"Don't underestimate Holder-type mages," Makarov warned, noticing Goku's slight skepticism. "There are many high-level experts among them. For instance, we have an S-Class mage in our guild named Mystogan. He is a Holder-type, and his strength is truly formidable."
"Mystogan... I'll have to find a time to spar with him," Goku noted silently. Since he couldn't challenge the Master immediately, a duel with an S-Class mage seemed like the perfect way to test his progress. Everyone in the guild spoke of the S-Class rank with such reverence that Goku's blood began to simmer with anticipation.
Makarov transitioned from general knowledge to the core of their lesson. "Giant Magic was originally developed by mages in the ancient past to combat Dragons. Unfortunately, the Dragons were too powerful; even as giants, mages struggled to stand against them. But through centuries of refinement, the magic has evolved. If one could reach the form of a thousand-meter giant, defeating a Dragon might not be a dream anymore."
"Are Dragons really that strong?" Goku tilted his head. Back at Hogwarts, Grandpa Dumbledore had taken him to fight a nesting mother. He had found the beast quite average, taking it down with just a few well-placed strikes.
"I haven't seen one myself," Makarov admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But according to the ancient grimoires, they are cataclysmic beings. Their scales are nearly impervious to regular magic, and their breath can level kingdoms."
"Are there still Dragons left in this world?" Goku's eyes sparkled. If the Dragons here were as powerful as Makarov described, they would make incredible training partners. He didn't fear power; he feared stagnation. The stronger the opponent, the faster he could grow.
"Perhaps. But no one knows where they dwell. Aside from Natsu's stories of Igneel, news of Dragons has been non-existent for centuries. Now, let's get back to the point. I will guide you on how to channel your magic power to construct the internal spell-circle..."
Under Makarov's meticulous guidance, Goku plunged into the formal study of Giant Magic.
As noon approached, a complete, golden magic circle manifested beneath Goku's feet. His body began to swell with a low, rhythmic hum. In a blur of expanding muscle and bone, the boy—originally barely 130 centimeters tall—transformed into a hulking, muscular man over two meters in height.
Makarov's jaw dropped.
'He's already grasped the basics? And he can expand this much on his first try?'
To learn the "Giant" spell in half a day was impressive enough, but to achieve a growth of nearly a meter indicated that Goku possessed a massive reserve of internal energy. Most beginners considered it a success if they grew a few inches after their first month of practice.
"How does it feel?" Makarov asked, his voice tinged with awe.
Goku clenched his fists, feeling the explosive pressure of his expanded ki. "It's amazing! I feel like my raw strength has nearly doubled!"
Goku's internal math was simple: if his base power was a '1', and his All-Concentration Breathing from the Demon Slayer world pushed it to a '2', then this Giant form—which doubled his physical mass—pushed his output to a '4'.
He was now roughly four times stronger than he had been when he first left his own world. If he could eventually reach a hundred meters like the Master—multiplying his power dozens of times over—and then stack that with his Great Ape transformation (a ten-fold multiplier), he would be hundreds of times more powerful. At that rate, he was certain he could take the championship from "Jackie Chun" at the next World Martial Arts Tournament.
"Try hitting that tree," Makarov suggested, pointing to a massive ancient oak with a trunk over three meters wide. He wanted to see the destructive potential of this new form.
Goku stepped forward, settling into the Turtle School stance. He sank his weight, twisted his hips, and threw a straight punch.
*BOOM!*
The sound of a sonic boom tore through the forest. Goku's fist hadn't even touched the bark when the sheer pressure of the displaced air—the "fist-wind"—shattered the oak into splinters. The shockwave continued forward, carving a literal road through the dense forest for dozens of meters.
"What?!" Makarov's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
He knew Goku was strong, but he hadn't expected a novice's punch to carry such devastating force. By the standards of the Magic Council, that single strike possessed the destructive output of an S-Class Mage.
Of course, "S-Class" wasn't just about raw power; it also required combat experience and finesse. A mage like Gray might have S-Class output, but without the experience to time his spells or the control to shape his ice, he would be defeated by a faster opponent.
However, Giant Magic was unique—it was a physical enhancer. For this style, physical combat skill was the only metric that mattered. And Goku had already demonstrated that he could out-grapple and out-strike every veteran in the guild hall without using any magic at all.
This meant that, as of this moment, Goku was effectively an S-Class combatant.
'He's just started... if he reaches my level, how strong will he be?' Makarov's grin turned slightly crooked with excitement. He suspected that if Goku mastered the hundred-meter form, even God Serena, the rank-one Wizard Saint, wouldn't be able to stand against him. Goku would likely just swat away Serena's eight types of Dragon Slayer magic with a bare hand.
"If this is the case, I can't keep him cooped up in the guild," Makarov mused, shaking his head.
Magic didn't improve through closed-door meditation alone. Real growth came from the heat of battle, from pushing one's limits against dangerous foes. That was why mages took requests—to sharpen their spirit and refine their craft.
Originally, Makarov planned to keep Goku as a "repair specialist" to save the guild from bankruptcy. But he realized that holding Goku back just to avoid fines would be a crime against the boy's talent. Prodigies like Erza and Mirajane had started taking solo missions at twelve; that was how they became legends by fifteen.
The fines would be enormous, and the Council would surely scream until they were blue in the face, but Makarov didn't care. To him, nothing was more important than the growth of his children."
***
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