened. "You bled?"
She nodded. "Every time I shifted into armor. I thought I was cursed. But Master Makarov told me something I never forgot."
She looked at him now.
> "Magic is a language, not a weapon. If it hurts to speak, you haven't learned how to say the words yet."
Ren looked down at his hands. The mist had vanished.
"So… I need to learn to speak it. Not fight it."
She nodded. "Exactly."
Silence fell again, but this time, it felt softer.
---
At midnight, the attack came.
The sky split with a shriek of soundless pressure. A rupture in the air itself. The outpost walls trembled. Runes flared red.
Ren and Erza bolted out of their rooms at the same time.
"Ren!" one of the researchers cried. "It's the artifact! Something's drawn to it—something wrong!"
From the edge of the clearing, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
A man in a tattered black cloak. His face was masked, but his presence was unmistakable.
He wasn't a wizard.
He was something else.
"Anti-Magic resonance detected," he said, voice completely flat. "Objective: recover the Sealbearer."
Ren felt ice slide down his spine.
Erza stepped in front of him. "Over my dead body."
The figure moved like smoke—fast and fluid. He appeared beside Erza in a blink, a spear of warped light materializing in his hand.
She blocked it instantly with her sword, Requipping into her Flight Armor to match his speed.
Ren backed up, eyes wide. The man's presence called to the seal on his arm. His skin burned.
> He's triggering my magic just by being here…
"Ren! Stay back!" Erza shouted, exchanging blows in blinding flashes.
But he couldn't.
The pain in his arm sharpened—then snapped.
His knees buckled.
Black magic erupted around him—wild and formless. Not controlled. Not guided. Pure rejection. The Anti-Magic lashed outward, distorting the world around him like glass under pressure.
The attacker paused—then staggered.
"Magic fields… collapsing," he hissed.
Ren gasped, clutching his chest. He could feel everything inside him trying to twist, to surge out. It hurt more than ever before—like the magic was screaming in silence.
> Silent Magic. Silent Pain.
"I… can't control it!" he yelled.
Erza turned toward him, face strained. "Then don't try to control it! Just anchor it—think of something real! Something worth fighting for!"
Ren's breath caught.
Fairy Tail.
Erza.
Makarov's voice.
Natsu's dumb grin.
He reached deep—beyond the noise, beyond the agony—and pictured the sigil on the Fairy Tail wall.
His guild.
His family.
The Anti-Magic flared around him—then snapped inward.
It didn't vanish.
It listened.
The air around him stilled. His seal stopped glowing.
And for the first time, the black mist formed a shape around his body—like shadowy wings that flared out protectively.
The masked attacker turned to flee—too late.
Ren stepped forward.
A wave of condensed null-energy exploded from his palm. It didn't kill, but it erased—cutting through the enemy's magic entirely. The man's weapon crumbled to ash. He fell back, hit the ground, and vanished into smoke.
Just like that, the fight ended.
Ren collapsed to one knee.
Erza caught him before he hit the ground.
"You did it," she said, voice steady.
Ren nodded, panting. "I didn't control it. I just… spoke to it."
She smiled faintly. "Then you've taken the first real step."
---
That morning, the artifact was delivered safely. The researchers were unharmed. The attackers had vanished without a trace.
But something had changed in Ren.
The pain of his magic didn't vanish. But it no longer felt like a punishment.
It felt like a warning.
One that whispered:
> Learn me. Or lose yourself.