11-15

Chapter 11: Bribing Kanna with Cake  

"WAAAAAH!!!"  

A high-pitched shriek instantly drew every eye in the guildhall.  

Macao, who'd been browsing the job board with his hands on his hips, nearly jumped out of his skin. That ear-splitting volume could only belong to one person.  

"Caroline, what the hell?!" He whirled around, scowling.  

"WHO IS THIS CHILD?! SHE'S TOO CUTE!!"  

Ignoring Macao entirely, Caroline had already sprinted over to Rayne, her eyes locked onto Kanna with sparkling intensity.  

"Look at those chubby cheeks! Adorable!" 

"She has little horns!" 

"Sweetie, can big sis give you a hug?!"  

Soon, a swarm of female mages surrounded them, trapping Rayne and Kanna in a circle of cooing admirers.  

To these seasoned mages, Kanna's horns and tail weren't strange—just extra charming features.  

"Grrrr—!"  

Kanna's eyes darted between the encroaching humans. Like a cornered kitten, she bared her teeth and raised clawed hands in warning.  

But without her magic, the "ferocious" display had zero intimidation factor.  

Instead—  

"KYAAAA! EVEN HER GRUMPY FACE IS PRECIOUS!"  

Hearts practically floated in the women's eyes as they clutched their cheeks in delight.  

"We, uh, have things to do! Later!"  

Rayne quickly grabbed Kanna's hand and pulled her forward before things escalated. If this continued, either:  

A) Kanna would lose patience and send them flying, or 

B) His magic reserves would be drained dry from her stress-fueled power spikes.  

"Aww!" 

"Just five more minutes?"  

Reluctantly, Caroline and the others stepped aside, though their longing gazes followed Kanna until the guild doors closed behind them.  

As they passed Makarov—who'd been unceremoniously shoved aside earlier—Rayne gave a polite nod. The guild master could only sigh in resignation.  

"So, Master, where'd the extra kid come from?" Macao plopped into a chair, watching the doors with curiosity.  

The question made the others turn to Makarov too.  

"Well... you saw her horns and tail." Stroking his chin, Makarov carefully chose his words.  

"Huh. Take Over magic?" Wakaba exhaled a smoke ring, leaning back.  

The moment he said it, understanding dawned on the group. Some of the softer-hearted members even teared up, clearly imagining some tragic backstory.  

"Sometimes, less explanation is more. You’ve still got much to learn, boy."  

Hidden behind his beard, Makarov smirked.  

"But how’d you find her?" Reedus hugged his sketchbook, intrigued.  

"What’s her name?" 

"How old is she?" 

"Why’s she clinging to Rayne?"  

The barrage of questions drowned Makarov in a sea of noise.  

Meanwhile, Laxus sat apart, brow furrowed. His gaze remained fixed on the doorway long after Rayne and Kanna had left.  

"...What was that?"  

When Kanna had appeared, something primal had stirred in him—not attraction (he wasn’t that kind of dog), but an instinctual reaction.  

She felt like both a threat and... kin.  

"Old man, what are you and that brat hiding...?"  

Outside, Rayne led Kanna through the bustling streets, their destination already in mind.  

Though he’d only lived here a month, his daily training runs had taken him to every corner of Magnolia. Combined with guild chatter, he knew all the best food spots—even if he’d never indulged himself.  

"Human cities..."  

Kanna didn’t resist being led, her wide eyes soaking in the sights: merchants hawking wares, children playing tag, the mouthwatering aromas drifting from food stalls...  

Her steps grew lighter, tail swaying with barely contained excitement.  

"Having fun, Kanna?" Rayne smiled at her distracted expression.  

"Better than sleeping alone!"  

Though her face stayed blank, her voice carried a liveliness absent earlier.  

"You saved my life, so today, I’ll treat you to some... good food."  

He’d almost said "a feast," but caught himself. She was a dragon. His guild wages wouldn’t cover that.  

"Oh?"  

Kanna didn’t notice the correction. To her, any outing beat solitude—food was just a bonus.  

Then—  

"Sniff sniff."  

A sweet, creamy scent hooked her attention. Her head swiveled toward a pastry shop, where a human was slicing a fluffy white dessert topped with red berries.  

The aroma intensified, making Kanna’s pupils dilate.  

"That’s cake. Want some?"  

Rayne eyed her wagging tail, amused.  

"YES."  

She yanked him toward the shop before he could react.  

Minutes later, Kanna clutched a fork, savoring her first bite.  

The moment the flavor hit, her blue eyes slid shut in bliss. Her stubby legs swung beneath the chair, body swaying gently.  

A revision to the dragon girl’s priorities:  

Food was important.  

And this human? Very good.  

Watching her, Rayne’s smile softened. Sure, bonding with her would strengthen his magic—but his gratitude was genuine too.  

"Rayne. More."  

She stared at him, fork already poised for the next attack.  

"Sure—"  

CRUNCH.  

The fork’s tines vanished between her teeth.  

Rayne blinked at the now-headless utensil, then at Kanna’s innocent munching.  

"...Yeah, should’ve seen that coming."  

With a chuckle, he pushed the pre-cut slices toward her, abandoning all hope of table manners.  

As Kanna devoured the cakes, something shifted in Rayne’s soul.  

Deep within, a branching magic circle unfurled.  

A strange power—warm and foreign—began weaving into his very being.  

Chapter 12: Huh!?  

"Hm!?"  

Ddraig, dwelling within Rayne's body, was the first to sense the anomaly.  

A familiar energy seeped into Rayne’s being—subtle, yet unmistakable. Under its influence, his flesh and soul underwent minute reinforcement. The change was slight, almost imperceptible. Had she not been bound to him, even she might’ve missed it.  

But the fact remained: Rayne was growing stronger.  

"So… this is the power of ‘Dragon’?"  

After a moment’s focus, Ddraig understood. The energy carried the essence of a true dragon—something she, as one herself, recognized instantly.  

"This brat’s magic… its potential is absurd."  

She’d known Rayne’s Dragon Origin Magic was formidable, but this? This was unforeseen. A quiet smirk curled in the depths of his soul.  

"Perhaps I underestimated him."  

Unaware of Ddraig’s revelation, Rayne was preoccupied—specifically, with stuffing Konane’s face with sweets.  

His entire month’s wages had evaporated by sundown, yet he showed no regret. Only a faint smile as they headed back to the guild, Konane hopping between sidewalk tiles like a child (a habit she’d picked up from a passing kid).  

"Konane, we’re here."  

At the guild’s entrance, Rayne called out to the dragon-girl, who’d been engrossed in her game. With a final skip, she trotted to his side, noticeably more attached than when they’d left.  

"Rayne. Over here."  

Makarov’s voice cut through the guild’s chatter. Seated at the bar, the old man eyed the pair with a knowing grin.  

"You two get along well."  

"Well enough," Rayne said, pulling out a chair for Konane before fixing Makarov with a wary look. "What’s up?"  

The guild master’s smirk deepened. "Two things."  

Rayne’s guard shot up. He leaned back, eyes narrowing. That tone never meant good news.  

Makarov coughed. "First—you’ll need to move out of the dorms."  

"…Hah?"  

Rayne’s blink rate tripled. One outing, and I’m homeless?  

"We told everyone Konane’s taken a liking to you," Makarov explained, lowering his voice. "So you’ll be her caretaker. But that means separate living quarters—and* a place where her… comings and goings won’t raise eyebrows."*  

Rayne frowned. Konane’s human form dRayned minimal magic, but she couldn’t stay indefinitely. Nights would be spent in her own world, conserving energy—a fact easier to hide in a private home.  

"I don’t mind, but—" He gestured to his empty wallet.  

"Already handled," Makarov interjected. "Found a place while you were out. Just pack your things."  

"I’ll pay you back," Rayne stated flatly.  

The old man opened his mouth to refuse, but the steel in Rayne’s gaze made him nod.  

A tiny tug at his sleeve. Konane, bored by the talk, had begun dozing off against his arm, her round cheeks squished against him.  

"Second," Makarov said briskly, "your basics are mastered. Tomorrow, we switch to combat training."  

A spark flashed in his eyes. "It’ll hurt. A lot."  

Rayne’s muscles twitched—not in dread, but anticipation. A feral grin threatened his lips.  

"…I see."  

He hadn’t realized it before, but… he liked fighting.  

That night, after tucking Konane into her dragon-form slumber (her true body curled up in a cavern back home), Rayne collapsed onto his bed.  

Tomorrow would be hell.  

He couldn’t wait.  

Chapter 13: The Headache-Inducing Porlyusica  

Deep within the eastern forest, a towering ancient tree stood tall, its canopy filtering the still-scorching autumn sunlight. Dappled shadows fell upon two figures beneath its branches.  

Rayne’s focus was entirely on Makarov, the outside world forgotten. With a slight bend of his knees, he pushed off the ground—his body shooting forward like an arrow. His clenched fist swung out without hesitation.  

"Going all out from the start? You really don’t hold back," Makarov remarked with a chuckle, his hands casually behind his back. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his movements were anything but slow as he crouched, effortlessly dodging Rayne’s strike.  

"I doubt my current strength could even scratch you, Guild Master," Rayne replied. His waist and knees sank low as his missed punch seamlessly transitioned into a hammer-like downward strike.  

"Hoh~ Not bad reflexes." Makarov’s eyes gleamed with approval at the follow-up, though he still had the breath to keep talking. A twist of his waist and a pivot of his feet easily evaded the attack.  

"......" Rayne stayed silent, his breathing steady. His left hand, hanging low, suddenly clawed toward Makarov. His initial responses had been decent, but he was far from matching the Guild Master’s ease.  

As if expecting it, the diminutive figure simply stepped back, effortlessly avoiding the grab. Rayne pressed forward, fists and feet launching a relentless assault. Yet Makarov moved like an agile monkey—shifting left and right, ducking and weaving—avoiding every strike with minimal effort.  

"Good. You understand the gap between us—that’s important." Makarov’s voice was approving as he dodged. He’d initially worried Rayne might hesitate in his attacks, but the boy was more composed than expected.  

"Your combat instincts are raw, but your adaptability and reactions are solid. You won’t need long to refine your martial arts." To Makarov, hand-to-hand combat wasn’t something that required meticulous teaching. Pain was the best instructor.  

"His spacing is too precise… and he’s reading my movements perfectly." Rayne’s thoughts remained unspoken, his focus unbroken. The repeated misses didn’t frustrate him—if anything, his fighting spirit burned brighter.  

"Hmph. This brat’s temperament isn’t bad—suits me just fine." Deep within, Drayke’s voice carried a hint of excitement. The path of "Domination" thrived on battle, and she was no stranger to reckless combat. After all, what kind of lunatic fights their way straight into enemy command, decapitating their leaders and forcing three warring factions to unite just to kill her? Sensing Rayne’s rising fervor, Drayke’s own blood stirred.  

No one noticed the shift.  

On the battlefield, Rayne studied Makarov’s movements, searching for openings. Then—he spotted it. A slight tendency to dodge left.  

His eyes narrowed.  

A heavy step forward, the damp earth muffling his footfall. His fist shot out in a straight punch.  

Just as predicted, Makarov sidestepped left.  

"Now!"  

Rayne’s hips twisted sharply, redirecting the force of his punch. A barely perceptible adjustment—but enough.  

Whether Makarov had underestimated him or simply let his guard down, the shift was just enough to land a hit.  

But in the next instant—  

Rayne’s vision blurred. The world flipped upside down.  

"Thud!!!"  

A heavy impact rattled his bones. His eyes widened as the air rushed out of his lungs in a sharp cough. His back throbbed with numbness.  

"Lesson one: What looks like an opening isn’t always one." Makarov’s grinning face loomed above him, utterly unbothered.  

"Another round, or need a breather?" He stepped back, tone teasing.  

"Again!" Once his breathing steadied, Rayne kipped up in one fluid motion.  

"Before this training ends, I’m landing at least one hit!" He shot a determined look at Makarov, whose amused expression only hardened his resolve. Beating one of the Ten Wizard Saints—even in pure hand-to-hand—was impossible. But leaving a mark? That, he could do.  

With renewed focus, Rayne charged again, his attacks sharper, his observations keener.  

Not far away…  

"Tch. That old man’s pride is something else." Porlyusica grumbled, grinding herbs with more force than necessary. Though she despised combat, even she could tell: Makarov had slipped up. His predictability had given Rayne an opening. But rather than admit it—or let the boy gain confidence—he’d retaliated with lightning speed at the last second.  

Otherwise, that punch would have connected.  

"Hey, brat! Stay away from there!" Her sharp voice cut through the air as she spotted a certain small figure lurking near her drying racks. Her medicines included sun-dried lizards and toads—things most girls wouldn’t dare touch.  

But this horned, tailed child?  

She wasn’t just staring. She looked hungry.  

Porlyusica’s eye twitched. She’d seen this before. If Rayne hadn’t intervened last time, she’d have never allowed these three to train here.  

Oddly, though, she didn’t dislike the girl. For someone who despised humans, that was… unusual. It made her wonder:  

Maybe this one isn’t human at all.  

Not that she’d ask Makarov. It didn’t matter. Still, her attitude toward Conna had softened—so long as she stayed away from the herbs. Especially when eyeing them like snacks.  

The relentless sounds of combat, paired with the little menace eyeing her precious ingredients, finally snapped Porlyusica’s patience.  

"YOU TWO—KEEP IT DOWN!!!"  

Her roar echoed through the forest, shattering the tranquil silence. 

Chapter 14: "This Is Our Bond, After All!"  

When you're focused, time always seems to slip away unnoticed.  

Lying on a patch of grass, Rayne felt a cool breeze—once the harsh breath of summer but now gentler—rustling through his slightly grown-out black hair. The sunlight filtering through the canopy above had softened, too.  

Sitting up cross-legged, Rayne murmured, "Is it almost autumn already?"  

Tilting his head back, he gazed at the sky, now higher and bluer than before, and realized half a month had already passed.  

"Mmm… delicious!"  

Turning his head, he saw Kanna curled up beside him, hugging her tail in her sleep, mumbling something about food.  

"Today’s the last day of training. Think you’ve got what it takes, kid?"  

The magnetic voice of the Dragon Empress, Ddraig, echoed in his mind.  

Over these past weeks, she had closely observed Rayne’s progress—and had wholeheartedly approved of his goal to land at least one solid punch on Makarov’s face.  

As his partner, Ddraig couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how many hits Rayne had taken during training. If he didn’t return at least one, she’d consider it a personal insult.  

"I do."  

Rayne’s lips curled into a faint smile as he pulled his gaze from the sky.  

As a guild master, Makarov was undeniably reliable—when danger struck, his presence alone brought reassurance. But in peaceful times? The old man had a mischievous streak, especially during sparring sessions, where he loved aiming for Rayne’s eyes.  

If not for Porlyusica’s potent medicines, Rayne’s face would’ve rivaled a panda’s by now.  

Which only solidified his resolve.  

That punch was happening.  

"Rayne…?"  

A soft, drowsy voice called out.  

The next second, Kanna’s plush body flopped onto him, her tiny fangs lightly sinking into his neck.  

"What’s wrong?"  

Pushing her away gently (though not before wiping off the damp spot she left), Rayne gave her a questioning look.  

"I dreamed you were tasty."  

Her sky-blue eyes blinked sleepily, still hazy from her nap.  

"And now that you’ve had a bite… was I?"  

Rayne sighed, ruffling her pale lavender hair. Maybe because she hadn’t gone to school like in the original timeline, the little dragon girl had grown even more clingy—and gluttonous.  

"Nope."  

She answered without hesitation, playfully butting her head against his hand.  

"Ah, you’re awake?"  

Makarov’s cheerful voice rang out from ahead.  

When Rayne looked up, the guild master was already perched on a massive tree root, grinning down at them.  

As the leader of Fairy Tail, Makarov couldn’t stay indefinitely to train Rayne. Instead, he visited every few days, sparring with him and pointing out flaws. The rest of the time? Rayne trained alone in the forest.  

As for guild chores? Rayne had quit.  

According to Makarov, once this physical combat training ended, Rayne could start taking on real jobs. There was no need to waste time on guild busywork anymore.  

So for the past two weeks, Rayne had been staying at Porlyusica’s place. Occasionally, he’d wander the woods, hunting or gathering fruits to replenish his energy.  

And today—was the final test.  

Pass, and he’d be free to leave.  

"I’ve been here a while."  

Hopping down from the roots, Makarov dusted himself off, his usual grandfatherly smile in place.  

"Didn’t want to wake you two."  

"Then let’s not waste time."  

Rayne strode toward an open clearing, his own smile sharpening.  

Noticing the commotion, Porlyusica stepped out of her cottage, scowling at the two. Then, with practiced ease, she scooped Kanna into her arms—a routine they’d repeated often over the past weeks.  

(Feeding the little dragon had its perks.)  

"...Ready?"  

Makarov studied Rayne, then nodded approvingly.  

Two weeks of intense training had honed the boy’s edges. His stance was firmer, his movements sharper—and his eyes burned with the unmistakable fire of a true mage.  

"Yeah. Just try not to grit your teeth too hard, old man."  

Rayne’s grin turned downright feral.  

"Hah! Prove you can make me first."  

Makarov chuckled, but his gaze was unwavering. He knew exactly what he’d done during their spars—and he was ready for payback.  

The air between them crackled.  

"Here I come."  

BOOM—  

The instant Rayne moved, the ground beneath him cratered, dirt exploding outward as he shot forward like a bullet.  

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, his right fist already pulled back—a drawn arrow about to be loosed.  

WHOOSH—  

The air itself groaned as his punch tore through it.  

Compared to half a month ago? His speed and power had skyrocketed.  

"Just how are you improving this fast?!"  

Even Makarov couldn’t hide his shock.  

He’d only been gone a few days, yet Rayne had grown stronger again. This rate of growth defied logic, even for a teenager in their prime.  

Still, his reflexes didn’t fail him. Arms crossed, he braced—  

THUD!  

The impact reverberated through the clearing.  

Makarov’s boots sank into the earth, his arms trembling from the sheer force.  

"Not bad… but your magic needs work!"  

A split-second assessment: at equal magic levels, he’d have been overwhelmed.  

"This is our bond, after all!"  

Rayne’s grin widened as his left fist followed like lightning.  

Thanks to [Dragon’s Origin], his body had been tempered beyond normal limits—his magic, too, had surged forward.  

CRACK—  

A massive fist met Rayne’s blow head-on.  

The once-tiny old man had transformed—now a towering, muscular figure nearly two meters tall.  

Same grin, though.  

"You don’t mind, do you, Rayne?"  

Makarov’s tone was almost playful.  

"Not that I’d undo it even if you did."  

"......"  

Rayne’s fists clenched. The difference in raw power wasn’t insurmountable, but—  

His pupils burned.  

Oh, it was ON.  

Chapter 15: "The Battle Demon"  

The moment their fists collided, Rayne’s hand splayed open—his broad palm like five steel rods, ready to seize the smaller fist before him.  

At the same time, a massive left fist tore through the air, aiming straight for his abdomen.  

The shift in attack came in an instant.  

But Rayne was no longer the reckless fighter he had been at the start. After countless battles, he had learned more than just brute force.  

Faced with this relentless assault, he didn’t dodge. Instead, he chose to strike back.  

His left foot stepped forward as his right fist shifted into an open palm.  

With a twist of his wrist, he forced Makarov’s grip to loosen slightly, then clamped down on the man’s sturdy forearm.  

The angle of his arm blocked Makarov’s fingers from fully closing around his wrist—they could touch, but not fully grasp.  

Thanks to his young body’s flexibility, Rayne used the leverage from gripping the guild master’s arm to twist his torso into a near C-shape, narrowly avoiding the crushing punch.  

Had Makarov been serious, this move alone would have been enough to overpower him. But this was just a test—Makarov wasn’t using his full strength.  

And so, in this near-even contest, Makarov couldn’t simply fling Rayne away.  

All he could do was watch as Rayne closed the distance in this death-defying manner.  

"Boom—!"  

Rayne’s foot slammed into the ground with enough force to make the earth tremble slightly.  

Then, like a bear slamming into a tree, he drove his body toward Makarov’s towering frame.  

But halfway through the charge, something hard pressed against his waist, halting his momentum.  

A glance downward revealed Makarov’s raised knee.  

At the same time, the guild master’s left fist—previously missing its mark—swung back like a battle-axe in a sweeping strike.  

Rayne’s body moved faster than his mind could process.  

His left hand braced against Makarov’s knee while his right tightened on the man’s wrist. Then, like a monkey swinging from a branch, he twisted his body sideways, flipping upside-down as the massive arm swept harmlessly beneath him.  

The rush of wind was so strong Rayne could feel his hair being tugged by the force.  

The thrill of it all made an excited grin spread across his face.  

His heart burned like wildfire.  

"This kid..."  

Makarov couldn’t help but stare as Rayne used his own arm as a pivot point.  

That fearless, exhilarated expression told him everything.  

No wonder his magic is so dangerous.  

He’s not just some reckless brat—he’s a battle demon waking up.  

As the thought crossed his mind, Makarov saw Rayne coil his body mid-air, his right leg lashing out in a vicious kick.  

"He really doesn’t waste a single opening."  

Even Makarov had to admit—for a first fight, Rayne’s instincts were terrifying. His fighting style was ferocious, never retreating even when dancing on the edge of a blade.  

Combined with that unshakable nerve, it was enough to make even the guild master break a sweat.  

But if Rayne was going all out, Makarov wasn’t about to disappoint him.  

"Heh—"  

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat as a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.  

With a powerful twist, he wrenched Rayne’s supporting arm downward, disrupting the kick mid-motion.  

Then his left fist shot forward—aimed straight for Rayne’s right eye.  

"How about a matching black eye before you graduate?"  

"Tch."  

Rayne clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn’t panic.  

Instead, he released his grip on Makarov’s wrist, sending himself plummeting like a snapped puppet string.  

Makarov’s foot cracked the ground as he lunged after him, his massive body moving with surprising speed.  

His target? Rayne, still mid-fall.  

But Rayne had already predicted this.  

His palm slapped against the dirt, the sting only fueling his adrenaline further.  

With a sharp bend of his arm, he flipped backward, using the momentum to launch himself away.  

After half a month of training here, he knew the terrain well.  

His backward arc landed him against the trunk of a thick tree, his legs absorbing the impact as he crouched against the bark—now standing sideways on the tree like some kind of wild animal.  

Then—  

"Thud—!"  

The tree shuddered from the force.  

"Rustle—"  

Leaves rained down as Rayne pushed off, his body twisting mid-air before his right leg lashed out like a whip, meeting Makarov’s charging fist head-on.  

The scattered leaves swirled in the wake of his movement, caught in the turbulent air.  

"Rayne’s having a lot of fun."  

Carla tilted her head, watching the two clash with a hint of envy.  

Her sky-blue eyes gleamed, her tail twitching slightly—golden sparks flickering at the tip.  

"Carla, have some of this."  

Porlyusica, noticing the growing energy around the little dragon, quickly pulled out a piece of dried fruit from her pocket.  

"Om nom—!"  

Instantly distracted, Carla stuffed the treat into her mouth, her cheeks puffing up adorably.  

The sparks at her tail vanished as quickly as they appeared.  

"Phew..."  

Porlyusica exhaled in relief.  

Thankfully, she’d gotten into the habit of carrying snacks ever since Rayne started training in the forest.  

The dried fruit was made from wild berries he’d gathered, which she had sliced and preserved—perfect for pacifying a certain excitable dragon.  

Her gaze returned to the fight, but this time, she didn’t interrupt.  

Over the past weeks, she’d seen just how hard Rayne pushed himself.  

Dawn runs through the trees, hauling boulders, sparring with wild beasts—he’d come back battered and bruised every night, needing her salves to recover.  

Though she disliked violence, even she couldn’t deny the determination in his eyes.  

Her initial annoyance had faded, replaced by silent support—even brewing stamina potions to help him train longer.  

In a way, his progress was partly her doing too.  

And now, watching him hold his own against Makarov, she wasn’t about to ruin the moment.  

The two moved at blinding speeds, though slightly slower than at the start.  

"Almost time."  

Rayne could feel his magic and stamina draining.  

He knew Makarov could keep this up forever, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t act now, the fight would only get harder.  

So he let his movements grow just a fraction slower—letting fatigue show.  

But beneath the surface, a plan was already forming.