The sun crept through the stained-glass windows of Fairy Tail's guildhall, casting scattered rainbows across the floor. Most members bustled with morning missions or sparring in the courtyard, but Makarov stood silent in his office, a tattered scroll in one hand and a furrow in his brow.
The scroll had arrived in the dead of night—unmarked, sealed with a crest he hadn't seen in over thirty years.
The Crest of the Void Circle.
Only one mage in Fairy Tail knew enough about void-type magic to understand it. And he wasn't even from this world.
---
"Ren."
The boy stopped mid-stride in the guildhall as Makarov's voice cut through the chatter.
He walked toward the master's office, unsure if this was another lecture. But when he entered, he saw the seriousness in Makarov's eyes—and something else. Fear.
"You've seen something like this before?" Makarov asked, unrolling the scroll on his desk.
The parchment was jagged at the edges, inked with a swirling black symbol that pulsed slightly, like a heartbeat.
Ren stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "This... isn't from Earthland magic. It feels wrong. Too fluid. Too intelligent."
"It's not a curse?" Makarov asked.
"No. Not like the last one." Ren's fingers hovered over the glyph, sensing the intent woven into the paper. "It's… fragmented will. Like a spell that remembers itself."
Makarov stroked his beard. "The sender knew what they were doing. The glyph references 'The Rift-born Flame' and 'Aether Dissonance.' Terms I've only seen in Void Circle texts."
"I've read about Aether Dissonance," Ren muttered. "It's when magic originates from outside this world's leylines. It exists… but doesn't belong. Like me."
Makarov gave a slow nod. "This scroll was found near Mt. Hakobe. Delivered to an old friend. We're the only guild that might understand it—and you're the only one who can feel what it's made of."
Ren's gaze sharpened. "You think I should go."
"I think," Makarov said, "this is the kind of magic that shouldn't exist. But if someone is creating more of it… we need to know why."
---
Ren traveled light, taking only his black cloak, a half-dozen magic seals, and one worn-out notebook from his old world filled with hastily written theories about multidimensional mana.
The path to Mt. Hakobe was quiet.
Too quiet.
When he reached the base of the mountain, the air shifted. It wasn't snow or altitude—it was pressure. Like reality was bending slightly, ever so subtly.
"Definitely not normal," Ren muttered, placing a Void Detection rune against a nearby rock.
The rune didn't glow.
It shattered.
That never happened before.
He moved forward anyway.
---
Near a ridge, he found it.
A shallow crater. Burnt trees. And in the center, a chunk of stone—black and obsidian-like, humming faintly with energy. Not natural. Not Earthland.
Etched into its surface was a word in a language only Ren knew:
> "Oblivionkind."
His heart sank.
That was a term from his previous world. A lost classification of destructive mana users—mages who drew their power from interdimensional entropy. Forgotten because they were hunted to extinction for their instability.
How could that term exist here?
Ren reached toward the stone—when a voice called out behind him.
"Step back. Slowly."
He turned.
A woman in a tattered brown cloak, half her face hidden by a hood, stood on the ridge. She held a jagged wand, trembling with faint violet energy.
"That's not yours to touch," she said.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I'm the mistake that survived," she replied.
Before he could respond, she flicked her wand—and the air tore open.
Not exploded.
Not burned.
It split, like paper.
A tear in space.
Ren dodged just in time, rolling down the slope, his palms already glowing with anti-magic.
"Void Lock – Null Skin!" he shouted, coating himself in a protective aura as he charged back uphill.
The woman raised her hand. The crater's stone pulsed.
Suddenly, Ren felt it—his magic faltering.
The anti-magic was losing shape. Something was interfering with it.
She was using Dissonant Magic.
Raw, lawless magic that didn't obey Earthland's rules.
Ren's hands shook.
He'd faced dragons in simulations. Broken beasts. Cursed spirits.
But not this.
Not a mage who used aether like a brushstroke across reality.
---
"Why do you have Oblivionkind markings?" he demanded, keeping his distance.
"Because I remember what they made us forget," she hissed. "And I'll restore their flame, even if it means tearing this dimension open."
Ren's eyes widened. "You're from the Rift."
She said nothing—but her magic answered.
Another crack of space opened behind her.
Ren had only one choice.
He clenched his fists and poured everything he had into a suppression seal. "Void Zone!"
The glyph expanded outward, cancelling magic in a radius around him—temporarily halting her tears.
She screamed as the backlash hit her, flinging her backward against a tree.
Ren rushed in, binding her with rune chains as she struggled.
"You don't belong here," he said quietly. "And neither do I. But if you keep forcing this magic into the world, Earthland will collapse under the strain."
Her glare was fierce. "Then let it. The Rift never forgets its children."
And with a final whispered chant, she vanished—teleportation through unstable mana—leaving nothing but the stone, and a question burning in Ren's heart.
---
Back at the guild, he placed the Rift Stone on Makarov's desk.
"This is just the start," Ren said grimly.
Makarov looked troubled. "She used magic from your world?"
"No. Beyond my world. From the space between worlds."
"Then we're not just dealing with forbidden magic," Makarov said. "We're dealing with magic that shouldn't exist anywhere."
Ren nodded. "And someone is trying to bring it here—piece by piece."