The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Fairy Tail guild hall, catching dust in golden beams. Cael sat at a far table with a lukewarm drink and an open notebook, watching the guild bustle with life. Natsu was already wrestling with Gray, a common occurrence that no longer fazed anyone. Erza was reading a book in the corner, occasionally glancing up to keep the two from destroying more furniture. Cana laughed loudly as she downed her third drink, and Elfman was shouting something about manliness while trying to carry three barrels at once.
Cael had spent four days here now.
He still didn't know how to act.
He wasn't afraid. But everything felt… unreal. Too bright. Too fast. Like a machine spinning at full speed before you even found the on switch.
But Mira had been kind. Patient. She didn't push. She gave him space, and that mattered more than she probably realized.
He was still trying to understand what he was.
The magic inside him didn't respond like anyone else's. He'd tried watching others—Natsu's explosive fire, Gray's precise ice, Levy's calm runes. Their power flowed in rhythms. His was pressure. Heat. Tension.
Sometimes it surged without warning, like steam building behind steel walls. It crackled through his fingers in sparks of violet, refusing to settle into a proper shape.
Mira approached, pulling him from his thoughts.
"You're up early again," she said, setting a plate of food in front of him.
"Early is quiet," he replied, then eyed the food. "Thanks. I keep forgetting to eat."
"You're welcome. You've been watching everyone a lot."
"I'm gathering data."
She blinked, then laughed softly. "Of course you are."
Cael stared at the steam rising off the eggs. "You know magic better than most. Do you think it's possible to have a magic type that doesn't fit any category?"
She tilted her head. "Well, magic is tied to the soul, right? Everyone's is different. Yours might just need more time to surface."
"It feels like a blueprint without a design," Cael said quietly. "Like something's there, but I can't read it yet."
"Give it time," she said. "You're not broken. You're just… unfolding."
Her words stuck with him.
Later that day, Master Makarov stood on a table and cleared his throat with a loud, "AHEM!"
Everyone paused. Mostly.
Natsu and Gray kept bickering, but at lower volume.
"We've got a good handful of missions available," the old man said. "I want our newer members to start pulling their weight. And I want our veterans to help them if they need it. You don't grow stronger by sitting around, after all."
Cael didn't move at first. But Mira nudged him gently.
"Try one," she said. "You don't have to go alone."
He hesitated, then walked up to the board. His eyes scanned the postings. Most were basic—help with transport, minor repairs, a missing pet. One caught his attention:
"Wanted: Escort for Magical Surveyor. Moderate travel distance. Minor magical hazards. Decent pay."
He pulled it down.
Levy peered over his shoulder. "That one's not too bad. A guy who inspects old ruins. He just needs someone nearby in case something goes weird."
"Sounds acceptable," Cael murmured.
"You going alone?" she asked.
"I think I should try."
The next morning, he met the client outside Magnolia's east gate. The man, a middle-aged mage named Donval, wore thick glasses and carried a small bag of enchanted tools.
"You don't look like a fighter," Donval said, eyeing Cael's lean form and blank expression.
"I'm not," Cael replied. "But I am... adaptable."
Donval shrugged. "Alright. Let's get moving."
The ruins were a few hours' walk northeast, nestled in a mossy grove. Along the way, Donval rambled about ancient magic circuits, forgotten temples, and sealing arrays. Cael mostly listened, noting anything interesting.
"You're awfully quiet," the man said eventually.
"I'm listening."
"Listening's good. Most young mages talk too much and know too little."
When they arrived, the ruins looked like a pile of worn stone and tangled vines. But Cael felt something—a hum in the air, like the lingering echo of magic long since gone dormant.
Donval placed down his instruments. "Shouldn't take long. Stay alert."
Cael wandered slightly, hands in pockets, watching the overgrowth shift with the wind. His fingers tingled again. That pressure—the one he couldn't define—coiled just beneath the surface.
As Donval prodded a glyph-stone with a scanning wand, the ground shook. A burst of greenish light erupted from a cracked pillar.
"Ah. That's not good," Donval said calmly.
A golem formed from rubble, its eyes glowing with ancient runes.
Cael reacted on instinct. He didn't know a single proper spell, but his body moved. Power surged into his legs. He leapt high, dodging a swipe of stone claws, and landed near Donval.
"Can you stop it?" he asked.
"Not unless you can buy me time!"
Cael nodded once.
He stepped forward. The golem growled, mechanical and deep.
Cael reached inside, drawing out raw energy. No spell. No form. Just will.
Violet light surged from his hands as he punched forward—not the golem, but the ground beneath it. A shockwave shattered the roots anchoring the creature's legs.
It stumbled.
Cael charged, dodging again, using its size against it. No finesse. Just observation and timing.
After two more hits and a shouted "Done!" from Donval, a pulse of calming light swept the area.
The golem froze, then crumbled.
Cael stood still, chest heaving, hands faintly smoking.
"You okay?" Donval asked.
"I think so," Cael replied. "That was… different."
"You've got strange magic, kid. But it listens to you."
Cael didn't answer. He just looked at his hands.
Something was awakening. Slowly.
When he returned to the guild that evening, Mira greeted him at the door.
"How'd it go?"
"No injuries," he said. "Client's alive. Job done."
She smiled. "That's a win in my book."
Cael sat down, exhausted but... content. For the first time since arriving, he felt like he belonged.
Not because he had answers.
But because he was starting to ask the right questions.
(To be continued in Chapter 6...)