(Alder Brightwood's Point of View)
"Hey, Alder."
The boy's voice was faint, barely audible over the rhythmic beeping of my heart monitor. Slowly and carefully, I turned toward him. I couldn't see his face clearly, but somehow, I knew he was precious! to me. After all, he was the closest thing to a brother I'd ever had in my life.
"Yeah?" I replied, my voice dry and tired.
"Tomorrow, I'm having a heart transplant. What about you?"
The words slipped from him casually, as if we were discussing the weather.
"Lung transplant," I muttered, glancing at the ceiling. "Under Doctor Alexander."
"That sucks," he said with a sigh.
"Yeah, I know."
For a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence. We both knew what tomorrow meant—what it could mean. It might be the last night we spent together, and yet, neither of us could muster the strength to talk about it.
Maybe we'd spent too much time preparing for the possibility of death. Surgery after surgery, pill after pill, doctor after doctor—it all wears you down in the end
After spending the better part of twenty years in a hospital fighting a battle that doesn't discriminate, you stop caring about the outcome. Cancer doesn't care who you are, where you come from, or how much you've already lost. It's ruthless, unforgiving, and unbeatable. At least, that's what it always felt like to me.
"Do you think we'll ever get to ring that bell?" he asked softly, breaking the silence.
He wasn't talking about just any bell. It was the bell—a symbol of triumph for children who had defeated cancer. Ringing it meant you'd finished your final round of treatment, that you'd overcome the impossible. I'd seen kids ring it and watched the doctors and nurses cheer for them.
I'd also seen too many friends never get the chance.
The bell was a source of so many emotions—hope, jealousy, hatred, longing. For us, it was both a dream and a reminder of everything we'd endured and have to endure of our journey a symbole if the end and a new beiging
"Who knows," I replied, forcing a grin. "Imagine dying. Not me."
James burst out laughing, and I couldn't help but join in. It was ridiculous, dark humor, but it was the kind of joke you learn to make when you've spent your entire life staring death in the face. That was the story of our lives—finding ways to laugh in the bleakest situations after all it wasn't the end that matters but the journey itsealf
"Yeah, you're right," he said, his laughter fading. Then, his tone softened. "Alder… I want you to promise me something."
"Alright, I'm gonna stop you right there," I interrupted, holding up a hand. "That's starting to sound like a red flag. We don't do that here."
"Just shut up and listen," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "If one of us doesn't make it… the other has to live. No matter what. You have to enjoy life. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets—you have to keep going. Laugh, cry, scream, hate. Just live. You have to promise me."
"James…" I started, but before I could say another word, the world around me began to fracture and fall apart.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Your HP and MP have fully recovered as you slept well in your bed.]
[All of your physical conditions have fully recovered as you slept well in your bed.]
I woke up, blinking against the soft morning light streaming through the window. Slowly, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, letting the lingering fragments of the dream fade.
What greeted me wasn't the sterile white walls of my old hospital room. There were no doctors, nurses, paramedics, or IV bags. No sliding doors opening and shutting. No hum of a furnace or air exchanger.
I didn't hear the sounds of crying, moaning, or gasps of pain. No intercoms calling out codes. No squeaky wheelchairs, clacking keyboards, or low murmurs of conversations.
And the smells—antiseptic, metallic tangs of stainless steel, bleach-soaked bedding, the coppery scent of blood, the nausea-inducing mix of vomit and sweat—all of that was gone.
Instead, I found myself in a completely different world.
The room was large and clearly belonged to a child. It was filled with furniture: a sturdy wooden bed, a desk covered in books and papers, a bookcase overflowing with tomes, a commode, a dresser, a small table with three mismatched chairs, a coffee table, and a worn armchair tucked into the corner.
The bookcase was crammed with books borrowed from the guild archives. Titles about the theory of magic, its applications, the history of Fairy Tail, and even the Kingdom of Fiore spilled across every available surface. Many of the books sat half-open on the desk, surrounded by notes scribbled in a messy scrawl.
The rest of the room… well, let's just say it was far from organized.
Clothes were scattered across the floor, a lone sock draped over the arm of the chair. A half-eaten loaf of bread sat abandoned on the table, crumbs littering the surface. A training axe leaned precariously against the dresser, its blade dented from overuse.
Sighing, I flung off the bedsheet and stretched, cracking my back as I took in the chaos.
Almost instantly, [Devotion Aura] activated, surrounding me in a soft, radiant glow. The warm light chased away the lingering grogginess, refreshing me completely.
Energized, I moved in a burst of speed, determined to clean up the disaster zone I called a bedroom.
I started by gathering all the clothes, tossing the dirty ones into a makeshift laundry pile. The books went back onto the shelf—well, most of them. The half-eaten bread ? Gone. I wiped down the desk, straightened the chairs, and carefully hid the training sword before placing it neatly in the corner.
By the time I finished, the room looked… presentable.
Smiling, I deactivated [Devotion Aura], the glow fading as I took a step back to admire my work. Who needed magic for combat when it was clearly the perfect tool for cleaning ?
[Ding!][A new daily quest has been issued: "The Preparation to Become Powerful."]
[Goal:
- 200 Push-Ups
- 200 Sit-Ups
- 200 Squats
- 20-Kilometer Run
Increase the level of one light-related skill by one level ]
[Reward: +3 Stat Points to all status]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours]
[Warning: The use of magic is prohibited.]
[Warning: Failure to complete this quest will result in certain punishment.]
Groaning, I dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups.
Of course, just because I'd leveled up my stats from last night's quest, the daily quests had to get harder.
When I first awakened my magic and unlocked [The Gamer] last year, the requirements were manageable—just 10 push-ups, 10 sit-ups, and a 10-kilometer run.
Now ? The system was relentless. Still, I didn't have much of a choice.
"199 to go…" I muttered under my breath, already feeling the burn.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Thanks for the meal," I said, smiling at my grandma as she placed another stack of breakfast sausages on my plate.
"Still, Grandma, isn't this a bit much?" I asked, glancing around the table. It was overflowing with food: black coffee, French toast, bacon, berries, and enough breakfast sausages to feed half the guild.
"Nonsense, darling," she said with a wave of her hand. "You're a growing young man—you need proper nutrition to grow, mage or not. Plus, it's the least I can do after everything you've done to help around the house with the reward money from your quests."
Her words warmed my heart, but they also reminded me of something I could never fully repay.
"It's the least I could do," I replied softly, "after all, you were the one who took in an orphaned five-year-old with nowhere else to go."
My grandma Wilma Brightwood , was an incredible woman—someone I deeply admired. Despite her old age, despite losing her husband at a young age, and despite the heartbreak of losing her only son and daughter-in-law, she'd never let those tragedies break her.
Instead, she devoted herself to raising her only remaining grandchild with unwavering love and strength.
I'd seen people crumble under far less.
She laughed warmly, her voice like a soothing balm. "You're the only family I have left, kiddo. Of course I'm going to take care of you."
I smiled back, savoring her words as I quickly finished my breakfast. Just as I stood and prepared to leave the house, she called out, "Remember, you're still grounded! No quests for an entire month. And don't forget—you're helping out at the bakery later !"
"Don't worry, I'm just heading to the guild training ground," I replied quickly. "I promised Laxus I'd help him with his training today."
She nodded, but her tone softened. "All right, just take care of yourself—and make sure you're home before the sun goes down."
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a grin, heading toward the door.
But just as I reached for the handle, I heard her cough—deliberately, loudly.
"Aren't you forgetting something, young man?" she said, standing with her arms open.
I turned back with a chuckle and wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. "Goodbye, Grandma," I said softly, embracing her.
As we hugged, I took the opportunity to cast [Purify].
Subtly, a warm golden light radiated from her, bathing her in a soothing glow. Slowly, the effects began to show. The color returned to her cheeks, her complexion grew vibrant, and her posture straightened just slightly as the magic washed over her.
I pulled back, smiling as I saw the renewed energy in her face.
Choosing the [Paladin class]… I would never stop being grateful for it.
(Laxus Dreyar's Point of View)
For the longest part of his life, the only thing Laxus truly knew was loneliness.
It was a cruel and ironic fate—being born with too much magical power for his small body to handle. He could still remember the days when every breath felt like a battle, when he couldn't take more than a few steps without collapsing into a coughing fit.
His grandfather, Makarov, had always been there to help him, but Laxus's condition made him overprotective.
He wouldn't let Laxus leave the house without supervision, not even for a moment. It was no wonder that, despite living in Magnolia for ten years, Laxus only really knew two places: the Fairy Tail guild hall, where he spent most of his time stuck in Makarov's office, and Porlyusica's house, where he went for his weekly checkups.
He had tried connecting with the guild members—he really had—but there was always an invisible rift between him and the others.
Part of it was the age gap; he was just a kid while most of the guild members were adults. But there was something else, too. To them, he was "Makarov's sick grandson," the fragile child they had to handle with care. To say they treated him like glass would have been an understatement.
That rift only grew wider after his father, Ivan Dreyar, implanted Dragon Lacrima into his body, granting him Lightning Dragon Slayer Magic.
Laxus knew the guild cared for him, but they didn't know how to approach him. And it showed.
It was on one of those days, months after the Dragon Lacrima incident, when everything changed.
Laxus was heading to Porlyusica's house for his usual checkup when he saw him—the boy who would become his best friend.
The boy was drenched in sweat, his clothes clinging to his thin frame. Laxus could hear the faint creak of his bones as he pushed through a set of push-ups, his arms trembling from exhaustion.
Beside him lay an axe, ridiculously oversized for someone his age, its blade glinting in the sunlight.
Blood trickled from the boy's hands, evidence of his relentless training.
Around him, trees lay in splinters, collapsed as if a hurricane had torn through the area. Despite the brutality of it all, the boy kept going, his movements stubborn and determined.
He looked to be about Laxus's age, maybe a little younger, with messy black hair streaked with a few strands of white. His striking blue eyes held a fierce intensity, but what caught Laxus's attention most was the large scar on his forehead, partially hidden by his long bangs.
There was something familiar about him, though Laxus couldn't quite place it.
"Hey, Gramps. Who's that?" Laxus asked, glancing at Makarov.
Makarov stood quietly, his gaze fixed on the boy. A conflicted expression flickered in his eyes, no doubt from seeing how hard the boy was pushing himself.
"Oh? That's a kid I brought back to the guild a day ago," Makarov replied after a pause. "He's a year younger than you. How about the two of you make friends with each other ?"
Laxus didn't need to be told twice. He nodded eagerly, his excitement barely contained, and made his way toward the boy.
Stopping a few feet away, Laxus cleared his throat and extended his hand. "Hey ! My name's Laxus. What's yours ?"
The boy paused mid-push-up, turning his head toward Laxus with a look of mild surprise.
And that's how it all started.
However, Laxus's trip down memory lane was abruptly cut short as his instincts as a Dragon Slayer roared to life. He narrowly dodged an incoming blast of pure holy magic, the radiant energy scorching the air where he'd just stood.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he barked, glaring at the boy across from him. "That almost got me!"
"Well, if you spent more time focusing on the fight instead of daydreaming, you might've dodged that without any trouble," Alder shot back with a smirk, lowering his glowing hand.
Gritting his teeth, Laxus pointed an accusing finger at his friend. "Why you—"
It was astounding what a year of relentless training had done to Alder. His once hunched frame was gone, replaced by a body packed with lean muscle. He was taller now—taller than him, much to his irritation—and moved with the kind of confidence that came from countless hours of sweat and hard work.
"Come on, Laxus," Alder taunted, gripping his axe. "You're the one who said we shouldn't hold back."
Laxus grumbled, tugging at the weighted vest that clung uncomfortably to his shoulders. "Hey, if we're not holding back, then why the hell are we wearing these stupid things?"
Both of them were covered head to toe in weighted clothing, painstakingly enchanted by his grandfather. Despite the old man's limited knowledge of rune magic, the enchantments were effective. The sheer weight made every step feel like a struggle, and the strain on their bodies was constant.
"Did you really think the old man would let us go all out without some insurance?" Alder replied, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, it's not that bad once you get used to it. The physical boost we're gonna get from this will be insane."
Laxus rolled his eyes. "I still don't get why you can't just heal us after training."
Alder groaned, rubbing his temples. "It's bad enough that half the guild treats me like their personal nurse. I don't need you doing the same."
"Hey, it's not like you do it for free. You charge a damn fortune for treatment."
"Exactly. I'm saving money for better gear. Now, are we gonna fight, or are you just gonna keep whining ?"
Glaring at his friend, Laxus felt the raw magical energy inside him raging to be unleashed. Alder must have sensed it too, judging by the way he raised his shield and gripped his axe, dropping into a fighting stance.
This is a fantastic, high-energy scene showcasing the intensity of their sparring match, the growth of both characters, and their competitive yet friendly dynamic.
Laxus grinned, electricity crackling around him. "Lightning Dragon..." He inhaled deeply, his lungs expanding as he summoned the primal power within. "…Roar!"
A devastating torrent of condensed lightning erupted from his mouth, tearing toward Alder like a storm given form.
Alder reacted instantly. Raising his hand, a radiant golden burst of light expanded outward, infusing his axe. With a grunt, he hurled the weapon with all his strength.
The glowing axe sliced through the air, colliding with the stream of lightning in a violent clash. Sparks of light and electricity crackled in an awe-inspiring display. Laxus watched in shock as his lightning began to falter, then dissipated entirely.
Grunting, Laxus allowed the lightning within him to flow freely across his body, further boosting his physical strength. He dashed out of the axe's path just as it returned to Alder's hand like a loyal boomerang. Narrowing his eyes, Laxus studied the weapon in disbelief.
This wasn't the usual, beaten-up axe Alder carried.
The blade was forged from rough, dark metal, weathered and corroded to give it a rugged, timeworn look. The double-bladed head curved inward like a crescent moon, its edges smooth but deadly.
The handle, carved from dark wood or metal, was wrapped with faintly etched runes that glimmered with residual magic. The engravings looked ancient, like something forged by a long-lost civilization of master blacksmiths.
Laxus raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Nice axe."
"Thanks," Alder replied casually, resting the weapon on his shoulder. "I just bought it yesterday."
Laxus smirked, electricity arcing across his body. "Well, just because you got a new axe doesn't mean this is gonna get any easier."
He raised his hand, calling forth a massive bolt of lightning. "Resounding through the air, the roar of thunder, plunge from the heavens and reap destruction!"
A colossal lightning bolt descended from the sky, striking Alder. He quickly raised his wooden shield, which pulsed with a radiant, golden light.
Strange symbols and intricate patterns of energy appeared, forming a barrier around him. The shield deflected the lightning with bursts of sparkling energy, scattering dust and light across the battlefield.
As the dust settled, Laxus grinned confidently. "There's no way you dodged that one."
But as the haze cleared, Alder was nowhere to be found.
Laxus narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air. His sharp senses caught a scent, and his head snapped upward.
There he was.
Alder was flying above him, golden wings extending from his back, shimmering with radiant light.
"You can fly ?!" Laxus shouted in disbelief.
Alder smirked down at him. "Just learned it yesterday."
Without warning, he dove at Laxus, shield-first. The blow hit him square in the nose, sending him stumbling back. Before he could recover, Alder spun in mid-air, landing a solid kick to his stomach and knocking the air out of him.
Laxus crashed into a nearby tree, the impact shaking the guild training ground. For a moment, he sat there, stunned. But then, a wide grin spread across his face. Wiping the blood from his nose, he stood up, lightning dancing around his body.
"This is gonna be fun," he said, his voice brimming with excitement.