Thump!
Thump!
The massive beat of wings echoed through the sky as a colossal beast soared.
Atop the monster's head stood a jet-black Exceed, as straight and sharp as a spear, looking down upon the distance with scorn. Raising one paw as though he held the entire world within his grasp, he radiated the air of a lofty god.
"Let's end this quickly. What a boring farce… How did I even get stuck with such a pointless job?"
Though most of the Exceed leadership still maintained their clarity, able to analyze the situation and make rational choices, the underlings beneath them had clearly been brainwashed by their own propaganda.
Arrogant, blind, conceited, ignorant, foolish…
Any word that meant "stupid" could apply to them.
This wasn't innocence, nor was it purity—it was just plain stupidity.
It had been nearly half a month since the kingdom's civil war began, and during that time, the rebel forces had swelled rapidly.
Disbanded guilds dissolved by the king… fallen nobles of countries destroyed by Edolas… brainwashed Exceed fanatics… opportunistic schemers looking to exploit chaos…
A chaotic stew of elements thrown together, unified under the name "the Rebel Army" (as the Edolas Kingdom officially called them). They themselves preferred to call their cause the "Army of Salvation." Riding the wave of momentum, this hodgepodge of factions now thundered across the land, seeming unstoppable, their power blazing like the midday sun.
By contrast, the royal forces had barely taken any effective action since the uprising began, losing again and again. Now, beyond the rebels, even many territories still loyal to the crown were hesitating, choosing to wait and see, to auction off their allegiance to the highest bidder.
The Exceed air corps descended beneath the cloud layer, vast shadows spreading across the land.
BOOM!!
A blinding beam of light surged upward from the ground, piercing the heavens, ripping through the clouds to form an enormous glowing ring. In an instant, the airborne troops were obliterated. Countless black specks rained from the sky like a storm.
Human or Exceed—it made no difference. None had time to react. They were reduced to ash in a heartbeat.
Only the gigantic monsters left behind charred remnants.
"So this is the power of the Exceed? Doesn't feel much different from humans," said Erza, captain of the Kingdom's Second Magical Combat Division. She led her unit out from the mountains, surveying the scorched battlefield where the rebels had just fallen.
The burnt corpses were indistinguishable. Human? Exceed? Beast?
All that remained was charcoal.
"Captain, the data on the Magic Cannon's destructive power has been recorded. Compared to the previous ten trials, its kill radius increased by one percent, and its penetration ability has improved. We can confirm the weapon's power continues to increase with each use.
Based on time intervals and the rate of increase, we've charted a line graph. It matches perfectly with the research institute's measurements of rising magical energy density in areas unaffected by lacrima depletion."
An officer rushed up with a clipboard, speaking quickly before adding:
"In short, we can say with certainty—the world's magic is reviving, on a massive scale. We must prepare countermeasures to deal with the growing power of enemy magitech weapons, or we'll face serious problems."
"Good. Recall the troops," Erza's subordinate, Knightwalker, replied with a radiant smile. Compared to the comfort of knowing magic itself was returning, no external threat seemed worth fearing.
And the revival of magical energy wasn't just affecting weapons. Ecology itself was subtly transforming. But at this moment, no one paid attention to such things.
When the results of the Magic Cannon experiment reached the royal capital, Faust stared blankly into the distance. Ever since implanting the time-lacima crystal into his body, he had become increasingly prone to zoning out, his actions harder to predict.
Not long ago, Faust had even ordered tests to weaken magitech weaponry. He commanded the research institute to re-examine certain discarded magical alloys—long deemed inferior—and begin using them again in standardized weapon production.
The idea was absurd. The alloys Faust singled out had been abandoned centuries ago. They were primitive relics, used only in eras when civilization's magical technology was too undeveloped to forge superior materials.
It was like turning back the clock, spitting in the face of progress.
But the results shocked every researcher. In repeated experiments, those supposedly crude and outdated metals displayed remarkable resilience.
A few alloys, when combined in specific ratios, even rivaled the properties of current mainstream materials—falling only slightly short, but at a fraction of the cost.
It was unbelievable.
"History isn't necessarily wrong," Faust told the astonished researchers. "Perhaps the environment has simply changed. Heat alters the properties of matter. Why shouldn't magic do the same?"
With his kingly authority bolstering his words, many researchers soon launched into a frenzy of "revivalism"—digging through so-called obsolete manuscripts for insights.
And to their shock, Faust had been right. Though some texts were indeed outdated, many proved accurate. Cross-referenced with magical density records from different eras, they found even higher correlations than expected.
The conclusion was clear: across centuries, human intelligence hadn't advanced enough to fundamentally surpass the ancients. The people of the past weren't necessarily any less wise than the people of today.
With confirmation that materials' magical properties were shifting alongside rising magical density, the kingdom launched a massive rearmament campaign.
For as magic grew stronger, magitech weapons risked either becoming dangerously overpowered—or useless. Either way, their lifespan would plummet.
The solution: find a stable, universal, and cost-effective alloy suitable for the new age. Otherwise, in no time at all, today's fearsome weapons would become worthless scrap, and war might regress to cold steel once more.
It was this overwhelming priority that had caused the kingdom's repeated defeats at the war's outset.
"The time for counterattack has come, Byro." Faust suddenly snapped back to focus, turning toward his old retainer.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The whole world shall once again kneel before you," rasped Byro with genuine devotion.
"No. Perhaps not. What we'll face ahead… is far more."
Clatter!
Faust's staff clattered to the ground, kicked aside. He returned to his throne, wiping its armrest clean with unusual focus, as if preparing for something monumental.
"Your Majesty?" Byro asked.
"Begin conscription. First, strike here."
Faust's finger tapped against the throne. The lacrima embedded within pulsed with light, projecting a three-dimensional map of Edolas.
A small town appeared, roughly 3,000 kilometers from the capital, along the border between the kingdom and rebel forces. It was no stronghold, nor a site of strategic importance.
"Take the Type-II Magic Cannons from the research institute. Blanket the area with fire. This is no era for stinginess—spend the magic freely.
After the bombardment, search three hundred meters east. You'll find an Exceed clinging to life. Bring it back to me."
Step by step, Faust outlined the entire operation in meticulous detail.
On a real battlefield, with its ever-shifting chaos, such instructions would be reckless. But in Edolas, no one dared doubt him.
After all, he had proven his ability.
The power to see the future was nothing short of a bug.
"Your Majesty… is that Exceed so important?" Byro asked cautiously.
"Important enough. Exceeds are all… special," Faust replied calmly. His gaze grew unfocused once more, as if glimpsing yet another future.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And if you see Jellal, bring him to me. I have words for him," Faust suddenly added as Byro prepared to leave.
Byro froze.
"That is one possibility," Faust continued. "He may appear along your march. If he asks anything, answer truthfully. He will come."
Before Byro could even react, Faust had already anticipated his response, answering in his place.
Yes, Your Majesty.