The request came in the form of a sealed scroll, tied in gray ribbon, its paper brittle and aged. Most jobs posted on Fairy Tail's board were written hastily—scribbled ink on parchment, sometimes even with food stains. But this one was pristine, marked with a wax seal no one in the guild recognized.
Erza held the scroll cautiously. Her brow furrowed.
"This was hand-delivered," she said. "No signature, no emblem. The magic woven into the seal… it's faint, but old. Ancient."
Makarov sat up straighter from his seat above.
"Let me see that," he said, gesturing for it.
As Erza passed it to him, Ren stepped forward, drawn to the scroll like metal to a magnet. The second his fingertips brushed the parchment—
Flash.
A pulse of pressure exploded outward from the scroll. Every candle in the guild flickered. A low, groaning hum rolled through the floorboards like the growl of something long buried.
Ren fell to one knee, clutching his stomach.
Erza caught him. "Ren?!"
He shook his head quickly. "I'm fine. I just felt… something. Like I was being recognized."
Makarov unsealed the scroll, and the paper unraveled by itself in a whisper of wind.
> Request: Investigation of Magic Distortion – Western Ruins, outside Fiore's border.
Symptoms: Spontaneous aura shifts, time lapses, creature mutation.
Warning: Do not enter without attunement to non-etherial magic.
At the bottom, in elegant yet angular handwriting, one final note was added:
> "The child who bears the silence between flames… Send him."
The room went quiet.
Gray spoke first. "Okay, what the hell does that mean?"
Natsu's fists lit up. "Sounds like someone asking for trouble."
Makarov ignored the comments, eyes locked on Ren. "It's referring to you."
Ren looked around, unnerved. "Why me?"
"The 'silence between flames'… it's poetic, but accurate," Erza said slowly. "You're not fire. You're what undoes it. This scroll is bait—for your magic. Or maybe a warning."
Makarov sighed deeply. "Ren. Erza. I'm sending you both."
---
The journey to the Western Ruins was long and quiet. The terrain grew stranger the closer they got—fields that twisted into spirals of cracked earth, trees with no leaves but pulsing veins of glowing moss. Magic here didn't flow naturally. It bled.
Ren felt it the moment they crossed the valley ridge.
"Do you feel that?" he asked Erza, stopping abruptly.
She nodded, hand on the hilt of her blade. "Yes. The air is… heavy. Like it's watching us."
They pressed on cautiously.
The ruins emerged from the cliffside like teeth from a corpse. Crumbled towers, broken spires, and enormous stones etched with long-forgotten runes. Most disturbingly, there was no sound.
No birds. No insects. No wind.
Only silence—and the hum of unnatural aura.
Ren stepped forward, and again, his magic responded on its own. Black mist trailed from his arm like it was sniffing the air, sensing something buried beneath the surface.
"Something's here," Ren said, voice barely above a whisper.
Erza scanned the area, eyes sharp. "Not something. Many things. Look."
Around them, the ground shimmered.
Figures began to emerge—ghostly, translucent beasts, like twisted wolves made of static and light. Their bodies flickered in and out of existence, as if bound by time itself.
"They're not alive," Erza said. "But they're not illusions either."
"Are they guardians?" Ren asked.
"No," she said, drawing her sword. "They're warnings."
The lead creature let out a soundless howl—its mouth opened, but no sound came. Just a pulse of distortion.
Then they charged.
Erza launched into the fray, Requipping into her Black Wing Armor for speed. Her blades cut through the flickering beasts, but each time she struck one, it dissolved into static and reformed somewhere else.
"They're phasing!" she called out. "Time-linked projections—strike one and another takes its place!"
Ren stepped back, heart pounding. His Anti-Magic pulsed in warning.
> This isn't just illusion… It's tethered magic. Echoes bound by cursed time.
One of the creatures lunged at him, teeth like broken glass. Without thinking, Ren thrust his hand forward.
A burst of Anti-Magic exploded from his palm, not like a blast—but like a ripple. The creature stopped mid-air, its entire form unraveling as the tether holding it broke.
Erza noticed instantly.
"They're linked to the distortion. Your magic severs that connection."
Ren nodded, gritting his teeth. "Then let's clean up."
They moved together—Erza baiting the creatures with sharp movements, drawing their attention, while Ren followed, targeting each one with precise bursts of his magic. One by one, the phantoms disintegrated.
And then—quiet.
The unnatural aura faded slightly.
But something remained.
In the center of the ruins stood a circular dais, covered in glyphs that twisted when looked at directly. At its center: a black crystal, suspended in the air, swirling with energy that made Ren's blood run cold.
> This is what was calling to me.
He stepped closer—and the crystal pulsed.
Flash.
A vision struck his mind.
A screaming sky. A shattered world. Dragons fighting dragons—but one was made of shadows. Not fire, not steel. Pure rejection.
And then—him.
Standing in the middle, his arm outstretched, eyes empty, magic pouring out like a plague.
Ren staggered backward.
Erza caught him. "What did you see?"
"Another me," he whispered. "Or a future me. One who didn't stop it."
Before they could react, the black crystal cracked.
Something was being born.
Erza stepped in front of Ren, blade drawn.
And above them, a voice echoed—without sound—into their minds.
> Sealbearer. You are not the only one.