"The choice is yours, Juvia. What do you want to do?"
Hearing Sheila's words, Juvia's gaze locked onto the sunken pit. Gajeel was slouched over, chest heaving, his boots skidding in the floor as he struggled to stand.
The jagged gash on his arm was still dripping blood onto the floor; his magic container was bone-dry. He hadn't recovered from their fight in the corridor, and now Damian was closing the distance, a lethal grin cutting across the wizard's face.
Juvia's fingers slowly tightened into fists, burying into the fabric of her skirt.
"...I…"
The roaring cheers of the bloodthirsty guild hall faded into a dull static. Sheila's words echoed in her mind, pulling her back. Back through the years.
Back to a past that had started as a perfect paradise—before a single nightmare shattered it into a living hell.
◆ ◇ ◆
Before the rain, my childhood was completely ordinary. My parents were both wizards, retired from whatever guild they used to run with by the time I came along.
We lived in a quiet, sunlit place called Baywater Village.
Mom and Dad were both practitioners of Water Magic. They weren't masters, but water was woven into everything they did. Dad used it to wash the dishes with a wave of his hand; Mom used it to keep her flowers blooming.
They'd fill our drinking glasses across the room without ever touching the faucet. That was how I learned what magic even was.
They taught me that water is one of the four major generic elemental attributes—alongside fire, wind, and earth—allowing a caster to freely create and manipulate liquid flow.
They hoped I'd inherit the trait and become a wizard like them, but they never forced it on me. If I chose a normal life, they were perfectly fine with that.
All they really cared about was my happiness.
When I was four years old, our small world expanded. My mother gave birth to my baby sister.
I still remember my dad sitting me down on the porch, his hand resting gently on my shoulder.
"Juvia, as the older sibling, it's your job to watch over your sister if your mother and I aren't around. That's what it means to be the big sister: always protect the younger one. It's the same way your mother and I protect each other."
I remember nodding proudly, gladly accepting the weight of that promise. I loved her instantly.
But that paradise—the warmth, the safety, the family we all built together—didn't last. In a single, violent day, our sky turned black, and everything we had was dragged straight into hell.
I still remember the date clearly. July 4, X776, was the day it all changed.
It was my sixth birthday. Wanting to give me a special celebration, my parents decided to cook a massive feast. I desperately wanted to help, but they wouldn't let me do anything dangerous in the kitchen.
Instead, they gave me a simple job: go to the forest bordering Baywater Village and collect berries.
My little sister, Lilia, was only two at the time. She begged to come with me, pulling at my skirt, but I didn't want the hassle of watching over a toddler.
I made her stay behind with Mom and Dad.
I can still see the tiny, understanding smile Lilia gave me before I turned my back. Little did I know, that single, seemingly minor choice would alter the trajectory of my entire life.
When I walked back into the village, paradise had been replaced by a slaughterhouse. The houses were entirely demolished. A thick, metallic stench of iron and blood choked the air so heavily that not even the pouring rain could wash it away.
I dropped my basket and ran through the deluge, screaming for my parents, my voice swallowed by the thunder. Everywhere I looked, bodies littered the mud.
The roar of the storm. The cold water on my skin. The sheer, suffocating terror. I remember every single detail.
The stuffed animal I carry with me to this day was the only thing left of my little sister. I found it lying in the dirt right in front of the corpses of my family.
The last solid memory I have of that day is standing over them, screaming until my lungs bled.
After that, everything went hazy. I lost track of days, weeks, months. All I remember is walking.
I didn't know where I was going. With no destination, no family, and no purpose, I was completely alone. I just walked. My feet ached, blisters tore open and bled into my shoes, but I kept moving because stopping meant facing the silence.
I felt like an absolute failure. What good is an older sister who abandons her responsibility the second it becomes inconvenient? My father had trusted me, and I had failed them all.
It was during that year of aimless wandering that the trauma triggered an Ethernano Awakening deep within me, cracking open a reservoir of Innate Magic I would later call Skywater Magic.
For a solid year, I lived like a ghost. I barely remember the places I traveled, but I will never forget how I felt.
A crushing, inescapable sadness. A profound emptiness that stripped away my interest in everything. I was entirely worthless, drowning in hopelessness. The only time the pain stopped was when I was asleep.
But then, everything changed.
I was hiding in the shadows of a tavern one night when I overheard a group of traveling merchants talking. It was through their gossip that I learned the truth: the destruction of Baywater Village wasn't a random disaster.
It was a targeted hit executed by a clan of rogue shinobi.
A syndicate known as the Ebonveil Clan.
From that exact moment, the sorrow evaporated, replaced by a scalding, unfathomable hatred. Vengeance became the literal blood pumping through my veins. I didn't care who had hired them, or what twisted reason led to the raid. For all I knew, we were just an unlucky casualty. It didn't matter.
I swore a blood oath to myself right there in the dark.
'You're all better off dead… You're just worthless bags of flesh. Don't you dare think you got rid of the whole family, because I'm coming for you, Ebonveil. I'll kill you all. Every last one.'
That burning rage was the only thing that kept me breathing for a year.
Revenge never disappeared. It simply waited.
What I told Gajeel just now about letting that Ebonveil guy go? Well… that all depends on him.
Because if I find him first, I'll end him without hesitation.
Then, the rain finally brought a change. I think it was the fourth of July again, exactly a year after everything broke.
I was slumped against a cold stone wall in the middle of a torrential downpour, completely hollowed out.
Through the sheets of water, a pair of sharp, black high heels clicked to a halt right in front of me. I looked up. It was a very tall woman with a cigarette resting between her lips.
Even in the middle of a miserable storm, she looked impossibly beautiful—like a high-fashion model who had wandered into the wrong part of the world.
She stared down at me, exhaling a thin stream of gray smoke into the falling rain.
"Oh? Now that is strange. What is a kid your size doing looking all depressed out here?"
That was the exact moment I met Sheila. The first person in a year to actually look at me. The person I respect more than anyone else in this world.
Sheila didn't leave me in that alley. She took me back with her, straight into the heart of her guild: Phantom Lord.
I still remember walking through the massive guild hall for the very first time, my hand gripping Sheila's tailored jacket. As we passed the main tavern area, I saw a boy roughly my own age.
He was brutally beating another mage into the floor, laughing loudly with a wild, savage smile on his face. To me, he looked like a total caveman.
That was the first time I ever saw Gajeel Lionheart. I'm pretty sure he didn't even notice me walking by in the shadows.
Not that I was offended or anything; he was entirely in his own world.
A little later, Sheila led me into a grand, darkened office. I remember bowing my head deeply alongside her in front of a man sitting behind a massive desk.
I can't recall the exact words of their conversation, but I knew they were negotiating my future.
That man was Master Jose. And by the time the sun went down that day, I was officially a member of Phantom Lord.
◆ ◇ ◆
The memories faded, and the ambient noise of the chaotic guild hall rushed back into Juvia's ears. She took a deep, steadying breath, her mind finally made up.
Before she spoke, she cast one last glance over her shoulder at the fighting pit. Gajeel was still down there, panting heavily, blood dripping from his arm as Damian stepped closer.
Juvia turned back around, her expression hardening into a look of absolute seriousness. She locked eyes with her guardian.
"If I'm being honest, Sheila… I can't help but respect Gajeel's choice," Juvia said, her voice small but steady. "Damian didn't force him into this fight. Gajeel could have bowed his head and apologized like I did, but he chose not to."
She swallowed hard, looking toward the floor.
"So, whether I understand his motives or not, I recognize that he made a decision. Asking you to interfere would mean taking that decision away from him. Besides, I know he doesn't want my help…"
Juvia had watched Gajeel enough to know the kind of person he was. He loathed relying on others. If Sheila suddenly dropped into the pit to rescue him, Gajeel wouldn't be grateful. He'd see it as a pathetic, deep humiliation.
"Even if I asked… Gajeel wouldn't want this," Juvia muttered.
Her face softened, a deep, lingering sadness creeping back into her features. She looked away briefly, her small fingers tightly squeezing the worn stuffed animal cradled in her arms.
"I trust you, Sheila. I believe you when you say you're strong. But trust doesn't just erase my fear. What if you got hurt because I asked you to jump into a brawl? I couldn't live with myself if that happened…"
Losing to Gajeel in the corridor had cracked something open inside Juvia's head. A hard truth had finally clicked. If she wanted to survive, she needed to become someone who could solve her own problems, rather than constantly waiting for someone else to step in and save her.
'If I couldn't even defeat Gajeel… someone my own age… then how can I ever hope to stand against the assassins who destroyed my entire village?'
'If I ask Sheila to fight my battles now… then I'm just admitting I can't do anything.'
That realization cut far deeper than the sting of any physical defeat. In this quiet moment, right at the edge of the roaring pit, Juvia made a silent vow to herself.
She didn't want to hide behind Sheila's tailored suit forever. She needed to train harder, master the absolute limits of her Skywater Magic, and grow into a Mage who was strong enough to stand on her own two feet.
One who was strong enough to actually protect the people she cared about.
Sheila didn't say a word. She simply stepped forward, her polished high heels clicking softly against the floor until she came to a halt directly in front of the little girl.
Kneeling down so they were completely at eye level, Sheila placed a gentle, leather-gloved hand over Juvia's. A warm, almost motherly smile softened her usually severe features.
"Juvia. I love you, kid," Sheila said softly.
Juvia's cheeks instantly flushed a bright, burning red. She stammered, her lips parting as she desperately tried to force the words out to say it back—
"I'm not looking for validation," Sheila added quickly, her smile widening just a fraction. "And I'm not saying it so you feel like you owe me something. I'm saying it because that's genuinely how I feel about you."
She squeezed Juvia's hand gently. "You don't need to force yourself to say it back. I'll wait as long as it takes."
Overwhelmed by the sudden warmth, Juvia fell into a shy silence, offering a small, grateful nod of her head as she tucked her face down.
A little while later, as the roar of the fighting pit continued to echo behind them, the two of them quietly turned and left the chaotic guild hall together.
Meanwhile, far away from the violence of the central pit, the heavy wooden doors of the Phantom Lord library sat tightly shut.
Deep within the shadows of the silent archives...
Something was beginning to stir.