The night was cold, but the moon cast a silver warmth over the high hills beyond Magnolia. The wind whispered through the leaves of old pine trees, their branches rustling like soft applause. Ren stood in the clearing alone, surrounded by stillness.
He'd chosen this spot on the edge of the East Forest—the perfect place to train without drawing attention. Without accidentally canceling half the guild's magic in a thirty-foot radius.
He pulled back his cloak and exhaled slowly. The air shimmered around him as the Anti-Magic began to flow.
"Void Flow… Form One."
Black tendrils of energy coiled around his arms like smoke being pulled inward. His magic didn't radiate like Natsu's fire or Erza's aura—it collapsed, like it was swallowing light.
Ren closed his eyes, focusing on the image that had haunted him since the ruins: the bone dragon, the Second Sealbearer, and the girl on the bridge.
You're not alone.
If there were others like him—if their magic had ties to something ancient and dangerous—then he needed to master his own. Not just control it, but understand it.
"Void Pulse," he murmured, directing the energy into his palm.
A black sigil appeared, pulsing softly.
He thrust his hand toward a large boulder.
Fssshhkk!
The energy hit the rock—and instead of exploding it, it erased it. The boulder collapsed into dust, no heat, no force—just... absence.
Ren stepped back, breathing heavier.
"Still too much drain," he muttered. "It's efficient but unstable…"
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a tattered notebook—one of Levy's gifts. A place to record his spell formulas, control points, and sigil patterns.
Each page was covered in strange notations. Ren had developed a system to translate the magic into readable form—a mix of alchemy, rune theory, and his own fragmented memories from the world before this one.
He scribbled a note under Void Pulse:
> Version 3 – Stable form achieves instant erasure, but control range limited. Drains focus after second cast. Possible tether to emotion?
"Emotions again…" he whispered. "Why is it always emotion with magic here?"
A branch snapped behind him.
Ren turned swiftly, energy already coiling in his palm—but stopped when he saw the familiar silhouette.
Erza stepped into the clearing, her armor replaced by a simple black training tunic. Her sword was slung across her back.
"You're out late," she said. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Could say the same for you," Ren replied.
She didn't answer. Instead, she walked to the center of the clearing and drew her sword.
"I watched your form earlier," she said, tone calm. "You're relying too much on reaction. Your spells work, but only when you're responding. Not when you're initiating."
Ren tilted his head. "You're offering to train me?"
"I'm offering to fight you."
She didn't give him a chance to reply.
Whrrrkk—
She vanished and appeared beside him, sword gleaming under the moonlight.
Ren barely raised his arm before the blade halted an inch from his neck.
"Too slow," she said.
Ren slid back, launching a Void Wall between them.
Erza's sword passed through it—and dissolved at the edge.
She stepped back, smiling. "Good. But if I had used a real Requip form, that wouldn't have worked."
Ren nodded. "Then show me."
For the next hour, the clearing became their arena.
Erza shifted between forms: Flame Empress, Black Wing Armor, Heaven's Wheel. Each time, she tested a different aspect of Ren's Anti-Magic—its reaction to heat, kinetic energy, magical projectiles.
Ren learned quickly. He adapted his Void Forms into defense, then offense, then stealth. He created threads of Anti-Magic, thin and invisible, that could be woven into traps. He discovered that if he focused hard enough, he could feel magic signatures and mute them temporarily—like silencing a bell before it could ring.
By the end, both were breathing hard.
Erza sat down on a flat stone and gestured for Ren to join her.
He did.
"You've improved," she said.
"So have you," he replied.
Erza chuckled softly. "I do this every night."
He blinked. "You train every night?"
"Not always like this," she said. "But yes. If I'm not sharpening my blade, I'm sharpening my mind. I have to be ready. For myself, for Fairy Tail."
Ren looked up at the stars. "I don't know what kind of enemy the Second Sealbearer will be. But I don't think they're like me."
Erza was quiet.
"They embraced their power fully," Ren continued. "No hesitation. No restraint."
"You're afraid you'll become like them."
"Yes."
Erza turned to him. "Then make a choice. Every day. Every moment. Choose who you are. Your magic doesn't define you."
"You sound like Master Makarov."
"I learned it from him," she said, smiling. "And now I'm passing it to you."
They sat in silence for a while, the moon tracing slow arcs above them.
Then Ren stood.
"One more round?"
Erza grinned, drawing her sword again. "Only if you don't hold back."
---
Far away, beyond the mountains of Fiore, another figure stood under a moonlit sky.
A boy no older than Ren, cloaked in grey, surrounded by broken ruins. At his feet, a corpse lay, drained of all color.
His yellow eyes shimmered.
He opened a scroll, the same seal as the one Ren received.
> He's awakened, it read.
Prepare the third seal.
The boy smiled.
"Let's see if the Anti-Dragon can silence me."