The following morning at the Fairy Tail guildhall started as usual—with chaos.
Tables were already overturned, mugs clanged against stone, and a roaring laugh from Natsu filled the air as he wrestled Gray into a headlock. Happy cheered him on with a half-eaten fish in his mouth, while Mirajane calmly wiped down the bar like it was all background music.
Ren entered quietly, carrying a book tucked under one arm—an old tome on forbidden magics Makarov had let him borrow after training with Erza the previous day.
> If this Anti-Magic really is a Slayer type… there has to be a record of it somewhere.
But before he could even sit, the guild doors slammed open.
BOOM.
A gust of wind swept through the room, followed by the heavy clink of armored boots.
Heads turned.
A red-haired girl—older than Erza by a few years—stood in the doorway. Her eyes were sharp and cold, a massive blade sheathed across her back. Her cloak fluttered behind her like storm clouds on the wind.
She wasn't smiling. She wasn't here for fun.
Erza, standing near the job board, stiffened immediately.
The room quieted.
"…Who's that?" Ren whispered to Mirajane, who looked more curious than alarmed.
"No idea. But she's definitely not here to sightsee."
The woman stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the room before landing on Makarov, who stood atop his usual barrel on the second-floor balcony.
"I'm looking for someone," she said, her voice calm, but heavy with purpose. "A boy. Dark hair. Around twelve. Carries a strange kind of magic."
Ren's spine straightened.
Makarov didn't speak at first. Then, gently, "May I ask who's asking?"
She walked forward slowly, eyes never leaving the crowd. "I'm not here as an enemy. My name is Irene Drakemoor, of the Arcane Restoration Society."
Erza's eyes narrowed. "That's a dead organization."
"Revived," Irene replied coolly. "And very interested in anomalies."
Her gaze finally landed on Ren.
And when it did—he felt it. Like pressure in the air. Her magic wasn't loud like Natsu's or overwhelming like Erza's. It was silent, heavy, like it watched rather than attacked.
"You," she said. "You're the one with the null-type energy."
The room tensed.
Ren stepped forward slowly, every instinct telling him this wasn't just a conversation.
"What do you want from me?"
"Answers," she said. "And maybe… some warnings."
Makarov descended the stairs, placing himself gently between them. "This guild protects its own. If you have information to share, you do so with respect—and no threats."
Irene bowed her head lightly. "I mean no harm. But this boy is no ordinary wizard. He's carrying a magic that should not exist."
The words made the room buzz with whispers.
"Shouldn't exist?" Cana muttered. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Irene turned to face everyone now, her voice calm, but ringing with authority.
"There are six known types of Dragon Slayer magic—Fire, Iron, Sky, Poison, Lightning, and Shadow. All of them were gifted by dragons or created through Lost Magic mechanisms. But the boy's power... is the inverse. It was not given to him by a dragon."
She pointed to Ren's arm. "That seal on his body—it is a magic curse, not a blessing. His energy eats magic itself. Especially that of dragons."
Erza stepped forward. "You said you had warnings."
Irene nodded. "That power was once used in the Dragonfall War, hundreds of years ago, by an order known as the Black Reavers. They were slayers of slayers—mages who hunted dragons and their human successors. They nearly wiped out entire species before they were sealed."
Ren's blood ran cold. "But… I'm not from that time. I'm not even—" He stopped himself.
"You're not from this world," Irene finished, calmly.
Everyone froze.
"Your soul signature doesn't belong here. You were… placed here. Like a candle in the wrong storm."
Makarov narrowed his eyes. "Enough riddles. Speak plainly."
Irene turned to him. "The magic he carries is tied to something ancient and dark—something that may one day awaken if not understood. I came to offer him a choice."
She looked back at Ren.
"You can come with me. Learn the truth of your power. The history of the curse. Or you can stay here, in the comfort of your guild, and wait for your enemies to find you."
The silence in the guild was thick.
Natsu broke it first.
"Like hell he's going anywhere."
Ren turned, surprised.
"You're one of us now," Natsu said, walking up beside him. "So if anyone comes for you—they go through us first."
Gray stepped forward too. "You're weird. But not the worst we've seen."
Cana raised her mug. "You're family now, curse or no curse."
Even Erza gave a rare, firm nod.
Ren felt something tighten in his chest. He hadn't realized how badly he'd needed to hear those words.
Irene watched it all unfold—then slowly smiled.
"You've chosen well, then. But be warned, Ren Amakusa. The seal on your arm is weakening. When it breaks… the Anti-Dragon inside you will surface. You must be ready."
Ren looked at her, voice quiet but certain.
"Then I'll get ready. Here. With them."
Irene gave a graceful bow. "Then we will meet again. Sooner than you think."
She turned and walked out of the guildhall, her crimson hair flickering in the wind like flame.
---
That night, as the moon rose high over Magnolia, Ren stood on the guild's rooftop with Erza beside him.
"She's strong," he said quietly.
"Too strong," Erza replied. "She wasn't lying about your power. You felt it too, didn't you?"
Ren nodded. "There's something sleeping inside me. And I think it's starting to stir."
Erza looked at him.
"Then we train harder."
Ren smiled faintly. "Guess I should stop reading and start hitting things, huh?"
"Exactly."
And beneath the stars, they stood together in silence—two young warriors on the edge of a destiny neither could fully understand.