It had been maybe five minutes since the fight began. Long enough for breathing to grow heavier. Long enough for the sharp snap of clean strikes to dull into the thick sound of impact on bruised flesh. Gajeel had fresh discoloration forming along both forearms where he had blocked more than he should have. His swings were still strong, but there was a hitch now, a fraction slower on the recoil. Levy's lip was split and swollen, blood drying at the corner of her mouth. She was careful with her left leg, putting less weight on it each time she shifted.
Aelius himself? Was tired. More than he expected. Fighting without magic was one thing. Edolas had proven he could manage that, if with some measure of difficulty. But this was different. His magic pressed at the edges of his control constantly, wanting to seep into muscle and bone, wanting to reinforce, to react, to answer every threat automatically. He was not just fighting them. He was fighting himself. Holding it back. Forcing his body to remain ordinary. That alone drained him.
Even so, he was winning. Every clean attempt they made was met with precision. He absorbed what he had to, deflected what he could. The bruises on his body were placed where they did not hinder movement. Shoulder, Rib, which was a rather good hit, he'd admit. Outer thigh, nothing vital, and mostly nothing that would hinder him.
He stepped back again, drawing a slow breath through his nose. "I am not sure what I expected," he muttered, almost to himself.
They did not respond. They were watching him now, more cautious than before. "It is clear you are not winning this," he continued evenly. "Save yourselves some dignity. I will give you an out. If only so I can end this."
Gajeel shifted his stance, jaw tight, but didn't rise to the bait.
"You outnumber me. That alone can overwhelm even someone stronger than you. But only if you use it properly."
"You talk too much," Gajeel muttered, though there wasn't much bite behind it.
"And you don't think enough," Aelius replied simply.
Gajeel moved first. He came in from the front again, which looked like the same mistake as before, the same direct approach that had gotten him knocked aside half a dozen times already. Aelius stepped in to meet him, already turning his body to deflect the incoming strike, his fist snapping out toward Gajeel's shoulder where he'd found a weak point in the rhythm.
Levy moved at the same moment. Not toward Aelius, but past him. Her foot slid in the mud and nearly gave out, but she caught herself on Gajeel's back as she passed, using the momentum more than the strength in her leg. Aelius's strike landed, but not clean. Gajeel twisted with it instead of resisting, taking the blow across the muscle instead of the joint, and his other arm came around low, aiming not for Aelius's torso but his legs.
Aelius shifted back, avoiding the worst of it, but it forced him to move. Levy didn't attack with the slight opening. Instead, focusing on misdirection. She grabbed a fistful of his cloak and pulled. Not hard enough to drag him down, not even close, but sharp and sudden and exactly at the moment he tried to step again. The fabric went taut for half a second, just long enough to interrupt the motion.
Gajeel's elbow came up from below and slammed into Aelius's ribs. A clean hit, not a very strong one. But it landed.
Aelius exhaled sharply through his nose as he twisted, his hand snapping down and catching Gajeel's wrist before a second strike could follow. His other arm pulled free from the cloak with a sharp motion that nearly dragged Levy off her feet, but she let go before it could.
"Better," Aelius said quietly. He drove his knee forward into Gajeel's thigh, forcing the iron slayer back a step, then another as Aelius followed with a palm strike to the chest that sent him sliding through the mud. Pushing back hard enough to break the rhythm again.
Levy tried to circle, but Aelius turned with her, one hand adjusting the sleeve of his cloak where she had grabbed it.
"You almost had something there," he continued, voice steady despite the heavier breathing now. "Front and back pressure. Disruption before impact. That's how numbers work."
Gajeel came in again anyway. Slower than before, bruised arms raised, every movement carrying the weight of accumulating damage. Aelius met him halfway, their forearms colliding with a dull thud, and for a moment they just pushed against each other, boots sliding slightly in the wet ground.
"You're still thinking like a brawler," Aelius said. "You're not here to win alone."
Levy moved again, this time lower, aiming for Aelius's ankle. Not a kick, not really, more of a shove with her foot meant to break balance instead of bone.
Aelius stepped over it, but again he had to step, and had to adjust, had to move where they wanted him instead of where he wanted to be.
And despite himself, despite the fatigue tugging at his focus as he kept his magic suppressed, despite the growing ache in his arms and the dull throb where that earlier elbow had landed, there was the faintest hint of approval in his posture.
His foot slid forward across the damp ground, smooth and controlled, barely disturbing the thin layer of water pooled over the mud. He drove a punch toward Gajeel's face, the strike clean and obvious, telegraphed in a way that almost felt insulting. Gajeel saw it coming a mile away and shifted to meet it instead of avoiding it, his shoulders tightening as he prepared to answer force with force.
Aelius pulled the punch a hair short and twisted his body instead, the motion flowing into a sharp strike that cracked into Gajeel's ribs. He stepped back before Gajeel could properly retaliate, boots making a quiet sucking sound as the mud resisted and then released him.
"It's a cliché," Aelius said calmly. "One I'm sure Levy knows." His head tilted slightly toward her before turning back to Gajeel. "Still not sure if you know what a book is, but try to keep up."
Gajeel snarled, already moving in again, but Aelius continued speaking like they were standing around a guild hall instead of trading blows in the middle of the marsh.
"Come at me like you're trying to kill me," he said. "Right now, you're holding back without even realizing it. Pulling your strikes. Hesitating. Thinking about the rules, about the test, about what happens after."
Gajeel swung, harder this time, faster. Aelius leaned aside just enough for the fist to pass his face, close enough that the air shifted against his mask.
"I promise you something," Aelius continued, voice steady even as he moved. "Without magic, you can't." He stepped inside Gajeel's reach and drove his palm up under the dragon slayer's chin, snapping his head back before following with a sharp kick to the knee. Not enough to break it, just enough to force him off balance. Gajeel staggered a step, boots digging trenches into the wet ground as he caught himself.
Aelius did not press the advantage. He just watched them again, eyes steady behind the mask, posture loose like none of this required effort.
"Better," he said, watching as they came at him again.
Gajeel was already moving, shoulders low and heavy as he lined up another punch, the kind meant to drive straight through a guard instead of around it. Aelius shifted to meet it, already deciding whether he would block, deflect, or simply slip to the side and let the iron dragon slayer overextend.
He didn't get the chance because Levy had moved first. She threw herself forward without hesitation, diving low and crashing into his leg with every bit of weight she could throw behind it. Her shoulder struck just above the knee, arms wrapping tight as she drove through him instead of away.
Someone weaker might have heard a bone crack. Aelius did not. But the force still hit like a battering ram, unexpected and perfectly timed. His balance broke for a split second as his planted foot slid through the slick mud beneath him, the swampy ground offering no resistance at all.
That single instant was all Gajeel needed. The dragon slayer's fist came in hard and fast, all solid muscle behind it, and it connected clean with Aelius's chin before he could fully recover. The impact snapped his head to the side with a dull crack, the sound carrying through the wet stillness of the swamp.
Aelius stumbled back a step. Then another. His heel sank into the sludge, and he caught himself before he could fall, one hand coming down briefly against the ground to steady himself while Levy finally released his leg and rolled away before he
Levy moved the moment the opening appeared. Aelius had turned just enough while dealing with Gajeel that his side was exposed for half a heartbeat, and she lunged in with a quick, sharp strike aimed for his ribs, her smaller frame letting her slip through the shifting mud faster than most people would manage. Aelius saw the motion late, his attention still on Gajeel's arms, and for a brief moment it looked like she might actually land it clean. His body twisted instinctively, shoulder rolling back, the punch glancing instead of driving fully in, but the force still hit him hard enough to shift his stance. He could have grabbed her wrist in that moment if he wanted to, could have locked her arm and ended her part in the fight right there, but when he attempted to, she used the mud to slip, literally away. That miss gave Gajeel all the room he needed.
The dragon slayer stepped forward like a battering ram, finally given space to move. His fists came down in a relentless rain of blows, each one fast and heavy, the kind of strikes that would have crushed bone against anyone who tried to take them head-on. Aelius raised his own forearms, absorbing the impacts as best he could. Each hit cracked against his guard with dull thuds that echoed through the wet clearing, his boots sliding inches at a time as the mud tried to swallow his footing. The pressure forced him back several steps, Gajeel pressing forward without hesitation now that he had momentum.
Aelius could not help the quiet laugh that slipped through his mask. This was honestly fun. They weren't bad. Not even close to bad. What they lacked was not skill but intent, and now that Gajeel had committed, that hesitation had finally disappeared. The dragon slayer fought like someone used to dragging enemies down through sheer stubborn endurance, hammering forward until the other side collapsed first. It was familiar territory. In a lot of ways, their styles overlapped more than either of them probably liked to admit. Gajeel ironically fought like iron that refused to bend. Aelius fought like a plague that refused to end. One endured by being too hard to break. The other endured because anything broken simply knit itself back together.
Gajeel threw a wide hook meant to cave in Aelius's guard. Aelius shifted his stance half a step and caught the strike on his forearm, letting the force travel through his body instead of stopping it outright. The next punch followed immediately, then another, the rhythm brutal and relentless.
But the flurry had a pattern. Aelius caught it quickly. When Gajeel's left came in again, Aelius moved with it instead of against it. His arm shot forward, redirecting the strike just enough to throw the rhythm off. Gajeel's shoulder twisted slightly too far as his momentum carried him past the point he expected. The opening appeared instantly.
Aelius used it to step in. His forehead slammed forward before Gajeel could recover. The impact rang through the clearing with a harsh crack as mask met skull. For a split second, the world felt like it vibrated. Gajeel, for his part, did not drop. He barely even staggered. Instead, the dragon slayer leaned into it. His skull drove forward again, meeting Aelius's mask head on with a second, even louder crack that echoed across the swampy clearing like someone splitting stone with a hammer. The sound alone would have made most people recoil.
Aelius actually rocked back a step from that one.
Gajeel grinned through the pain, teeth bared, eyes sharp with something that looked a lot closer to real excitement now. "Yeah," he muttered, voice rough. "Now this feels like a fight."
Aelius's mask slipped from his face just as he ducked backward under Gajeel's next punch. His left hand shot out instinctively, grabbing Levy's arm as she tried to circle around him, while his other hand reached to catch the mask before it could hit the mud. He missed.
Gajeel saw the distraction immediately and used it. The dragon slayer's foot slammed into Aelius's right leg, right at the moment his balance was already compromised. With the ground slick beneath him and his weight shifting the wrong way, his footing gave out completely.
He went down onto his back with a heavy splash of mud and water. The mask landed beside him. Why did it slip?
The mask's sticking enchantment only worked when the wearer channeled the lightest amount of magic through it. Normally, that was effortless, not even noticeable. But Aelius had already been pushing himself. He was suppressing his healing, forcing it down and holding it back while they fought. Keeping that under control was taking more concentration than he had expected, and the thin thread of magic that kept the mask fixed in place had faded with it.
So here they were. Flat on his back in the mud. Aelius didn't waste time thinking about it. He twisted and hurled Levy sideways toward Gajeel, using the momentum of the throw to roll onto one knee. The sudden movement forced Gajeel to catch her instead of pressing forward, and that moment was enough.
Aelius pushed off the ground and jumped back several paces, boots skidding slightly before he settled into a crouch. Then he stood. Across from him, Gajeel was grinning wider now. Levy looked surprised for a second before she realized why. Then she started smiling too.
"You can smile, pus ball," Gajeel said.
That actually made Aelius pause; his hand slowly rose to his face, and his fingers brushed across his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. He stopped, and he was smiling. He couldn't even tell when it had started. Whether it was genuine, something pulled out of him by the fight, or just some reflex he hadn't noticed building until now. Maybe both. His hand dropped back to his side. "...I guess I am."
They came in again, intent on using the distraction. This time, they split without saying a word. Gajeel moved left, heavy steps tearing through the mud as he aimed straight for Aelius again, while Levy darted in the opposite direction, circling to close the gap from the side.
Aelius watched them for a moment. Then he raised one hand. The gesture looked casual, almost lazy, more like someone asking for a pause than someone preparing to defend themselves. It didn't actually stop them. Gajeel didn't slow down, nor did Levy.
They both came in at the same time. Gajeel's fist drove forward toward Aelius's chest while Levy lunged in from the side, striking low toward his ribs. Their blows landed. But the impact didn't reach him. Both strikes slammed into an invisible surface a few inches from his body with a dull, solid thud, like punching a thick wall of glass.
An aegis. Aelius hadn't even moved. The barrier shimmered faintly where their fists hit it before fading back into nothing. "You pass." His voice was calm, almost bored, like he was announcing the result of a simple test. "Congratulations, Gajeel."
He lowered his hand slightly, glancing between the two of them. "You pointing out my smile shocked me enough that I lost my concentration." He tilted his head a little, letting them see his face clearly now without the mask. The bruise on his chin from Gajeel's earlier punch was already gone. "Cheap," he continued. "But it still counts." He straightened, brushing some of the mud from his sleeve.
"In a real fight, if someone hesitates because you said something stupid or unexpected, you take the opening." His eyes settled on Gajeel again. "In life or death, there's no such thing as honor." For a moment, the swamp was quiet again.
Then Aelius stepped forward, crouching to pick up the fallen mask from the mud beside him. He turned it in his hand, wiping the worst of the dirt away with his thumb before looking back up at them. "You worked together," he added. "You forced my footing, created openings, and actually used them."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Levy. "And you stopped thinking like a spectator." Then back to Gajeel. "And you stopped swinging like a drunk in a tavern." A small pause followed. Aelius looked at them for another moment, then turned away. "Follow me," he said, starting to walk through the marsh again. His boots pulled free of the mud with quiet, wet sounds as he moved toward a narrow path that cut through the reeds. "I'll take you to the next area."
He glanced over his shoulder briefly. "There are magic showers set up there, so you can clean the mud off." Gajeel snorted behind him, looking down at the mess covering his arms and clothes before starting after him anyway. Levy followed too, carefully stepping where the ground looked a little more stable.
"Thank Master for actually caring about comfort," Aelius added, brushing a bit of drying mud from his sleeve as he walked.
The ground stayed thick and wet for a short while longer, reeds brushing against their legs as the swamp stretched on around them. The air was still heavy, the smell of stagnant water clinging to everything.
Then they passed through the edge of Aelius's ward. It wasn't visible. There was no flash of light, no ripple in the air, nothing dramatic at all. But the change was immediate. The swamp simply… vanished. The heavy, suffocating humidity disappeared as if someone had opened a door. The mud beneath their boots gave way to dry earth and grass, the crooked trees replaced by normal forest growth. The buzzing insects faded, replaced by the quiet rustling of leaves in a light breeze.
Behind them, the marsh still existed within the boundary of the ward, but beyond it, the land looked completely untouched. Aelius continued walking without reacting to the shift. He had simply removed his influence from the land as they left. The artificial swamp would fade on its own now. The water would drain, the soil would settle, and within a few days, it would return to normal.
After about five minutes of walking through the forest path, the camp came into view. It was simple.
Really just a small cantina built from rough wood and stone, with a single narrow building set a little ways off to the side. Nothing elaborate, nothing fortified. Just something practical set up in the middle of the clearing.
There was no need for tents on Tenrou. At least, not as far as Aelius could tell.
He had spent enough time moving through the island to notice something strange about it. The place didn't feel hostile. No predators lurking in the brush atleast this close to the edge, which meant sleeping under a roof was mostly a matter of comfort rather than survival.
Aelius lifted a hand and pointed lazily toward the smaller building. "Go." His tone was casual, like the whole thing barely required explanation. "Showers are in there."
Gajeel looked over at it, then down at himself again, mud still clinging to his arms and clothes. "…About damn time," he muttered. Levy gave a small, relieved laugh, already starting toward the building.
Aelius stayed where he was, standing near the edge of the clearing. His attention drifted toward the forest path they had come from, like he was half expecting the others to appear at any moment. "The others should arrive soon," he said. Then he shrugged slightly. "I'll be around…" There was a small pause. "…probably." Another beat passed. "Maybe."
But for once, he actually meant it. Aelius didn't feel like wandering anywhere. Mainly because the moment he stopped suppressing his magic, the headache came back.
It wasn't crippling, not with the small amount of magic he was letting circulate now, but it was there. A dull pressure sitting behind his eyes, accompanied by that same faint ringing in his ears he'd dealt with back in Edolas. The exact same symptoms.
Back then, he'd assumed it was the strange environment, the world's lack of natural magic interfering with how his power worked. But Tenrou was the opposite of that. Magic was dense here. Stronger than any place he had felt before. And completely natural on top of it.
And yet the reaction was still happening. Aelius pressed two fingers lightly against his temple for a moment before lowering his hand again. Complaining about it wouldn't fix anything. Makarov should be somewhere on the island.
Most likely at Mavis's grave. That was where the old man tended to go whenever he had a quiet moment on Tenrou. Aelius didn't blame him. If the founder of the guild had a resting place here, it made sense for the current master to visit it. Still, the fights should be wrapping up soon. Makarov wouldn't make the others wait once things finished.
So Aelius would just ask him then. If anyone might have some obscure piece of knowledge about magic behaving strangely on Tenrou, it would probably be the old man.
And if somehow Makarov didn't know… Aelius exhaled slowly. Then he'd ask Vanessa once he got back to the mainland. If anyone else had ever experienced something like this, headaches, ringing, their magic reacting oddly to the environment, she might have heard about it somewhere.
Until then, he'd just deal with it. However, it wasn't like he had any choice in the matter.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. In fact, the other two were still cleaning up when Makarov wandered back into the clearing. The old man walked slowly, hands resting behind his back, the way he often did when he was thinking about something. His eyes swept over the camp before landing on Aelius.
Their gazes met. Makarov adjusted course and walked straight toward him. "I see you're done first," the master said, his brows pulling together in a mild frown. He stopped a few steps away and sighed. "Now I owe Gildarts a hundred jewels." He shook his head. "You couldn't have taken it slow for once?"
Aelius was not amused. For once, his face was completely visible. His mask still sat nearby, streaked with mud from the fight, and he hadn't bothered putting it back on yet. No point dirtying his face again just to wear something that needed cleaning. Which meant his expression was perfectly clear. Flat and very, very unimpressed.
"Oh no," Aelius said blandly, his voice carrying absolutely zero sympathy. "The Wizard Saint with a salary bigger than half of Magnolia combined loses a little bit in a bet that was destined to fail."
Makarov's mustache twitched slightly. But Aelius continued before the master could respond. "I need to ask you a question." His tone shifted just a little, still calm, but more focused now, direct as he always was.
"When I was in Edolas, I started getting headaches when I used magic." He lifted a hand briefly toward his temple. "Pressure behind the eyes. Ringing in the ears."
Makarov's expression sharpened immediately. Aelius went on now that he had the man's attention. "I assumed it was because Edolas barely has any natural magic, so my body reacting poorly made sense." He gestured vaguely around them. "But Tenrou is the opposite of that."
Aelius folded his arms loosely. "So either I'm missing something obvious…" His eyes settled on the old man. "…or something about my magic isn't behaving the way it should." A short pause followed. "You've been around longer than….basically everyone. ever." Aelius added. "Have you ever heard of something like that?"
Makarov's expression darkened as Aelius finished. The old man didn't answer right away. He stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, brows drawn together as if he were digging through memories he would rather leave buried. The silence stretched longer than Aelius expected. "…there might be… something," Makarov said at last. His voice was quieter now. "It's a Dragon Slayer thing. But it's possible… likely even… that God Slayers might have their own version."
Aelius felt his patience drop a little. "Why do I get the feeling there's no version of this I'm going to like?" he said flatly.
Makarov walked over and lowered himself onto the bench beside him. "If it's what I think it is," the master replied, reaching somewhere inside his coat, "you won't." He pulled out a bottle. He uncorked it with his teeth and took a long pull straight from it before speaking again.
"I did my research when Laxus was implanted with his Lightning Dragon Lacrima." The bottle lowered slightly as he stared out across the clearing. "There's a condition. Rare… but not unheard of." He took another drink, slower this time. "It only shows up when the user is strong enough… and pushes themselves far enough."
Aelius didn't like where this was going already.
Makarov exhaled slowly. "They undergo a transformation." The word sat heavily in the air. "Dragonfication the texts called it." He paused, then tipped the bottle again, draining nearly half of it in one go before continuing. "The more they use that kind of magic… the more it changes them." His eyes shifted toward Aelius. "Their body starts adapting to the power."
Another quiet moment passed. For a moment, the only sound in the clearing was the faint rustle of leaves moving through the trees. Aelius didn't react right away. He just sat there, staring ahead like he was waiting for the punchline that hadn't arrived yet.
Then he exhaled slowly. "…Master, don't joke with me, please." He said it casually, almost lightly, like he genuinely believed the old man was messing with him. Like this was just another one of those exaggerated warnings older mages liked to throw at younger ones.
But his voice was wrong. It lacked the dry edge he normally carried. There was something tight beneath it, something strained. Aelius leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees while rubbing his fingers together, as if he were thinking through the idea and already dismissing it.
"That doesn't even make sense," he continued. "Dragon Slayer magic came from dragons. It imitates them, sure, but actually turning someone into one?" He shook his head once. "That sounds like a bad legend someone made up to scare apprentices."
Makarov didn't laugh. That was the problem. Aelius slowly turned his head and looked at him. The master's expression hadn't changed. Still grim and still tired. Still very, very serious.
And that was enough to make the uneasy feeling in Aelius's chest sink deeper. His fingers stopped moving. "…You're serious." The words came out quieter this time. Not as a question. More like a realization he didn't want to acknowledge.
His gaze drifted down toward the ground as the dull pressure behind his eyes pulsed again. The faint ringing in his ears followed it like an echo.
Aelius leaned back slightly, dragging a hand down his face. "…Right," he muttered under his breath. "Right," Aelius muttered again, the word coming out hollow this time. "That's how my life is going to go." The attempt at dry humor didn't land. It barely even sounded like him.
"Aelius…" Makarov said slowly. The old man reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Aelius didn't just flinch. He shoved the hand away. "Don't," he snapped. The word came out sharper than anything he had said during the entire conversation. Then, quieter this time, strained and uneven "Don't…"
Something slid down his face. Warm. Wet. For a moment, he didn't even register it. Then he did. He was crying. That realization alone made his stomach twist.
"Aelius?" a voice said from behind him. Levy. Of course it was. They must have finished cleaning up. Perfect timing.
Aelius let out a short laugh, the sound coming out crooked and automatic, like his brain had defaulted to the only defense it knew. "Great," he said, wiping roughly at his face with the back of his hand. "Let's make it a show." He gestured vaguely at himself without turning around.
"Why… why are you crying?" Levy's voice came from behind him again. It was thick with concern, but there was something else buried in it, too. Fear, fear he hoped, was because of the fact he was crying, and not of him, though he wouldn't blame her.
Aelius wiped at his face again, more roughly this time, like he could erase the evidence if he tried hard enough. "No reason," he said, letting out another short laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Just a fun conversation." He leaned back slightly on the bench, staring up toward the sky through the canopy.
"You know. The usual." His hand gestured vaguely in the air. "About how everyone I've ever loved will die eventually, leaving me alone for eternity." His tone was still light. "How all the progress I've made in life apparently means nothing." He shrugged weakly. "How every single one of you who tried to help me has basically just been wasting your time."
Levy didn't say anything. Neither did Makarov. So Aelius took it as a sign to keep going. "And how the one thing I've been running from my entire life apparently always comes back around." His voice cracked just slightly on that one. He laughed again to cover it. "And now, according to the universe, I'm apparently my grandfather's replacement." He looked down at his hands. "To rule over abominations," he muttered. "Disgusting lands full of pus and plague."
A small, humorless smile crept onto his face. "Real inspiring future." His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "So yeah," he finished quietly. "No reason."
The humor snapped the moment he finished speaking. Aelius's hands slammed down on the table in front of him with explosive force. The thick plank split apart under the impact, splinters bursting outward as the entire table collapsed into a mess of broken boards and jagged fragments. The sound cracked through the clearing, loud enough that birds in the nearby trees scattered into the air.
"Every. Damn. Time." Aelius's voice shook as the words came out, like he was holding something back with everything he had. "I told you, Master," he continued, breathing harder now. "Every time I get close to something. Every time I get better… this happens." His hands were still planted in the wreckage of the table, knuckles white, pieces of wood digging into his palms. If it hurt, he didn't show it.
"I move forward, I fix something, I think maybe for once I'm not the walking disaster everyone expects…" He let out a strained laugh that broke halfway through. "And then the universe reminds me exactly what I am."
Levy had frozen where she stood. She had never seen him like this before. Not the calm, composed Aelius who always seemed to have some detached answer to everything. Not the sarcastic one who brushed things off like nothing, touched him. Even his few outbursts never seemed this….this.
She took a small step forward, hesitant but determined. "Aelius… that's not—"
"It is," he cut in sharply, though the anger in his voice wasn't directed at her. "Look at the pattern."
He finally lifted his hands from the destroyed table and pushed himself to his feet, pacing a few steps away like he physically couldn't stay still. "My magic shows up and what happens?" he continued bitterly. "Entire regions rot. Creatures turn into walking diseases. People look at me like I'm the start of the next apocalypse." He gestured vaguely toward himself. "My own grandfather was literally a god of rot and monsters. So what do I get?"
His laugh came out rough. "The same damn thing apparently." Levy shook her head quickly, stepping closer despite the tension in the air. "You don't know that," she said firmly. "Makarov said it was a possibility, not a guarantee—" "Dragonfication isn't exactly a comforting word, Levy," Aelius interrupted, rubbing a hand over his face again. "Godification in this context."
Makarov had remained seated through the outburst. The old master watched quietly, the bottle still hanging loosely in his hand. His eyes moved between the two younger mages, but he didn't interrupt right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but heavy. "You're jumping to the end of the road without even walking the first steps."
Aelius turned toward him sharply. "You just said the magic turns them into dragons."
"I said it can," Makarov corrected. The distinction hung in the air. The old man took another slow drink before setting the bottle down beside him.
"Dragon Slayers who undergo that transformation are the ones who lose control," Makarov continued. "The ones who drown themselves in the magic without understanding it. They push their bodies past what they can handle."
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly. For a second, it looked like he might argue. Instead, he lifted both hands in front of him. Then he snapped one of his fingers backward. The joint bent the wrong direction with a sickening crunch.
Levy gasped, and Makarov's eyes narrowed.
The injury itself lasted less than a heartbeat. Aelius's magic reacted instantly. The finger straightened as bone and tissue knit back together, the damage vanishing as if it had never existed. But the moment it healed, the buzzing returned. That faint, high ringing behind his ears. The pressure behind his eyes is tightening again.
Aelius let his hand drop slowly. "How," he asked quietly, "is something this small past what I can handle?" He flexed the finger once, testing it as if to prove the point. "I hope—" he exhaled through his nose "—I'd even pray you're wrong, Master." His gaze drifted downward. "But what else is there—" The crack of the slap cut him off.
Levy had stepped forward without him noticing. Her hand collided with the side of his face with a sharp, brutal sound. The small ring he had given her struck his cheekbone as well, the metal turning the slap into something much closer to a punch.
Aelius's head snapped to the side. For a second, the entire clearing froze. Levy stood there, her arm still extended from the strike, breathing hard. Her eyes were bright with anger.
"Stop it," she said. Her voice trembled, but it wasn't weak. You're acting like it's already decided."
Aelius slowly turned his head back toward her. The mark from the ring had already begun fading as his magic repaired the damage, but the shock of it lingered in his expression.
Levy stepped closer instead of backing away. "You broke your own finger just to prove a point," she continued, her voice rising slightly. "Do you hear how insane that sounds?"
Aelius didn't answer.
"You keep talking like everything is hopeless," she pressed on. "Like you're already doomed to become some monster ruling over plagues." Her fists clenched at her sides. "But you're the one who taught us the opposite." That made him pause. "You literally spent the last hour telling us survival is about adapting," she said. "About not giving up just because the situation is bad."\ Her voice cracked slightly now. "And the moment something scares you, you decide it's fate?"
Gajeel snorted as he appeared from the side. "She's got a point," he muttered. Aelius shot him a look. Gajeel shrugged it off. "What? You break your own hand to make a speech and expect us to nod along?"
Levy didn't take her eyes off Aelius. "You're not alone," she said again, more quietly this time. "You keep acting like you are, but you're not."
Behind them, Makarov watched the scene unfold with a tired sort of patience. The old master rubbed his chin slowly before speaking again.
"Aelius," he said.
The younger mage finally looked at him.
"You just proved my point."
Aelius frowned slightly.
"You hurt yourself," Makarov continued, "and your magic reacted instantly. It healed you." He gestured lightly toward Aelius's hand. "That reaction is automatic. Powerful. Aggressive." His gaze hardened. "But power reacting doesn't mean you're controlling it." The words hung in the air. "You're testing the limits like this is some kind of experiment," Makarov said. "But that's exactly how people end up pushing too far."
Aelius didn't immediately argue this time. Levy's hand slowly lowered back to her side. The clearing was quiet again, except for the distant rustling of trees.
Finally, Gajeel broke the silence.
"…Still though," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
He glanced between the broken table, Aelius's face, and Levy's still-tense posture.
"Man, this got dramatic fast."