The Legend Of Shadow Dragon God Slayer

by Maxwell C-Dornez

This is for roggerlopez99. Destroying the Eclipse Gate was the solution to stop Future Rogue's plans, but it was not a good solution because it had unexpected side effects. After destroying the Eclipse Gate, Rogue finds himself returned to the past; He decided to set things right, but little did he realize that his actions would cause drastic and unexpected changes in his world.

4. Chapter 4

«Oak Town»

Rogue trudged down the bustling streets of Oak Town, his feet feeling like they were on fire. Each step was a struggle, the soles of his boots scorched from the intense chase that had ensued the previous night.

"Frosch, I think we may need to invest in some new footwear," Rogue muttered, grimacing as he felt the heat radiating through the tattered soles.

Frosch, perched atop Rogue's shoulder, nodded sympathetically. "Rogue's feet are very hot from running all night."

As they approached a small fountain in the town square, an idea struck Rogue. Without hesitation, he slipped off his boots and dipped his feet into the cool waters, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Ah, much better," he murmured, leaning back and allowing the soothing sensations to wash over him.

Passersby couldn't help but stare at the peculiar sight of a young mage soaking his feet in the public fountain, but Rogue paid them no mind. After the events of the previous night, a little respite was more than warranted.

Closing his eyes, Rogue allowed his mind to drift back to the chase that had led him to this point. It had all started innocently enough, a playful prank on Natsu that quickly spiraled out of control. The memory of Natsu's outraged expression as he realized he had been tricked into eating wolfsicle brought a chuckle to Rogue's lips.

The chase had taken them through the winding streets of Magnolia, their antics drawing both amused and exasperated looks from the townsfolk. Rogue's agility and shadow magic had kept him one step ahead of Natsu's fiery pursuit, but even he couldn't maintain the breakneck pace indefinitely.

It wasn't until they reached the outskirts of Magnolia that Rogue finally managed to give Natsu the slip, ducking into the shadows of a dense thicket. He had waited, heart pounding, as Natsu's enraged voice echoed through the night, demanding his whereabouts.

Eventually, exhaustion had set in, and Rogue emerged from his hiding place, making his way back towards Oak Town with Frosch in tow. The entire journey had been a blur of aching feet and barely suppressed laughter, the memories still fresh in his mind.

As Rogue soaked his feet, the water around him began to steam, a testament to the lingering heat from his night of adventure. Frosch, ever the observant companion, couldn't help but comment.

"Rogue, the water is boiling!" the Exceed exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement.

Rogue glanced down, chuckling at the sight of the gently simmering fountain water. "So it is, Frosch. Looks like my feet are still a bit too heated."

A nearby vendor, catching sight of the steaming fountain, let out a cry of alarm. "Young man! What are you doing to the town fountain?"

Rogue merely grinned, waving a dismissive hand. "Just cooling off, sir. No need for concern."

The vendor, torn between confusion and indignation, could only sputter in response as Rogue leaned back, letting out a contented sigh. Despite the curious stares and occasional outburst, he couldn't help but savor the moment of tranquility after the chaos of the previous night.

As the heat from his feet finally dissipated, Rogue reluctantly rose from the fountain, slipping his boots back on. "Well, Frosch, I suppose we should head back to the guild before Master Jose sends out a search party."

Frosch nodded, hopping onto Rogue's shoulder once more. "Fro think so! But maybe we should avoid Natsu for a little while longer."

Rogue chuckled, already envisioning the fiery mage's reaction when they crossed paths again. "Probably a wise idea, my friend. Though, I can't help but wonder what other adventures await us down the road."

Rogue and Frosch made their way back to the Phantom Lord guild, the familiar edifice looming ahead. As they approached the entrance, Rogue couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. He knew his actions the previous night, while exhilarating, would likely draw scrutiny from the guild's master, Jose Porla.

Pushing open the heavy doors, Rogue was greeted by the familiar bustle of the guild hall. Members milled about, engaged in various activities – drinking, trading stories, and even a few heated games of cards. Rogue nodded to a few familiar faces as he made his way towards the bar, Frosch perched securely on his shoulder.

As he settled into one of the stools, the bartender, a gruff-looking man with a perpetual scowl, glanced in his direction. "What'll it be, Rogue?" he grunted, already reaching for a glass.

Rogue paused, considering his options. "Vodka, please."

The guild hall fell silent, all eyes turning towards the young mage. Rogue's casual request for an alcoholic beverage hung in the air, its implications not lost on the seasoned guild members.

Realization dawned on Rogue as he took in the stunned expressions around him. Of course, he was still a twelve-year-old in this life, far too young to indulge in such adult beverages. A sheepish grin replaced his earlier bravado as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Just kidding," he chuckled, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I'll have a cold juice, please."

The bartender snorted, shaking his head as he reached for a glass and filled it with a vibrant orange liquid. "You're lucky Master Jose ain't here, kid. He'd have your hide for that stunt."

Rogue accepted the juice gratefully, taking a sip as he glanced around the guild hall. The members had already returned to their previous activities, though a few lingering glances in his direction suggested his little joke had not gone unnoticed.

As he sat there, sipping his juice, Rogue couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. In his previous life, such a request for a drink would have been met with casual indifference. He had been an adult then, free to indulge in the vices of adulthood without a second thought.

Now, however, he was trapped in the body of a child, his vast experiences and knowledge confined within the limitations of youth. It was a frustrating reality, one that he would have to navigate with care lest he draw unwanted attention to his peculiar circumstances.

Frosch, ever the observant companion, seemed to sense Rogue's shift in mood. "Is everything okay, Rogue?" the Exceed asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

Rogue offered a reassuring smile, ruffling Frosch's fur affectionately. "Of course, Frosch. Just reminiscing about the good old days."

Rogue knew that he would have to tread carefully, lest his actions or words betray the ancient wisdom he carried within. It was a delicate balance, one that required constant vigilance and a level of deception that sometimes weighed heavily upon him.

With a deep breath, Rogue downed the rest of his juice, feeling the refreshing liquid wash away the lingering melancholy.

The familiar surroundings of the Phantom Lord guild hall grounded him, reminding him of the delicate balance he needed to maintain between his past experiences and his present reality.

As he set his glass down, a familiar voice called out from across the room. "Oi, Ryos! Over here!"

Rogue turned to see Gajeel, the gruff iron dragon slayer, waving him over to a secluded table in the corner. Exchanging a glance with Frosch, Rogue made his way towards his guildmate, a casual smile on his face.

"Gajeel," Rogue greeted as he slid into the seat across from the older mage. "What's up?"

Gajeel leaned back, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "How'd it go?"

Rogue felt a flicker of amusement at the mention of the quest. "Well, the job itself was cancelled before it even began," he replied smoothly, deciding to omit the details of his encounter with Natsu and Lucy.

Gajeel raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze studying Rogue's expression. "Cancelled? That's a first. What happened?"

Rogue shrugged nonchalantly. "The client, Kaby Melon, had a change of heart. Decided he didn't want the book destroyed after all."

A bark of laughter escaped Gajeel's lips. "So, you went all that way for nothing? Man, that's rough."

Rogue merely smiled, his expression betraying none of the inner satisfaction he felt. While Gajeel might have assumed the quest was a complete bust, the truth was far from it.

In addition to the invaluable martial arts tome he had discovered, Rogue had taken advantage of the chaos at Everlue Mansion to acquire a few choice items and treasures. His experiences from his past life and memories of his future self had taught him the value of seizing opportunities, and the downfall of the lavish estate had presented a prime chance to supplement his resources.

Of course, he couldn't reveal such details to Gajeel, not without raising suspicions he couldn't afford. So, he simply allowed his guildmate to bask in the assumption that the quest had been a fruitless endeavor.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a letdown," Rogue admitted, playing along with Gajeel's perception. "But that's the way it goes sometimes. At least it was an interesting experience."

Gajeel snorted, shaking his head. "You're too easy-going, kid. If it were me, I'd have given that Melon guy a piece of my mind."

Rogue couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Gajeel's brash approach. "Maybe it's for the best things worked out the way they did. No need to make a scene, right?"

Gajeel seemed to consider Rogue's words for a moment before shrugging. "I guess. Just don't let it get to you, alright? There'll be plenty of other jobs where you can show 'em what you're made of."

As their conversation drifted to other topics, Rogue couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. While the quest itself had been a mere footnote in the grand scheme of things, the events at Everlue Mansion had set in motion a chain of events that would reshape his journey as a mage.

As Rogue listened to Gajeel's boisterous tales, his mind wandered to the future, to the possibilities that awaited him. The path he had chosen was one fraught with risks, but the potential rewards made it all worthwhile.

For now, he would bide his time, playing the role of the unassuming young mage, all while secretly laying the foundations for a legacy that would shake the very foundations of what it meant to wield shadow magic.

the doors of the guild hall burst open. Jose Porla, the guild master of Phantom Lord, strode in, his gaze sweeping over the assembled members. The Element Four, Jose's elite team, flanked him, their expressions grim.

A hush fell over the guild as Jose's eyes locked onto Rogue. "Rogue Cheney," he called out, his voice brooking no argument. "I need to see you in my office. Now."

Rogue exchanged a glance with Frosch, his heart rate quickening slightly. Had Jose somehow caught wind of the events at Everlue Mansion? Could his little culinary escapade have already reached the guild master's ears?

Swallowing his apprehension, Rogue nodded and made his way towards Jose's office, the Element Four parting to allow him passage. As he entered the dimly lit room, Rogue couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over him.

"Take a seat, Rogue," Jose said, gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk.

Rogue complied, perching on the edge of the seat as Jose closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise from the guild hall.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've summoned you here," Jose began, his voice measured as he settled into his own chair.

"Yes, Master," Rogue replied, his expression schooled into one of innocence.

Jose leaned back, steepling his fingers as he regarded Rogue with a scrutinizing gaze. "Tell me, Rogue, have you heard about the upcoming Guild Masters Conference?"

Rogue felt a twinge of relief, quickly suppressed. So this wasn't about the incident at Everlue Mansion after all. "kinda," he answered truthfully.

Jose nodded, his expression inscrutable. "Well, as the name suggests, it's a gathering of all the guild masters in Fiore. A chance for us to air our grievances, discuss policies, and, more importantly, assert our dominance over the other guilds."

As Jose spoke, Rogue couldn't help but recall the events of his past life, the long-standing rivalry between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail that had culminated in an all-out war. He remembered the bitterness, the mistrust, and the consequences that had followed.

This time, however, he found himself in a unique position – one where he could potentially influence the course of events before they spiraled out of control.

"What does this have to do with me, Master?" Rogue asked, keeping his tone respectful.

Jose leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "I want you to accompany me to this conference, Rogue. Your prowess as a mage, despite your young age, is something I wish to showcase to the other guild masters."

Rogue couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at Jose's words, tempered by the unease that came with the knowledge of what was to come. "I'm honored, Master," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But may I ask why you've chosen me specifically?"

Jose chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Rogue's spine. "You're a prodigy, Rogue, there's no denying that. But more than that, you represent the future of Phantom Lord. A future where we stand as the strongest, most feared guild in all of Fiore."

The implications of Jose's words were not lost on Rogue. He remembered the man's obsession with power, his willingness to sacrifice everything – and everyone – in pursuit of his twisted ambitions.

"Of course, Master," Rogue replied, his mind already racing with possibilities. "I won't let you down."

Jose nodded, seemingly satisfied with Rogue's response. "Good. The conference is tomorrow. I expect you to be prepared."

As Rogue left Jose's office, his thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the opportunity to attend the Guild Masters Conference presented a unique chance to observe the events that had set the stage for the war between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail. Perhaps, with his knowledge of the future, he could prevent the escalation from occurring in the first place.

On the other hand, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that came with being so closely involved with Jose Porla's machinations. The man's ambition and cruelty were legendary, and Rogue knew all too well the lengths he was willing to go to assert Phantom Lord's dominance.

As Rogue made his way back to the guild hall, a weight seemed to settle upon his shoulders, the implications of Jose's invitation weighing heavily on his mind. He couldn't help but compare the events unfolding before him to the memories of his past life, the stark differences causing a sense of unease to creep in.

In his previous existence, he had been little more than an unofficial member of Phantom Lord, never truly accepted or trusted by the guild's inner circle. The idea of being chosen to accompany Jose to such a pivotal event would have been unthinkable, a fantasy beyond his reach.

Yet, here he was, thrust into the heart of the very circumstances that had set the stage for the guild's downfall. It was a twisted irony, one that left Rogue grappling with the weight of his unique position.

As he entered the bustling guild hall, the cacophony of voices and laughter surrounded him, a jarring contrast to the turmoil brewing within his mind. He made his way towards a secluded corner, Frosch hopping off his shoulder to settle beside him.

"Rogue, are you okay?" the Exceed asked, his large eyes filled with concern.

Rogue managed a faint smile, reaching out to gently stroke Frosch's fur. "I'm alright, my friend," he assured, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

The truth was, he was anything but alright. His mind raced with the implications of Jose's invitation, the potential consequences of his involvement in the events that had once led to such widespread devastation.

In his past life, he had been a mere bystander, swept up in the chaos without any real power to influence its course. But now, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, he found himself at a crossroads, his actions carrying the weight of a butterfly effect that could ripple through the very fabric of time itself.

"This is different," he murmured, more to himself than to Frosch. "So different from what I remember."

Frosch tilted his head, his expression one of innocent confusion. "Different from what, Rogue?"

Rogue hesitated, torn between the desire to confide in his loyal companion and the need to protect the truth of his reincarnation. In the end, self-preservation won out, and he offered Frosch a reassuring pat on the head.

"Nothing, Frosch," he said, forcing a smile that he hoped would allay the Exceed's concerns. "I was just thinking out loud."

As Frosch settled against his side, content with the half-truth, Rogue's gaze drifted towards the guild hall's entrance, his mind spinning with the weight of the decisions he now faced.

In his past life, he had been a passive observer, witnessing the escalating tensions between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail with a sense of helplessness. But now, the very fabric of time seemed to bend to his will, his actions carrying the potential to alter the course of history itself.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, a heady mixture of power and responsibility that threatened to overwhelm him. With a single misstep, a single misguided action, he could unleash a chain of events far more devastating than the ones he sought to prevent.

Yet, the allure of righting the wrongs of his past, of preventing the suffering and loss that had once seemed inevitable, was a siren's call he found himself unable to resist.

As he sat there, surrounded by the oblivious revelry of his guildmates, Rogue couldn't help but wonder if his mere presence at the Guild Masters Conference had already set in motion a cascade of changes, ripples in the river of time that would forever alter the course of history.

The weight of that responsibility settled heavily upon his shoulders, a burden he knew he could not share with anyone, not even the ever-loyal Frosch. For in that moment, Rogue realized that he had become the architect of his own destiny, a weaver of fate armed with the knowledge of what was to come, yet burdened with the uncertainty of how his actions might shape the future.

With a deep sigh, Rogue closed his eyes, the weight of Jose's invitation settling heavily upon him. His mind raced with thoughts of how to prepare for the conference, the need to make a strong impression weighing heavily on his young shoulders.

"Frosch," he said, turning to the Exceed at his side, "I need to look presentable for this conference. It's a gathering of the most influential figures in Fiore's guild scene, and my appearance will reflect on Phantom Lord."

Frosch tilted his head, his large eyes blinking with curiosity. "Does that mean Rogue needs new clothes?"

"Precisely," Rogue replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I can't show up looking like a disheveled apprentice. This is a chance to showcase my abilities and represent Phantom Lord in the best possible light."

As if on cue, the boisterous voices of Gajeel and Totomaru echoed through the guild hall as they approached Rogue's secluded corner.

"Oi, Ryos," Gajeel called out, his gruff tone cutting through the ambient chatter. "Heard you're tagging along with Jose to the big shindig."

Totomaru, trailing behind Gajeel, arched an eyebrow in Rogue's direction. "Is that true? The kid's going to the Guild Masters Conference?"

Rogue nodded, his expression neutral. "Master Jose requested my presence, yes."

Gajeel let out a bark of laughter, slapping his knee in amusement. "Well, ain't that a kick in the pants? You getting all the glory these days."

Totomaru, however, seemed more pensive, studying Rogue with a critical eye. "You know, he's got a point. You can't show up looking like a ragamuffin, Rogue."

"I'm aware," Rogue replied, a hint of steel creeping into his tone. "That's why I was just discussing the need for appropriate attire with Frosch."

Gajeel snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, good luck with that. Unless you're plannin' on raiding the guild's lost and found, I don't see how you're gonna get your hands on fancy duds."

Rogue's lips curved into a enigmatic smile, his gaze flickering momentarily towards the bag he had procured from Everlue Mansion – a bag filled with some treasures and valuables he had discreetly liberated during the chaos.

"Don't worry about that," he said, his voice brimming with quiet confidence. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

With those cryptic words lingering in the air, Rogue excused himself from his guildmates, Frosch trailing dutifully behind him as they made their way out of the guild hall and into the bustling streets of Oak Town.

As they navigated the winding pathways, Rogue's keen eyes scanned the various storefronts and establishments, searching for a particular destination. Finally, his gaze settled on a modest tailor's shop, its window display showcasing an array of fine fabrics and intricate designs.

"Here we are, Frosch," Rogue murmured, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The shop was a veritable treasure trove of textiles, bolts of cloth in every conceivable color and pattern lining the walls. A wizened old man, his face creased with age and experience, looked up from behind the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised the young mage and his feline companion.

"Welcome, young sir," the tailor greeted, his voice carrying the weight of years. "How may I be of service?"

Rogue approached the counter, reaching into his bag and producing a handful of glittering gems and coins – a mere fraction of the riches he had acquired from Everlue's lavish estate.

"I require a formal outfit," he said, his voice steady and assured. "Something befitting a mage attending an important conference."

The tailor's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the gems, his gnarled fingers reaching out to inspect them with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied with their authenticity.

"I believe I have just the thing in mind," the old man said, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "If you'll follow me, young sir, we can discuss the details."

As Rogue followed the tailor deeper into the shop, Frosch hopped along beside him, his curiosity evident in the way his tail swished back and forth.

Over the next few hours, Rogue worked closely with the tailor, describing his vision for the perfect outfit – a blend of traditional elegance and modern sensibilities. The old man listened intently, nodding here and there, his skilled hands already envisioning the final product.

When at last the final details had been hammered out, the tailor set to work, his nimble fingers flying across the fabric with a practiced grace. Rogue and Frosch watched in quiet fascination as the outfit began to take shape, each stitch a testament to the artisan's mastery.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the tailor finally stood back, a satisfied smile on his weathered face.

"It is complete, young sir," he announced, carefully lifting the garment and presenting it to Rogue.

Rogue felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in the sight of the finished outfit – a sleek, jet-black ensemble that seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows themselves. The intricate embroidery along the collar and cuffs shimmered with subtle hints of purple, echoing the hues of his guild's emblem.

"It's... perfect," Rogue murmured, his fingers tracing the fine stitching with reverence.

The tailor beamed, clearly pleased with Rogue's reaction. "I'm glad it meets your approval, young sir. This is a garment worthy of a true mage, one who carries himself with grace and power."

As Rogue slipped into the traditional Japanese garments, the soft fabric whispered against his skin, a symphony of textures that seemed to meld with his very being. The kimono's intricate patterns danced across the rich, jet-black fabric, evoking the whispers of shadows that were his domain.

Over the kimono, he donned a haori – a sleeveless, silk overcoat that cascaded down his back like a midnight waterfall. The garment's embroidery, a masterful blend of purple hues echoing the Phantom Lord emblem, shimmered with each subtle movement, as if the shadows themselves had been woven into the very threads.

As Rogue cinched the obi, the traditional sash, around his waist, he felt the weight of the ensemble settle upon him, grounding him in a sense of purpose that transcended mere appearance. Each layer, each intricate fold, was a testament to his unwavering resolve, a silent declaration that he would forge his own path, unburdened by the limitations others sought to impose.

Turning to face the mirror, Rogue couldn't help but marvel at the striking figure he cut – a fusion of tradition and modernity, power and grace. The shadows seemed to dance at his command, embracing him like an old friend, their whispers echoing the untapped potential that lay within his mastery of the oft-maligned discipline.

When he finally emerged from the changing room, Frosch let out a delighted squeal, his eyes shining with admiration.

"Rogue looks so cool!" the Exceed exclaimed, hopping up and down in excitement.

Even the stoic tailor couldn't hide his approval, nodding with a satisfied expression. "Truly a sight to behold, young sir. You wear it well."

Rogue felt a surge of confidence coursing through him, his posture straightening and his steps carrying a newfound sense of purpose. As he and Frosch made their way back to the Phantom Lord guild hall, he could sense the curious glances and murmurs from passersby, their eyes drawn to the striking figure he cut in his new attire.

Upon entering the guild hall, a hush fell over the assembled mages, their eyes widening in a mixture of awe and disbelief. Gajeel, who had been in the middle of a boisterous retelling of one of his exploits, fell silent, his jaw hanging open.

"Ryos?" he managed, blinking rapidly as if trying to dispel an illusion. "Is that really you?"

Totomaru, equally stunned, let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Well, I'll be damned. The kid cleans up good."

Rogue simply nodded, his expression one of quiet confidence as he made his way towards the center of the guild hall. Every eye was upon him, the members of Phantom Lord captivated by the sight of their youngest mage transformed into a vision of power and elegance.

As he moved, the shadows seemed to bend and shift around him, responding to the subtle motions of his body like an extension of his very being. It was as if the fabric itself had been woven from the essence of shadow magic, a living embodiment of Rogue's mastery over the oft-maligned discipline.

In that moment, Rogue knew that he had transcended the boundaries of mere appearance. This wasn't just a new outfit – it was a statement, a declaration of his resolve and his willingness to forge his own path. No longer would he be defined by the expectations of others or the perceived limitations of his magic.

As he stood before his guildmates, their stunned silence a testament to his transformation, Rogue allowed a faint smile to grace his features. The Guild Masters Conference would be his stage, and he intended to make an impression that would resonate through the very foundations of Fiore's magical community.

With Frosch at his side and the weight of his newfound purpose guiding his steps, Rogue knew that the conference would mark the beginning of a new era – one where the shadows would no longer be seen as a weakness, but as a force to be reckoned with.

/

«magnolia town»

the lively Fairy Tail guild hall buzzed with activity. Natsu sat at a table, his arms crossed and a pout etched onto his face. Despite the raucous atmosphere, the fiery mage couldn't shake off the lingering frustration from the previous night's escapades.

"Can you believe that guy?" Natsu grumbled, shooting a sideways glance at Lucy and Happy, who were barely containing their giggles.

"Oh, come on, Natsu," Lucy chided, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You have to admit, it was kind of funny."

Happy, ever the instigator, chimed in with a snicker. "Aye! Who knew Rogue had such a wicked sense of humor?"

Natsu's scowl deepened, his eyebrows knitting together. "Tricking me into eating wolf meat is not funny! It's... it's just wrong!"

Lucy couldn't help but laugh out loud at the memory of Natsu's outraged expression when Rogue revealed his culinary prank. "The look on your face, though! Priceless!"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Natsu grumbled, crossing his arms tighter across his chest.

Their lighthearted banter was abruptly interrupted by the loud slamming of the guild hall's doors. Loke burst through the entrance, his usual suave demeanor replaced by sheer terror.

"She's back!" he exclaimed, his voice wavering with barely concealed panic. "Erza... Erza has returned!"

A hush fell over the guild hall, the members exchanging nervous glances and murmurs rippling through the crowd. Even Natsu and Lucy found themselves caught up in the sudden tension, their earlier amusement forgotten.

"Who's Erza?" Lucy whispered, leaning towards Natsu with a confused expression.

Before Natsu could respond, the doors swung open once more, and a tall, imposing figure stepped through. Erza Scarlet, the renowned Fairy Queen, strode into the guild hall, her presence commanding an immediate silence.

What caught everyone's attention, however, was the massive, intricately decorated horn she carried with one hand, its size and weight seemingly no match for her strength. The guild members parted like the Red Sea, their eyes wide and their bodies tensed, as if bracing for an impending storm.

With a resounding thud, Erza set down the massive, ornately decorated horn on the floor, its weight causing the floorboards to groan under the sheer heft. She surveyed the guild hall, her intense gaze sweeping over the stunned faces of her guildmates.

"I have returned," Erza announced, her voice carrying a tone of authority that immediately commanded attention. "Is the Master present?"

Instead of the usual fearful silence that greeted Erza's arrival, Mirajane stepped forward, offering the Fairy Queen a warm, friendly smile. "Welcome back, Erza. Unfortunately, Master Makarov is away at the moment, attending the Guild Masters Conference."

A chorus of murmurs rippled through the guild hall as members eyed the massive horn with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"What's with the horn, Erza?" one guild member ventured to ask, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Erza's gaze shifted towards the source of the question, her expression unflinching. "This is the horn of a mighty beast I slew on my recent mission," she explained, her tone carrying a hint of pride. "The villagers decorated it as a token of their gratitude for ridding them of the creature's menace."

Another guild member piped up, eyeing the horn warily. "Isn't it a bit... much, though? I mean, it's huge!"

Erza arched an eyebrow, her piercing stare sweeping across the gathered guild members. "Does its presence disturb you?" she inquired, her voice taking on a subtle edge that sent a chill down the spines of those around her.

A chorus of hurried "No, no, not at all!" echoed through the guild hall, the members suddenly finding great interest in their drinks or the floor beneath their feet.

Satisfied with their response, Erza nodded, her gaze lingering on each individual as if silently assessing their sincerity. The tension in the air was palpable, the guild members frozen in their tracks, afraid to incur the wrath of the Fairy Queen.

"She's not anything like I imagined…" Lucy thought aloud.

"Now listen up." Erza commanded.

Everyone in the guild practically stiffened at this, clearly out of fear.

"While I was on the road I heard a few things. Word is Fairy Tail is causing nothing but trouble as of late. Master Makarov doesn't seem to care, but I most certainly do. Cana, you need to control your drinking habits…" Erza began, glancing at the brown-haired mag who currently sat at one of the tables with a barrel of alcohol in hand.

The scarlet-haired teen then began to give various commands to several of the guilds members, ranging on scolding them for smoking to scolding them for dancing indoors.

"She's really tearing into everyone… it's like she's completely taking over." Lucy whispered to Mira.

"That's Erza for ya." Happy stated.

"Even if she is pretty bossy… she still seems like the sanest person here. I don't get why people are so scared of her." Lucy stated.

"Are Natsu and Gray here?" Erza abruptly asked.

When this was asked, Erza turned to face the iconic fire and ice magic users of Fairy Tail, as did Ichigo and the others who were intently listening to the woman's words due to the fact they didn't have any idea what she was like prior to her entrance. However, for a brief moment they dropped their curiosity about Erza in favor of confusion.

Before their very eyes, Natsu and Gray stood, shaking in light fear, holding one another's hand in a friendly manner. It was incidentally so unnatural that Lucy almost shouted at the top of her lungs due to her own confusion.

"Aye." Natsu said.

"Oh hey there Erza, we're just hangin' out like good friends tend to do." Gray said, clearly being nervous.

"Aye." Natsu added.

"Why is Natsu talking like Happy?!" Lucy exclaimed worriedly.

"That's great, I am quite pleased to see the two of you getting along so well. However, it's only natural for even the best of friends to lock horns every now and then." Erza stated.

"I don't know if we're the best of friends…" Gray trailed off.

"Aye…" Natsu stated.

"This is really, really weird…" Lucy commented in a clearly confused tone, eliciting a giggle from the white-haired barmaid.

"Well it's only natural, Natsu's terrified of Erza. A few years ago he challenged her to a fight and she beat him up pretty bad. Then she found Gray without any clothes on and decided to beat him up as well." Mira explained, sounding cheerful despite the oddity of her words.

"…actually I can understand that last one." Lucy stated.

In all honesty he was surprised the ice mage had gone so long without losing his clothing. It was probably the longest period of time the celestial mage had ever seen him with all of his clothes still on his body.

"She also beat up Loke for trying to hit on her." Mira added.

"And I can understand that." Lucy said.

"Natsu, Gray, I need you to do me a favor." Erza abruptly stated.

The mood of the guild changed from a calm terrified to one of deadly seriousness at the words of the redheaded knight. It, very clearly, wasn't every day that she asked anyone for favors.

"While I was on my travels I heard something that has me troubled. Normally I would consult the master but he isn't here and this is a matter of utmost urgency. The two of you are the strongest wizards here and I could really use your help." Erza continued solemnly.

"Did that just happen?" Someone whispered.

"Erza, if you need help with a mission I can suggest a few people!" Mirajane offered cheerfully, drawing the attention of the scarlet-haired woman.

"I could use all the extra help I can get. If you believe they are strong enough to aid me than I will not decline your offer." Erza replied with a small smile.

"Our newest member will be more than strong enough to help you! Lucy defeated a mercenary gorilla using only her pinky finger." Mira stated.

Lucy sweatdropped at the words the barmaid had said, mainly because they weren't all that true. They weren't necessarily untrue, but still they made her sound a bit more impressive than in reality. Erza, however, just stared confusedly at the bubbly woman as if she didn't understand or found something beyond her ability to believe.

"Oh? What are your name?" Erza asked with a raised brow.

"Hello Mrs. Erza, ma'am, I'm Lucy Heartfilia, nice to meet you." Lucy greeted nervously, desperately wanting to make a good first impression.

"Very well, welcome aboard. We will meet at the train station tomorrow morning. Please be prompt." Erza said.

Before turning to leave, Erza's expression grew pensive, as if a troubling thought had crossed her mind. "There's one more thing," she added, her voice carrying a subtle edge of concern.

The guild members exchanged curious glances, their attention piqued by the change in Erza's demeanor.

"I've been hearing some... unsettling rumors during my travels," Erza continued, her brow furrowing slightly. "It seems there is a mage from Phantom Lord who has been drawing quite a bit of attention lately."

At the mention of Phantom Lord, Natsu and Lucy shared a fleeting look, their minds immediately turning to Rogue. However, they remained silent, allowing Erza to continue her explanation.

"According to the whispers, this mage has been taking down low-level dark guilds with ease," Erza said, her tone growing more serious. "But that's not the most disturbing part."

The guild hall fell deathly quiet, the members leaning forward in anticipation of Erza's next words.

"The rumors claim that this mage... devours the flesh of the monsters he defeats," Erza revealed, her eyes narrowing as if she could scarcely believe the tale herself.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of disbelief and revulsion. Even Natsu and Lucy, who knew the truth about Rogue's culinary escapades, couldn't help but exchange smirks at the exaggerated depiction of the young mage's actions.

Erza held up a hand, commanding silence once more. "This mage is said to be a dangerous individual, one who revels in violence and bloodshed," she declared, her voice tinged with a hint of warning. "If these rumors are true, we may very well be dealing with a threat to the safety of Fiore."

As the guild members absorbed Erza's words, Natsu and Lucy found themselves struggling to contain their amusement. They knew the truth – that the "dangerous" mage in question was none other than the young, unassuming Rogue Cheney, whose exploits had been twisted and exaggerated through the rumor mill.

Natsu shot Lucy a sly grin, his eyes dancing with mischief. The idea of the twelve-year-old Rogue being labeled as a bloodthirsty monster was almost too much to bear, and they had to bite their tongues to avoid bursting into laughter.

Erza, oblivious to their silent exchange, continued her warning. "If we encounter this mage during our mission, exercise extreme caution. We cannot underestimate the threat he poses, no matter how outlandish these rumors may seem."

As the Fairy Queen turned on her heel and strode out of the guild hall, the members were left to ponder the weight of her words. Natsu and Lucy, however, shared another knowing glance, silently acknowledging the absurdity of the situation.

/

The carriage rumbled along the dusty roads, its wheels creaking with every turn. Inside, Jose Porla, the imposing master of Phantom Lord, sat with his arms crossed, his expression one of quiet contemplation. Beside him, Rogue shifted uncomfortably, his face a shade paler than usual.

"You seem unwell, Rogue," Jose remarked, his piercing gaze fixed on the young mage. "Is the motion sickness getting to you?"

Rogue nodded weakly, swallowing hard. "Yes, Master. But I've taken the prescribed medication for expectant mothers. It should help."

Jose arched an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. "Expectant mothers, you say? An... unorthodox approach, but if it works, who am I to judge?"

Rogue managed a faint smile, grateful for Jose's understanding. Despite the guild master's formidable reputation, he had a soft spot for the young mage, recognizing his immense potential.

As the carriage hit a particularly rough patch, Rogue couldn't suppress a violent sneeze, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

"Bless you," Jose said, eyeing Rogue with a mix of concern and curiosity. "What was that about?"

Rogue dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Apologies, Master. It's just an old superstition. They say that when you sneeze unexpectedly, someone is thinking about you."

Jose let out a hearty chuckle, his laughter filling the small confines of the carriage. "Is that so? Well, in that case, it seems you have quite the admirer, Rogue. Perhaps one of the young girls in Oak Town has taken a fancy to you."

Rogue's blush deepened, and he averted his gaze, suddenly finding the passing scenery fascinating. "I doubt that, Master. It's more likely just a bout of hay fever."

Jose shook his head, his laughter subsiding into a rumbling chuckle. "Always the modest one, aren't you? Well, no matter. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

As the carriage continued its journey, Rogue couldn't help but ponder Jose's words. The thought of someone outside the guild admiring him was foreign, almost laughable. His life had been consumed by the pursuit of magic and the weight of his past memories, leaving little room for such fleeting fancies.

And yet, a part of him couldn't help but wonder. Was there truly someone out there who held him in such esteem? Or was the sneeze merely a coincidence, a quirk of biology rather than a harbinger of secret affection?

Rogue shook his head, dismissing the thoughts as quickly as they had come. He had more important things to focus on – the Guild Masters Conference and the delicate dance of politics that awaited him. With a deep breath, he steadied himself, pushing aside the lingering effects of motion sickness and turning his mind to the tasks ahead.

For better or worse, he was about to step onto a stage far grander than any he had encountered before. And as the carriage drew closer to its destination, Rogue felt a familiar thrill course through him – the anticipation of a challenge, the promise of proving himself worthy of the path he had chosen.

Whatever awaited him at the conference, he would face it head-on, with the quiet confidence that had become his trademark. And if someone, somewhere, was indeed thinking of him, well... perhaps it was a sign of greater things to come.

«clover town»

As the carriage rolled into the bustling town of Clover, Rogue's gaze drifted towards the imposing structure that stood at the heart of the commotion – the venue for the Guild Masters Conference. The grand building, with its intricate architecture and towering spires, seemed to exude an aura of power and prestige.

"We have arrived, Rogue," Jose announced, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "This is where you will prove your worth to the leaders of Fiore's guilds."

Rogue nodded, his expression calm and collected, betraying none of the nerves that fluttered in his stomach. As the carriage came to a halt, he stepped out, his movements fluid and graceful, the intricate folds of his kimono rippling like shadows in the morning light.

Immediately, Rogue's arrival drew the attention of the assembled guild masters and their escorts. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd, their eyes fixed on the young mage's striking appearance.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a gruff voice called out, belonging to a burly guild master with a beard that rivaled a papa Noel's. "Jose Porla, bringing a child to a gathering of the elite? This is a conference, not a nursery."

A chorus of chuckles echoed through the crowd, several guild masters nodding in agreement, their gazes appraising Rogue with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

Jose, however, remained unfazed, his expression one of calm confidence. "This 'child,' as you call him, is Rogue Cheney – a prodigy in the ways of shadow magic. His skills far surpass those of many fully-grown mages."

A hush fell over the gathered crowd as Jose's words sank in, their initial amusement replaced by skepticism and, in some cases, outright disbelief.

"Preposterous!" exclaimed a wizened old man, his face etched with deep wrinkles and a sneer that seemed permanently etched onto his lips. "This boy is but a mere babe, wielding magic deemed the weakest of all. He couldn't last a second against any of our escorts."

The crowd erupted into a chorus of jeers and laughter, their doubts now fueled by the old man's words. Rogue, however, remained composed, his expression betraying no hint of the inner turmoil that threatened to boil over.

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," Jose suggested, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "If the esteemed guild masters doubt young Rogue's abilities, then let him prove himself on the dueling stage."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd, their interest piqued by the prospect of witnessing the young mage in action. Rogue, for his part, felt a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. This was his chance to prove himself, to showcase the true depths of his power and silence those who doubted him.

Without a word, Rogue strode towards the dueling stage, his steps carrying a newfound purpose. As he ascended the steps, his kimono billowing around him like a cloak of shadows, the crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on the solitary figure standing before them.

Rogue's gaze swept over the assembled guild masters and their escorts, his expression unreadable. He could sense their doubts, their skepticism, and their eagerness to see him fail. But deep within him, a fire burned – a resolve fueled by the memories of his past life, the knowledge that he had faced far greater challenges than those before him.

With a deep breath, Rogue assumed a fighting stance, his hands poised and ready, the shadows around him seeming to shift and coalesce in response to his silent command.

"Who among you will be the first to challenge me?" Rogue called out, his voice ringing with a confidence that belied his youth.

The crowd stirred, murmurs and whispers rising once more as the guild masters exchanged glances, silently debating who among their escorts would step forward to face the young upstart.

Rogue stood tall and unwavering, his gaze fixed on the assembled mages, daring them to underestimate him further. The stage was set, the gauntlet thrown, and deep within the shadows that cloaked him, Rogue felt a familiar thrill – the exhilaration of battle, the promise of proving himself worthy of the path he had chosen.

Rogue stood tall and unwavering, his gaze fixed on the assembled mages, daring them to underestimate him further. The stage was set, the gauntlet thrown, and deep within the shadows that cloaked him, Rogue felt a familiar thrill – the exhilaration of battle, the promise of proving himself worthy of the path he had chosen.

Jose stepped forward, his voice booming across the crowd. "Perhaps, gentlemen, we could make this more interesting?"

A murmur of curiosity rippled through the gathered guild masters, their eyes flickering between Jose and the young mage standing before them.

"How so, Porla?" one of the guild masters inquired, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in skepticism.

Jose's lips curled into a sly smile. "A wager, if you will. Each time Rogue emerges victorious against one of your escorts, the master of that escort shall pay a sum of 50,000 jewels."

The crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps and whispers, their eyes widening at the prospect of such a high-stakes challenge.

"And what if the boy loses?" another guild master challenged, his voice dripping with disdain.

Jose's smile broadened, a glint of confidence shining in his eyes. "If Rogue is defeated, I shall pay 200,000 jewels."

A hush fell over the crowd as they absorbed the weight of Jose's words. The disparity between the wager amounts was staggering, a clear reflection of Jose's unwavering faith in his young protégé.

"You seem awfully confident, Porla," one of the guild masters sneered, his beady eyes narrowing. "Perhaps you've forgotten that this is a child you're putting on display, not some seasoned mage."

Another guild master, a portly man with a ruddy complexion, chimed in with a sarcastic chuckle. "Indeed. If you're not careful, Jose, you might find yourself paying for more than just the wager. There's always the matter of hospital costs, or perhaps the lawyer who will handle the boy's mother's lawsuit against us for endangering her son."

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, their mocking tones echoing across the dueling stage. Rogue, however, remained unfazed, his expression calm and collected, a stark contrast to the jeers of the assembled mages. Inwardly, Rogue felt a flicker of amusement at their ignorance. If only they knew the truth – that he had no mother to mourn him, no familial ties to bind him. He was a solitary figure, bound only by the weight of his own ambitions and the whispers of his past life.

Jose, undeterred by their taunts, simply shrugged. "Your concerns are noted, gentlemen. But I assure you, Rogue is more than capable of handling himself. If you're too afraid to accept the wager, simply say so. But mark my words, Rogue will not only prove his worth but also leave your pockets considerably lighter by the end of this day."

The guild masters exchanged furtive glances, their initial amusement giving way to a mixture of intrigue and hesitation. The prospect of earning such a substantial sum was tempting, but the risk of loss loomed large, especially given Jose's unwavering confidence.

Finally, one of the guild masters, a wizened old woman with steel-gray hair, stepped forward. "Very well, Porla. We accept your wager. But don't come crying to us when your little prodigy is lying broken on the stage."

A chorus of laughter erupted from the crowd, their earlier jeers replaced by a newfound eagerness to witness the impending spectacle.

Jose simply nodded, his expression betraying no hint of concern. "Then let the challenge begin. Who among you will be the first to face Rogue?"

The crowd buzzed with anticipation as they waited for a volunteer to step forward, their eyes darting between the assembled escorts, each sizing up the potential challengers.

Rogue, his stance unwavering, allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. The wager had raised the stakes, but he welcomed the challenge. This was his opportunity to silence the doubters, to prove himself worthy of the path he had chosen, and he had no intention of squandering it.

Rogue's gaze swept across the assembled mages, his eyes lingering on a burly, muscular man who stepped forward with a swagger in his step.

"Hah! So this is the mighty prodigy everyone's been talking about?" the man scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A mere child, wielding shadows like they're supposed to be feared."

He puffed out his chest, a smug grin etching across his weathered features. "The name's Bronx, of Titan Heel Guild. And I'll be the one to show you and your guild master just how outmatched you truly are."

Rogue, however, remained unfazed by the man's taunts. With a graceful bow, he leveled his gaze at his opponent. "Rogue Cheney of Phantom Lord Guild. It will be my honor to face you in combat."

Bronx let out a bark of laughter, his meaty fists clenching at his sides. "Honor? Please, kid. This is going to be over before you can blink."

Without warning, Bronx thrust his hands forward, his body glowing with a fierce, earthy energy. The ground beneath Rogue's feet rumbled, and jagged spikes of stone erupted upwards, seeking to impale the young mage where he stood.

But Rogue was already in motion, his lithe form darting between the stone spikes with a fluidity that belied his age. He wove through the onslaught, the shadows seeming to bend and shift around him, aiding his evasive maneuvers.

Bronx's eyes widened, his overconfident smirk faltering as he watched Rogue nimbly evade each strike. "Stay still, you little pest!" he bellowed, unleashing a barrage of earth-based attacks, each one more ferocious than the last.

Yet, Rogue continued to dance around the assaults, his movements graceful and precise, never once losing his composure or breaking his rhythm.

The guild masters watched in stunned silence, their earlier jeers and mocking laughter replaced by a palpable tension. Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd as they witnessed the young mage's prowess firsthand.

"Impossible," one of the guild masters muttered, his eyes narrowed. "How is he evading those attacks with such ease?"

Jose, however, remained silent, a faint smile playing on his lips as he observed the spectacle unfolding before them.

Bronx, his face flushed with exertion and frustration, let out a guttural roar. "Enough games, brat! Stay in one place and fight like a man!"

To the surprise of the assembled mages, Rogue complied, his feet coming to a halt as he leveled his gaze at his opponent. "As you wish," he called out, his voice carrying an undercurrent of quiet confidence.

Bronx wasted no time, charging forward with a bellow of rage, his fist drawn back for a devastating haymaker. But as the punch arced towards Rogue's face, the young mage's hand shot up, catching the strike with a deft movement.

The crowd held its collective breath, anticipating the impact of the blow, only to be stunned into silence as Rogue's free hand lashed out, striking Bronx squarely in the chest with a force that sent the burly man staggering backwards.

Gasps and murmurs of astonishment rippled through the gathered mages, their eyes wide with disbelief. How could a mere child possess such strength, such precision?

Undeterred, Bronx launched a flurry of punches, each one fueled by his earth-based magic and the weight of his muscular frame. But Rogue's movements were a blur, his hands catching each strike with uncanny precision, his counterattacks landing with surgical accuracy.

The guild masters watched, transfixed, as Rogue seamlessly parried and retaliated, his strikes carrying a force that seemed to defy his slender frame. With each exchange, Bronx's attacks grew more erratic, his frustration mounting as the young mage continued to outmaneuver him.

"How is this possible?" one of the guild masters breathed, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

Jose, sensing their confusion, stepped forward. "Observe closely, gentlemen," he called out, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Do you notice anything peculiar about Rogue's movements?"

The guild masters leaned forward, their gazes fixated on the young mage as he continued to dance around Bronx's attacks, his strikes landing with precision and power.

After a few moments, one of the guild masters spoke up, his voice laced with uncertainty. "His hands... There's something strange about his hands."

Jose nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "Indeed. Take a closer look."

The guild masters squinted, their eyes narrowing as they focused on Rogue's hands. And then, they saw it – a faint wisp of black smoke, coalescing around the young mage's fingers and palms.

"What sorcery is this?" another guild master exclaimed, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Jose chuckled, his gaze never wavering from the spectacle unfolding before them. "It is not sorcery, but rather the true essence of Rogue's shadow dragon slayer magic."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "You see, Rogue is not merely deflecting Bronx's attacks. He is absorbing the force of each strike into his palm, then channeling it back through his counterattack."

Murmurs of disbelief and awe rippled through the crowd, their eyes fixed on the young mage with a newfound sense of respect and bewilderment.

"But such a technique requires immense concentration and speed of thought," Jose explained, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "Rogue must absorb the force of each blow and immediately return it, lest he leave himself open to the full brunt of the attack."

As the assembled mages watched, their understanding of the battle shifted. They witnessed Rogue's movements with a newfound appreciation, marveling at the precision and control he exerted over the shadows that enveloped his hands.

Bronx, his breath coming in ragged gasps, stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect. "Impossible..." he wheezed, his body battered and bruised from Rogue's relentless counterattacks.

Rogue, however, remained poised and composed, his gaze steady as he regarded his opponent. "Do you yield, Bronx of Titan Heel Guild?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of finality.

Bronx's shoulders slumped, his defiance finally broken by the young mage's prowess. With a grunt, he nodded, acknowledging his defeat.

As Rogue lowered his stance, the assembled mages erupted into a chorus of whispers and murmurs, their initial skepticism replaced by a sense of awe and begrudging respect.

The first challenge had been met, and the path to proving himself worthy had been laid. Rogue knew that this was merely the beginning, but he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at having silenced the doubters, if only for a moment.

With a smug grin etched across his face, Jose made his way towards the guild master of Titan Heel. His steps carried an air of smug satisfaction, as if he had already claimed victory before the challenge had truly begun.

"Well, Master Dwayne," Jose drawled, his voice dripping with barely concealed condescension. "It seems your escort has fallen prey to the prowess of my young mage."

Master Dwayne, a towering figure with a bushy beard and a countenance that suggested he had seen his fair share of battles, glared at Jose with undisguised disdain. "A fluke, nothing more," he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

Jose's grin only widened, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "A fluke, you say? Then perhaps your next escort will fare better."

He extended his hand, palm upturned, an unspoken demand for the agreed-upon sum of jewels. Master Dwayne hesitated, his jaw clenching as he weighed the humiliation of paying against the consequences of refusing.

After a tense moment, Dwayne reached into the folds of his robe, producing a small pouch that jingled with the promise of currency. He tossed it towards Jose, who snatched it from the air with a deft movement, never once breaking eye contact with the disgruntled guild master.

"Your skepticism is noted, Master Dwayne," Jose taunted, his fingers caressing the pouch in a show of casual arrogance. "But I assure you, this is no fluke. Rogue's prowess is merely a glimpse of what Phantom Lord has to offer."

Turning on his heel, Jose made his way back to the dueling stage, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the tense silence that had fallen over the gathered mages. Rogue, his expression carefully composed, watched his guild master's return with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

As Jose rejoined him, the older mage leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Well done, Rogue. You've made a believer out of at least one of these fools."

Rogue offered a slight nod, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guild masters and their escorts. He could sense their skepticism, their reluctance to accept the reality of his abilities. But beneath that veneer of doubt, he could also detect a flicker of curiosity, a begrudging acknowledgment that perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

"Who among you will be the next to challenge me?" Rogue called out, his voice ringing clear across the dueling stage.

A hush fell over the crowd, the guild masters exchanging furtive glances and murmurs. The weight of Rogue's victory, coupled with Jose's taunting words, had sown seeds of doubt in their minds.

Finally, one of the guild masters stepped forward, his face twisted into a sneer of disdain. "I'll not be intimidated by a mere child, no matter how skilled he may seem," he spat, his words laced with venom.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he summoned forth one of his escorts, a lithe and wiry figure whose movements seemed to flow like water. "Xander, show this upstart the true meaning of power."

Rogue eyed Xander warily as the escort stepped onto the dueling stage. There was something unsettling about the way the air seemed to distort around his lithe form, rippling like a mirage in the desert heat. A prickle of unease crawled up Rogue's spine, and he felt the shadows around him stir, responding to his heightened senses.

Without warning, Xander blurred into motion, his movements distorting and bending the very fabric of space around him. Rogue braced himself, his hands poised to counter the incoming strike, but to his astonishment, Xander simply vanished, leaving behind a shimmering afterimage.

"What trickery is this?" Rogue muttered, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for any sign of his opponent.

A split second later, a fist materialized from the shadows behind him, aimed squarely at the back of his head. Rogue pivoted, his hand shooting up to deflect the strike, but his fingers met only air, the fist dissipating into a shimmering haze.

"Impressive reflexes," Xander's disembodied voice echoed around the dueling stage, his tone laced with a hint of respect. "But you'll have to do better than that to keep up with me."

Rogue gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as he found himself on the defensive, parrying and evading strikes that seemed to materialize from thin air. Each time he thought he had a bead on Xander's location, his opponent would vanish, only to reappear from a different angle, his attacks relentless and unpredictable.

Sweat beaded on Rogue's brow as he struggled to keep up with the dizzying onslaught. Xander's movements were like nothing he had encountered before, defying the laws of physics and spatial perception. It was as if the escort could bend reality itself, creating illusions and afterimages to disorient and misdirect his opponents.

Despite his best efforts, Rogue found himself on the receiving end of several glancing blows, each one stinging and adding to the mounting sense of frustration. He couldn't help but wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew, challenging an opponent who wielded such an unfamiliar and bewildering form of magic.

As another strike grazed his cheek, Rogue stumbled back, his breathing ragged and his focus wavering. Xander's laughter echoed around him, taunting and mocking, as the escort reveled in his apparent advantage.

"What's the matter, boy?" Xander's voice jeered. "Can't keep up with a little spatial distortion?"

Rogue gritted his teeth, his pride stinging from the taunt. He couldn't afford to let doubt creep in, not when so much was at stake. With a deep breath, he steadied himself, his mind racing to analyze Xander's movements and unravel the secrets behind his magic.

"What kind of magic is this?" Rogue thought to himself, his brow furrowed in concentration as he analyzed Xander's movements. "It's almost as if he can bend reality itself, distorting the space around him to create illusions and afterimages."

As the battle raged on, Rogue's movements grew more fluid, his eyes tracking the subtle distortions in the air that heralded Xander's appearances. With each passing exchange, he grew closer to anticipating his opponent's tactics, his counters becoming more precise and efficient.

But Xander was no slouch, adapting and evolving his strategies to keep Rogue off-balance. Just when Rogue thought he had the upper hand, Xander would unleash a new barrage of reality-bending attacks, leaving the young mage scrambling to defend himself.

The tension between them mounted, their clash of powers escalating to new heights as they traded blows and counter-attacks with increasing ferocity. The dueling stage became a whirlwind of distortions and shadows, the air crackling with the intensity of their battle.

Yet, despite the chaos, Rogue's mind remained focused, his senses attuned to the subtle patterns that lay beneath Xander's deceptions. "There's a pattern here," Rogue realized, his mind working overtime to piece together the intricacies of Xander's magic. "The distortions, the afterimages – they're all part of the illusion, designed to disorient and misdirect."

With a newfound understanding, Rogue began to shift his focus, no longer relying solely on his physical senses to track Xander's movements. Instead, he opened himself up to the shadows around him, allowing them to guide his perceptions and reveal the truth hidden beneath the layers of deception.

As Xander launched another dizzying barrage of strikes, Rogue's eyes narrowed, his senses attuned to the subtle ripples and distortions that betrayed his opponent's true location. With a deft movement, he sidestepped a seemingly solid blow, allowing it to dissipate harmlessly into the air.

Xander faltered, his confidence wavering as Rogue began to anticipate and counter his attacks with uncanny precision. The smug grin that had adorned his face moments ago faded, replaced by a look of bewilderment and growing frustration.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rogue saw his opening. As Xander materialized for yet another strike, Rogue's hand shot out, his fingers enveloped in a swirling vortex of shadows. The shadows lashed out, coiling around Xander's wrist, anchoring him in place and dispelling the illusion that had cloaked his movements.

"Impossible!" Xander exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as his body froze in mid-attack, held in place by Rogue's shadowy tendrils.

"I've unraveled your trick, Xander," Rogue said, his voice calm and collected. "Your magic may bend reality, but the shadows reveal the truth beneath the illusion."

With a deft twist of his wrist, Rogue sent Xander tumbling to the ground, the escort's body slamming against the dueling stage with a resounding thud. Xander, his face etched with a mixture of pain and disbelief, slowly nodded, acknowledging his defeat.

The assembled guild masters watched in stunned silence, their earlier skepticism replaced by a dawning sense of respect and awe. Rogue stood over his downed opponent, his chest heaving with exertion, but a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Rogue stood over the fallen Xander, his chest heaving from the exertion of their battle. With a slight nod, he extended his hand, offering to help Xander back to his feet.

Xander, still reeling from the unexpected defeat, eyed Rogue's outstretched hand warily before accepting it. As he rose, he couldn't help but voice the question that burned in his mind. "How did you counter my magic? No one has ever managed to pierce through my spatial distortions and illusions before."

Rogue offered a faint smile, understanding the escort's bewilderment. "Your magic is indeed formidable, Xander. The ability to manipulate space, create intangible afterimages, and bend reality itself – it's a fearsome combination."

He paused, his gaze flickering towards the shadows that danced across the dueling stage. "However, as potent as your magic is, it still operates within the physical realm. The shadows, on the other hand, exist beyond the constraints of space and perception."

Xander's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "What do you mean?"

"The shadows are not bound by the limitations of our senses," Rogue explained. "They exist in a realm where illusions and distortions hold no sway. By attuning myself to the shadows, I was able to see through your deceptions and pinpoint your true location."

He extended his hand, and the shadows seemed to respond, swirling and coalescing around his fingertips. "The shadows revealed the truth that your magic sought to obscure, allowing me to anticipate and counter your attacks."

Xander shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Incredible. I never imagined that the shadows could be wielded in such a way."

"Many underestimate the true potential of shadow magic," Rogue acknowledged. "But as you've seen, in the right hands, it can be a force to be reckoned with."

As Xander stepped back, allowing Rogue to bask in the awe and respect of the gathered guild masters, a newfound sense of understanding passed between them. They had clashed as opponents, each testing the limits of their respective magics, but in the end, they had emerged with a deeper appreciation for the complexities and nuances of their craft.

The murmurs and whispers that rippled through the crowd held a different tone now, a begrudging acknowledgment of Rogue's prowess and the depths of his mastery over the shadows. Gone were the jeers and mocking laughter, replaced by a palpable sense of intrigue and respect.

As the murmurs of acknowledgment and respect rippled through the crowd, Rogue couldn't help but sense a lingering undercurrent of resistance. While his triumph over Xander had earned him a measure of awe, he could see the defiance etched on the faces of some guild masters, their jaws clenched and eyes narrowed, unwilling to be bested by a mere child.

One such guild master, a stern-faced woman with piercing blue eyes and a shock of silver hair, stepped forward, her stride purposeful and unyielding. "Impressive display, boy," she called out, her voice cutting through the hushed whispers like a knife. "But let's see how you fare against a true master of the elements."

With a flourish of her hand, she summoned forth one of her escorts, a lithe figure whose movements seemed to flow like the very wind itself. "Zephyra, show this upstart the true might of air magic."

Zephyra, a slender woman with eyes the color of storm clouds, strode onto the dueling stage, her every step accompanied by a subtle disturbance in the air currents around her. She fixed Rogue with an appraising gaze, her expression unreadable, yet radiating an aura of confidence that spoke volumes of her power.

"So, this is the prodigy everyone's been talking about," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I must admit, I'm intrigued to see what you're capable of."

Rogue remained silent, his stance poised and ready, the shadows around him seeming to shift and coalesce in anticipation of the coming battle.

Without warning, Zephyra unleashed a torrent of wind, the air currents whipping and swirling around the dueling stage with ferocious intensity. Rogue braced himself, his robes billowing and snapping in the gale-force winds, his feet digging into the ground to maintain his footing.

"Let's see how you handle the fury of the skies, child," Zephyra taunted, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind.

With a flick of her wrist, razor-sharp blades of air materialized, slicing through the maelstrom and hurtling towards Rogue with blinding speed. Rogue reacted instinctively, his hands weaving through a series of intricate motions, the shadows around him coalescing into a protective barrier that deflected the air blades with a resounding thud.

Zephyra's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Not bad, child. But let's see how you handle this."

She raised her arms, and the winds around her intensified, swirling and twisting into a towering vortex that threatened to consume the entire dueling stage. Rogue found himself at the center of the maelstrom, the howling winds battering him from all sides, his robes whipping and tearing in the onslaught.

Gritting his teeth, Rogue channeled his magic, the shadows around him surging and pulsing in response to his will. The shadows coalesced into a cocoon, shielding him from the worst of the wind's fury, but even then, he could feel the relentless force of Zephyra's magic pressing against him, testing the limits of his endurance.

As the vortex raged around him, Rogue felt the weight of the winds pressing him from all sides. His mind raced, searching for any weaknesses or openings he could exploit, but Zephyra's control over the air currents seemed absolute and unwavering.

"You cannot resist the fury of the skies, child," Zephyra taunted, her voice whipping through the howling gale. "Surrender now, and I may show you mercy."

Rogue gritted his teeth, refusing to yield. He knew that if he wanted to emerge victorious, he would have to take a risk – a daring move born of desperation and his unwavering will.

With a deep breath, he allowed the shadows that had been shielding him to dissipate, exposing himself fully to the vortex's onslaught.

"What is he doing?" one of the guild masters exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "He's leaving himself vulnerable!"

Jose remained silent, his expression inscrutable, but the slightest furrowing of his brow betrayed his concern.

Zephyra's laughter echoed through the maelstrom, her voice laced with contempt. "So, you've finally seen reason and accepted your defeat, boy? How wise of you to surrender before my power."

Rogue, however, paid her no heed. Instead, with a series of fluid motions, he began to channel his magic, the shadows around him responding to his silent commands.

At first, the shadows seemed to be swept away by the relentless winds, dispersed and scattered by Zephyra's power. But then, something remarkable began to happen. Instead of dissipating, the shadows coalesced and twisted, becoming one with the air currents themselves.

Zephyra's eyes widened in realization, her confidence faltering. "What trickery is this?" she demanded, her voice strained as she struggled to maintain control over the rapidly shifting currents.

Rogue's lips curved into a faint smile, his movements now in perfect synchronicity with the shadowed vortex. "No trickery, Zephyra," he called out, his voice carrying over the howling winds. "I've simply adapted to your magic, infusing my shadows into the very fabric of your storm."

With a deft motion, Rogue unleashed a torrent of shadowy tendrils, each one lashing out with the force of a hurricane gale, striking at Zephyra from every angle.

The wind mage fought back, her hands weaving intricate patterns as she sought to regain control of the maelstrom, but Rogue's shadows had become an integral part of the vortex, rendering her efforts futile.

"Impossible!" Zephyra cried out, her voice laced with desperation. "How can you wield such power over the very winds I command?"

Rogue's expression remained calm, his focus unwavering. "The shadows are not bound by the limitations of the physical world, Zephyra. They exist in a realm where your control holds no sway. By merging them with your storm, I've created a force that defies your mastery."

With a final, desperate gesture, Zephyra unleashed a blast of wind powerful enough to level buildings, her eyes burning with determination. But Rogue was ready. The shadows surged around him, coalescing into a barrier that absorbed the brunt of the attack, protecting him from the worst of the onslaught.

As the winds died down, Zephyra found herself on her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant respect. Rogue stood before her, his robes tattered but his stance unwavering, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak of darkness.

The assembled mages watched in stunned silence, their earlier jeers and mocking laughter replaced by a dawning sense of awe and respect for the young shadow mage who had defied all expectations.

The silence that followed was deafening, the guild masters too stunned to even utter a word. It was Jose who finally broke the stillness, his voice ringing out across the dueling stage.

"Well, gentlemen, it seems the boy has bested another of your escorts," he declared, a smug grin etched onto his features. "Shall we continue this little game, or have you had enough?"

The tension in the air was palpable as the guild masters exchanged furtive glances, their expressions a mix of awe, frustration, and begrudging respect. Rogue, poised and unwavering, stood tall amidst the silence, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd, silently daring them to underestimate him once more.

A thin, wiry man stepped forward, his movements deliberate and precise. "Perhaps it's time for a different challenge," he called out, his voice tinged with a hint of condescension. "Let's see how the young prodigy fares against the might of the celestial spirits."

With a flourish of his hands, the man produced ten bronze keys, their metallic surfaces glinting in the afternoon sun. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, the guild masters exchanging impressed nods and whispers of appreciation.

"Ten celestial spirits at once? Impressive," one of the guild masters remarked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

The thin man smirked, relishing in the attention. "Watch and be amazed," he boasted, his fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air as he began to chant.

One by one, the bronze keys glowed with otherworldly light, and from the ether, ten celestial spirits materialized. Their forms were imposing, clad in armor that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance, their weapons gleaming and ready for battle.

The spirits fanned out around the dueling stage, their movements synchronized and precise, their very presence exuding an aura of power and intimidation.

"Incredible," muttered one of the guild masters, a portly man with a ruddy complexion. "To summon ten celestial spirits simultaneously is no small feat."

A wizened old woman, her silver hair tied back in a severe bun, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It takes immense magical prowess and control to wield so many spirits at once."

Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the gathered mages, their eyes fixed on the imposing figures that surrounded the dueling stage.

"Quite a display of power, wouldn't you agree, Porla?" the portly man called out, his gaze shifting towards Jose.

Jose, however, remained impassive, his expression betraying no hint of the awe that seemed to captivate his peers. "A flashy trick, nothing more," he remarked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rogue, however, remained unfazed. His gaze swept over the celestial spirits, taking in their forms and weapons with a critical eye.

"Impressive display," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But you'll have to do better than that to impress me."

The thin man's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing at Rogue's nonchalant response. "You dare mock the power of the celestial spirits, boy?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rogue shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm simply stating facts," he countered. "Bronze keys summon weak spirits, nothing more. If you really wish to defeat me, try using gold keys."

The thin man's face flushed with anger, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his keys tightly. "You insolent brat! You know nothing of the true power of the celestial spirits!"

With a snarl of rage, he gestured towards the spirits, his movements jerky and fueled by his frustration. "Attack! Show this upstart the might of the celestial realm!"

The spirits surged forward, their weapons raised and ready to strike. Rogue, however, remained still, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

In a blur of movement, he drew his katana, the blade singing as it sliced through the air. With deft strokes and precise footwork, Rogue danced among the spirits, his blade a whirlwind of steel and shadow.

One by one, the spirits' weapons fell to the ground, cleaved from their grasp by Rogue's masterful swordsmanship. The guild masters watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief as the young mage disarmed the celestial spirits with ease.

The thin man's face twisted into a mask of rage and humiliation, his eyes burning with fury as he watched his spirits rendered defenseless. "Impossible!" he snarled, his hands trembling with impotent anger.

Rogue sheathed his katana, his movements calm and controlled. "I'm a fair person," he stated, his voice carrying an undercurrent of confidence. "I will fight you with similar magic. Dark summon: tatara."

With those words, he extended his hand, and the shadows around him seemed to come alive. The floor behind him darkened, the air growing thick and heavy with an otherworldly presence.

From the depths of the shadows, a figure began to emerge – a towering, muscular being whose very existence seemed to defy the laws of nature. Its skin was as black as the deepest abyss, its eyes burning with an otherworldly fire. In its massive hand, it gripped a broadsword that seemed to radiate an aura of pure malevolence.

The celestial spirits, once so imposing, now trembled in the presence of this shadowy behemoth. Their weapons, once so formidable, now seemed like mere toys in comparison to the creature's massive blade.

Rogue's gaze never wavered as the creature, standing over seven meters tall, loomed behind him. "This is Tatara," he announced, his voice steady and assured. "A dark entity, summoned from the depths of the Abyss realm."

The thin man's bravado crumbled, his face paling as he took in the sight of the towering Tatara. His lips moved, but no words emerged, his confidence shattered by the display of Rogue's power.

The guild masters, too, found themselves rendered speechless, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. For in that moment, they realized that they had truly underestimated the depths of Rogue's mastery over the shadows – a mistake they would not soon forget.

Xander felt a chill run down his spine as Rogue summoned the towering Tatara. The creature's mere presence seemed to distort the very air around them, its aura radiating an otherworldly malevolence that sent shivers through the escort's body.

"That thing..." Xander muttered, his voice laced with a hint of fear. "My spatial distortions would be useless against it."

Bronx, the burly earth mage who had faced Rogue earlier, couldn't help but let out a bark of uneasy laughter. "Hah! That beast would crush me with a single punch. No amount of earthen armor could withstand its might."

Zephyra, the wind mage, stared at Tatara's broadsword, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and dread. "I can feel the dark energy radiating from that blade," she whispered, her words carrying the weight of her unease. "It's like a void, seeking to consume all in its path."

The thin man, his confidence shattered by the appearance of the shadowy behemoth, turned to his celestial spirits with a frantic expression. "Attack! Destroy that abomination!" he commanded, his voice trembling with barely concealed fear.

The spirits, however, remained motionless, their forms quivering as they took in the sight of Tatara. Fear had taken root in their otherworldly beings, rendering them powerless in the face of such overwhelming darkness.

Rogue simply stood, his gaze unwavering, as Tatara took a single, earth-shaking step forward. With a casual flick of its wrist, the creature unleashed a devastating swing of its blade, the force of the strike shattering the celestial spirits' defenses and rending their forms into nothingness.

The guild masters watched in stunned silence as the spirits, once so formidable, were reduced to mere wisps of ethereal energy, dissipating into the ether from whence they came. The thin man, his face drained of color, stumbled backwards, his mouth agape in a silent scream of terror.

Tatara advanced, its footsteps shaking the ground with each ponderous stride. The creature loomed over the thin man, its burning eyes boring into his soul, its very presence a suffocating weight that threatened to crush him beneath its malevolence.

A low, rumbling growl echoed from the depths of Tatara's throat, the sound resonating deep within the thin man's being, shaking him to his very core.

Rogue's voice cut through the tension, his words carrying a calm assurance that belied the overwhelming power he wielded. "Do you yield, or shall we continue this dance?"

The thin man's legs trembled, his knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of Tatara's presence. A dark stain spread across the front of his robes, a testament to his utter terror.

With a whimper, the thin man nodded, his surrender absolute and without reservation. "I... I yield," he stammered, his voice quivering with fear.

Rogue turned to the defeated mage, his expression impassive. "There's no need for further humiliation," he said calmly. "Clean yourself up and regain your composure."

The guild masters exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado and skepticism replaced by a newfound respect for the young mage's abilities. Even those who had initially scoffed at the idea of a child wielding such power found themselves rendered speechless by the display of Rogue's mastery over the shadows.

As the thin man scurried away, his face flushed with embarrassment, a burly guild master stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Tatara's towering form. "Impressive, boy," he rumbled, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and wariness. "But surely even you must have limits to your strength."

Rogue regarded the guild master with a steady gaze, his expression betraying no hint of arrogance or boastfulness. "I am but one mage among many in Phantom Lord," he replied, his voice carrying a note of humility. "There are others far stronger than I."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, the guild masters exchanging skeptical glances. It seemed inconceivable that a guild could harbor such formidable mages, particularly one as notorious as Phantom Lord.

"You expect us to believe that?" another guild master scoffed, his wrinkled face twisted into a sneer. "Phantom Lord may be powerful, but to claim they possess mages stronger than you after what we've witnessed..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

Rogue remained unfazed, his gaze sweeping across the assembled guild masters with a hint of amusement. "Believe what you will," he said, his tone even. "But know this: Gajeel Redfox, the Iron Dragon Slayer, is but one of the mages who surpasses me in strength."

The name sent a ripple of recognition through the crowd, and even the most skeptical guild masters found themselves exchanging uneasy glances. Gajeel's reputation as a fearsome mage was well-known, his mastery over iron and dragon slayer magic a force to be reckoned with.

"And then there are the Element Four," Rogue continued, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "Each one a master of their respective elemental magic, their combined might is a force that few can withstand."

The guild masters remained silent, their expressions ranging from disbelief to grudging respect. It was a sobering thought – that even after witnessing Rogue's prowess, there were those within Phantom Lord who could eclipse his abilities with ease.

"And above them all," Rogue said, his gaze shifting towards Jose, who stood beside him with a faint smile of pride, "stands Master Jose Porla, the true embodiment of Phantom Lord's strength."

A hush fell over the crowd, the weight of Rogue's words hanging heavy in the air. It was a stark reminder that, for all their skepticism and derision, they had only scratched the surface of Phantom Lord's true power.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Rogue dispelled Tatara's form, the towering behemoth dissipating into wisps of shadow that melted back into the darkness from whence it came. "I hope this has been a sufficient demonstration," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "If there are no further challenges, perhaps we can move on to more pressing matters."

The guild masters exchanged furtive glances, their earlier bravado and confidence now replaced by a newfound respect for the young mage and the guild he represented. It was a humbling lesson, one that reminded them that true power often lurked in the most unexpected places, and that underestimating an opponent could lead to disastrous consequences.

Bronx, the burly earth mage who had faced Rogue earlier, couldn't help but let out a low whistle as he watched Tatara dissipate into the shadows. "Damn, kid's got more tricks up his sleeve than I thought," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

Xander, the escort with the ability to manipulate space, turned to Bronx with a frown. "You're telling me. With that Tatara thing by his side, even our combined efforts might not be enough to take him down."

Zephyra, the wind mage, nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed in contemplation. "And he's just a child now. Imagine the kind of power he'll wield once he's fully grown and mastered his abilities."

Bronx let out a bark of laughter, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of respect and wariness. "Well, I'm just glad he's on our side. Can you imagine going up against that kind of raw strength? We'd be toast in a heartbeat."

Xander couldn't help but smirk, despite the gravity of the situation. "You know, for a kid wielding the so-called 'weakest magic,' he sure packs a hell of a punch."

Zephyra chuckled, her gaze drifting towards Rogue, who stood alongside Jose, a faint smile on his lips. "Indeed. And to think, this is just the beginning for him. Who knows what heights he'll reach in the years to come?"

The three escorts exchanged glances, a newfound respect for the young mage evident in their eyes. They had witnessed firsthand the depths of Rogue's power, and the realization that he was merely scratching the surface was both awe-inspiring and daunting.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Bronx said, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and trepidation. "I sure as hell wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath when he's in his prime."

Xander and Zephyra couldn't help but laugh, their earlier doubts and skepticism replaced by a begrudging respect for the young mage who had defied all expectations. As they turned their attention back to the proceedings, a newfound sense of anticipation filled the air, for they knew that this was just the beginning of Rogue's journey – a journey that promised to shake the very foundations of the magical world.

As the crowd began to disperse, their murmurs filled with a mixture of awe and trepidation, Rogue turned to Jose, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It would seem they understand now, Master," he said, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction.

"Indeed, Rogue. You have proven yourself a true asset to Phantom Lord, and a force to be reckoned with in the world of mages," Jose declared, his voice brimming with pride.

Rogue nodded, his expression calm and composed. "Thank you, Master. However, I must admit, I have yet to face the true test of my abilities against Fiore's strongest mages."

Jose arched an eyebrow, intrigue flickering across his features. "You speak of the S-Class mages, I presume?"

"Precisely," Rogue affirmed. "While the escorts I faced today were formidable, they pale in comparison to the might and strength of S class mages."

A scoff echoed through the hall, drawing their attention to a stern-faced man striding towards them. Jienma Orland, the unforgiving master of Sabertooth, his very presence commanding a sense of authority and disdain.

"You speak of strength, boy?" Jienma sneered, his gaze fixed upon Rogue with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. "Yet, you dare not challenge those who truly wield power within my guild?"

Rogue tensed, memories of his past life flooding back – memories of the strained relationship between Phantom Lord and Sabertooth, fueled by the very man standing before him.

Two years ago, when Rogue first realized his reincarnation, one of his primary goals had been to change the miserable situation of Minerva Orland, Jienma's daughter. However, Jienma had discovered the budding relationship between Rogue and Minerva, leading to a violent confrontation that was narrowly averted by Gajeel's intervention.

Jienma had filed a formal complaint with Jose, accusing Rogue of improper conduct. Contrary to expectations, Jose had sided against Jienma, further straining the already tense relationship between the two guilds.

Rogue's thoughts drifted to Minerva, his heart aching at the memory of the pain and suffering she had endured at her father's hands. The guilt of being the catalyst for her increased torment weighed heavily upon him, a burden he carried silently.

Pushing aside the emotional turmoil, Rogue met Jienma's gaze, his expression unwavering. "I have no quarrel with Sabertooth, Master Jienma," he said, his tone measured and respectful. "My focus lies solely on honing my abilities and representing Phantom Lord with honor."

Jienma's sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Honor? From a guild that harbors filth like you?"

Jose's hand shot out, gripping Jienma's arm with surprising strength. "Mind your tongue, Jienma," he warned, his voice laced with a subtle threat. "You stand before a saint wizard, one who could crush you without breaking a sweat. Do not test my patience."

A heavy silence hung in the air, tension crackling between the two guild masters like static electricity. Jienma's face twisted in a mask of barely contained fury, but he relented, wrenching his arm free from Jose's grasp.

Rogue, unflinching in the face of Jienma's disdain, straightened his posture. "Master Jienma," he said, his voice carrying a hint of steel. "I have no desire to engage in petty conflicts or settle personal vendettas. However, if you doubt my strength, I extend an invitation."

Jienma's brow furrowed, curiosity flickering behind his contemptuous glare.

"In seven years' time," Rogue continued, his gaze unwavering, "I will face you and your strongest mages in a battle of honor. On that day, you will witness the true depths of my power, and you will be forced to eat your words... along with a healthy serving of dirt."

The audacity of Rogue's challenge hung in the air, thick and palpable. Jose's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and amusement visible on his normally stoic features.

Jienma, taken aback by Rogue's boldness, let out a bark of laughter – a sound devoid of mirth, laced with condescension. "Seven years?" he scoffed. "You insolent brat! You truly believe you'll be a match for Sabertooth's finest in such a short span of time?"

Without waiting for a response, Jienma turned on his heel, his laughter echoing through the hall as he strode away, dismissing Rogue's challenge with a wave of his hand.

Rogue, however, remained steadfast, his gaze fixed on Jienma's retreating form. "We shall see, Master Jienma," he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet determination that belied his youthful appearance.

Jose, sensing the weight of the moment, placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder. "That was a bold gambit, my boy," he said, a hint of pride mingling with concern in his voice.

Rogue nodded, his expression hardening. "I know, Master. But it is a challenge I must accept, for reasons you cannot yet fathom."

Jose studied Rogue's face, his brow furrowing as if sensing the depths of emotion and conviction that lay beneath the young mage's stoic demeanor.

"Very well," Jose said finally, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Whatever secrets you harbor, Rogue, I trust you will reveal them in due time. For now, let us bask in the glory of today's triumph and look forward to the challenges that lie ahead."

As they turned to depart, Rogue's gaze lingered on the path Jienma had taken, his mind already whirring with the preparations needed to fulfill his promise. For in that moment, he had set in motion a chain of events that would test the limits of his resolve, his strength, and his ability to reshape the very fabric of destiny itself.

"You seem lost in thought, Rogue," Jose remarked, his voice tinged with amusement. "Eager to prove that old fool wrong, are we?"

Rogue blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "Apologies, Master. I was simply contemplating the path ahead." His brow furrowed slightly as he considered his words carefully. "Jienma Orland is a formidable opponent, and Sabertooth's reputation precedes them. I cannot afford to underestimate their strength."

Jose nodded, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Indeed, Rogue. But you must also remember that you represent Phantom Lord. Our guild's might is not to be trifled with, and you have proven yourself a worthy embodiment of our power."

They continued walking, their steps echoing through the grand halls as they made their way towards the central meeting chamber. Rogue's eyes scanned the various guild masters and their escorts, taking note of the subtle tensions and alliances that seemed to simmer beneath the surface.

As they approached a table occupied by three figures, Rogue's breath caught in his throat. There, seated with an air of quiet dignity, was Makarov Dreyar – the master of Fairy Tail and a man whose presence carried the weight of history and respect.

Flanking Makarov were Goldmine, the master of Quatro Cerberus, and Bob, the eccentric leader of Blue Pegasus. The trio's gazes shifted towards Jose and Rogue, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright suspicion.

A hush fell over the gathered mages as they recognized the impending confrontation between the masters of Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail. The longstanding feud between the two guilds was no secret, and the air crackled with anticipation of what was to come.

Makarov's eyes narrowed slightly as Jose approached, his gruff voice breaking the silence. "Jose Porla," he greeted, his tone even but carrying a hint of wariness. "To what do we owe this... unexpected visit?"

Jose's expression remained impassive, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor – a softening of his features that Rogue had never witnessed before. Wordlessly, Jose dropped to one knee before Makarov, his head bowed in a gesture of humility that sent ripples of shock through the gathered mages.

"Makarov," Jose began, his voice laced with a sincerity that caught Rogue off guard. "I come before you today to offer my sincere apologies for the conflicts and animosity that have plagued our guilds for far too long."

A collective gasp echoed through the chamber, and Rogue found himself struggling to maintain his composure. This was a side of Jose he had never seen, not even in his past life – a vulnerability, a willingness to set aside pride and make amends.

Makarov's eyes widened, his jaw slackening in disbelief. Goldmine and Bob exchanged stunned glances, their expressions mirroring the shock that rippled through the assembled mages.

Jose continued, his voice steady but laced with regret. "The rift between our guilds has been a festering wound, fueled by ego, ambition, and a misguided sense of superiority. I have been blinded by my pursuit of power, and in doing so, I have caused untold harm – not only to Fairy Tail but to the very principles that should guide us as mages."

Rogue watched, transfixed, as Jose poured his heart out, laying bare the flaws and misguided motivations that had driven his actions in the past. It was a stunning display of vulnerability, one that seemed to strip away the layers of bravado and arrogance that had defined Jose's persona.

"I cannot undo the damage that has been done," Jose said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I can pledge to you, Master Makarov, that from this day forward, Phantom Lord will walk a different path. No longer will we seek to undermine or challenge Fairy Tail through underhanded means. Instead, let our rivalry be one of honor, where our mages compete in the true spirit of camaraderie and respect."

Silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of Jose's words sinking in like a physical presence. Makarov's expression softened, his eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and cautious hope.

"Jose," Makarov began, his voice carrying a note of weariness that spoke of the burdens he had shouldered as Fairy Tail's master. "Your words... they carry a sincerity that I have not witnessed from you before."

The diminutive guild master rose from his seat, his gaze locked on Jose's bowed form. "For years, we have been locked in a cycle of retribution and mistrust, each offense fueling the next in a never-ending spiral of conflict. But today... today, you offer us a chance to break free from that cycle."

Makarov's eyes swept over the gathered mages, his expression radiating a wisdom born from decades of experience. "We, as guild masters, have a responsibility to set an example for our members – to guide them towards a path of honor and righteousness. If we cannot put aside our differences and embrace the ideals that bind us as mages, then what hope do our younger generations have of upholding those same principles?"

With a slight nod, Makarov extended his hand towards Jose. "I accept your apology, Jose Porla, and I offer Fairy Tail's hand in friendship and solidarity. Let us embark on a new era, where our guilds stand as pillars of strength and unity, rather than bitter rivals locked in a never-ending feud."

Jose looked up, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and gratitude. He grasped Makarov's hand, sealing the pact with a firm shake. "Thank you, Master Makarov," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Your wisdom and compassion are an inspiration to us all."

As Jose rose to his feet, a collective sigh seemed to ripple through the chamber, as if a weight had been lifted from the shoulders of the assembled mages. Rogue watched, awestruck, as the tension that had once hung heavy in the air dissipated, replaced by a sense of renewed hope and solidarity.

Goldmine and Bob exchanged grins, their earlier skepticism replaced by genuine delight at the unexpected turn of events.

"Well, I'll be!" Goldmine exclaimed, his booming voice carrying a note of amusement. "Who would've thought we'd see the day when Jose Porla and Makarov Dreyar buried the hatchet?"

Bob let out a melodious giggle, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Indeed, my dear Goldmine! It seems the winds of change are blowing through our ranks, and I for one cannot wait to see what delightful surprises await us."

Rogue watched the exchange unfold, his mind whirling with the implications of Jose's actions. In his past life, he had witnessed the escalating tensions between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail, culminating in an all-out war that had left both guilds devastated. But now, in this life, Jose had taken the first step towards mending the rift, offering an olive branch that Makarov had graciously accepted.

As the gathered mages began to disperse, their hushed conversations carrying a sense of renewed optimism, Rogue found himself alone with Jose once more.

"Master," Rogue began, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. "What you did back there... I never expected such a display of humility and remorse."

Jose met Rogue's gaze, his expression softening into a faint smile. "Ah, Rogue. You may have witnessed the events of my past life, but you have yet to truly understand the weight of my regrets."

Rogue's eyes widened in shock before he stared at Jose. "You too... reincarnated?"

The guild master's eyes seemed to grow distant, as if he were peering into a past that Rogue could only glimpse through fleeting memories. "The path I walked in those bygone days was paved with arrogance and a thirst for power that blinded me to the consequences of my actions. I allowed my ambition to consume me, casting aside the principles that should have guided my every decision."

Jose shook his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "It was not until the aftermath of that disastrous war that I truly understood the gravity of my mistakes. Lives were lost, bonds were shattered, and the very foundations of our guilds were left in ruins – all because of my stubborn refusal to let go of my pride."

Rogue listened intently, his respect for Jose deepening with every word. The man before him was no longer the arrogant, power-hungry guild master he had glimpsed in his past life. Instead, Jose had undergone a transformation, a humbling experience that had reshaped his perspective and priorities.

"When I realized the truth of our reincarnation, Rogue," Jose continued, his voice taking on a paternal tone, "I knew that I had been given a second chance – an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and forge a new path for Phantom Lord."

He placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder, his expression one of quiet determination. "The seeds of change have been planted, my boy. It is up to us to nurture and tend to them, ensuring that the rift between our guilds never widens to the point of no return."

Rogue nodded, his mind still reeling from Jose's revelation. As the guild master turned and began to walk towards one of the halls, he paused, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"Rogue, I must attend a private meeting with the other guild masters. Stay outside the door and await my return," Jose instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rogue simply nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the proceedings. As Jose disappeared through the doors, Rogue found himself alone in the grand hallway, his mind awash with questions and musings.

The revelation that Jose, too, had been reincarnated from a previous life had shaken Rogue to his core. All this time, he had believed himself to be the only one burdened – or perhaps blessed – with the weight of past memories and experiences. Yet, here was Jose, a man he had once considered an adversary, walking a path of redemption fueled by the very same awareness.

A shiver ran down Rogue's spine as a disquieting thought crossed his mind. If he and Jose were not the only ones to have undergone reincarnation, who else among the gathered mages might harbor the echoes of a past life? The implications were staggering, raising questions about the very nature of their existence and the forces that governed their world.

Rogue found himself pacing the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he grappled with the weight of this newfound knowledge. Unbidden memories from his previous life surfaced, flickering like fragmented visions – battles fought, bonds forged, and mistakes made, all leading to a cataclysmic conclusion that had left the magical world forever changed.

He couldn't help but wonder if those who had played pivotal roles in that bygone era had also been granted a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs of the past or perhaps even to forge an entirely new destiny. The thought was both exhilarating and deeply unsettling, for it raised the specter of unforeseen alliances and conflicts, shaped by the weight of past experiences.

As Rogue paced, his mind raced with scenarios and possibilities, each more convoluted than the last. What if Makarov, too, remembered the events of the past? Would their newfound truce hold, or would old grudges and animosities resurface, fueled by the echoes of a conflict long since resolved? And what of the other guild masters, those whose ambitions and motivations remained shrouded in mystery? Could they be harboring secrets, agendas forged in the crucible of a bygone era?

Rogue's steps faltered, and he found himself leaning against the cool stone wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The weight of uncertainty threatened to overwhelm him, a stark contrast to the confidence he had exuded during his earlier challenges.

Doubts began to creep in, whispering insidiously at the edges of his consciousness. What if his actions, fueled by the knowledge of his past life, served only to unravel the delicate balance he sought to maintain? What if, in his pursuit of redemption and change, he inadvertently set in motion a chain of events that eclipsed even the calamities of his previous existence?

The doubts gnawed at him, feeding on his fears and insecurities, until he found himself sliding down the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest as he struggled to regain his composure.

In that moment of vulnerability, Rogue felt the weight of his burden more acutely than ever before. The responsibility of shaping the future, armed with the knowledge of the past, seemed an almost insurmountable task, one that threatened to crush him beneath its enormity.

As he sat there, his breathing slowly steadying, Rogue realized that the path before him was shrouded in uncertainty and peril. Yet, despite the doubts that assailed him, he could not afford to falter. Too much was at stake, too many lives hung in the balance, to allow fear and uncertainty to dictate his actions.

With a deep, steadying breath, Rogue rose to his feet, his resolve hardening like steel tempered in the fires of adversity. He would face the challenges ahead with the same unwavering determination that had carried him through the duels earlier that day. And if others harbored the echoes of a past life, then he would confront them head-on, his actions guided by the wisdom of his experiences and the strength of his convictions.

Rogue took a deep breath, the weight of Jose's words lingering in the air around him. His mind raced, grappling with the complexities of his situation and the newfound knowledge that Jose, too, had been reincarnated from a past life.

As he began to pace the hallway, Rogue's thoughts turned inward, reflecting on the intricate web of conflicts and alliances that had defined his previous existence. The feud between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail, fueled by Jose's ambition and arrogance, had been a powder keg waiting to ignite – a catalyst for a war that had left both guilds devastated in its wake.

Now, in this new life, Jose had taken the first step towards mending that rift, extending an olive branch to Makarov Dreyar and offering a path towards reconciliation. Yet, even as Rogue acknowledged the significance of this gesture, doubts gnawed at the edges of his mind, reminding him of the fragility of such truces and the ever-present threat of past grievances resurfacing.

He couldn't help but wonder if Makarov, too, harbored the echoes of their previous lives, and if so, whether the weight of those memories would ultimately undermine the newfound truce between their guilds. The thought sent a chill down Rogue's spine, for he knew all too well the depths of the animosity that had once plagued their relationship.

As he paced, Rogue's fingers brushed against the tome he had acquired from Everlue's library, the ancient book on martial arts techniques and philosophies that had ignited a spark of inspiration within him. Perhaps, he mused, delving into its pages would provide a much-needed respite from the turmoil that engulfed his thoughts.

With a quiet sigh, Rogue settled against the cool stone wall, his fingers tracing the worn leather cover of the book as he opened it to the first page. The words seemed to leap from the parchment, drawing him into a world of ancient wisdom and timeless principles that transcended the petty conflicts of his present existence.

As he lost himself in the intricate descriptions of combat stances and techniques, Rogue felt a sense of calm wash over him. The doubts and uncertainties that had plagued him moments ago faded into the background, replaced by a singular focus on the knowledge that lay before him.

The pages spoke of the harmony between mind, body, and spirit – a delicate balance that was the cornerstone of true mastery in the martial arts. Rogue found himself nodding in silent understanding, drawing parallels between these ancient teachings and the principles that governed his own magic.

Shadows, he realized, were not merely a manifestation of power, but a reflection of one's inner self – a canvas upon which the depth of one's being was painted in shades of darkness and light. To wield them effectively, one had to achieve a level of harmony and discipline that transcended mere technique, delving into the very essence of what it meant to be a mage.

As he turned the pages, Rogue's mind began to weave together the threads of this newfound wisdom, envisioning ways to integrate the martial arts philosophies into his own mastery of shadow magic. The notion of blending the physical and the arcane, of creating a synthesis that would elevate his abilities to new heights, took root within him, fueling a renewed sense of purpose.

Yet, even as he immersed himself in the tome's teachings, Rogue couldn't help but feel a pang of trepidation. For he knew that the path he was contemplating was one that would be met with resistance, perhaps even outright hostility, from those who clung to tradition and viewed shadow magic as a mere tool for stealth and subterfuge.

The thought of navigating the inevitable conflicts that would arise from his pursuit of this fusion sent a shiver down his spine, but he quickly pushed it aside. The echoes of his past life had taught him that true mastery often came at a price, and that the greatest achievements were forged in the crucible of adversity.

As he delved deeper into the book, Rogue felt a sense of determination settle over him. He would master these ancient techniques, weaving them into the fabric of his shadow magic until they became an inextricable part of his arsenal. And when the time came to face those who would challenge his unorthodox methods, he would stand firm, his resolve tempered by the knowledge that he walked a path that few had dared to tread before.

The hours seemed to slip by as Rogue lost himself in the pages of the tome, his mind absorbing every detail, every nuance of the martial arts philosophies that had once been the lifeblood of ancient warriors. And as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the hallway, Rogue felt a renewed sense of clarity and purpose, a quiet determination to forge a legacy that would shake the very foundations of what it meant to be a shadow mage.

The hallway echoed with the distant sounds of explosions and roars, drawing Rogue's attention away from the ancient tome he had been engrossed in. His brow furrowed as he sensed the unmistakable presence of magic, powerful and chaotic, pulsing through the very walls of the building.

Instinctively, Rogue snapped the book shut and rose to his feet, his senses heightened as he tried to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. He could feel the others – masters and escorts alike – stirring, their curiosity and apprehension mirroring his own.

Without hesitation, Rogue stepped out into the grand foyer, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Through the massive windows, he could see the unmistakable figures of Natsu, Lucy, Erza, and Gray locked in combat with a towering creature that seemed to defy description.

The beast, its form twisted and grotesque, emanated an aura of pure malevolence, its very presence causing the air to crackle with dark energy. As Rogue watched, transfixed, the creature unleashed a torrent of devastating magic, forcing the Fairy Tail mages to scramble for cover.

"Lullaby," a voice rumbled beside him, and Rogue turned to find Jose standing there, his expression grave. "One of Zeref's demons, awakened and unleashed upon the world."

Rogue's heart pounded in his chest, his fingers twitching with the urge to join the fray, to lend his power to the battle against this unholy abomination. But before he could act, Jose's hand clamped down on his shoulder, the guild master's grip firm and unyielding.

"You must not interfere, Rogue," Jose warned, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. "To do so would disrupt the flow of time itself, and that could have catastrophic consequences for our own development."

Rogue opened his mouth to protest, but Jose silenced him with a raised hand. "I know what you're thinking, my boy. But trust me, I have witnessed these events before, in my past life. Natsu and his comrades will emerge victorious, as they are destined to."

Jose's eyes seemed to glaze over, his mind transported to a time and place that Rogue could only glimpse through the echoes of his own memories. "I have seen the outcome with my own eyes, Rogue. And though the battle may seem dire, their triumph is inevitable."

Rogue's gaze drifted back to the raging conflict outside, his jaw clenched tight as he watched Erza unleash a devastating barrage of sword strikes, only to be swatted aside like a mere insect. Doubt gnawed at him, challenging Jose's reassurances, but he knew better than to question the wisdom of one who had already walked this path.

"Then what would you have us do, Master?" Rogue asked, his voice strained as he fought to tear his eyes away from the unfolding battle.

Jose's expression hardened, his eyes blazing with a intensity that sent a shiver down Rogue's spine. "We move away from the building, my boy. For when Natsu and his comrades unleash their final assault, this structure will be reduced to rubble."

Rogue's eyes widened, but he didn't question Jose's words. Instead, he fell into step beside the guild master, their movements swift and purposeful as they made their way towards the exit.

As they stepped outside, the sounds of battle grew deafening, the very air seeming to shake with the force of the magic being unleashed. Rogue cast one final glance over his shoulder, his gaze locking onto Natsu's defiant form as the fire dragon slayer unleashed a torrent of flames that engulfed Lullaby's twisted visage.

In that moment, Rogue felt a surge of pride and admiration for the Fairy Tail mages, their unwavering courage in the face of such overwhelming darkness a testament to the strength of their bonds and the depth of their resolve.

And then, as if in slow motion, the world seemed to erupt around them.

A blinding flash of light, accompanied by a thunderous roar, signaled the climax of the battle, the force of the explosion rippling outwards with devastating power. Rogue braced himself, instinctively conjuring a shield of shadows to deflect the debris and shockwaves.

When the dust finally settled, the once-grand conference hall lay in ruins, reduced to a pile of rubble by the sheer might of the Fairy Tail mages' final assault. Rogue stood amidst the wreckage, his eyes wide and his breath caught in his throat, as he struggled to comprehend the scale of the destruction.

Jose, undeterred, simply chuckled to himself, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and grudging respect. "Just as I said, Rogue. Those mages have a knack for turning even the most dire situations into an opportunity for spectacle."

As the dust cleared, Rogue could make out the figures of Natsu, Lucy, Erza, and Gray emerging from the rubble, battered and bruised, but alive and victorious. A sense of relief washed over him, tempered by a newfound respect for the power and determination of the Fairy Tail guild.

And in that moment, as he watched the four mages share a moment of triumph and camaraderie, Rogue couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for the future.

It was a faint glimmer, a flickering candle in the darkness, but it was a spark that Rogue vowed to nurture and protect. For in that moment, he realized that true strength lay not just in mastering one's magic, but in forging bonds that transcended the boundaries of guilds and petty rivalries.

Suddenly, The ground trembled, and a swirling vortex of darkness opened, spilling forth an ominous figure that froze everyone in place. From the depths of the abyss, a towering entity emerged, its form shrouded in billowing robes that seemed to devour the very light around it. Rogue's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and terror, for he recognized the being that now strode towards the prone form of Lullaby, the defeated demon reverting to its innocuous guise as an oboe.

The creature's presence was suffocating, a weight that seemed to press down upon them all, and Rogue found himself struggling to breathe. This was no mere servant of the shadows – this was an Abyss Marquis, a noble rank bestowed upon the strongest denizens of the Abyss realm by the King himself.

Memories of ancient lore flooded Rogue's mind, tales of beings so powerful that Tatara, the dark entity he had summoned earlier, would pale in comparison. The Marquis, with its regal bearing and aura of malevolence, exuded an air of authority that sent shivers down Rogue's spine.

As the Marquis reached down to claim the oboe, Makarov stepped forward, his voice carrying a rare edge of warning. "Hold! You would do well to heed my words and depart from this place."

The Marquis turned its gaze upon Makarov, and Rogue could have sworn the very air grew colder, as if the entity's mere presence sapped the warmth from their surroundings. In a voice devoid of emotion, yet laced with an undercurrent of power, the Marquis spoke.

"I am Nazrieth, Abyss Marquis, and I answer to none but the one who summoned me and the King of the Abyss himself," the creature intoned, its words carrying a weight that seemed to reverberate through their very souls.

Makarov's brow furrowed, his stance shifting as he prepared to defend against this new threat. Around him, the guild masters and their escorts tensed, their magic crackling in the air like static electricity.

Natsu, ever the impulsive one, stepped forward, his fists ablaze. "If it's a fight you want, then bring it on!" he snarled, his eyes burning with the same defiance that had carried him through his battle with Lullaby.

The Marquis turned its gaze upon Natsu, and for a moment, Rogue could have sworn he saw a flicker of amusement in the creature's otherworldly eyes. "Foolish child," Nazrieth rumbled, "your flames are but candles in the face of the Abyss' eternal darkness."

Rogue felt a chill run down his spine, and before he could even think, he found himself moving, his steps carrying him between the Marquis and the assembled mages. "No!" he cried out, his voice laced with desperation. "You must not engage this creature!"

The guild masters and their escorts looked at Rogue in bewilderment, their faces a mix of confusion and incredulity. Even Natsu seemed taken aback by Rogue's outburst, his flames flickering momentarily.

"Rogue, what are you saying?" Makarov demanded, his brow furrowed in concern. "Surely this being, powerful as it may be, is still within our ability to confront."

Rogue shook his head vehemently, his eyes pleading with the guild masters to understand. "You do not comprehend the true nature of the Abyss Marquis, Master Makarov," he implored. "This is no mere servant of the shadows – this is a being of immense power, a noble among the denizens of the Abyss realm."

He turned to face Nazrieth, his legs trembling as he sank to one knee, a gesture of supplication that sent murmurs rippling through the gathered mages. "Great Marquis, I beg of you, forgive their ignorance and accept my humble apologies on their behalf."

Nazrieth regarded Rogue with an inscrutable gaze, his towering form seeming to loom ever larger with each passing moment. For a long, tense moment, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of Rogue's ragged breathing.

Finally, the Marquis spoke, his voice carrying a note of acknowledgment. "Your reverence is noted, young summoner. For that, I shall spare these foolish mortals and depart with lullaby." With a fluid motion, Nazrieth reached down and plucked the oboe from the rubble, cradling it in his massive hands.

As the Marquis turned to depart, Rogue found his voice once more. "Forgive me, Great One, but I must ask – why have you come for this artifact, and who has summoned you to our realm?"

Nazrieth paused, his gaze fixing upon Rogue with an intensity that threatened to sear through his very soul. "My purpose is my own, human," the Marquis rumbled. "As for the one who summoned me... let us just say that he wield power beyond your comprehension, and leave it at that."

With those ominous words hanging in the air, Nazrieth dissolved into a swirling vortex of darkness, his form melting away and leaving behind a profound silence.

Rogue remained kneeling, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of the encounter settled upon him. Around him, the guild masters and their escorts erupted into a cacophony of questions and demands, their voices blending into a discordant chorus of confusion and disbelief.

"What in blazes was that thing, Rogue?" Goldmine demanded, his booming voice cutting through the din.

"And why did you kneel before it like some obedient servant?" another guild master pressed, his expression one of suspicion and distrust.

Rogue took a deep, steadying breath before rising to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the assembled mages. "That creature was an Abyss Marquis, one of the most powerful beings to dwell within the Abyss realm," he explained, his voice steady despite the lingering tremors that ran through his body.

"As a dark summoner, I have studied the lore and history of the Abyss, and I know the true might of the Marquis. To engage one in battle would have been folly, for even the strongest among us would have been mere insects before its power."

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd, but Rogue held up a hand, silencing them. "I know it may seem unbelievable, but trust me when I say that my actions saved us from a fate far worse than any we could have imagined."

Makarov stepped forward, his expression grave. "And lullaby? Why would an Abyss Marquis seek such a thing?"

Rogue shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "I cannot say for certain, Master Makarov. But the Marquis' words suggest that whoever summoned it to our realm wields power beyond our comprehension."

A heavy silence fell over the gathered mages, the implications of Rogue's statement sinking in like a lead weight. If there existed a being powerful enough to summon and command an Abyss Marquis, then the very foundations of their understanding of magic were called into question.

As the guild masters began to disperse, their voices a jumble of hushed whispers and speculation, Rogue found himself surrounded by Natsu, Lucy, Erza, and Gray – the very mages who had defeated Lullaby just moments before.

"Rogue, what the heck was that all about?" Natsu demanded, his eyes still blazing with the remnants of his earlier battle. "And why didn't you let us take that thing on?"

Rogue met Natsu's gaze, his expression somber. "Natsu-san, you have no idea the kind of power an Abyss Marquis wields. Engaging it would have been suicide, plain and simple."

Erza, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward, her armor clanking with each measured step. "he's right, Natsu. We may have defeated Lullaby, but that creature was on an entirely different level."

Gray nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his bare chest. "Yeah, flame brain. For once, try listening to someone who actually knows what they're talking about."

Lucy, however, seemed more concerned with the larger implications of the Marquis' appearance. "But what does it all mean?" she mused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Who could possibly have the power to summon such a being, and why would they want Lullaby?"

Rogue sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had settled upon them. "I wish I had answers, Lucy-san," he admitted. "But the truth is, this encounter has raised more questions than it has answered."

As the group fell into a contemplative silence, Rogue's mind raced with theories and possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. One thing was certain, however – the appearance of the Abyss Marquis had set in motion a chain of events that would ripple through the fabric of their world, and they would all have to brace themselves for the coming storm.

«in another place»

In the dimly lit chamber, Nazrieth knelt before the figure seated upon the throne, his billowing robes pooling around him like inky shadows. The armored man, his visage concealed behind an impassive helm, regarded the Abyss Marquis with a sense of detached curiosity.

he was the same armored warrior who had challenged Ignia, the Fire Dragon God, in a fierce duel that had nearly cost him his life.

"Your mission was successful, I take it?" the armored man inquired, his voice distorted by the confines of his helm, yet carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.

Nazrieth inclined his head, the motion fluid and graceful. "Indeed, Master Mirai. The artifact known as Lullaby has been retrieved, per your instructions."

With a wave of his hand, the Abyss Marquis summoned forth the oboe, its polished surface gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Mirai leaned forward, his armored fingers tracing the intricate carvings that adorned the instrument's length.

"Excellent work, Nazrieth," Mirai praised, a hint of satisfaction lacing his tone. "This is but the first step towards our ultimate goal."

Nazrieth's gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the scattered corpses of what appeared to be members of a dark guild. "I sense you have been... thorough in your preparations," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Mirai chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to echo through the very stones of the chamber. "Perhaps a touch excessive," he admitted, "but I do so enjoy making a statement."

Nazrieth nodded, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "And what of the young summoner, Rogue Cheney?" he inquired, his otherworldly eyes fixed upon Mirai. "He proved... intriguing, to say the least."

Mirai leaned back in his throne, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Ah, yes, Rogue," he mused, a hint of intrigue coloring his tone. "A fascinating individual, is he not?"

The armored man paused, as if considering his words carefully. "I must admit, I was caught off guard by his reverence towards you, Nazrieth. It seems the lad has delved deeper into the lore of the Abyss than I had anticipated."

Nazrieth's lips curved into a faint smile, a rare display of emotion for the stoic Marquis. "Indeed, Master Mirai. His knowledge of our realm and its denizens is... impressive, for one so young."

Mirai nodded, his gaze distant as he contemplated the implications of Rogue's actions. "And that is what intrigues me," he admitted. "For a mage of his age to possess such profound understanding of the Abyss... it speaks volumes of his potential."

"You believe he may prove useful to our cause, then?" Nazrieth inquired, his tone measured and impassive.

Mirai's fingers drummed against the armrests of his throne, a rhythmic staccato that echoed through the chamber. "Potentially," he mused. "The boy's mastery of shadow magic, coupled with his unique perspective and knowledge, could prove invaluable."

A beat of silence passed between them, the weight of Mirai's words hanging in the air like a tangible presence.

"However," Mirai continued, his voice taking on a cautionary tone, "we must tread carefully. Rogue's reincarnation is a wildcard, a variable that could disrupt even the most meticulously laid plans."

Nazrieth nodded, his understanding of the situation evident in his silence.

Mirai rose from his throne, his armored form cutting an imposing figure in the flickering torchlight. "I believe it is time I paid young shadow a visit," he declared, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Perhaps a face-to-face encounter will shed light on his true motivations and potential."

Nazrieth inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment of his master's decision. As Mirai strode towards the chamber's exit, the Abyss Marquis remained kneeling, his thoughts inscrutable as the shadows seemed to cling to his master's retreating form.

The stage was set, the players assembled, and the machinations of a grand design had begun to take shape. What role Rogue Cheney would play in this unfolding drama remained to be seen, but one thing was certain – the echoes of his reincarnation had caught the attention of forces far greater than he could ever have imagined.

/

«oak town»

Rogue and Jose made their way back to the Phantom Lord guild hall in Oak Town, their steps steady and unhurried. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the bustling streets, casting long shadows that seemed to dance at their feet.

As they walked, Rogue couldn't help but steal glances at his guild master, his mind still reeling from the revelations of the day. The knowledge that Jose, too, had been reincarnated from a previous life was a weight he hadn't anticipated, and it left him with a myriad of questions.

"Master," Rogue ventured, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "If you don't mind me asking, what was it like? Remembering your past life, I mean."

Jose's brow furrowed, his expression growing pensive as he considered the question. "It was... disorienting, to say the least," he admitted after a moment. "One moment, I was living in the present, consumed by my ambitions and desires. The next, I was flooded with memories of a life long since passed – triumphs and failures, joys and sorrows, all crashing down upon me like a tidal wave."

Rogue nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. He, too, had experienced that initial rush of memories, a torrent of emotions and experiences that had threatened to overwhelm him.

"And how did you reconcile those memories with your current existence?" Rogue pressed, his curiosity piqued by Jose's introspective answer.

Jose's gaze drifted towards the horizon, his eyes taking on a distant, almost haunted look. "At first, I struggled to separate the two," he admitted. "The weight of my past transgressions, the mistakes I had made, the lives I had impacted – it was a burden that threatened to consume me."

He paused, his expression hardening as if steeling himself against the onslaught of memories. "But then, I realized that this was a second chance, an opportunity to right the wrongs of my previous life and forge a new path, one untainted by the arrogance and ambition that had once been my downfall."

Rogue felt a shiver run down his spine, his mind flashing back to the events of his past life, the choices and actions that had ultimately led to his own downfall. It was a weight he carried with him, a burden that fueled his determination to change the course of destiny.

"And that's why you extended the olive branch to Master Makarov?" Rogue surmised, his voice tinged with a newfound understanding.

Jose nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Indeed. The feud between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail had spiraled out of control, fueled by my egos and my inability to see beyond our my desires. It was a cycle of conflict that had to be broken, lest we repeat the mistakes of the past."

They walked in silence for a few moments, the weight of Jose's words hanging in the air between them. Rogue couldn't help but marvel at the strength of character it must have taken for Jose to swallow his pride and seek reconciliation with his former adversary.

"I must admit, Master," Rogue began, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration, "I never expected such humility from you. In my past life, you were... well, let's just say you weren't exactly known for your willingness to compromise."

Jose let out a bark of laughter, the sound rich and genuine. "Ah, yes, I can imagine how I must have seemed to you back then," he acknowledged. "A stubborn old fool, blinded by his own ambitions and unwilling to see reason."

He clapped Rogue on the shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "But that was then, and this is now. We've been granted a rare opportunity, Rogue – a chance to learn from our past mistakes and forge a new legacy, one built on the foundations of honor and respect."

As they neared the guild hall, Rogue couldn't help but feel a sense of renewed hope blossoming within him. The events of the day had been a whirlwind of revelations and challenges, but through it all, he had gained a newfound ally in Jose – a man who had walked a similar path and emerged with a wisdom and clarity that Rogue found himself drawn to.

"Thank you, Master," Rogue said, his voice sincere. "For your guidance, and for your willingness to embrace change."

Jose met his gaze, his eyes shining with a mixture of pride and determination. "The path ahead will not be easy, my boy," he cautioned. "But with perseverance and a willingness to learn from the echoes of our past lives, we can shape a future that will leave a lasting legacy."

As they stepped through the doors of the Phantom Lord guild hall, Rogue couldn't help but feel a sense of renewed purpose coursing through his veins. The weight of his past mistakes still lingered, but it was tempered by the knowledge that he was not alone in his quest for redemption – that he had an ally, a mentor, who understood the gravity of their shared burden.

And as the familiar sounds of revelry and laughter washed over them, Rogue silently vowed to forge ahead, his steps guided by the lessons of the past and his unwavering determination to shape a brighter future for them all.

"You got a crush on her or somethin'?" Gajeel blurted out, his mouth curving into a teasing smirk.

Rogue glared at Gajeel, his jaw clenched as the implications of Gajeel's words sank in. The teasing smirk on the iron dragon slayer's face only fueled the flames of Rogue's anger, and he felt the shadows around him stir in response to his turbulent emotions.

Without a word, Rogue turned on his heel and strode towards the guild hall's gates, his steps heavy and purposeful.

"Hey, Rogue! Where do you think you're going?" Gajeel called out, but Rogue didn't spare him a glance.

As Rogue pushed through the doors, the sounds of laughter and revelry from within the guild hall seemed to mock him, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging in his heart.

"Rogue, wait!" It was Aria's voice, laced with concern. "You need to calm down, my friend. Whatever Gajeel said, he didn't mean any harm."

But Rogue couldn't bring himself to listen to reason. The pain of his past failures, the guilt of being the catalyst for Minerva's suffering, it all swirled together, forming a tempest of emotion that threatened to consume him.

Without a word, he broke into a run, his feet pounding against the cobblestone streets of Oak Town as he fled from the guild hall, from the weight of his guildmates' questions and assumptions.

"What's wrong with him?" Gajeel asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Rogue's retreating form.

Totomaru shook his head, a disapproving frown etched onto his features. "You really are an idiot, Gajeel."

As Rogue ran, his mind became a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, frustration, and a lingering sense of guilt swirled together, forming a maelstrom of turmoil that threatened to overwhelm him.

He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. All he knew was that he needed to get away, to escape the suffocating confines of the guild hall and the weight of his guildmates' questions and assumptions.

His steps carried him through the winding alleyways and bustling markets, his feet moving of their own accord as his thoughts spiraled inward.

Minerva.

The mere thought of her name sent a pang of sorrow through his heart. In his previous life, he had been powerless to intervene as Minerva suffered at the hands of her cruel father. He had watched, helpless, as Jienma's relentless abuse and demands for perfection slowly eroded Minerva's spirit, transforming her from a bright and vibrant young woman into a shell of her former self.

The guilt of being the catalyst for her increased torment weighed heavily upon Rogue, a burden he carried silently, unable to share the truth of his reincarnation with anyone.

People around him reacted with curiosity and concern as he ran, but he paid them no heed. They didn't know the depths of his pain, the weight of his failures from a life long since passed.

Eventually, his steps carried him into the quiet solitude of the forest, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. It was there, in the stillness of nature, that Rogue finally allowed himself to stop, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion.

Rogue's chest heaved with exertion and emotion, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The weight of his guilt, the memory of Minerva's suffering, had ignited a fire within him – a blaze of wrath that threatened to consume him from within.

With a guttural roar, Rogue lashed out, his bare hands striking the trunk of a nearby tree with devastating force. The bark splintered and cracked, the tree trembling from the impact as Rogue unleashed his fury upon it.

Yet, even as his knuckles split and bled, he didn't relent. Each strike, each blow, was fueled by the depths of his anguish, a desperate attempt to exorcise the demons that haunted him.

Rogue moved from tree to tree, his fists leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. The once-serene forest echoed with the sounds of his onslaught, the cracking of wood and the grunts of exertion mingling in a cacophony of rage.

Finally, his steps faltered, and he found himself standing before a massive boulder, its surface pitted and scarred from years of weathering. With a ragged breath, Rogue raised his bloodied hands, his fingers already swollen and bruised from his assault on the trees.

Without hesitation, he brought his fists down upon the unyielding stone, the impact sending shockwaves of agony through his body. Again and again, he struck, each blow more powerful than the last, as if he could shatter the rock through sheer force of will.

Tears streamed down Rogue's face, mingling with the sweat and blood that beaded on his skin. The pain was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the anguish that gripped his heart.

"Minerva..." he choked out, her name a broken whisper amidst the cacophony of his ragged breaths and the cracking of splintered bark. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

His fists, now bloodied and swollen, hung limp at his sides, the anger that had fueled his onslaught slowly giving way to a profound sense of helplessness. No matter how hard he struck, no matter how much he bled, the truth remained – Minerva's fate was sealed, a cruel destiny carved in stone by the echoes of his past life.

"I tried..." Rogue whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I tried so hard to change things, to protect you from the suffering you endured."

Memories flashed through his mind, fragmented visions of Minerva's once-vibrant spirit being systematically crushed under the weight of her father's relentless demands for perfection. He remembered the fear in her eyes, the silent screams that echoed through the halls of the Sabertooth guild, and the helplessness he had felt as he stood by, powerless to intervene.

With a ragged cry, Rogue lashed out once more, his fist colliding with the unyielding surface of a massive boulder. The impact sent shockwaves of agony coursing through his body, but he didn't care. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the anguish that threatened to consume him.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotion. "Why couldn't I save you, Minerva? Why was I powerless to change your fate?"

There was no answer, save for the whisper of the wind rustling through the shattered branches of the trees he had destroyed. The forest, once a peaceful sanctuary, now bore the scars of his anguish, a testament to the depths of his sorrow and frustration.

With a final, anguished cry, Rogue's forehead collided with the boulder, the force of the impact sending stars dancing across his vision. He slumped to his knees, his body trembling with the weight of his sorrow and the agony of his self-inflicted wounds.

"Forgive me..." he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sank to the ground, the tears streaming freely down his bloodied cheeks. "Forgive me, Minerva... for failing you once again."

And there, amidst the ruins of the once-peaceful forest, Rogue wept – bitter tears of regret and helplessness, born from the knowledge that no matter how hard he tried, some destinies were simply immutable, carved in stone by the echoes of lives long since passed.

The sound of his anguished sobs echoed through the trees, mingling with the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. It was a haunting melody, a symphony of sorrow that seemed to resonate with the very earth itself.

Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced the veil of Rogue's despair, a voice that carried the warmth and innocence of childhood.

"Rogue?"

It was Frosch, the Exceed's large eyes filled with concern as he approached the distraught mage. Without hesitation, Frosch wrapped his tiny arms around Rogue's trembling form, offering a wordless embrace of comfort and understanding.

Rogue tensed at first, his body rigid with the weight of his emotions. But slowly, gradually, he relaxed into Frosch's embrace, his sobs tapering off into quiet sniffles as the Exceed's presence soothed the tempest that raged within him.

"I'm here, Rogue," Frosch whispered, his voice a gentle balm against the rawness of Rogue's pain. "It's okay to be sad."

For a long moment, they remained like that – Rogue, his face streaked with tears and his knuckles bloodied, clinging to Frosch as if the Exceed were a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea. In that moment, the weight of his burdens seemed to lighten, if only slightly, as the warmth of Frosch's embrace reminded him that he was not alone in his struggles.

From a distance, hidden among the trees, Gajeel and Totomaru watched the scene unfold, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern.

"What the hell is going on with him?" Gajeel muttered, his brow furrowed as he watched Rogue's trembling form.

Totomaru shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Whatever it is, it's clearly something deep," he murmured, his voice tinged with a rare note of empathy.

Beside them, Jose remained silent, his gaze fixed on Rogue with a pensive expression. The guild master's eyes spoke of a depth of understanding that belied his stoic demeanor, as if he could sense the echoes of a pain that transcended the bounds of this life alone.

Finally, Jose stirred, his voice low and measured as he addressed Gajeel and Totomaru. "Leave him be, for now," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Rogue is grappling with demons that mere words cannot soothe."

Gajeel opened his mouth as if to protest, but a sharp look from Jose silenced him. With a frustrated grunt, the iron dragon slayer turned and stalked away, his boots crunching against the forest floor.

Totomaru lingered for a moment longer, his gaze flickering between Rogue's huddled form and Jose's impassive expression. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he too departed, leaving Jose to keep a silent vigil over the unfolding scene.

As the sounds of Gajeel and Totomaru's retreating footsteps faded into the distance, Rogue slowly untangled himself from Frosch's embrace. His eyes were red and swollen, his face a canvas of anguish and exhaustion, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in his gaze as he regarded the Exceed.

"Thank you, Frosch," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his sobs. "I don't know what came over me."

Frosch tilted his head, his large eyes filled with a wisdom that belied his childlike appearance. "It's okay, Rogue," he said simply. "We all have sad days sometimes."

Rogue managed a faint smile, his lips cracking slightly as they stretched into an unfamiliar expression. He reached out, ruffling the fur atop Frosch's head with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the destruction that surrounded them.

"You're right, my friend," he murmured. "And I'm grateful to have you by my side, even on the darkest of days."

As Rogue rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, he cast one final glance around the shattered remains of the forest. The trees stood like sentinels, their bark scarred and splintered, bearing the marks of his anguish like battle wounds.

With a deep, steadying breath, Rogue turned and began to make his way back towards the town, Frosch trotting faithfully by his side. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, the echoes of his past life lingering like a specter, but for now, he clung to the solace of Frosch's companionship, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

And as they disappeared into the shadows of the trees, Jose emerged from his vantage point, his expression unreadable. With a slight nod, as if acknowledging a truth known only to him, the guild master turned and followed in their wake, leaving the shattered forest behind as a silent testament to the turmoil that raged within the heart of a mage bound by the echoes of a life long since passed.