Edolas, Fairy Tail Guild.
Zeref of Edolas had just finished instructing Natsu and Dorachyon when he came across Makarov, who sat gloomily at the bar, drinking in silence.
Two months had passed—enough time for many things to change.
The Fairy Tail of Aslant had been completely drawn into the Edolas incident. Because of this, they had canceled the planned S-Class trials and a number of other events, diverting enormous funds into countermeasures against Edolas.
They had hoped to bring things to a quick conclusion, but the results had been meager.
Two months had gone by, yet Zeref and Aslant's Fairy Tail had made no real progress. The magical pulses continued steadily, their speed increasing, their effects spreading further and growing more severe. And still, they hadn't even caught a glimpse of Papi's shadow. They were locked in a stalemate with the rebel army—or rather, the newly formed Eternal Church Nation.
"Two months… and not a single step forward," Makarov muttered bitterly. With vast sums of money and resources poured in, yet no visible outcome, even his resolve was beginning to ache. After all, they were just a mage guild—not a conglomerate, not a nation.
And worse, even the Magic Council was beginning to sense something was wrong.
"If this troubles you," Zeref said seriously, "then allow more people to take part. You represent an entire world. If you open the gate even a little, countless people will flood in and become fresh forces. It would make things far easier."
"Spare me." Makarov waved it off with a laugh, trying to bury the suggestion.
He was only venting, hoping to provoke Zeref and see if the old monster still had hidden cards to play. But truly bringing all of Aslant into this? He wasn't nearly mad enough for that. Who knew how badly his "simple-minded" Aslant mages would get swindled by this ancient fiend?
This wasn't just some recluse from Aslant—it was a genuine madman. One who had witnessed, endured, and perhaps even orchestrated the destruction of civilizations.
Which brought them back to the history Zeref had spoken of—
Four hundred years ago, dragons had dominated the continent, ruling land, sky, and sea alike. Humanity's living space was pitifully small; most were little more than livestock or slaves.
Though civilization had sprouted, it was fragile—a mere "nest" waiting to be crushed by dragons.
Racial conflict was razor-sharp.
Before the peace-seeking dragons taught Dragon Slayer magic, humans had devised a plan born from a simple truth: Shallow waters cannot sustain true dragons.
Their solution was madness itself: unleash magical weapons to wipe out the majority of the world's magic.
Without magic to sustain them, the dragons' immense bodies would collapse under their own weight. They would fall ill with "magic deficiency," unable even to feed themselves. Their once-invincible physiques would turn into spears that pierced their own hearts.
And humanity succeeded. Most dragons perished in one stroke. Some survived by altering their bodies with magic, and humans—who had prepared for this—outlasted the weakened dragons.
But when the magical weapons' aftereffects faded and magic began to recover, humanity's joy at founding a new order was cut short. The magic currents had gone awry, evolving into the unstable flows they faced today.
As for Zeref's role, he described himself as nothing more than a minor participant—so insignificant his name would never appear in any history book.
Even a child wouldn't believe that.
But Makarov had no solid evidence to refute him, so he could only hold his nose and accept it.
"You can pursue whatever methods you wish," Zeref continued, "but Makarov, we must begin preparations early. At this rate, even a thousand years from now, we will never pinpoint that man's exact location."
Fighting Papi was pointless. To stop magic pulses on a planetary scale, sheer force was useless. Unless one possessed strength enough to shatter stars, individual power meant nothing.
As long as Papi never revealed himself and dragged things out, victory was assured for him—a win without lifting a finger.
Thus, they had to compile vast amounts of magical fluctuation data, construct a model of the pulses using mathematics, combine it with planetary coordinates, and identify the true source and critical nodes. Destroying—or at least severely disrupting—them was their only chance.
But their computational ability was lacking. At best, they could narrow it down to a region spanning hundreds of thousands of square kilometers.
"Do you have a solution?" Makarov asked, finally yielding.
"Of course I do," Zeref spread his hands, "but it may violate the tone you yourself set earlier."
In the matter of targeting Papi or the Eternal Church Nation, Zeref and Fairy Tail had disagreed. Since the human kingdom supported Fairy Tail, they had gone along with Fairy Tail's choice: eliminate Papi first. Cut down the trunk, and the branches—namely, the Eternal Church Nation—would wither away.
But that strategy had already failed.
"Let's hear it!" Makarov groaned, now full of regret.
"In these four centuries, I've had a rival… though not truly a rival, since she only ever opposed me unilaterally." Zeref smiled faintly at the memory.
"Before civilization collapsed, she embedded her consciousness into the magical network humans had built, hoping that by tightening control over the leylines, she could find a way to halt the collapse of magic."
Makarov instantly straightened, sensing something vital.
"She failed. When magic vanished, her consciousness dissolved into chaos. But this latest upheaval has awakened her. And the thing we need lies in her hands."
"You mean… the Magical Leyline!?" Makarov asked cautiously after a pause. From Zeref's story, only that seemed priceless enough.
"Correct. That was the ultimate masterpiece of ancient human magic civilization. Guiding the flow of magic was only one of its many functions. At its core is a colossal magical supercomputer—far superior to the one I currently wield, by a factor of at least a million."
Zeref spoke calmly, yet Makarov could feel the invisible hands pushing him step by step toward a trap. Gritting his teeth, he made his choice.
"Fine. We'll do it."
Clap, clap, clap.
"Excellent spirit! I believe our cooperation will be most fruitful." Zeref applauded warmly, then turned and left.
Left behind, Makarov rubbed his temples, replaying the entire conversation. "He had me dancing in his palm the whole time."
For all his cunning, against a monster who had lived centuries, his tricks meant nothing. Zeref always handed you exactly what you needed, cloaked in the most reasonable arguments, until you moved to his tune.
At least, for now, he was on their side.
Then again, Makarov himself wasn't so different. Both wielded overwhelming ability—just expressed in different ways.
"Maybe I should stop letting Natsu spend time with him…" Makarov thought of the guild's problem child. Natsu had changed dramatically during this period—
He had started reading books.
He had begun to understand social courtesy.
It was absurd—more fantastical than the end of the world itself.
"Good day, Master!" Natsu passed by, greeting him politely.
Yes, hello, Makarov responded instinctively, watching him go with fatherly pride. No… better to let Zeref keep training him. With Natsu's nature, he'd never betray the guild anyway.