Hey sorry for not updating, I was trying to decide on where to take the story which is straight fairy tail for a while unless Yall vote otherwise. Also you can vote for multiversal travel if you want.
Straight fairy tail
Leave to tensura early
Multiverse travel later
Please vote here to actively effect story
Varion woke before anyone else.
Not suddenly. Not gasping or shaking.
Just… awake. Quiet. Heavy in a way only grief makes you.
Anna slept beside him, her hand resting lightly near his shoulder. Natsu was curled up near Varion's arm, Wendy faintly glowing with leftover healing magic, and the other children scattered close by, breathing softly in their own little piles of warmth.
Wendy blinked awake first. "Morning, Varion…"
He managed a small, soft smile. "Morning."
He sounded tired, but not broken. Sad, but steady. The children saw someone hurting, but still himself. Still their anchor.
Sting stumbled over with messy hair, rubbing his eyes. "You slept a long time. That's good, right?"
"Yeah," Varion said gently. "I think it helped."
Natsu scooted closer. "We can hang out later… or train if you want. Only if you want, though."
Varion nodded. "I'd like that."
He wasn't pretending to be okay. He was just grieving. The kids felt that and accepted it naturally.
But dragons saw deeper.
Grandeeney felt the tremor hiding behind his calm.
Weisslogia sensed the sharpness under the sadness.
Igneel… Igneel smelled the fire and the rage.
Anna woke last, immediately searching his face. Her expression softened—and tightened—at the same time.
"You're feeling a little better," she said gently.
Varion nodded once. "A little."
It wasn't a lie.
Just not all of the truth.
Breakfast was quiet but warm. The children chatted softly around him, each trying in their own way to be supportive without overwhelming him. Varion engaged with them normally—thoughtful, kind, patient. He teased Sting, helped Wendy carry dishes, and listened to Natsu ramble about how he was going to protect him "even more now."
He thanked them. Meant it.
But Igneel never took his eyes off him.
Eventually, when the meal was done, Igneel rose and said simply, "Varion. Walk with me."
Natsu blinked. "Where are you guys going?"
Igneel's golden eyes flicked to the boy. "Just a talk."
Varion stood, brushing off dust. "I'll be back soon."
Igneel led him out of the valley, far enough that the cavern disappeared behind them. They stopped in an open stretch of rock and sparse grass—quiet, empty, safe.
Varion waited calmly, hands at his sides. "What did you want to talk about?"
Igneel lowered his head until his burning-gold eyes filled Varion's view.
"Fight me."
Varion blinked. "…What?"
"Fight me," Igneel repeated. "Now."
Varion frowned slightly. "Igneel… I'm not angry."
Igneel snorted. Smoke curled from his nostrils. "Child, your aura is screaming rage and sadness. I can not help with sadness but the rage I know how to deal with."
Varion looked down at his hands. They weren't trembling. His breathing was slow, controlled. Nothing about him looked unstable.
"I'm in control," he said quietly.
"Yes," Igneel agreed. "But you're holding too much inside. And if you do not let that burn out, it will burn through and hurt what you want to protect."
Varion didn't deny it. His jaw tightened just a little. "…I don't want to hurt anyone."
"That's why you fight me."
Varion inhaled, then exhaled. "Alright."
They stepped apart. Varion took a balanced stance—calm, defensive. Igneel nodded.
"Hit me."
Varion stepped forward and tapped Igneel's foreleg in something closer to a polite knock than a strike.
Igneel made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Pathetic."
"It was a start," Varion muttered.
"It was fear," Igneel roared in counter.
Varion's eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid."
"Then stop treating me like I'm fragile glass."
Varion's breath hitched.
So Igneel pushed harder.
"You saw your father die."
The words struck like a physical blow.
"You watched, helpless."
Varion's shoulders tightened.
"You couldn't save him."
Varion's hands curled into fists.
"And you are furious about it."
Varion finally looked up.
His voice was quiet, almost too calm. "…Stop."
"You want revenge," Igneel said, stepping forward, flames rising. "You want justice. You want to make Acnologia pay."
Varion's chest rose sharply, the first sign of breath losing its steadiness.
Varion's magic flickered—just once, like a pulse under the skin.
"Igneel," he warned softly.
Igneel struck.
A swipe of his tail—not lethal, not cruel, but powerful enough to knock Varion off his feet and send him skidding across the stone.
"Get up, fight back."
Varion stood slowly, brushing dirt from his palms.
"I'm not doing this angry," he said.
"Then you're not doing it right."
Igneel lunged.
Varion dodged cleanly and countered with a controlled burst of starlight—meant to create distance, not harm.
Igneel growled. "You're still holding back."
"You want me to lose control?" Varion snapped.
"No," Igneel said. "I want you to stop lying to yourself."
He swung again, forcing Varion into another roll.
"Let it out!"
"Igneel—!"
"LET. IT. OUT."
That broke something.
Not grief.
Not sanity.
Not calm.
The containment.
Varion lunged forward, eyes bright with starlight, fists glowing as he struck Igneel's snout with a blast powerful enough to split the stone around them.
Igneel's grin showed teeth.
"There he is."
They fought.
Not to hurt.
Not to dominate.
To burn.
To vent.
To give Varion's rage a place to live that wasn't poisoning him from the inside.
Every day for a week, he woke gentle for the children.
Ate breakfast.
Supported them.
Smiled softly.
Helped them train.
Stayed himself.
But every afternoon, he met Igneel in the clearing.
And fought.
Hard.
Precise.
Controlled.
Until the fire smothered by sadness had a place to go.
Until the rage sharpened him instead of rotting.
Until Varion learned to carry his grief without drowning in it.
By the end of the week, his strikes weren't wild. They were focused.
His breathing wasn't ragged. It was steady.
His magic wasn't unstable. It was quietly fierce.
And Igneel—watching his growth—felt both pride and sorrow.
Because the boy wasn't burning up anymore.
Anna caught Igneel alone just as he returned from another afternoon of training with Varion. She stepped into his path, arms crossed, worry etched plainly on her face.
"Igneel."
Her voice was low, sharp with concern. "What exactly are you doing with him out there? He comes back exhausted. He's fighting you, isn't he?"
Igneel huffed out a slow breath, embers drifting from his nostrils. "He is."
"Why?" Anna demanded. "He's grieving, Igneel. He needs support, not—whatever this is."
The Fire Dragon King lowered his head until his golden eyes met hers.
"It is support," he said simply. "Just… the kind he needs."
Anna frowned. "You're saying beating each other up is somehow helping him?"
Igneel's lips curled in a faint, weary smile.
"Short answer? Yes."
"Igneel—"
"It's a guy thing," he added with a shrug that could topple mountains. "Doesn't matter if the guy is human, dragon, or the son of a god. We burn things off by fighting. Anger. Guilt. Pain. It works most of the time."
Anna opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to argue with ancient draconic logic.
He softened, just slightly.
"He's not doing this out of rage. He's learning to carry it without letting it carry him. This is necessary."
Anna's posture eased—reluctantly.
"And he's doing better?" she asked quietly.
Igneel nodded. "Day by day."
She let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing. "Just… don't push him too far."
Igneel snorted softly. "I'm not stupid."
She shot him a look.
He amended quickly, "Most of the time."
Anna rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her mouth.
"Alright," she said softly. "Then… take care of him."
Igneel's voice lowered, warm and steady.
"With my life."
The training with Igneel continued every afternoon, a quiet ritual now.
Varion returned wounded and tired in a way that made his breathing lighter and his eyes clearer. The anger no longer sat in him like a stone. It burned contained, focused, directed.
The children felt the difference without understanding it.
The dragons understood it completely.
Anna saw it every time Varion sat down beside her without being asked.
By the end of the seventh day, something had shifted.
The dragons were restless.
Not anxious, not afraid they were decisive.
Like they'd been waiting for this exact balance in Varion before making their move.
That night, after the children were settled and asleep, Igneel, Weisslogia, Grandeeney, Metalicana, and Skiadrum gathered at the edge of the valley. Anna stood with them, arms folded, teeth set lightly into her lip. Varion approached quietly, drawn by the heaviness in the air.
Igneel nodded to him.
"Varion. Come here."
He did, stopping before the semicircle of dragons. Their solemn expressions told him everything:
Something final was coming.
Weisslogia spoke first, voice soft as moonlight. "The Eclipse Gate will open tomorrow."
Grandeeney added, "It is time. We cannot delay any longer."
Varion's fingers curled slightly. "You're… leaving?"
Skiadrum shook his head. "Not in the way you think."
Anna stepped forward, placing a hand on Varion's shoulder. "This is what was always meant to happen. It's what happened in the timeline I remember."
Metalicana's deep voice rumbled across the valley. "We're going to send the kids through time. To the era where magic is more abundant. It is the only way they survive long enough to stop him."
Varion felt his heartbeat slow. "…Time travel."
Igneel leaned his massive head down, warm breath brushing Varion's face. "And we must do one more thing. Something only dragons can do."
Grandeeney gave a sad smile. "The Dragon Soul Technique."
Varion's brows drew together. "What is that?"
Weisslogia answered, gentle but firm. "We must place our souls—our essence—inside the children's bodies."
Varion stiffened. "Why?"
"To keep them from becoming dragons," Igneel explained. "Children with high dragon magic risk dragonification. Without antibodies, they will lose themselves. Become beasts."
Grandeeney nodded. "Our souls will act as a counterbalance. A shield. Their bodies will learn to resist us. To resist all draconic corruption."
Metalicana huffed. "Think of it like… a vaccine. A painful one."
Skiadrum added quietly, "It is irreversible."
Varion swallowed. "…Will it hurt them?"
"No," Grandeeney assured him. "They won't even feel it."
Anna stepped closer beside him, voice soft. "But you needed to know. Because tomorrow… once they pass through the Eclipse Gate they will lose their memories, you must gather them on the other side to help guide and protect them."
The dragons all looked at him—five ancient beings bowing their heads slightly.
Not out of pity.
Out of respect.
Igneel spoke the final truth.
"We entrust them to you, Varion. They will arrive frightened, confused, and alone. You must be their guide. Their anchor. Their leader."
Varion's breath stilled for a moment, shaking at the thought of losing them too.
"They're my family," he murmured. "Of course I'll protect them."
Weisslogia smiled faintly. "We knew you'd say that."
Skiadrum's tail flicked. "Still. You deserve the full truth. You are older than them, stronger than them, and… more stable now. The week with Igneel has proven that."
Igneel grunted in agreement. "You're ready."
Varion looked at each dragon in turn.
"Will I… ever see you again?" he asked quietly.
Grandeeney hesitated. "Not in the way you know us now."
Metalicana's voice lowered. "We will still be there. In the children. In our antibodies. In every roar they learn. But these bodies… these selves… no. This is goodbye."
Grandeeney's voice softened " do not tell them where we are it will only cause them heart ache. I'm sorry to ask this of you to place this burden on you."
Anna gripped Varion's shoulder.
He didn't cry. That's what he told him self
He only bowed his head deeply—the kind of bow dragons gave one another.
"I'll take care of them," he whispered. "I promise."
The dragons lowered their heads in return, each touching their snout or forehead to him in a final blessing—fiery warmth from Igneel, cool light from Weisslogia, soft wind from Grandeeney, metal vibrations from Metalicana, shadow warmth from Skiadrum.
Anna wiped her eyes quietly.
Igneel pulled back last.
"Sleep," he ordered gently. "Tomorrow is a long day."
Varion nodded. "Goodnight."
He walked back toward the cavern, the air behind him humming with the weight of looming history.
And though sadness sat in him like quiet rain…
A spark inside him refused to dim.
Tomorrow, the dragons would do what they must.
And he would lead their children into the future they were meant for.
Morning came too fast.
Varion barely slept, but he was steady. The words from the night before—Igneel's command to guide the children, Weisslogia's reminder of responsibility, Grandeeney's gentle warning—had settled into him like iron.
This was their last day together.
The children gathered near their dragons, unaware of how final this would be.
Anna stood behind them, hands pressed together in anxious silence.
Varion stood at their front, calm, focused, steady.
Grandeeney stepped forward first, nuzzling Wendy one last time. Then she inhaled deeply, light swelling beneath her scales.
It had begun.
Dragon Soul Technique.
Light burst from her chest, wrapping Wendy in a soft blue glow. Wendy gasped once, then relaxed as the soul settled inside her.
Her eyes went unfocused, dazed.
Next, Weisslogia lowered his head to Sting.
Silver-white energy surged through him and into the boy. Sting swayed immediately, eyes half-lidded, pupils dilating. The dragon's body already flickered at the edges.
Skiadrum bent low, placing his shadowy forehead against Rogue's. A soft hum—then Rogue's legs weakened as the soul settled in.
Metalicana's turn. The metallic dragon gripped Gajeel gently between his claws and exhaled a deep rumbling light into him. Gajeel grunted, then his head drooped, eyes glossy but peaceful.
Finally, Igneel.
He wrapped his wing around Natsu one last time, pulled him close to his chest, and released his soul in a blaze of fire and warmth. Natsu went still—breathing fine, but drifting, unfocused.
Varion didn't move. Didn't blink. He just watched.
This was the end of the dragons' bodies.
Grandeeney was the first to crumble—her form erupting into blue motes of light that swirled around Wendy before dissipating into the breeze.
Weisslogia followed, dissolving into silvery fragments that drifted lovingly around Sting.
Skiadrum's form disintegrated into black and violet dust that curled protectively around Rogue before fading.
Metalicana exploded in a shower of metallic sparks that rang faintly like a bell over Gajeel.
Igneel lasted the longest.
He looked at Varion—one last, burning look filled with pride and certainty—and then flames tore his body apart into radiant embers that floated around Natsu like falling stars.
And then—
They were gone.
All of them.
Only silence remained.
Only drifting specks of residual light.
Anna sucked in a trembling breath. "Varion…?"
"I know," he said quietly. "Let's get them through."
The children, still dazed, clustered around Varion instinctively.
Wendy leaned against him limply.
Natsu clung to his sleeve, eyes unfocused.
Rogue and Sting stumbled forward without speaking.
Gajeel followed stiffly, blinking against the haze.
Varion wrapped an arm around Wendy to steady her and guided the others with calm precision.
The Eclipse Gate thundered to life as they approached.
Golden runes ignited.
Time distorted.
The air compressed around them.
Anna swallowed. "Varion, once they step inside, the stream will take their memories."
"I'll remember for them. We'll build new ones if we have too," he said.
Anna nodded, trusting him completely.
They stepped into the light.
The world collapsed.
Space twisted. Magic warped.
Everything became luminous, swirling haze.
The children's eyes glazed white.
Their bodies relaxed into the void.
Natsu's hand slipped from Varion's fingers.
Wendy drifted further forward unsteadily.
Sting and Rogue floated apart, pulsing with temporal light.
And then—
the memory-loss began.
Varion felt it instantly—like a cold wind scraping the edges of his mind but he used his magic to resist.
No.
Not yet.
He reached for Natsu and his hand passed straight through him.
And they were separated.