Chapter 371: The Western Continent
"Huh?!"
Ren couldn't help but blink. His expression dropped into a mask of pure, unadulterated disbelief as the old man's words registered in his mind.
"No, Gramps, why are you bringing this up again?" Ren groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Are you seriously thinking about retiring right now?!"
Ren considered what taking the mantle actually meant. While becoming a Guild Master didn't strictly forbid a mage from taking on jobs, it fundamentally chained them to a desk. It was an endless, soul-crushing avalanche of bureaucratic chores. If a guild member failed a mission, you handled the fallout. If they caused trouble and destroyed property, you handled the apologies and the fines. If they clashed with another guild, you smoothed things over. Even if they simply brawled with each other in the guild hall, it was the Master who had to clean up the mess.
Then came the regional Guild Alliance meetings, the tedious diplomacy, and the constant budgeting. Once the administrative work piled up, there was simply no time to venture out into the field and take on missions.
And how was he supposed to get stronger without fighting? If he didn't constantly push his limits in life-or-death battles, how could he ever hope to defeat Acnologia? The Black Dragon of the Apocalypse wasn't a foe that could be beaten from behind a desk.
"Well... that is indeed one of the thoughts running through my old mind," Makarov sighed, his voice raspy and devoid of its usual booming energy. "But it is not the main reason. Brat, have you ever heard of the Western Continent?"
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Western Continent? Alakitasia? Yeah, I know a bit about it."
He naturally knew of it. It was the sprawling domain ruled by the Black Wizard Zeref. But he kept that specific detail to himself for now, waiting to see just how much Makarov actually knew.
"The Western Continent is fundamentally different from our home here in the East," Makarov explained, intertwining his wrinkled fingers as he rested them heavily on his desk. "There aren't dozens of divided nations and independent borders over there. Instead, the entire landmass is a single, unified empire. The Alvarez Empire."
Makarov paused, letting the sheer weight of that statement sink into the quiet room.
"Eight years ago, that great nation planned a full-scale invasion of our continent," Makarov continued, his gaze drifting toward the window as if he could see the distant threat across the ocean. "They amassed their forces, but the invasion was ultimately aborted. Do you know why they wanted to attack us in the first place?"
Before Ren could offer a guess, Makarov answered his own question in a hushed, reverent tone. "Lumen Histoire... also known as Fairy Heart."
[Akarin's Note: Lumen Histoire (Fairy Heart) is the ultimate secret of the Fairy Tail guild. It is an infinite source of Magic Power born from the crystallized body of the First Guild Master, Mavis Vermillion, and heavily tied to Ankhseram's Curse.]
Ren remained silent, allowing the old man to explain the deepest secret of their guild.
"The entire reason Alvarez mobilized against Ishgar eight years ago was to seize Lumen Histoire," Makarov revealed, his tone turning grim. "They didn't fail their attack; they canceled it halfway through. And the only reason they stopped was because the Magic Council bared its fangs and showed them true, catastrophic power."
"Etherion was one of those deterrents," Makarov said. "That satellite weapon, capable of raining down localized destruction on any fixed coordinate across Ishgar at will, was undoubtedly a massive threat to an invading fleet. But after witnessing Tartaros's recent actions, we've learned a harsh truth. Etherion isn't invincible. As long as the Magic Council members are assassinated in a surprise attack, the entire system loses its power to operate."
Makarov let out a heavy sigh, the deep exhaustion of the recent war settling into his bones.
"Then there is Face," Makarov added, referencing the terrifying pulse bombs they had just fought so desperately to stop. "A weapon that became entirely too well-known during this recent catastrophe. It was originally a strategic safeguard owned by the Council. The threat of wiping out all magical power on the continent was enough to ensure that even a superpower like the Alvarez Empire wouldn't dare act rashly."
He looked back up at Ren, his eyes filled with a deep, sorrowful dread.
"But now, the Council is completely gone," Makarov stated bluntly. "And so are Etherion and Face. Do you understand what this means, Ren?"
Ren crossed his arms, his expression indifferent to the looming geopolitical nightmare. "It means Ishgar has lost all its defensive deterrents."
"Exactly!" Makarov slammed his hand lightly against the desk. "Their invasion plan will undoubtedly resume. It is only a matter of time."
"Then what does that have to do with me becoming the Guild Master?" Ren asked calmly, completely unbothered by the threat. "If they want to attack, we'll just fight back. It's that simple."
Ren had been mentally preparing for this exact scenario for a long time. Although the precise chronological details of the events were a bit fuzzy in his memory, he clearly remembered the grand scale of the Alvarez Empire's invasion. It was inevitable.
Makarov shook his head, a bitter, helpless smile forming on his lips. "You don't understand the sheer scale of the opponent's national strength, Ren. On this entire continent of Ishgar, there are roughly 500 magical guilds in total. But on the Western Continent? Counting both legal and Dark Guilds, there were once 730."
Ren raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
"Those 730 guilds were not left to squabble amongst themselves," Makarov emphasized, his voice trembling slightly. "They were forcefully unified under a single banner to form a massive, singular entity. The super military magic empire... the Alvarez Empire."
Makarov leaned forward, his eyes pleading for Ren to understand the gravity of the situation. "For our single guild to face the combined might of 730 guilds... we wouldn't even be able to put up a meaningful fight. In the grand scheme of things, we are as powerless as infants. Compared to the Alvarez Empire, the enemies we've faced so far—even Grimoire Heart and Tartaros—aren't even on the same level."
"I know you are incredibly strong, Ren," Makarov conceded, acknowledging the young mage's overwhelming power. "But no matter how strong you are as an individual, you cannot contend with the entire Alvarez Empire alone. Their numbers, their resources, their military might... it's simply too vast."
"Then what exactly is your grand plan, Gramps?" Ren asked, his tone shifting into something a bit sharper.
"I will go to the Alvarez Empire alone," Makarov declared, his eyes hardening with resolve. "I will negotiate with them. If they threaten to invade, I will bluff and say we are fully prepared to activate Lumen Histoire in retaliation. The goal is to buy as much time as possible. It is a desperate gamble, but as long as the Magic Council can be officially rebuilt during this grace period, we win."
Makarov took a deep breath, looking at Ren with absolute trust. "And in the worst-case scenario... if they call my bluff and really do launch a full-scale attack, you, Ren, will be the one to activate Lumen Histoire."
Ren's eyes widened slightly at the immense responsibility being placed upon his shoulders.
"At that time, you will possess truly infinite magic power," Makarov explained. "Combined with your unique and overwhelming magic, I believe with absolute certainty that you can hold the line. You can protect Fairy Tail, and you can protect the Ishgar continent."
Ren stood in silence for a moment, processing the old man's suicidal plan. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"Wait a minute, Gramps," Ren spoke up, immediately pointing out the glaring logical flaw in the strategy. "If I can successfully withstand the Alvarez Empire's invasion by using Lumen Histoire... why do you have to go over there alone to negotiate with them?"
It made no sense. If they lacked the strength to fight, negotiating a surrender or a truce would be one thing. But if they possessed a weapon capable of defending themselves, why risk the Guild Master's life on a fool's errand deep in enemy territory?
"Lumen Histoire is infinite magic, yes, but it is fraught with terrifying uncertainties," Makarov admitted, his expression darkening as he recalled the guild's deepest secrets. "I am not completely sure what kind of catastrophic impact it will have on you, or on the balance of this world. So, it is absolutely paramount that we avoid using it if at all possible."
Makarov was deeply worried. He had learned the horrifying truth behind the guild's ultimate weapon from the Second Guild Master, Precht—the man who would eventually descend into darkness and become Hades, the leader of Grimoire Heart.
Lumen Histoire wasn't just a powerful spell. It was a terrifying anomaly accidentally created by Precht as he desperately experimented on the comatose body of the First Master, Mavis. The birth of this infinite magic stemmed directly from the Curse of Ankhseram—a dark, inescapable curse placed upon Mavis by a literal god. And gods, as Makarov well knew, were undoubtedly terrifying existences.
Ren stroked his chin, digesting the information. He already knew exactly what Lumen Histoire was, but hearing Makarov's perspective clarified the old man's desperate mindset.
"Hmm..." Ren nodded slowly. "Alright. I basically understand everything."
Makarov's shoulders slumped in relief. "It is good that you understand. Then..."
"I don't agree to take over as Guild Master."
"What?!" Makarov's jaw practically hit the desk, his eyes bulging out of his skull. "Brat, didn't you just say you understood?!"
"I understand the situation perfectly," Ren replied calmly, crossing his arms. "But I never once said I agreed with your suicidal approach, Gramps!"
"What do you mean?!" Makarov demanded, frustration lacing his tone.
"What you're terrified of, Gramps, is nothing more than the impending invasion of the Alvarez Empire," Ren explained, his voice steady and unwavering. "Right now, you believe Ishgar is completely unable to resist, so you plan to march into the lion's den alone to negotiate. Actually... I think your entire plan is completely unnecessary."
"How could it not be necessary?!" Makarov argued, gesturing wildly. "As long as the Magic Council can be—"
"Even if the Magic Council is rebuilt tomorrow, it would be completely useless," Ren interrupted, cutting off the old man's naive hope. "Think about it logically. According to what you just told me about the opponent's overwhelming strength, rebuilding the Council would offer limited, if any, deterrent power against the Alvarez Empire."
Ren took a step closer, his gaze piercing. "They already know we lost Etherion. They know Face is gone. Rebuilding a political office won't magically give us new superweapons. If they genuinely want to attack Ishgar, they will attack eventually. They won't be hindered or scared off just because a few politicians put on fancy robes and call themselves the Magic Council again."
"..."
Makarov fell into a dead silence.
How could he not know this basic logic? He wasn't stupid. He didn't know the exact, intimate details of the Western Continent's military structure, but even the tiny tip of the iceberg he had witnessed was enough to make his soul tremble.
Deep down in his heart, he knew he might not be able to achieve a single damn thing by going to the Alvarez Empire. It was a suicide mission. But even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance of saving his children from a devastating war, he desperately wanted to try.
Seeing the heavy sorrow weighing down on the old man, Ren softened his tone.
"Gramps, don't worry about the Western Continent for now," Ren said, offering a confident, reassuring smile. "We'll deal with whatever comes our way when it gets here. If we can win, we fight. If we can't win, we run."
Makarov looked up, slightly confused. "Run?"
"Exactly," Ren nodded. "With my abilities, I can effortlessly teleport the entire guild—everyone—across the continent without any problem. They can't kill what they can't catch."
"And," Ren added, a wicked, confident grin spreading across his face, "if we're really pushed to the absolute limit, and we have no other choice? We'll just use Lumen Histoire. Infinite magic power! Do you have any idea what I could do with that? I could create infinite Shadow Clones and completely kick their asses back across the ocean."
Makarov stared at the young mage, momentarily stunned by his sheer audacity.
Ren wasn't just boasting. His current magic power was already worlds apart compared to when he first reincarnated into this world. His powerful magic and his continuous, monstrous growth made many things much more convenient for him. As far as Ren was concerned, leading an army of infinite clones to crush an empire sounded like a pretty good warm-up for Acnologia.
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