The sound was rhythmic, heavy, and echoed with a dull thud that vibrated through the soles of his feet.
CLANG.
In the backyard of a modest, two-story house on the outskirts of Magnolia, Blake Corvus was at war with a cube. It was a solid block of iron, sitting on a reinforced pedestal.
Blake stood before it, shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin under the morning sun. A year had passed since he had woken up from his two-year coma. Three years since the island.
He wasn't the skeleton he had been when he first opened his eyes in Porlyusica's hut. The hollow cheeks were filled out, the ribs were no longer visible through the skin, and the muscles had returned. But he wasn't the monster of Tenrou Island yet. He was, by his own estimation, at about fifty percent of his peak physique. His body was lean, like a whipcord, rather than the dense wall of muscle he used to be.
He used pure physical force.
He planted his feet, twisted his hips, and threw a straight right.
CRUNCH.
His fist sank an inch into the metal. The cube groaned.
Blake pulled his hand back, shaking it out. His knuckles were red, but unbroken.
" getting there," he muttered to himself, inspecting the dent. It was the deepest one yet. "Speed is back to 70%. Power is at 50%. Durability... well, I haven't let anyone hit me with a truck yet, so who knows."
He wiped his forehead with a towel draped over a nearby bench. He looked at his hands. For a long time, he feared the nerve damage was permanent. But the human body—and especially a wizard's body—was a miraculous thing. With the help of Wendy's periodic treatments and his own stubborn refusal to stay down, he was a warrior again.
He looked up at the house. His house.
But the house wasn't just his.
He smiled softly, hearing the faint sound of music coming from the kitchen window.
Cana and Mirajane had moved in.
It hadn't been a dramatic conversation. It just... happened. During the first few months of rehab, they stayed over so often that it became pointless for them to leave. Toothbrushes appeared in the bathroom. Clothes filled the spare closets. Then, one day, Cana just brought her entire liquor cabinet over, and Mira redecorated the living room, and that was that. They were a unit. A domestic team forged in the fire of near-death experiences.
Blake's smile twitched slightly as he remembered the one hurdle that had terrified him more than Acnologia:
Gildarts Clive.
Flashback: Six Months Ago
The memory was vivid. Blake had been in the living room, folding laundry, when the front door had been kicked open.
Gildarts stood there, filling the frame, his aura wild and unchecked. He had just returned from a century quest attempt, or maybe just a long walk, and he had heard the rumors.
Cana is living with Blake. And Mira is there too.
Blake had frozen, holding a pair of Cana's shorts. He expected a "Crash" magic punch that would turn him into confetti.
"Gildarts," Blake had said, trying to summon his S-Class dignity while holding laundry. "Welcome back."
Gildarts walked in, his heavy boots thumping on the floor. He looked around the house. He saw Mira's apron hanging on the hook. He saw Cana's cards on the table. He saw the domesticity of it all.
He walked up to Blake. He loomed over him.
Blake braced himself. Here it comes. The shovel talk to end all shovel talks.
Gildarts placed a massive hand on Blake's shoulder.
"You good to her?" Gildarts asked. His voice was low, rumbling like tectonic plates.
"I am," Blake replied, meeting his eyes. "I care about them more than my own life."
Gildarts stared at him for a long, agonizing minute. Then, the tension vanished. The Ace of Fairy Tail let out a long sigh and slumped his shoulders.
"I know," Gildarts grunted.
"You... do?"
"I saw them," Gildarts said quietly, looking away, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "When you were sleeping. For those two years. I visited the hut. I saw how they looked at you. I saw Cana... she stopped drinking for weeks just to stay alert by your bedside. I saw Mira crying while she changed your bandages."
Gildarts looked back at Blake.
"I'm her father, Blake. But I wasn't there for most of her life. You were. And when you were dying, she broke. Now that you're back... she's whole again."
Gildarts patted Blake's shoulder, hard enough to bruise, but affectionate.
"If they chose you, then who am I to argue? Just... don't die on them again. I don't think they can handle it twice."
"I promise," Blake had said, stunned.
"Good." Gildarts grinned, his usual goofy demeanor returning. "Now, you got any beer in this fancy house? I'm parched."
The Present
Blake shook the memory off. He was lucky. Incredibly lucky.
He grabbed his shirt and walked towards the back door.
The world outside had kept turning while he rebuilt himself. The Grand Magic Games had concluded just last week.
It was the second year of the tournament. The first year, Fairy Tail had dominated to reclaim their title. This year, however, Master Makarov had decided to hold back the "Monster Trio" (Natsu, Gray, Gajeel) and the S-Class mages to give the younger generation a chance to shine.
They fought bravely and came in 3rd position, but the victor this year had been Mermaid Heel.
Under the leadership of Ultear Milkovich, the all-female guild had been unstoppable. Blake had watched the broadcast.
Blake opened the screen door and stepped into the cool air of the house.
"I'm home," he called out, though he had only been ten yards away.
"Kitchen!" A cheerful voice responded.
Blake walked down the hallway, the smell of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee hitting him. It was the best smell in the world.
He leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.
It was a scene of perfect, chaotic harmony.
Mirajane was at the stove, wearing a light blue apron over a casual sundress. Her white hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands falling over her face as she expertly flipped an omelet. She was humming a tune.
At the small wooden dining table sat Cana. She was wearing one of Blake's oversized t-shirts and shorts, her brown hair a bird's nest of bedhead.
In her right hand was a fork. In her left hand was a frosty mug of beer.
"Morning, sunshine," Cana grinned, saluting him with the beer. "You were hitting that block hard today. I could feel the vibrations in my cereal."
"Morning, love," Blake retorted, walking over and kissing the top of her messy head. "Beer? It's 9:00 AM."
"It's 5:00 PM somewhere in Fiore," Cana shrugged, taking a swig. "Besides, it's a recovery drink. Carbs."
"Grab a plate, Blake!" Mira called out, not turning around as she plated the eggs. "Everything is ready."
Blake nodded. He went to the cabinet, grabbed a white ceramic plate, and walked over to the stove. Mira turned, smiling brightly. She placed a massive portion of fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, and toast onto his plate.
"Eat up," she said, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "You need the protein. You're building muscle."
"Thanks, Mira. Smells amazing."
He sat down opposite Cana. The three of them fell into a comfortable rhythm. For ten minutes, the only sounds were forks scraping plates and the casual banter of a family.
"lake chewed and swallowed. He set his fork down. The atmosphere shifted slightly. He had been planning this for a week.
"So," Blake started.
Both women looked up instantly. They knew that tone.
"I'm at 50%," Blake said, flexing his hand on the table. "My stamina is back. My core is stable. The doctor cleared me last week."
He looked at them.
"I'm going to the guild today. To take a quest. An active one."
Silence hung in the air for a second.
Cana lowered her beer. Mira set down her tea cup.
A year ago, this announcement would have been met with panic. Six months ago, with hesitation.
But today?
Cana smirked. "About damn time. You were starting to get restless. I could hear you pacing at night."
Mira's smile was soft, supportive. "Do you have a specific rank in mind?"
"A-Rank," Blake said. "Something solid. A monster hunt. I need to test my durability in a real fight, not just against a metal cube."
"A-Rank is good," Mira nodded, her eyes analyzing him with S-Class precision. "It's dangerous, but well within your capabilities even at half strength. Just... don't overdo it. No Dragon Kings today, okay?"
"I promise. No Dragons. Just maybe a Wyvern or a Vulcan."
"Good," Cana stood up, stretching her arms over her head, the shirt riding up. "Then let's go. I need to refill my supply at the guild hall anyway. We're out of the good whiskey."
Twenty minutes later, they were ready. Blake was dressed in his signature look—black combat trousers, a fitted grey shirt that showed off his returning physique, and a high-collared black coat. Tensa Zangetsu hung at his hip, the chain clinking softly.
They walked out to the garage.
Blake pressed a button on a lacrima key fob.
The garage door rolled up, revealing the beast sleeping inside.
"I still think you love this car more than us," Cana teased, opening the passenger door.
"It's a close contest," Blake quipped, sliding into the driver's seat.
"I heard that!" Mira called from the back seat, leaning forward between them.
Blake ignited the engine. The dashboard lit up with blue runes.
He backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching on gravel.
"Next stop: Fairy Tail."
The drive to the guild was smooth. The wind whipped through the open windows. Blake drove with one hand on the wheel, his arm resting on the door. He felt a sense of freedom he hadn't felt in years. He wasn't a patient anymore. He was a wizard on his way to work.
They drove through the bustling streets of Magnolia.
Blake pulled up to the guild hall, parking in a designated spot near the side entrance.
---
The moment they stepped out of the car, the noise hit them.
Fairy Tail was never quiet. Even from outside, the sound of laughter, breaking furniture, and Natsu screaming was audible.
Blake took a deep breath. "Smells like home."
"Smells like spilled ale and sweat," Cana corrected, linking her arm through his.
"Same thing," Mira smiled, taking his other arm.
They walked in as a trio.
The double doors swung open.
"WE'RE HERE!" Cana shouted, announcing their arrival.
The chaos paused for a beat.
"Blake!"
"Mira-nee!"
"Cana!"
Master Makarov was sitting on the bar counter, drinking from a tankard that was bigger than his head. He looked at Blake. His eyes crinkled with warmth.
"You look sturdy, brat," Makarov grunted. "Ready to earn your keep?"
"Bills are piling up, Master," Blake nodded.
Blake gently extricated himself from the girls. "Drinks are on me later. I have business with the board."
"Go get 'em, tiger," Cana winked, heading straight for the bar. Mira went behind the counter to help Kinana.
Blake walked up to the Request Board on the second floor—S-Class mages usually stuck to the second floor, but he went to the main board first. He scanned the flyers.
Lost Cat - D Rank.
Bandit Subjugation - C Rank.
Volcanic Beast Hunting - B Rank.
His eyes settled on a parchment near the top.
URGENT: Armored Behemoth Terrorizing Mining Town.
Rank: A
Target: An Ancient Iron-Hide Bear.
Reward: 500,000 Jewels.
Location: Mt. Krosen.
"Iron-Hide Bear," Blake muttered. "High physical defense. aggressive. Good for testing penetration power."
He ripped the flyer off the board.
It felt good. The paper felt crisp in his hand.
He walked back down to the bar, where Makarov was waiting. He placed the flyer on the counter.
"I'll take this one."
Makarov glanced at the request. "The Iron-Hide Bear. A nasty piece of work. Its fur repels most standard magic. You'll have to punch through it."
"That's the plan," Blake said.
Makarov stamped the paper. "Approved. Don't be reckless. If you feel your stamina dropping, you retreat. Understood?"
"Understood, Master."
Blake turned to the guild.
"Alright! I'm heading out!"
"Bring back a souvenir!" Lucy shouted from a table.
"Don't die!" Natsu yelled with a mouthful of fire.
"Good luck!" Wendy waved.
Blake walked to the door, the flyer tucked into his coat pocket. He looked back at the bar.
Mira blew him a kiss. Cana raised her mug.
He nodded to them, a silent promise. I'll be back for dinner.
He stepped out into the sunlight, the engine of the URUS waiting. The rehabilitation was over. The Hero of Tenrou was back on the hunt. And for the first time in a long time, the future wasn't a terrifying void—it was an open road.