If this was the Great World of Magic, then mankind was surely doomed. War waged, constantly, endlessly, without stop or pause. Something that promised wonder abound only brought Death, and he knew Death, for he was Death. He was made from Death. Constantly surrounded, and yet he had never been consumed.

It felt like it had been eons upon eons of this, and as Death grew, as did he, and there was only one conceivable end, and so the Death Mage Zeref took it upon himself to weave the webs of beginning, to bring about the best end. Never was what he created life, nor magic, but something more, something different… and for the first time since the young looking man could remember, he had companionship, for Demons would not die from his presence and touch, from his magic unless he truly desired such, unstable or not. It was not a happy life, but it was a better one, those he created worshiped him, and that was not what he had wanted.

Another town laid waste to the path of mages, rubble blood and stone, bodies strewn and left where they fell, such a smell he never bothered with any longer. Bare feet took silent steps through what was left, only a small group accompanied him, scouting the area for others, but for now the white robed mage was alone, and it was passing down what he presumed a street that something caught his attention. It was quiet, weak, but he heard it, feet moving upon reflex as knees bent in rubble. A woman had been crushed, a man lay not far from her, his arm extended as if in reach, perhaps he had tried to save her, but that was not what caught Zeref's attention, what had was what lay tight in the women's bloody arms, somehow not crushed by the stone like the rest of her.

A child clung tight to fabric of what would have belonged to his mother, he was young, perhaps four or five, bloody himself, a mixture of the spray from around him, and a wound that seemed to be in his stomach, of unclear origin, the child was whimpering and crying, likely exhausted from pain and fear. But alive.

The kind thing, some would say, would to be to kill the child then and there, and Zeref was no exception to these thoughts, gently did he extract the child from his mothers arms, but what came next, that was what moved him. Dirt stained eyelids fluttered open, hazel eyes blinked up at him, hidden only slightly from by matted salmon pink hair, whites bloodshot and tears staining his face. Perhaps the child was delusional, or perhaps the Death Mage looked familiar to the boy, either way he gave a sigh, eyes closing again as small hand gripped upon white robe and face nuzzled into his chest.

"Thank you…" Was the whisper that came next, small, quiet but sweet. The child thought himself saved.

And, somehow, Zeref could not find it in himself to end the child, instead he rose, keeping the child close in his arms, and walked from the town, joined by his demons not long after who gave their creator the oddest looks, but did not question, not when the Death Mage told them to tend to the boys wounds, to feed him, to clothe him, they obeyed without question. No matter how strange to them it seemed to let his human child live. Was it not their Lords wish to rid the world of them all?

Yet the child did not grow well. There was only so much one could do when they had no medical talent or training, Demons healed, and Zeref could not be harmed. Each day the child grew weaker and weaker, but still, he blinked up at the man that carried him, day in and day out, with those hazel eyes, and a smile that lit up his face, one that brought a smile of his own to the normally unmoved mage. This child, was something special. Something special indeed… but his time, was running out. He would die. Just like the rest.

And no matter how much Zeref tried to convince himself that it did not matter, he was just a human boy and there were many like him, many that had died by his own hand, the feeling there was something special about this child would not leave him… and it was only one night as the child grew weaker, resting upon the earthen floor in a small resting spot that he discovered it. The child had been bleeding once more, and this had attracted wolves, they reached the young boy before the mage did, part of him, perhaps, was relieved, to ease him of worry, but the other was tormented with something he had never known, fear, fear that the child had died without safety and someone holding him close. But as he reached the boy, surrounded by hungry wolves, a glowing light shone, and in an instant, the wolves were evaporated into nothing, leaving only a slightly whimpering boy.

He had magic. Powerful magic. Zeref could feel it, just that simple wave had been filled with so much. So very much. This boy, could be the start and the end of everything. Pulling the child into his arms he hushed him, and it never took much before the smile returned to those paling cheeks.

"Silly hungry wolfies." The boy stated, giving his head a little shake, and this made the Death Mage chuckle.

"Indeed. Come, we have much to do, and so little time to do so."

To the child, it was but a simple bedtime story, something that one of his younger Demons entertained the child with often, even though she stated she found them boring and unentertaining, the child always listened, and fell asleep without fuss. This, was much the same, Zeref convinced the boy, it would just be he telling him the story… and when he woke in the morning, he would feel so much better, and so much stronger.

"I wanna be stronger…" The sleepy child mused, giving his eye a rub as he lay with his head upon Zeref's lap. "Be strong like you…"

The mage gave a sad smile. "You'll one day be stronger than me, I promise. Shall we begin?"

"Mmhmm…"

The boy did become better, so much better. No longer was he on the brink of death, no longer was he pale and weak, every word that rolled from the Death Mages lips affected the child even though he understood not what the words said. Even when exhaustion took him at last he could still hear the words echoing in his head, unlocking, changing, shifting. By the time he woke, he was different, no longer was he the human boy that the Death Mage had felt for. No.

He was his most powerful creation, most powerful being, most powerful Demon…. END.

The first morn with the child awake was an interesting one, all of them had been used to the legathic weak boy that could not even move on his own, but the child they met when he at last woke, body changed forever, was energetic and happy. He ran around the group, all laughter and giggles, showing off the new horns that had curved from the side of his head in a golden tone, and how his ears had pointed upwards, that his teeth had grown sharper. The child had always been annoying to some, but most took it in good humor as the boy ran around, he was able to for the first time in weeks, no one was shocked he would be a bundle of energy.

But that was not what Zeref remembered most of that day, what he remembered most fondly was when the boy ran up to him and gave him a tight embrace. "Thank you… Father…" He whispered, and the Death Mage was buoyed by the word. The child did not call him Master or Lord like the rest… but Father… perhaps he no longer remembered his own, either way, the dark haired male did not correct him, he simply ruffled the childs hair and told him to go back to play.

That bundle of energy he remained. The boy grew, as he did, so did his strength, fast was he the most powerful of the Demons of Zeref, even if he was rather destructive, taking joy in the way flames could dance from his hands, or perhaps it became an obsession. Either way END grew from an innocent boy to a powerful Demon, one that was carefree as much as he took command when it was needed, one that earned respect rather than being given it. From his mind was the guild of Tartarus born.

"If the Humans create guilds, why shouldn't we? One of our own, away from their laws and rules, to protect our family, and Father's books?" For as far as END had always been concerned… the Demons were his family.

But it was at the end of the Age of Dragons that the one Human boys story really began to unfold. Zeref had disappeared, and all any of them knew of was his desire to end all who used magic. END did not mourn the loss of his Father, instead he was pushed further by it, Tartarus' power was expanding over Human guilds, Humans that desired to be subservient, and they had their uses for the time being… and the end of the Human's War with the Dragons.

And a fateful moment…

Since the birth of Acnologia, or rather, his ascension aided by Zeref, the Dragon's increasing attention had been focused upon his Demons and what they could do… and END himself had many clashes with a Dragon that called himself the King of Flame. Igneel.

The Dragon was strong, END would never doubt that, and he had always respected a strong opponent. What he did not expect was to be caught off guard for but a moment, and to be thrown into the pure flames of the Dragon. It was then, that Igneel saw the truth behind Zeref's Most Powerful.

Split before him in the flames, a book, and a boy and it was in that moment that the Dragon could not kill Demon… but sealed him instead, letting the book fall and leaving it where it lay, as body reverted to that of a five year old boy, healthy and well, no horns, no pointed ears, no sharp teeth, just a simple human boy.

Who the King of Flame took… and trained…

And called Natsu Dragneel…