The air in the Fairy Tail guild hall crackled with a new, potent energy. The year was X775, and time had continued its relentless march. Blake, now twelve, was a walking contradiction. His physical presence was startling; he stood at 5'10".
The guild itself had flourished. New members had joined, filling the hall with new dynamics. Evergreen, with her stone-cold gaze; Bickslow, with his cackling laugh and floating "babies"; and the quiet, rune-obsessed Freed Justine. The three had quickly gravitated to Laxus, forming the Thunder Legion.
Other new faces included Bisca and Alzack, a duo of gunslingers whose chemistry was as potent as their magical bullets. Mest Gryder also joined, a quiet, unassuming mage who often took solo quests, much like Blake.
Blake still sparred with Laxus, their battles now increased in intensity. Gray and Cana were his constant companions, and Ur and Ultear had settled in a quiet town far to the north, sending occasional letters.
One crisp March morning, Makarov silenced the hall.
"Listen up, brats!" he boomed, his voice silencing the usual chaos. "It is time, once again, to name the next S-Class Mage of Fairy Tail! The Promotion Trial begins tomorrow!"
A wave of excitement washed over the room.
"This year, I have selected four candidates!" Makarov continued. "Two of our most reliable veterans... Macao Conbolt! And Wakaba Mine!"
The two older mages were stunned, then burst into cheers, clapped on the back by their friends.
"And two of our strongest, most troublesome young generation..." Makarov's eyes twinkled. "Laxus Dreyar! And Blake Corvus!"
The guild exploded. It was Laxus and Blake's first time taking the exam. Laxus smirked, lightning crackling around his shoulders. "It's about time. This'll be easy." Blake merely nodded, his expression unreadable, though his Haki flared in anticipation.
The next day, the four candidates stood on the shore of a remote, fog-shrouded island Makarov had chosen for the trial. It was a desolate place of black sand and towering, crystalline structures that seemed to hum with latent magic.
"Welcome to the Isle of Shattered Echoes," Makarov said, his tone serious. "The S-Class Trial is not a game. It will test your limits, your heart, and your very spirit. The first trial lies ahead."
He pointed to a massive, crumbling ruin in the island's center, a nexus with four identical, gaping gateways—North, South, East, and West.
"Four candidates, four paths," Makarov explained. "Each path tests a different, vital aspect of an S-Class Mage. Choose your gate. Inside, you will face a trial. The first and only candidate to retrieve the Fairy Tail Emblem from their path and return to the central chamber will advance. Now... choose."
The choice was made almost instantly.
Macao Conbolt, puffing his chest out, strode toward the West Gate. " I'm one of the guild's oldest members! This one's mine!" He vanished into the darkness.
Wakaba Mine, blowing a contemplative ring of smoke, shrugged and walked to the South Gate. "Heh. I'm more than just a pretty face and good smoke." He, too, disappeared.
Laxus Dreyar sneered. "I will become the youngest S-class mage in Fiore." He marched into the North Gate, his team in tow, as if he'd already won.
Blake Corvus was left with the final gate. He looked at the gaping maw of the East Gate. He adjusted the black sheathe of Tensa Zangetsu at his hip. "Seems fitting." He walked in alone.
Makarov sat on a floating stone in the central chamber, his eyes closed, watching the trials unfold in his mind.
Macao entered a long, dark cavern. It was a straightforward gauntlet. The challenge? An endless army of magical golems. He fought valiantly, his Purple Flare exploding in brilliant, concussive bursts.
He shattered the first wave, and the second, and the third. But after thirty minutes, he was breathing heavily, his magic reserves draining. For every golem he destroyed, two more took its place, their magical cores regenerating from the walls. This wasn't a test of power; it was a test of attrition.
"Damn it... How many...?" he panted, unleashing another noticeably weaker flare. The golems swarmed him. He was eventually beaten down, his magic and stamina completely depleted.
Failure. An S-Class Mage knows when a fight is unwinnable by force and must find another way. Macao only knew how to punch.
Wakaba entered a disorienting labyrinth of mirrors and magical smoke. His own Smoke Magic was useless, absorbed by the ambient miasma. Illusions flickered at every turn. He saw himself back at the guild, beer in hand, laughing with his friends. He saw a pile of Jewels, his reward for "quitting." He saw phantoms of himself, old and gray, telling him he'd "never be good enough for S-Class."
He pushed on, his clever mind trying to map the shifting corridors, but the illusions were too potent, the path too convoluted. He was lost, frustrated, and tired.
"Ah, this is pointless..." he muttered, sitting down. "Who needs this headache? Maybe next year..."
Failure. An S-Class Mage must have the wisdom to see past their own doubts and the resolve to find the truth, no matter how obscured. Wakaba gave in to his own desire for comfort.
Laxus's path was a test of raw, overwhelming force. The tunnel was wide, but blocked every hundred meters by massive, magical golems and regenerating beasts.
"Is this it?" Laxus sneered, his body already crackling with golden lightning. The first golem, ten meters tall and made of solid granite, rose to block his way. Before it could even raise its fist, Laxus was on it.
"Lightning Dragon's... ROAR!"
A massive, focused blast of pure electricity vaporized the golem's entire upper torso. He didn't slow down, using his Geppo to fly over the crumbling remains. He was a force of nature, a golden comet smashing through every obstacle. He was fast, destructive, and utterly unchallenged. This wasn't a trial; it was a playground.
Blake stepped into his archway, and the world vanished. It was absolute, perfect darkness. A magical seal clamped down, not just on light, but on sound. It was a sensory deprivation chamber designed to induce terror and panic, to make a mage's own mind their worst enemy.
Blake stood still for one second. Then, he smiled. He closed his eyes, not that it mattered. He didn't need them. He released his Observation Haki. In an instant, the world bloomed. The oppressive darkness was irrelevant. His mind painted a perfect, 3D-wireframe of the world around him.
He saw the path stretching for miles. He saw the "invisible" pressure plates that triggered sound-based traps (useless against the silent path). He saw the runes etched into the walls, designed to leech magic from anyone who touched them.
This path, designed to be the most terrifying, was, for him, the easiest. He began to move. He didn't run; he flowed. He used Soru in short, silent bursts, his feet never touching a single trap. He was a phantom, a ghost in the machine, navigating the Labyrinth's most complex security system as if it were an open field.
His Haki was so finely tuned, he could even "feel" the paths of the other candidates—Laxus, a chaotic explosion of energy miles to his left; Macao and Wakaba, two slow, steady heartbeats far behind.
Laxus burst through the final stone wall with a Lightning Dragon's Breakdown Fist, his body wreathed in triumphant energy. "First! Knew it!" He skidded to a halt in the vast, circular central chamber. A single stone pedestal stood in the middle, bathed in a column of light from the ceiling. The pedestal was empty.
"What?!" Laxus roared. "A trick?! Where is it?!"
"Looking for this, Laxus?" Laxus spun around. Blake was leaning casually against a far pillar, tossing a small, glowing-gold emblem in his hand. He looked completely untouched, not a speck of dust on his clothes.
"You..." Laxus stammered, his arrogance shattering into raw disbelief. "How?! I tore through that path! I destroyed everything! How did you get here first?!"
"Your path was loud, Laxus," Blake said simply, pocketing the Emblem. "I could hear you smashing golems from two miles away. My path was quiet."
Laxus's fists clenched, lightning arcing between his knuckles. "You got lucky! That path must have been a trick! An easy way!"
"It was designed to break the mind," Blake countered, his voice flat. "It just didn't work on mine."
Before Laxus could challenge him, the heavy grinding of stone announced the arrival of the others. Macao and Wakaba stumbled into the chamber, leaning on each other, covered in soot and sweat.
They saw Blake, then they saw Laxus's furious expression, and they immediately understood. "Ah, hell," Wakaba sighed, slumping to the ground. "Figured it'd be one of you two monsters." "Good job, kid," Macao said, giving Blake a tired, respectful nod. "You earned it."
Then Guild Makarov entered the central chamber.
"It seems 'Skill' was the key after all," Makarov said. "The others were trapped by their own weaknesses. Macao by his dwindling stamina, Wakaba by his lack of resolve, and Laxus... by his own pride."
"Congratulations, Blake Corvus," the Master boomed, his voice echoing in the chamber. "You are the only one to pass the first trial."
Blake simply nodded. He'd expected as much.
"But you are not S-Class yet," Makarov warned, his smile turning into a grin. "You have one final test. You must prove you can defeat... or at least survive... a true S-Class Mage."
The ground of the chamber rumbled. A massive, cloaked figure walked out of the shadows, the air around him distorting with sheer, overwhelming magical pressure.
Gildarts Clive cracked his knuckles, that familiar, goofy grin on his face.
"Been waiting for this, kid," Gildarts said, his voice echoing with power. "Been a while since I had a good warm-up. Don't disappoint me."
Blake looked at the man who was, for all intents and purposes, the strongest mage in the guild. He settled into a low, ready stance, his hand resting on the hilt of his silent black sword. This was the fight he'd been waiting for.