Chapter 218: Double Gold
"The Strongest! The Strongest! The Strongest!"
The chant began as a low rumble, starting from the front row of spectators, before swelling into a deafening roar that shook the very cobblestones of Magnolia. It wasn't just the Fairy Tail members; the citizens, the tourists, and even the passing merchants joined in. The sheer spectacle of the battle they had just witnessed had ignited a primal excitement in their blood.
The surrounding crowd was also cheering, their voices hoarse, faces flushed with the thrill of high-level magical combat. As expected of the struggle for the title of the Fairy Tail Guild's strongest Mage, it was truly spectacular—a clash of titans that would be spoken of in taverns for years to come.
Standing near the edge of the ruined street, Freed Justine adjusted his rapier, his expression complex. He watched the two figures amidst the dust—Ren, standing tall and composed, and Gildarts, grinning despite the scuffs on his cloak.
Seeing the battle between the two, Freed also felt a heavy weight lift from his chest. He finally accepted that Laxus's previous loss to Ren was not unjustified. It wasn't a fluke or a trick. After all, if even this monster of a man—Gildarts Clive, the Ace of Fairy Tail—couldn't easily handle Ren, how could Laxus possibly be Ren's opponent right now? The gap was visible, not in raw power perhaps, but in the sheer versatility and combat intuition Ren displayed.
Hearing the crowd shout "The Strongest," Ren shook his head helplessly, offering a wry smile. He wasn't arrogant enough to let the praise go to his head.
He knew Gildarts had intentionally held back. Throughout the duel, the older Mage had barely initiated any lethal attacks. He had acted more like a wall than a spear, waiting for Ren to release a skill before blocking or countering it. It was a test, a spar, not a death match.
Most importantly, Ren knew the physical reality of the man standing before him. Gildarts was still injured. Although he had recovered significantly thanks to the potent medicinal baths and treatments from Porlyusica-san, the damage he had sustained on his century quest was permanent. His left arm and left leg were prosthetics—magical constructs, yes, but still not the original flesh and blood. The loss of internal organs had also taken a toll on his stamina. These injuries had a considerable impact on his strength, limiting the continuous output of his overwhelming Crash magic.
"Kid, you're the Fairy Tail Guild's strongest now. Don't let Fairy Tail lose face!"
Gildarts walked over, his heavy boots crunching on the debris. He slapped Ren on the shoulder with his remaining flesh-and-blood hand, his expression relaxed and brimming with pride. He had carried the title of the Fairy Tail Guild's strongest for a long time—a heavy mantle that required him to be the shield for everyone behind him. As the strongest, he naturally had to uphold the dignity of that position, never showing weakness. Now that the title had been passed to Ren, he immediately felt much lighter, as if a physical shackle had been removed.
"Uncle, you did that on purpose," Ren said, his voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.
"Hic! Hahahaha! What are you talking about? I don't understand."
Gildarts laughed boisterously, scratching the back of his head; he instinctively made this gesture whenever he felt awkward or was trying to deflect a truth he wasn't ready to admit verbally.
Soon, the adrenaline faded. The surrounding citizens dispersed, returning to their homes and shops, their heads filled with the images of crushed earth and warped space. The members of the Guild also returned to the hall, forming small groups to discuss the spectacular battle. Beer flowed, and the noise level rose to its usual chaotic volume.
Up on the second-floor railing, away from the noise, Makarov sat with Gildarts.
Makarov took a sip of his beer and looked at his Ace—or former Ace. "Handing over the title of the Guild's strongest so easily, don't you feel unwilling?"
Although Gildarts appeared magnanimous, laughing and drinking with the younger generation, Makarov knew the man's nature clearly. This brat, when he was young, had been arrogant, wild, and refused to submit to anyone. He was a man who challenged mountains just because they were there. A person's temper might mellow with age, but their Heart-Nature—their core essence—would never change; that was what defined a man.
He could tell that Gildarts intentionally gave the title of the Guild's strongest to Ren. It was a strategic move, whether Gildarts realized it or not. With Ren holding the title of the Fairy Tail Guild's strongest, his path to becoming the next Master of Fairy Tail later on would be much smoother. The guild members would follow strength.
Although Fairy Tail didn't strictly adhere to these customs—treating each other as family first—the principle of 'might makes right' was universally applied in Mage Guilds, or rather, throughout the Magic World. Mage Guilds were full of hot-tempered individuals, roughnecks, and walking natural disasters. Conflicts happened frequently. The Guild Master required absolute authority to keep these idiots in line, so typically, the Guild Master was also the Guild's strongest member.
Gildarts swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his smile fading into a look of contemplative melancholy. "Of course, I feel unwilling. It burns in my gut. But not because I handed over the title of the strongest. I feel unwilling toward myself."
"Oh?" Makarov raised an eyebrow, looking at Gildarts, confused.
"I'm forty-five years old, Master. More than double the age of Ren and these other kids. I've spent decades honing my magic," Gildarts said softly, his eyes fixed on the rowdy table where Ren was being toasted by Natsu and Gray. "Yet in terms of strength, I'm quickly being caught up to by Ren."
He sighed, a sound that carried the weight of years. "So, my surrender was completely willing, because I truly lost. Not in a fight to the death, perhaps, but in potential. When I was his age, my strength was nowhere near his. He's evolving at a speed that terrifies me."
"The feeling of unwillingness is the same. I don't want to lose to anyone, regardless of age or experience. That competitive fire... it hasn't gone out."
"That kid will continue to grow stronger, and quickly. Maybe it won't be long before I am completely surpassed, not just in title, but in reality."
The wine glass in Gildarts's hand trembled slightly, creating ripples in the beer. He had initially intended to teach Ren a good lesson during the spar, to show him the "Wall of the World," to make him understand that there are always people stronger and realms beyond what a teenager can comprehend.
Who would have thought that the one who ended up being taught a lesson was himself?
This was the first time in years he had encountered someone who made him feel such an intense sense of urgency. The encounter with the Black Dragon, Acnologia, had left him broken, stripped of his limbs and his pride. It had instilled fear. But Ren... Ren instilled motivation.
He suddenly felt that he had been slacking off these past few years, resting on his laurels, content with being "The Strongest in the West." It was time to return to his original aspiration. It was time to train properly again.
The appearance of the Black Dragon made him understand the true meaning of human despair—an entity that treated S-Class mages like insects.
With a blow coming from the front in the form of Acnologia, and a pursuit from the rear in the form of Ren's rapid growth, his heart began to feel urgent. He was being squeezed between two eras.
Makarov clinked his glass against Gildarts'. Clink.
"To the future," the Master said.
He knew Gildarts well; this brat had been strong since he was young. Gildarts's title as the strongest wasn't given to him by others; he earned it himself through blood, sweat, and battle. After this experience, Makarov believed this brat would become even stronger. The Ace wasn't broken yet.
Far away from the celebrations in Magnolia, across the vast ocean.
On a deserted island that seemed forgotten by time—Tenrou Island—the air was thick with ancient mana.
A young man with black hair, dressed in black robes that seemed to absorb the moonlight, knelt by a stream. He cupped the crystal-clear water in his pale hands and drank deeply. A full moon hung in the sky, a giant pearl casting a ghostly glow over the giant trees, making the island night feel like day.
At this moment, the rustling of leaves broke the silence.
Over a dozen starving wolves emerged from the underbrush. Their ribs showed through their matted fur, and saliva dripped from their jaws. They looked at the man as if he were the most delicious prey they had seen in months, cautiously surrounding him from all sides, eyes glowing yellow in the dark.
The young man stopped drinking. He didn't turn around, but his shoulders trembled.
"Don't come near me! Stop! Please... I am not your enemy."
The wolves were famished. Instinct overrode caution. They didn't care if he was an enemy or a friend; in the wild, everything was food. The alpha growled, and the pack lunged.
But just as the wolves drew closer, entering a specific radius around the man, the air suddenly warped.
A black wave of energy—the Ankhseram Black Magic—rapidly spread out, centered on the man. It was a silent, invisible reaper.
Whoosh—
There was no sound of impact, no blood spilled. Wherever the black light passed, life was simply extinguished. The wolves mid-leap dropped to the ground like stones, their life force instantly stolen. Birds nesting in the canopy above dropped from the sky, hitting the forest floor with soft thuds. The vibrant green grass turned gray and crumbled to dust; the ancient trees withered, their leaves turning black and falling like ash.
In seconds, a circle of absolute death had formed around the young man.
"I'm sorry... I don't want to take anyone's life."
Zeref Dragneel clutched his head, tears streaming down his face. The curse of contradiction—the more he loved life, the more he killed it.
"The world is rejecting me," he whispered to the moon, his voice filled with centuries of loneliness. "Natsu... I really want to see you soon."
Nighttime, back in Magnolia.
Ren sat on his bed, the excitement of the day slowly ebbing away into a comfortable fatigue.
Ding dong dong!!
The clock on the wall chimed midnight. He wasn't sure why his lucky time was always midnight, maybe it was a holdover habit from his previous life of late-night gaming, but now wasn't the time to analyze superstitions.
He opened his interface.
[Proceed with Ten Consecutive Draws?]
"Confirm!"
Ren took a deep breath. During the battle with Gildarts two days ago, specifically after the quest settlement, Ren saw that his draw count had accumulated to eight times. Since he only needed two more for a Ten Consecutive Draw—and everyone knows the hidden probability of a Ten-Pull is better than singles—he immediately went and completed two quick A-rank missions to make up the difference.
Don't ask why he didn't do a single draw. Hadn't he gotten a purple Character Card from a single draw before?
Yes! He had gotten a purple from a single draw once. But he had never heard of anyone getting a Gold from a single draw.
In his previous life, he had suffered too much from single draws. The endless stream of trash items, the despair of seeing white light over and over. Since draw chances in this world were hard to come by and required real effort, it was better to honestly perform the Ten Consecutive Draw to guarantee at least something decent.
On the System panel, the animation began.
The background dissolved. The Universe opened up, the galaxy reversed, and deep violets and blacks swirled together. Ten points of starlight condensed in the cosmic void, pulsing with potential.
Although there was an option to [Skip], Ren never used it. This System draw screen was truly something he never tired of watching; it was the ultimate dopamine hit.
"Gold! Gold! Gold!!"
Ren cupped his hands together in prayer, his eyes glued to the holographic screen. "Please, RNG Gods, smile upon me today."
According to the Law of Quantum Entanglement—or at least, the gamer's version of it—when a person's will was strong enough, reality would shift to match their desire. Or so he told himself.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!!
Star lights of various colors descended toward the earth like meteors, as if various Transmigrators were arriving in this world.
Based on experience, the first few were always fodder.
White. (Trash).
White. (Trash).
Green. (Consumable).
Blue. (Weapon).
Ren still watched intently, his heart racing. He always thought that maybe one day the System would malfunction, or a bug would occur, and the very first star would be gold. Of course, those were just fantasies, not even dreams.
Suddenly!
BOOM!
The room was illuminated by a blinding radiance. A streak of golden light shone brightly from the endless starry sky, tearing through the atmosphere of the simulation.
Upon seeing it, Ren jumped up from his bed, pumping his fist. "YES!"
Even though he had drawn several golds before, getting a gold draw was still an incredibly thrilling event. It meant a top-tier ability, a powerful character template, or a god-tier item.
"It's gold! It's gold!!"
Just as Ren was shouting excitedly, preparing to see what he got, the draw screen did not stop. The meteors kept falling.
Whoosh!
Another golden light, just as brilliant and majestic as the first, shone brightly in the endless starry sky and descended toward the earth.
Seeing this sight, Ren froze. His mouth hung open. He was completely stunned.
The previous one wasn't the tenth draw... It was the ninth draw!!
He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Two distinct golden trails burned on the screen.
"This is... Double Gold!!!"
[Akarin Note:
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