"The eyes. Their ocular pigmentation is never uniform. Each individual subject displays a unique, highly volatile blend of colors. And once their physical vessel reaches full maturity, they develop what can only be described as an 'otherworldly' visual appearance."
The words of the scientists—long since dead—echoed clearly in Albion's memory. His earliest recollections of himself had not been filled with warmth or comfort, but with the stark white lights and cold metal of a research facility. He had never been given a clear reason for his containment, though he could deduce a few reasons.
It was likely due to what he was.
He did not know the formal name of his bloodline, only that it belonged to an ancient, legendary lineage believed to have been completely eradicated four hundred years ago—dating back to the era when dragons and humans shared the earth.
They were a people explicitly known as the natural enemies of God. As Albion stood in the damp hallway, his mind dismantled the memory.
'Physical vessel' undoubtedly referred to his body. But what did they mean by 'maturity'?
If they were referring purely to age, his theory fell apart. His physical features had shifted immediately after he claimed the title of King—an evolution triggered by a psychological breakthrough, not time.
Which meant maturity was not strictly physical. It was mental. Or perhaps a combination of both.
Was that why Juvia had called him beautiful? Was that why Sheila had referred to him as adorable earlier? Perhaps as he grew older—likely into his teenage years—that otherworldly refinement would only become more pronounced. It was merely a hypothesis. The only way to verify it was through time. And for once, time was a variable he actually possessed.
Albion was pulled from his thoughts when he realized Juvia was staring at him, her eyes wide with uncharacteristic shock.
"...What?" Albion asked flatly.
"What do you mean, 'what'?" Juvia raised her voice, her usual formal posture slipping into outright disbelief. "Why did you not inform me that you had experienced an Awakening?"
"Is it truly a matter of significance?" Albion replied, his expression entirely unbothered. "Furthermore, it is none of your concern."
"It is my concern," Juvia countered, getting closer. "We are guildmates. Being in a guild means we are allies. Allies require trust, and trust requires the exchange of information."
"And why, exactly, should I offer you trust?" Albion crossed his arms, staring at her unblinking. "I was forced into this guild. I did not choose to come here."
His tone remained low, clinical, and deliberate.
"My private matters are not your concern. Why should I compel myself to share them with you? Are you certain you are eight years old? Age appears to offer very little advantage when one is a fool."
To Albion, people were dangerous. Information was a value. Trust was an investment that had to be earned through evidence, not words.
He preferred isolation.
But if he ever formed a bond, he would protect it mercilessly—not out of sentimentality, but because a bond was something of absolute value. He held that quiet, unspoken value for Gajeel, and in a twisted sense, even for Amon.
However, being betrayed by the very first person he had ever trusted had left a permanent mark. He saw no reason to hand over details about his magic—one of the few genuine weapons he possessed to keep himself alive.
Juvia's jaw tightened. Unused to such blunt rejection, a deep frustration flickered across her face. Before the argument could escalate further, a slender, gloved hand rested gently atop Juvia's head.
"Calm yourselves," Sheila said smoothly, her voice cool, steady, and unexpectedly welcoming. "You are children of similar years. At minimum, make a deliberate attempt to coexist."
Juvia let out a quiet huff, turning her face away. "Tell him that."
Albion turned his head slightly, letting out a faint sigh through his nose, but said nothing further. When Sheila spoke, there was simply no point in wasting words.
Sheila took a quiet drag from her cigarette, exhaling a thin, perfect ring of pale smoke that drifted lazily toward the stone ceiling before dissipating into the damp air.
"How about a compromise?" she suggested, her tone light yet firm. "Juvia will detail the nature of her magic, its applications, and her primary objectives. In turn, Albion, you will provide a similar explanation. It will allow both of you to establish a functional baseline of understanding."
"Why do you place such importance on our relationship?" Juvia asked softly. There was a faint edge of irritation in her voice, though it was largely swallowed by genuine curiosity. "Is there a practical reason for this, or...?"
Albion remained silent, listening intently. He, too, was curious. The thought of Sheila harboring ulterior motives or using either of them had never crossed his mind—his observations of her behavior had already confirmed she possessed no ill intent.
Sheila paused for a moment, resting the cigarette loosely between her index and middle fingers. An unusually awkward expression crossed her face, quickly masked by a faint, dry smile.
"Is it so unusual for an adult to prefer that children get along?"
Neither child answered. They simply stared at her in deadpan silence.
Sheila's smile faded into her usual calm composure. She looked between the two young wizards, her dark eyes growing quiet.
"...There is a reality the two of you must understand," Sheila said softly, her voice steady and unnervingly level. "Phantom Lord is not an environment that permits children to remain children for long. It is a harsh place. Unforgiving, even. But it is entirely honest."
She took another slow, deliberate drag, the ember glowing faintly in the dim hallway.
"No one in this guild is obligated to care for you. No one is required to ensure your survival. If you actively choose to isolate yourselves, you will eventually find that you are entirely alone."
Her eyes drifted toward the main hall, where the distant, muffled echoes of conflict still reverberated through the stone walls.
"Look at Gajeel. He keeps everyone at a distance. He trusts no one, relies on no one, and refuses to allow anyone to rely on him. As a consequence, he stands alone."
She paused, exhaling a quiet plume of smoke.
"And now, driven by his own pride, he is currently engaging an S-Class mage." She shook her head, a brief, dry gesture. "He will not win. The outcome was determined before the first strike was thrown."
Her cool gaze returned to the two children standing in the damp hall.
"However, neither of you are Gajeel."
A brief silence settled over them before she continued.
"You retain a choice. You may continue to walk in isolation, carrying every burden until it crushes you..."
"...Or you can learn to place your trust in someone else."
Sheila lowered her hand slightly, letting the gray smoke drift between them.
"Tell me—would it not be more practical to face this world with an ally? Someone to observe your blind spots when you are compromised. Someone capable of standing beside you when the situation deteriorates."
Her tone remained soft, almost gentle, though entirely free of empty comfort.
"That is the intended purpose of a guild. It is not merely a collection of mages sharing a roof to avoid the weather. A guild is structured on mutual benefit, shared bonds, and the understanding that there are individuals willing to support you when you can no longer stand independently."
She looked from Albion's guarded posture to Juvia's wide, solemn eyes.
"Individual strength has utility. Power has its applications. But neither will offer warmth when you have discarded everyone around you."
Another silence descended upon the corridor—heavy, quiet, and contemplative.
"...Do not commit the error of believing you must bear everything in solitude," Sheila concluded, her voice dropping lower. "If an opportunity to secure an ally presents itself, accept it. Such opportunities are far more scarce than either of you realize."
The quiet lingered for several minutes. The only sound was the faint, rhythmic dripping of water from the lingering dampness on the ceiling.
Finally, Juvia broke the silence. Her voice was quiet, stripped of its previous defensive edge.
"I accept," Juvia said, her azure eyes turning toward the younger boy. "I will explain my magic and clarify my goals. Is that acceptable to you, Albion?"
Both Sheila and Juvia directed their attention to the five-year-old.
Beneath the shadow of his oversized hood, Albion's mind was in motion, processing every variable Sheila had laid out.
<"Tell me. Why choose a path that is harder, lonelier, and far more painful than necessary? What could possibly be waiting at the end of that road that makes abandoning everything else worth it?>"
Sheila's previous words resurfaced in his memory.
<"You are a child. There is no shame in living like one. Why not choose a simpler life?>"
'A simpler life...' Albion lowered his gaze to his oversized sleeves.
'I prefer to be alone.'
Back then, the answer had been simple. Logical. People did not understand him. Even when they attempted to, their conclusions were flawed. And if he ever allowed someone close…
If his existence brought them suffering... If his presence exposed them to danger…
Was it not superior to avoid forming the connection entirely?
<"It is better to be isolated than to become a liability to others.>" That had been his primary axiom. The rule that kept him safe.
Then, Juvia's gentle, persistent voice echoed in his recollection.
<"Does the silence not bother you? To have no companions. To have no family.>"
Albion's small hands tightened into loose fists at his sides. The question lingered, resisting his attempts to categorize or dismiss it. And finally, like a dark, persistent shadow at the back of his consciousness, Amon's voice echoed from the depths of his mind.
" I will fight for both of us. I will protect both of us.>"
The silence stretched long and uncomfortable, forcing Albion to confront a truth he had consistently avoided.
Slowly, he raised his head. His fuchsia eyes were calm, unblinking, and entirely unreadable.
'Even if it strays from my original goal...'
Perhaps his logic had contained an error. Was the desire for companionship truly a flaw in him? Was placing trust in another person an inherent weakness? Would forming a bond halt his progression?
'No.'
The conclusion arrived with absolute clarity.
'No.'
If anything, it merely verified a single fact.
Despite the laboratories. Despite the trauma, the violence, and the physical alterations carved into his body and mind…
Despite how thoroughly he had tried to convince himself he was merely a tool designed for survival…
'I am still human.' Albion let out a slow, quiet breath, the tension leaving his small frame.
"I agree," Albion said, his voice flat, measured, and entirely calm. "I will share what is necessary."
Juvia offered a brief, polite nod of her head. Taking a quiet breath, she began her explanation.
"My magic is called Skywater Magic," Juvia stated, her voice calm and remarkably articulate. "Unlike standard Water Mages, I do not generate water from my own Mahō. I manipulate pre-existing environmental moisture and shape it into functional forms."
She paused slightly, gathering her thoughts before continuing.
"Moisture exists almost everywhere—in the air, within the soil, in plant life, and in cloud formations. Most individuals remain unaware of its presence, but it is constantly available."
"I simply borrow it."
She folded her arms slightly tighter around her plush seal, holding it against her chest.
"Because of this, my strength changes depending on location. In high-humidity environments, during rain, or near significant bodies of water, my combat output increases substantially."
"The abundance of ambient moisture reduces the burden on my internal Mahō reserves."
Her expression remained thoughtful and objective.
"Under optimal conditions, I can sustain continuous combat for an extended duration. Considerably longer than standard wizards."
She paused again, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"However, the inverse condition is equally true. Arid environments, droughts, sealed chambers, and high-temperature zones impair my capabilities."
"When external water is unavailable, I must rely entirely on my personal magic reserves. That is an inefficient state."
Her gaze lowered to the damp floorboards.
"Furthermore, my physical combat abilities are negligible. Without magic, my strength is no different from that of an ordinary child."
She shifted her grip on the plush seal.
"I also possess a defensive technique that allows my physical body to assume a fluid state."
"A technique?" Albion raised an eyebrow, his tone cautious. "Does that work like a spell?"
"In her case, yes," Sheila answered smoothly, taking a light drag from her cigarette. "It renders conventional physical strikes and standard weaponry largely ineffective against her."
'She means swords and fists,' Albion thought internally. 'That is an extreme advantage. How do you defeat an opponent you cannot physically impact?'
It made Gajeel's victory over her earlier appear even more anomalous. Juvia's expression hardened, taking on a more serious weight.
"However, that state does not render me invincible," Juvia clarified. "Every defensive system possesses limits. Maintaining fluid dispersion requires continuous concentration. If I mismanage my focus, problems occur. Similarly, prioritizing offensive power creates vulnerabilities in my defense."
She remained quiet for several seconds before continuing.
"There is also a critical weakness." Her soft voice dropped even lower. "My physical state requires a central point of cohesion. Even when dispersed, a core must remain intact to allow my body to reform. If an attack were sufficiently broad and powerful enough to destroy that core entirely..."
She hesitated, her fingers pressing into the fabric of the toy seal.
"...If every dispersed part of me were destroyed simultaneously..."
"You would cease to exist," Albion finished for her, stating the objective fact. "Would you die?"
Juvia nodded slowly, her expression uncomfortably calm.
"Most opponents do not possess the power for such total destruction. But it remains a possibility," she said, looking directly at Albion. "That is why I do not rely exclusively on a single advantage. A wizard who assumes they are invulnerable rarely survives for long."
'An extraordinarily powerful Innate Magic,' Albion thought, his eyes tracking her movements. 'It is superior to my own capabilities. But if Gajeel defeated her, does that mean his magic possesses higher destructive power? Yet he claimed to have no Innate Magic at all...'
"There is... one additional condition regarding my magic," Juvia added, looking slightly to the side. "Skywater Magic is directly connected to my emotional status. Heightened emotional states directly alter the physical properties of the water."
Her grip on the plush seal tightened.
"When I experience intense anger, the temperature of my water rises. Sustained anger will cause it to reach boiling temperatures."
She paused briefly.
"Sorrow is far more problematic. When I experience severe depression, isolation, or grief..." Her eyes fixated on the floor. "...it begins to rain."
"It occurs without my conscious intent. The ambient weather simply alters to reflect my internal state."
Albion shifted his eyes toward Sheila. "Is that a standard magic ability?" he asked.
He had never heard of such a thing. Then again, his exposure to magic was extremely limited.
Sheila, who had been quietly exhaling a cloud of gray smoke, blinked slightly as she registered his question.
"Standard? No," Sheila replied coolly, lowering her cigarette. "It is an anomaly. Juvia possesses a rare affinity for magic. She is, by definition, a prodigy."
Albion turned his gaze back to the blue-haired girl. "And your objectives?"
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'I will determine if I can trust either of them after this,' he noted silently.
Juvia met Albion's unblinking stare, her eyes fixed on his.
"I intend to become a mage capable of complete self-reliance," Juvia stated, her tone quiet but unwavering. "I do not wish to depend on others whenever a crisis occurs."
She held her ground, her voice steady.
"I intend to acquire strength to protect those I care about. Not after the damage is done. Not when it is too late. Before."
A dark, fleeting shadow passed over her features as memories of her destroyed village surfaced.
"And there is a specific clan that I intend to eradicate," she said, her azure eyes burning with cold, absolute certainty. "Regardless of the time required. Regardless of their power."
She looked straight at him. "I will not die until that clan is destroyed. Those are my goals."
'A clan...?' Albion's eyes narrowed slightly.
He glanced back at Sheila, whose dark eyes were already fixed on him, entirely unreadable. The two exchanged a long, silent look before Albion returned his focus to Juvia.
'No,' Albion corrected his own thoughts. 'This is not merely about who I can trust. It is a matter of determining how much information I am willing to disclose regarding my nature and my magic.'
"And what about you?" Juvia asked, her calm blue eyes searching his face under the oversized hood. "What are your goals, Albion?"