Chapter 1
Year X776, Earth Land.
Magnolia Town, Kingdom of Fiore, on the continent of Ishgar.
Magnolia was unusually lively today.
"Warning! Warning! Gildarts is back!"
"Activate Gildarts Shift!"
Gildarts Clive was the strongest Mage in Fairy Tail, Magnolia’s one and only wizard guild.
Famous throughout the magical world for his mastery of the immensely destructive Crash Magic, Gildarts also had a habit of wandering around in a daze and accidentally reducing any building in his path to rubble.
The problem had grown so bad that Magnolia had eventually redesigned its entire main street around him.
Whenever Gildarts returned, the town could physically rearrange itself to create a direct path to the guild, preventing him from wandering through the streets and demolishing half the city along the way.
Strangely enough, Gildarts did not break anything this time.
He did not even accidentally smash his way through the guild wall. Instead, he walked straight through the front door like a normal person.
There could only be one explanation: Gildarts was being serious for once, which meant he was far too focused to drift off into his usual absent-minded state.
The lone wolf had not returned alone, either.
He had brought a little boy with him.
...
On the second floor of the Fairy Tail guildhall, a tiny old man sat on the railing overlooking the main floor.
He was Makarov Dreyar, Fairy Tail’s Guild Master and one of Ishgar’s Ten Wizard Saints.
After watching the boy downstairs for a moment, Makarov turned toward the man who currently served as Fairy Tail’s greatest pillar of strength.
"Gildarts, assuming everything you’ve told me is true, this is no small matter. Are you absolutely certain?"
Gildarts nodded, his expression unusually grim.
"I’m certain they were part of a dark magic cult. They were kidnapping civilians and forcing them to build something in secret. I saw it with my own eyes."
Makarov’s face darkened as he listened.
"The R-System... That legendary resurrection magic?" He drew in a sharp breath. "This is serious. The Magic Council needs to put a stop to them immediately."
Hopping down from the railing, Makarov gave Gildarts an approving pat on the knee.
"You did well, Gildarts. I knew I hadn’t misjudged you. Perhaps it’s finally time to consider choosing Fairy Tail’s fourth Guild Master—"
"Ahem. Gramps, I’m still young. I’d like to enjoy my freedom for a few more years." Gildarts hurriedly waved both hands. "Besides, you’re only eighty. You’re still in the prime of your life!"
"You little brat..." Makarov glared up at him. "You’re the only S-Class Mage in the guild who’s remotely qualified right now! If you refuse, who am I supposed to leave the guild to? That bastard Ivan?!"
"I think Laxus would do a decent job."
"That boy still has a long way to go!"
Makarov was so irritated that he almost laughed. Shaking his head helplessly, he set the matter aside for the moment.
"What about the child you brought back? Is he another one of your illegitimate sons?"
"Of course not!" Gildarts immediately protested. Then he froze. "Wait, what do you mean, ’another’?"
He glanced toward the ground floor, scratched his head, and let out a troubled sigh.
"Marshall’s family was murdered when they tried to resist the cult. The shock caused his magic to awaken. I only discovered what was happening because I followed the signal from his magic.
"He hasn’t been doing well since then, and he has no family or anywhere else to go. He said he wanted to come with me, and the kid clearly has talent, so I brought him back to the guild."
"I see..." Makarov sighed. "Poor child."
His expression softened as he looked downstairs again.
"Then he can stay. From now on, Fairy Tail will be his home."
A moment later, curiosity appeared in his eyes.
"Speaking of which, what kind of magic did he awaken? His magical power is remarkable. He already has more magic than some adult Mages."
"Telepathy."
"Telepathy?" Makarov looked mildly disappointed. "That’s a bit of a shame, but his potential is excellent. With that much magical power, he’ll have a bright future no matter what kind of magic he learns."
"Hmm... Yeah, I suppose that’s true."
Gildarts’s expression became strangely complicated.
"The kid sent a distress call to me from more than ten kilometers away immediately after awakening his magic."
"Oh, that’s impressive..."
Makarov nodded at first. Then his eyes suddenly widened.
"Wait! How far did you say?!"
Gildarts tilted his head back, trying to remember.
"I didn’t measure it exactly, but it had to be more than ten kilometers. It took me quite a while to reach him. The kid’s talent for Telepathy is definitely something special."
"Even ten kilometers is absurd! Ordinary Telepathy rarely reaches farther than five kilometers. How old is he?"
"Uh... five or six, maybe? I didn’t ask. Hahaha."
Makarov sucked in another breath, but this time his eyes lit up and a pleased smile spread across his face.
"Good, very good! He’s an exceptional prospect. He may even become one of the guild’s pillars someday."
He immediately turned toward the stairs.
"I’m heading to the nearest Magic Council branch. Gildarts, the guild is in your hands for the next few days!"
"Huh? Gramps, I’m not planning to stay here for long—"
"Stop complaining! It’s already decided!"
...
While the two of them held their extremely loud "private discussion" upstairs, the little boy Gildarts had brought back stood blankly near the edge of the guildhall.
Marshall Mathers had striking pale-pink hair, delicate features, and an undeniably adorable face.
At the moment, however, his unfocused eyes stared into the distance as though his soul had left his body.
He looked more than a little dazed.
Marshall was a transmigrator, and his current situation was far from pleasant.
A few days earlier, he had watched the elderly village chief who had raised him die right in front of him. The overwhelming shock had awakened memories of his previous life.
Unfortunately, those memories had returned just after a group of bizarrely dressed cultists had beaten him and taken him prisoner, leaving him in an extremely dangerous position.
Thankfully, his dormant power had awakened when despair finally overwhelmed him.
Using his newly awakened Telepathy, Marshall had sent a distress signal as far as he could. Gildarts had then appeared like a hero descending from the heavens and effortlessly wiped out every last cultist.
Marshall had survived the life-or-death crisis without getting killed immediately after arriving in this world, but that did not mean he could finally relax.
The magic he had awakened was far too powerful, and he had no idea how to control it.
According to Gildarts, Telepathy allowed him to communicate directly through the mind. It was an excellent ability—after all, Marshall had managed to send his plea for help more than ten kilometers.
There was just one rather serious problem.
His Telepathy also received information automatically, and he could not turn it off.
Marshall had been suffering ever since.
People could choose not to speak, but stopping themselves from thinking was considerably harder.
The moment someone formed a thought, Marshall could hear it. At his current level, every mind within nearly a hundred meters was constantly whispering into his head.
And unlike ordinary voices, thoughts became louder whenever the person experienced strong emotions.
Camping in the wilderness with Gildarts had still been tolerable. Listening to one perverted old man’s fantasies was unpleasant, but survivable.
Things had become much worse after they entered Magnolia.
Then he had stepped inside a guild as rowdy as Fairy Tail.
Now it felt as though his skull were about to split apart.
Countless voices poured into his mind at once. He did not know how to close his thoughts off, and covering his ears did nothing to block voices that existed inside his head.
The more attention he paid to them, the clearer they became.
So far, Marshall had discovered only two ways to lessen the pain.
The first was to empty his mind completely and think about nothing.
The second was to fill his mind by concentrating intensely on one specific thing.
Either way, he ended up looking utterly spaced out to everyone around him.
Gildarts had assumed Marshall was still trapped in grief over losing his family and had awkwardly attempted to comfort him several times.
Every attempt had ended with both of them feeling painfully uncomfortable.
Marshall was currently letting his mind drift—or, more accurately, focusing very hard on staring blankly into space—when two small figures approached him.
Their thoughts gradually became clearer.
’This is the kid Dad brought back... And that hair... C-Could he be my little brother?’
’Cana’s such a pain. Why did she drag me over here? I’m not interested in some little brat.’
Marshall turned toward the source of the voices.
A boy and a girl stood in front of him, both around ten years old.
The boy had spiky black hair and was not wearing a shirt.
Fairy Tail’s guild mark was stamped across his chest, and his slightly furrowed brow made his impatience obvious.
The girl’s hair fell to her shoulders. She wore a light, midriff-baring outfit, with her guild mark printed beside her stomach.
A complicated mixture of emotions flickered through her eyes as she studied him.
"Hi. I’m Cana."
"...I’m Gray."
"Welcome to Fairy Tail."