Extra's Stories

The Fairy Tail Guild was alive with a celebration that evening, the hall echoing with laughter, clinking mugs, and the cheerful banter of mages reliving their latest adventures. The return of Fate and Erza from their mission had become the perfect excuse for a lively party, and no one wasted the opportunity to let loose.

While the guild reveled, a white-haired boy stood in the kitchen, his expression calm and focused, contrasting the chaos outside. Fate moved with effortless precision, his hands expertly handling the massive cuts of meat from the slain wolf. The once fearsome beast had been reduced to nothing more than ingredients under his skilled touch.

With the proficiency granted by his [Master Cook] skill, he dissected the wolf's carcass with surgical precision, separating the bones, fur, and skins with ease. Not a single part was wasted. Each material—whether it was the resilient hide, sharp fangs, or sinewy muscles—was carefully cataloged. With a quick flick of his wrist, he used his [Requip Magic] to store the materials in his spatial inventory, the items vanishing into shimmering magenta ripples in the air.

As he worked, the distant sound of Erza's laughter drifted in from the main hall, mingling with the voices of their guildmates. Fate's lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk.

'Thanks to everyone out there partying while I'm stuck here cooking... I'm raking in SP like crazy.'

Story Point: 1308

"Alright then."

Fate swung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the guild behind in silence as he made his way back to his treehouse. The air was cool, brushing against his skin like whispers from the forest itself. As he approached his usual spot, his index finger began to glow faintly, and his magic circuits flared to life. He traced the first rune into the tree with some difficulty.

The tree responded instantly, its bark creaking and groaning as it shot skyward, branches twisting and thickening until the humble structure became a towering, massive treehouse. Just before it grew out of control, Fate cleared part of the rune with his palm. The growth halted abruptly, the tree settling into its new shape with a soft rustle of leaves.

Gasping for breath, Fate stumbled slightly, the strain evident in his posture. He'd overextended again, draining eight of his magic circuits to compensate for his dwindling magical reserves. 'Damn,' he thought, 'these runes are too vague. I need to be more precise next time.'

"Now then..."

With a deep breath, he steadied himself and began inscribing a new series of runes along the treehouse's exterior. His circuits flared once more, the familiar burn coursing through him. This time, the runes shimmered with more precision, and the massive treehouse began to fade from sight, becoming invisible to all but Fate.

By the time he finished, he was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his brow. Nineteen circuits burned out, leaving only five still functional. He wouldn't be able to use twenty-seven of his thirty-two circuits for the next twelve hours. "There... this should do it..." he mused. The specificity reduced the energy drain, sparing him from total exhaustion.

"Lucky I've got high-quality circuits," he muttered with a tired smile, recalling the classification: Low - 500 SP, Average - 750 SP, High - 1000 SP, and Very High - 1500 SP. His circuits were definitely on the higher end, and right now, he was grateful for every bit of it.

He stepped through the now-invisible threshold of the tree. Inside, the space resembled a makeshift treehouse, though it lacked furniture and proper lighting. The scent of fresh wood mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest. Fate placed his glowing finger on one of the wooden walls, carving another rune with swift, fluid motions.

As he moved deeper inside, the runes he etched glowed a brilliant white, illuminating the space with a soft, ethereal light. Rune Magic is rare and nearly a forgotten art. But what Fate wielded wasn't just ordinary Rune Magic. His was Primordial Rune Magic, an ancient craft dating back to the Age of the Gods. More powerful and less restricted, Primordial Runes could absorb ethernano from the environment to recharge themselves, unlike standard runes, which required constant magic input from the caster.

Despite its advantages, crafting these runes demanded immense precision, control, and magic energy. Even now, Fate could feel the residual ache in his circuits.

After finishing his work, he glanced around, frowning. "Where the hell is my bed?" he grumbled, realizing his makeshift sleeping spot was nowhere to be found. With a sigh, he added, "Well then."

With a flick of his hand, he requipped his sleeping bag and unrolled it in the center of the room. Dropping down onto it, he rested his head on his arms, gazing up at the faint glow of runes along the ceiling, mingling with glimpses of the night sky through the branches.

'Everything's changed so much from the story.' The thought echoed in his mind, heavier than he expected. 'Will this new path lead to something better... or will I end up regretting it in the end?'

"Who knows..." he whispered to himself, the words vanishing into the quiet night. "I shouldn't expect much. That way, when it all comes crashing down, I won't be too disappointed."

With that, Fate turned onto his side, the weight of uncertainty pressing against him as he closed his eyes, surrendering to the quiet darkness.

The next day, Fate sat cross-legged inside his treehouse, the massive bones of the three-eyed wolf sprawled out before him. A collection of tools—grinders, enchanted knives, and rune-inscribed bottles—were scattered around him, their metallic gleam catching the morning light that filtered through the gaps in the wooden walls.

I really should thank Erza, Fate mused, glancing at the freshly arranged corner of his workshop. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have had the funds to set all this up.

It all happened after Erza stormed into the guild that had issued their last request. Furious over the wrong intel they'd received, she'd refused to hear a single excuse. The guild, clearly terrified of her wrath, had upped their reward to 100,000 Jewels to compensate for the misinformation and rank shift. Erza, being Erza, decided to split the reward 4/6 in Fate's favor, insisting that she wouldn't have completed the mission without his help—not to mention, she still hadn't returned his sword.

Fate finished inscribing a delicate rune onto a glass bottle. The bottle pulsed softly, glowing with a faint purple light, its transparency shimmering unnaturally. Without hesitation, he pricked his finger with a knife and let a single drop of blood fall inside. As soon as it touched the glass, the blood began to multiply, swirling and expanding until it reached the rune's boundary line, where it abruptly stopped.

"Good," he murmured, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Now then..."

He shifted to an empty spot on the floor, kneeling down. Using his own blood—rich with magic energy—he began to painstakingly draw a complex magic circle. The lines were precise, every curve and symbol exact, the crimson liquid seeping into the wooden floor as he worked. Hours passed, the sun shifting in the sky, before Fate finally leaned back, cracking his neck as he admired his handiwork.

"Okay, that took way longer than I expected," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "The light novels make it seem so easy, but they always forget to mention how one wrong stroke can ruin the entire thing." He eyed the intricate blood circle. "Now all I have to do is wait for the blood to dry and stain the ground properly."

With that task done, he turned to the pile of equipment at his side. He picked up one of the large wolf bones and, using an enchanted knife, began carving it meticulously. The bone was dense, resistant, but he worked patiently, shaping it into the rough form of a sword. Once satisfied, he moved over to his enchanted grinder, sparks flying as he tried to refine the blade. Just as the weapon began to take proper shape, a loud crack echoed through the room—the bone snapped clean in two.

Fate sighed, staring at the broken pieces in his hands. "Yeah, figures. Bone weapons are just game items anyway."

Tossing the fragments aside, he dusted off his clothes and stepped out of the treehouse, making his way toward Kreuz's Store.

"I see... so this is the weapon you want me to forge?" Kreuz, the blacksmith, studied the sketch Fate had handed him. It depicted identical twin short swords, their design sleek yet lethal.

"Yeah," Fate replied, crossing his arms. "Think you can handle it?"

The blacksmith let out a low chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "It'll be difficult, but not impossible. You've already provided all the materials—it's just a matter of time now."

Kreuz set the sketch down beside two glass bottles filled with the red liquid Fate had prepared earlier. "I'll let you know when they're ready."

"Thanks," Fate said with a nod, bowing his head slightly before turning to leave.

The familiar streets led Fate back to the guild, the chatter and laughter inside spilling out as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors. Conversations paused momentarily as the guild members turned to greet him.

"Fate!"

Erza's voice rang out as she strode toward him, her crimson hair gleaming under the guild hall's lights. She stopped in front of him, her expression unusually soft. "So... how do I look?" she asked, gesturing to her new armor.

The set was minimal but elegant—a polished metal chest plate with shoulder guards, worn over a white dress and blue skirt. She sported arm guards and metal boots with knee protectors, the entire ensemble highlighting her natural strength and grace.

"You look... pretty," Fate said simply, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Erza's face brightened, a rare blush dusting her cheeks. She hesitated, her fingers tapping nervously against each other. "Umm, I was wondering something..."

Fate tilted his head, curious. "Yes?"

Before Erza could respond, the guild's door burst open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. A punk-styled, white-haired girl stormed in, her gothic attire stark against the guild's rustic decor. Chains clinked at her sides, and her piercing blue eyes immediately zeroed in on Erza.

"ERZA!"

This was Mirajane Strauss, one of the guild's newer members, though she and her siblings had joined before Natsu. Mirajane was a Take Over Mage, specializing in Demon Take Over magic—a skill that made her as formidable as her fiery personality suggested.

Fate watched the scene unfold with mild interest, wondering just how chaotic the day was about to get.

Flashback

"You are..." Mira's voice trailed off, her eyes wide in shock. Standing beside her were her younger siblings, their gazes fixed on the boy in front of them. He looked to be around Mira's age, his hair the same stark white as the Strauss family, but his eyes—icy blue instead of their deep ocean hue—set him apart.

"A cousin?" Lisanna whispered from behind Mira, peeking out cautiously.

The boy simply shook his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Name's Fate. Fate Redgrave. I'm not a Strauss."

Back to the present 

Fate sat at a table in the guild hall, lazily sipping a glass of lemonade while chaos erupted around him. In the background, Erza and Mira were at it again, their rivalry as explosive as ever.

"What was that, you flat-armored bitch?!" Mira snarled, charging forward.

"You heard me, demon whore!" Erza shot back, her eyes blazing.

The two clashed with the intensity of a hurricane, sending tables flying and forcing guild members to dive for cover. It was like watching Natsu and Gray's infamous brawls—except somehow even more dangerous.

Fate, unfazed, chuckled quietly to himself. This guild is something else...

Then, as if struck by a bolt of pure stupidity, an idea flashed in his mind. Finishing his lemonade in one gulp, he stood up, much to the horror of those around him.

"What is he doing?" someone whispered, peeking from behind an overturned table.

Fate had scribbled reinforcement and strengthening runes all over his body earlier, just in case. Now seemed like the perfect time to test them. With a swift kick, he sent a table flying straight toward the battling women. Erza and Mira both leapt back effortlessly, avoiding the projectile.

Gasps echoed through the guild as Fate casually strolled into the war zone like it was a walk in the park. Without missing a beat, he made his way to the music box perched on the counter.

"This party's getting crazy... Let's rock!" he announced, pressing the button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again. And again.

Still nothing.

The entire guild stared in bewildered silence—until Fate, with zero hesitation, smashed the music box with his fist.

"HEY!" Makarov bellowed from across the room, but before he could get another word out, music began blaring from the broken device.

Fate grinned and Requipped his sword—a massive Zweihander with a dark red handle and guard, and a gleaming silver blade. The weapon pulsed with power as runes danced along its surface, glowing faintly as Fate channeled magic through his 23 Magic Circuits.

The blade's name was Red Crown.

Erza's eyes lit up with excitement. Finally, a chance to spar with him. Mira, on the other hand, grinned like a madwoman.

"Looks like skin and bones finally decided to join the fun!" Mira cackled, charging toward him.

"The darkness of night falls around my soul

And the hunter within loses control"

Mira's clawed hand came down in a blur, but Fate met her attack effortlessly, parrying with Red Crown in one hand as if the massive blade weighed nothing. The force of the deflection sent Mira flying back, crashing into the bar with a loud thud.

"Gotta let it out - gotta let it out 

Gotta let it out - gotta let it out"

The guild erupted into cheers, watching in awe as Fate finally joined the legendary brawls of Fairy Tail.

"Finally, I get to have some fun," Fate muttered, driving his blade into the wooden floor with a smirk.

"This demon inside has ahold of me

Clenching its power - trying to break free"

Makarov, despite the inevitable destruction of his guild hall, couldn't help but smile. Seeing Fate finally opening up, even just a little, was worth more than any amount of broken furniture.

"I'm all fired up!" Natsu roared, his fists blazing as he charged straight at Fate.

"Gotta let it out - gotta let it out

Gotta let it out - gotta let it out "

Fate blocked Natsu's flaming punch with his sword, the impact sending sparks flying. With a swift motion, he swung Red Crown, hurling Natsu across the room. The pink-haired dragon slayer crashed into the wall with a loud crack, sliding to the floor in a daze.

"Move fast, baby - Don't be slow

Step aside – reload – time to go"

"Finally decided to show your strength?" Erza asked, stepping into the fray with her sword gleaming under the guild's lights.

Fate smirked but knew better than to engage her in a raw power struggle. He was good—but Erza was a powerhouse. As their blades clashed, he felt the difference in strength and quickly jumped back, putting distance between them.

"I can't seem to control

All this rage that's inside me"

Just as he steadied himself, a shadow loomed from his right. Mira charged at him, faster and furious. 

"Pullin' shots - aimin' dots - Yeah I don't miss

Branded by Fire – Born in the abyss"

Fate barely had time to block before her blow sent him flying into a nearby chair. But instead of crashing, Fate adjusted mid-air, landing perfectly in the chair with his sword resting on his shoulder, a smug grin on his face.

"Red hot temper – I just can't resist 

All this vengeance inside me"

"Tsk! Smug bastard!" Mira growled, frustrated by his nonchalant attitude, her surprise attack not only did nothing to damage him, but it seemed that he was mocking her with a smug look on his face.

"All of these voices inside my head

Blinding my sight in a curtain of red"

"Was that a love tap?" Fate taunted with a smirk making a vein pop on Mira's forehead as she didn't hold back that time. And the bastard is mocking her at this point. Erza's expression darkens hearing Fate say Mira love tapped him.

"Frustration is getting bigger 

Bang Bang Bang – Pull my Devil Trigger"

The guild hall descended into full-blown chaos. Makarov winced as tables shattered, walls cracked, and the ceiling groaned under the weight of the guild's explosive energy. But he didn't lift a finger to stop them. Seeing Fate, the oddball of the guild, finally embracing the madness was worth every bit of destruction.

'Shit!'

Fate thought, slowly backing up as Mira and Erza's combined glares locked onto him.

"Well, well, well..." Mira cracked her knuckles, her grin feral. "Looks like that little light around you finally faded."

Fate instinctively stepped back, only to bump into something solid. Turning slowly, he found Erza smiling devilishly behind him.

"You're not backing out that easily," she purred. "Your fate was sealed the moment you showed you could take both of us on."

Before they could strike, Fate activated [Trickster], leaping away in a blur of motion. The runes on his body flickered and faded—their protection exhausted after enduring the combined might of Erza and Mira.

"Get back here!" both women shouted in unison, charging after him as the guild cheered and laughed.

And Fate? He was grinning the entire time.

Later that night

'That was fun,' Fate mused, his steps echoing in the quiet streets as he made his way home under the pale glow of the moon. 'Until those two decided to tag-team me.'

The memory was still fresh—Erza pinning him down, her leg pressing down on his torso, restricting any movement. Mira, ever the mischievous one, sat smugly on his chest, one foot pressing hard against his wrist. The two of them, backs against each other, breathing heavily from the fight, left him utterly immobilized. He'd tried pleading, offering every excuse he could think of, but it was pointless. He wasn't foolish enough to mention their weight, either—not unless he wanted to lose another life. Eventually, he'd surrendered, laughing despite the humiliation.

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it faded as quickly as it came when he felt an icy shiver crawl down his spine.

He paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. A hooded figure had passed him only moments ago, but now the street lay empty, shadows stretching long and deep beneath the flickering lanterns. The night air suddenly felt heavier, thicker.

"Weird… Either I missed something, or those two hit me so hard I've got a concussion."

Fate shook off the feeling, forcing a chuckle, but his senses remained on high alert as he continued toward his home. Yet, the unease clung to him like a second skin. The closer he got to the safety of his house, the stronger the sensation grew—like eyes boring into his back.

'Something's off…'

His house was protected by concealment runes, layered carefully to mask his presence from any outside detection. But even inside, he felt it—that creeping dread, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

'Shit… I only have three Magic Circuits left.'

His breathing grew uneven as he knelt to inscribe a defensive rune on the floor. But before he could finish, a shadow loomed behind him, dark and twisted. Instinct took over. Fate canceled the rune, and in one swift motion, he summoned Red Crown, the familiar weight of the zweihander grounding him as he turned to block the incoming attack.

Steel met claw with a screeching hiss.

"A shadow demon?" Fate growled, recognizing the inky, amorphous figure. It snarled, its blood-red eyes gleaming like twin embers in the dark.

"Iwmghm..." The demon's voice rumbled, a guttural, otherworldly growl that sent a chill racing down his spine.

Fate blinked, confusion flickering across his face. 'What the hell does that mean?' His [Translator] spell struggled to decode the demon's guttural speech, but all it spat back was gibberish. No matter—it was clear the demon wasn't here for a friendly chat.

The creature lunged again. Fate barely managed to sidestep, his heart pounding as he swung Red Crown in retaliation. But the demon melted into the shadows, reappearing behind him with a swift slash. Pain flared across his right shoulder, hot and blinding, as blood poured from the fresh wound.

Fate gritted his teeth, stumbling forward. 'Damn it!' The demon was too fast, its movements erratic and unpredictable.

It came at him again. This time, he wasn't quick enough. Claws raked across his side, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. The sting of the wound sent him sprawling to the floor. He clutched his side, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the demon loomed over him.

'I can't keep up…' His vision blurred, the edges of his world tinged with red. 'I shouldn't have joined that guild brawl. I'm too drained… I can't—'

Another slash. This one across his cheek, the sting sharp and immediate. Blood trickled down, mingling with the sweat on his skin. He tried to rise, but his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. His mind raced, frantically searching for a way out, but every strategy dissolved under the weight of exhaustion and pain.

The demon's shadow stretched over him, its claws gleaming in the dim light. Fate's heart thundered in his chest.

"Iwmghm..." The demon growled again, its voice like nails on glass.

'Am I going to die again?' The thought struck him harder than the wounds. 'I just started accepting this new life… And now it's about to be ripped away again?'

A surge of fear gripped him tighter than the demon's claws ever could.

'No!' His vision cleared for a brief moment, anger flaring hot and wild within him. 'I won't die here. I refuse to die again!'

Then, without warning, a red light ignited beneath him. A sigil—intricate and glowing—blossomed across the back of his left hand, its warmth cutting through the cold despair.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, a crimson spear pierced the demon's chest, the force of the blow lifting it off the ground. The creature let out a guttural shriek before it completely stop moving.

Fate blinked, his breath hitching in his throat.

Standing in the demon's place was a woman—a vision of both elegance and lethal grace. Long, flowing purple hair cascaded down her back, framing a sharp, flawless face. Her crimson eyes glowed under the moonlight, locked onto him with an intensity that made his heart stop. She wore a sleek, form-fitting combat suit, metal bands accentuating the curves of her thighs and hips, while armored plates rested over her shoulders. A veil, the same deep purple as her hair, hung loosely behind her head.

She flicked her spear, casting aside the demon's remains like it was nothing more than a nuisance. Then, slowly, deliberately, she turned her gaze to Fate.

Her shadow fell over him, the moonlight outlining her silhouette like a halo of silver fire.

Fate's mind ground to a halt.

'She's… beautiful.' The thought slipped through his shock, raw and unfiltered. The image of a blonde knight standing over a red-haired boy past through his mind, their position somewhat mirroring his.

Her lips parted, and when she spoke, her voice was smooth, ethereal, yet filled with an undeniable power.

"I ask of you," she said, her piercing red eyes never leaving his, "are you my master?"