Crocus, the City of Hundred Flowers
The capital of the Fiore Kingdom is laid out in a perfect circle, its design centered around a towering royal palace from which concentric rings of urban life radiate outward. All the while, everywhere within the city, myriad blossoms are in perpetual bloom—thus it earned its name.
From an aerial view, the entire city resembled one enormous flower, its vibrant colors spilling over each district.
On a mountain to the west of Crocus, Gaal arrived here accompanied by Gildarts and Ultear. The barren peak held nothing yet, and at this moment, the grand arena for the so-called Great Demon Duel had not been constructed.
Gildarts stood and absorbed the surrounding Magic Power before remarking, "There's nothing unusual here."
"No, but is that so-called Dragon's Grave really here?" he asked.
Ultear, meanwhile, activated the Arc of Time and surveyed the area before speaking, "There is indeed something odd."
"This patch of land dates from an era different from its surroundings," she continued, her tone measured. "And right on the edge of the royal capital, there is an elevation nearly the size of a mountain. Were the capital to be removed from view, that abrupt mound would indeed look like a gravestone standing upright."
Gildarts mused, "I suppose that makes sense…"
Gaal closed his eyes, extending his Psychic Power downward with unyielding focus. In an instant he reopened them and declared, "I've found it."
No sooner had his words faded than a teleportation Magic Circle materialized beneath their feet. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the barren mountaintop.
Underground, within a dim cavern, countless massive skeletal remains were piled high. Despite the three of them being powerful Mages—capable of night vision that revealed every detail of the surroundings—what they beheld still left them awestruck.
Gaal raised his palm, summoning a glimmering radiance that slowly ascended. A Light Magic spell erupted, instantly flooding the entire cavern in illumination so bright that every nook and cranny was exposed.
There, the colossal bones of dragons were haphazardly stacked together. Some of the dragon skulls had already turned into mere white bones, their upward-tilted forms seeming to bellow in defiance of their fate, as if lamenting the injustices of their former lives; others, it appeared, had been brutally severed at the midsection by some unknown force.
Under the eerie glow of the Light Magic, the cavern echoed with a chilling keening—a mournful, piercing cry born from centuries of accumulated resentment.
Gildarts and Ultear exchanged looks of profound astonishment. Gildarts finally broke the silence: "Now I believe it… Only a dragon could be torn in half like that."
Ultear's face turned grave as she refocused with the Arc of Time. "The timing is unmistakable. These dragons all died some 400 years ago—many on the very same day."
"It's unbelievable… The differences in their times of death are minimal, in some cases identical. That can only mean they were struck down simultaneously by Acnologia the Black Dragon. It's utterly preposterous."
Uttering the last words, Ultear couldn't help but question the very fabric of reality. Truly preposterous…
Such legendary creatures as dragons weren't meant merely to be slaughtered. Yet now, with nearly identical moments of death recorded, it suggested that Acnologia's might had grown to the point of obliterating dragons in an instant.
Gaal stroked his chin thoughtfully before commenting, "Perhaps the ones that were instantly obliterated were just ordinary dragons. If it were the Dragon King, he might have stood a bit longer."
Ultear nodded in tentative agreement. "That's true…"
Then she added with a hint of exasperation, "But really, what's the difference?"
Having overcome the initial shock, Gildarts felt the old fire of combat reigniting warmly within him. "Honestly," he grumbled, "I never imagined that even at this height of power, one would still face such challenges. It's stirring up a long-lost passion I thought I'd buried—to go toe-to-toe with Acnologia."
For Gildarts, whose strength had long since peaked on the Ishgar Continent, there was no longer an objective—until now. Here was a black dragon of such formidable might that even he, among his peers, would be considered feeble in its presence. In that instant, it was as if he had just embarked upon his magical journey and was suddenly pitted against a mysterious and overwhelming monster.
Gaal quipped dryly, "I'd advise you, if you ever come face-to-face with that guy, to run if you possibly can."
With that, Gaal released Gengar.
Gildarts rubbed his chin and inquired, "And if you can't run?"
Gaal merely shrugged, "Then you're done for. By the way, during the holidays, Cana would send you flowers."
Gildarts' lip twitched in reluctant amusement. "I'd rather not. I still want to see Cana grow up."
Gengar, newly released onto the ground, surveyed the scene with palpable excitement before turning to Gaal and exclaiming, "Gege (this is it) ?!"
Gaal nodded and replied, "Exactly. Just as I said before. Now let's get to work."
"Dig up every last dragon bone," he ordered. "And don't overlook any soul fragments or clusters of accumulated resentment."
Waving his triangular fork with infectious enthusiasm, Gengar roared, "Gege (no problem) !"
Then, with an even louder cry, he bellowed, "Gege-gege (Gengar Legion, attack) !"
At that moment, as Gengar let out a sinister laugh, the triangular fork swung in an arc through the air and a Black Hole appeared from nowhere. One by one, Gengar darted forth from the void, quickly followed by Haunter and then Gastly.
The sight of Gengar, Haunter, and the other Gastly emerging in throngs sent the already animated ranks into a frenzy. Some Gastly, caught up in the excitement, even evolved instantly into Haunter, their eyes glittering as they gazed hungrily at the massive dragon bones. They had trained on similar relics before—artificial skeletal dragons created by Gaal—but now they were faced with genuine "big toys."
Gazing upon the towering white bones of dragons, some reaching several tens of meters in length, Gengar brandished his triangular fork and, issuing a single command, the Gengar Legion dispersed in a swarm to scour every inch of the underground for treasures.
Gildarts, once again stroking his chin as he observed the legion's meticulous work, remarked wryly, "I knew you were familiar with this place from long ago. This was all premeditated, wasn't it?"
"Not exactly too early," Gaal replied, glancing ahead while the Gengar and Haunter teams worked diligently to clear the dragon remains, as the Gastly corralled the amassed clusters of resentment along with dragon soul fragments toward Gaal's location.
–––
Elsewhere on the Ishgar Continent—central region—Makarov had also arrived at the Magic Council. He made his way directly to the Chairman's office.
At that very moment, Chairman Crawford Seam, upon hearing of Makarov's arrival and his request for a meeting, was noticeably taken aback. After all, Fairy Tail's propensity for causing trouble was legendary; every time Makarov appeared at the Magic Council it was over compensation matters, and over time they had started to avoid his visits. To his surprise, this time Makarov had come of his own accord.
Chairman Seam promptly summoned Makarov inside.
A short while later, Makarov pushed open the large door and stepped into the room, saying, "Chairman."
He immediately closed the door behind him and activated a barrier formation to seal the area off. Startled, Chairman Seam demanded, "What are you doing, Makarov?"
In a low, measured tone, Makarov responded, "There's an urgent matter to discuss. It's better to be cautious."
Makarov then approached and took a seat in the chair before Chairman Seam's desk.
Seam's expression darkened as he queried, "Is the Balam Alliance causing trouble again?"
His tone grew even more serious as he layered additional defensive barriers around the room. Observing that Seam was now even more guarded than himself, Makarov's lips twitched in a suppressed smile, yet he continued, "It's not about the Balam Alliance."
"Have you heard of Acnologia the Black Dragon?" Makarov asked.
As a practitioner of Ancient Grimoire Magic, Chairman Seam's brow furrowed slightly. "That name does ring a bell," he replied after a brief pause, "You mean the black dragon from the Apocalypse in the apocalypse book, known as the Black Dragon?"
Seam's voice carried an air of certainty.
Makarov nodded and said, "Exactly. That very one. It took me a while poring over the archives to remember."
Ever since Gaal had mentioned it, Makarov had felt a vague recollection from somewhere—but could not quite pinpoint it until he spent hours in the library, ultimately finding the reference in the Apocalypse texts that described the black dragon known as the Black Feather of the End.
Chairman Seam, seeking to downplay the matter, remarked, "That's merely an ancient prophecy, isn't it? What of the black dragon? Could it truly have manifested in our time?"
Makarov replied, "It hasn't manifested yet… but it won't be long now. This will be a calamity that sweeps across the entire magical world. Unless appropriate measures are taken, humanity itself may face extinction."
Chairman Seam regarded Makarov in astonishment, suspicion flickering in his gaze as he wondered if the man had been brainwashed by some dark magic. Humanity's extinction? That was simply inconceivable.
"You're saying…" Seam began.
"Do you have any evidence?" Seam pressed.
Makarov then recounted the ancient enmity between humans and dragons from 400 years past—a conflict that had culminated in some humans attempting to traverse time, arriving 400 years later to confront Acnologia the Black Dragon. Seam, already familiar with this history through his own mastery of Ancient Grimoire Magic, listened without doubt. He knew every detail: the factions that opposed the dragons, those that sought coexistence, and the origins of the Dragon Slayers.
Only when Makarov mentioned the audacity of humans traveling through 400 years of time to settle the score with Acnologia did Seam finally speak up, "Makarov, while I'm aware of everything you just recounted—and indeed it is all documented history—the notion that someone could traverse 400 years to come to the present… isn't that a bit far-fetched?"
Striving to be diplomatic, Chairman Seam attempted a gentle warning. But Makarov shook his head and replied, "As outlandish as it sounds, it is the truth. A month ago, a surge of Time Magic energy swept the world; anyone attuned to Time Magic should have felt it. You might inquire with others."
Now, Chairman Seam had no choice but to concede. His eyes growing steely as he rose, he said, "So you're suggesting that that surge was caused by humans from 400 years past crossing over?"
Makarov looked momentarily surprised, "You detected it?"
Shaking his head, Seam walked over to a colossal, suspended planetary globe at the side of his office. "It wasn't so much that I detected it, as that the globe itself experienced a tremendous oscillation about a month ago—a phenomenon I duly noted."
Furrowing his brow, Chairman Seam asked, "So… you're saying it's true?"
Seeing Seam's reaction, Makarov knew that Gaal had been right; no one would blindly believe such claims without evidence. Producing an object given to him by Gaal from within his cloak, he handed it over to Seam and said, "It's true. And—Hades has long been searching for Acnologia as well. These are the books and documents he has been gathering."