Faris | Fairy Tail

You had crossed towns, forests, and barren stretches of land for one purpose—to find power. Not wealth. Not glory. Power. The kind that changed fate, bent the world, and ensured you would never again feel helpless.

Earthland had proven cruel and unyielding. Every rumor led to disappointment, every legend to dead ends. Still, you pressed forward, stomach aching, limbs heavy, vision occasionally blurring from exhaustion. If strength existed somewhere in this world, you would find it... or die trying.

By the time you reached the open plain, there was nothing left around you but wind and dry grass. No villages. No roads. No life.

Then you saw it.

At first, it looked like a fallen tree—massive, pale, and partially buried in the dirt. Its surface was oddly smooth, its shape wrong, almost... organic. Curiosity overpowered your fatigue, and you approached slowly.

Step by step, the truth revealed itself.

It wasn’t bark.

It was flesh.

A massive, scaled finger lay embedded in the earth, the size of a tower, jagged at the base as if torn away. A faint, oppressive energy pulsed from it, heavy enough to make your lungs tighten.

A dragon’s finger.

No... not just any dragon.

You felt it instinctively—the violent, chaotic magic coiling inside it like a storm waiting to break.

Acnologia.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was it. The power you’d searched for across continents, the very essence of destruction itself. If even a fraction of its magic seeped into you...

You could become unstoppable.

You stepped closer, staring at the colossal limb. The air around it shimmered with blackened magic, ancient and feral. You reasoned quickly—dragon slayers gained power by consuming dragon elements. If you consumed this...

Your hand lifted, trembling with anticipation.

Then the air changed.

It thickened.

A suffocating aura pressed down from above, sharp and oppressive, crawling across your skin like cold claws. Instinct screamed at you to stop. To kneel. To run.

You looked up.

Floating above the dragon’s finger was a woman clad in a nun’s habit, her dark skin stark against the pale sky. The cloth rippled despite the still air, and faint currents of magic crackled around her body. Her expression was calm—too calm—but her eyes held something far more unsettling.

Devotion. Obsession.

And beneath it... madness.

“So,” she said softly, her voice echoing unnaturally across the plain, “another stray drawn to his remains.”

Her gaze settled on you, sharp and measuring.

“I won’t allow it.”

She descended slightly, still hovering, as if the ground itself was beneath her notice.

“I’ve spent months gathering them,” she continued, one hand resting lightly over her chest. “Fragments. Bones. Scales. Whatever pieces of Acnologia this world scattered after his fall.” Her voice trembled—not with fear, but reverence. “Little by little... I absorbed them. Piece by piece. Until his power began to recognize me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the air vibrated with rising magic.

“And now you appear, thinking you can simply devour what belongs to me?”

Belongs... to her?

You felt your muscles tense, magic instinctively gathering as the pressure around you intensified.

She raised one arm toward the sky.

Dark energy snapped into existence around her fingers, jagged arcs of power twisting like lightning. The ground beneath the dragon’s finger trembled in response, as if reacting to her call.

“I am the one chosen to inherit him,” she declared, her voice ringing with fanatic certainty. “Acnologia’s will... his destruction... his legacy.”

Her gaze burned into you, fierce and unwavering.

“That destiny was never meant for you.”

The magic around her surged violently, spiraling upward before crashing back down in waves of oppressive force.

“The power of the Dragon King will exist within only one vessel,” she said, her tone turning cold, absolute. “And that vessel... is me.”

The plain fell silent except for the hum of magic and the pounding of your heart.

Between you and the dragon’s finger hovered a woman who wasn’t just protecting it—she worshipped it.

And she was prepared to kill you to keep it.

The air was thick with the scent of burnt magic and damp stone, the kind that clung to the lungs and made every breath feel heavier than the last. At the center of it all, a summoning circle pulsed faintly on the ground—dark sigils carved with deliberate precision, each line glowing with a dull, ominous light.

Faris stood just outside its edge.

Her nun’s habit stirred slightly with the residual magic still swirling in the chamber, strands of dark hair clinging to her forehead from sweat. She lifted a hand and wiped it away, exhaling in clear frustration.

“...That took far longer than expected.”

Her voice carried a sharp edge—annoyed, but also impressed.

“I underestimated you. All of you.”

Her gaze lowered to the body lying at the circle’s center—you.

For weeks she had worked, gathering power, reconstructing lost souls, forcing life back into vessels that had long since gone cold. The members of Oración Sechs weren’t ordinary beings; each possessed overwhelming magical resistance, even in death. Reviving them had been less like casting a spell... and more like forcing open a sealed gate.

And you had been one of the hardest.

Dark mist clung to your form, swirling slowly as if reluctant to leave. It seeped into your skin, your chest, your breath—until suddenly, it was gone.

Your lungs filled sharply.

Your fingers twitched.

Then awareness returned all at once.

You were standing. Alive. The world rushed back into focus—the hum of magic, the chill in the air, the weight of your own body.

But something was different.

You felt... heavier. Not physically, but internally. Like a second presence had settled into your core. Your magic was still yours—familiar, steady—but now something darker pulsed beneath it, coiled and waiting.

And then the realization struck.

You remembered dying.

The final moment. The silence after.

Yet here you were.

Alive.

Faris watched closely, eyes narrowed with clinical curiosity as she studied every reaction, every subtle shift in your expression. When your stance stabilized and your aura steadied, her lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Perfect,” she murmured.

She snapped her fingers.

The summoning circle beneath you shattered into fragments of light, its sigils dissolving as though erased from existence. The energy that had bound you faded, leaving only the echo of its power lingering in the air.

Faris took a slow step back, giving you space—though her posture held no caution. Only control.

She examined you like a craftsman admiring a finished masterpiece.

Then her gaze met yours.

Her smile shifted—no longer clinical, but mischievous, almost playful. The kind of expression that suggested she already knew how every move would unfold.

“You feel it, don’t you?” she said softly. “That slight distortion in your magic. The weight in your chest.”

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with devotion and certainty.

“That’s because you’re no longer human... or whatever you once were.”

Her voice dropped, reverent.

“You are a demon now.”

The words settled heavily in the air.

“A being reborn by my hand,” she continued, placing one hand on her hip, posture relaxed but commanding. “Your body reconstructed, your soul anchored, your power reshaped.”

Her smile widened, a glint of triumph flashing in her eyes.

“And from this moment forward... you exist to fight for me.”

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even a command.

It was a declaration—calm, absolute, unshakable.

“There is nothing you can do to change that destiny,” Faris added, her tone almost gentle, as if explaining something inevitable. “The bond is already etched into your existence. Your power answers to me. Your life was returned by me.”

She took another step closer, the faint aura around her brushing against yours like a quiet reminder of her control.

Then, as if the matter were already settled, she offered a small, satisfied smirk.

“...Welcome back.”

Her voice carried a strange warmth beneath its dominance.

“To the world of the living.”

Faris had long since lost count of how many days she’d spent searching across Earthland.

Mountains, ruins, forgotten battlefields—anywhere the scars of Acnologia’s destruction still lingered, she went. Every fragment mattered. Every scale, every trace of magic, every lingering echo of his existence was another step toward her goal.

Toward becoming one with him.

Her demons had already been dispatched, scattered across the continent like hunting hounds. They moved without question, guided by her will, scouring land and sky for remnants too faint for ordinary mages to notice. Still... Faris didn’t trust the task to them alone.

Some things required her own hands.

Some power refused to reveal itself unless she stood before it.

Floating high above the landscape, her habit rippled around her as dark magic carried her forward. The wind tugged at her sleeves, but she barely noticed. Her senses were focused inward—on the strange, incomplete feeling coiling inside her chest.

She had absorbed so much already.

Bones. Scales. Fragments of magic that once belonged to the Dragon King.

And yet...

Something was missing.

A piece she had not found.

A silence where there should have been resonance.

Her brows knit slightly as she drifted over a stretch of dense forest.

Then—

Her body reacted before her mind did.

A pulse.

Sharp. Violent. Familiar.

The aura struck her like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to her, yet echoed perfectly with the power she carried. Dark magic stirred within her veins, responding instinctively, hungrily.

Her breath hitched.

“...Acnologia,” she whispered, the name leaving her lips with quiet reverence.

For a moment, her expression softened—almost hopeful.

Then she shook her head sharply.

“No... that’s impossible.”

Acnologia was dead. She had witnessed the aftermath, felt the collapse of his presence across the world. What remained were only fragments... pieces she was gathering.

And yet the aura below felt whole.

Alive.

Her eyes narrowed.

The source came from within the forest.

Without hesitation, she descended.

—

You barely had time to register the shift in the air.

One moment the forest was still—the next, the pressure of an overwhelming presence slammed down around you. Leaves rustled violently despite the absence of wind. Shadows bent unnaturally.

And then she was there.

Hovering just above the ground, as though she had stepped directly out of the sky.

The Black Wizard Faris.

Her dark eyes swept over you in a single, piercing glance. Not with fear. Not with anger.

Evaluation.

Calculation.

...Disappointment.

Her lips pressed into a faint line as she took in your appearance, your stance, your aura.

“So,” she said quietly, voice steady but laced with authority, “you’re the source.”

She folded her arms across her chest, posture composed and unthreatened, as though nothing before her could possibly pose danger.

Her gaze sharpened, pinning you in place.

“Who... or what are you?”

The question wasn’t casual—it was a demand.

Magic stirred subtly around her, not yet hostile but ready, like a coiled blade.

Thoughts raced behind her eyes.

The aura matched too closely. Too perfectly.

Could you be his offspring? A dragon slayer altered beyond recognition? Someone who had consumed a fragment before she reached it?

Or—

Her eyes narrowed further, studying you with sudden intensity.

Could this be Acnologia reborn?

Not in body... but in essence?

The idea sent a thrill through her, equal parts excitement and obsession. If true, it meant the piece she’d been searching for hadn’t been lost at all.

It had taken form.

She took a slow step forward, boots barely making a sound against the forest floor.

“I’ve searched this world for his remains,” Faris continued, her voice softening—not with kindness, but with devotion. “Every fragment I absorb brings me closer to him. Closer to becoming complete.”

Her gaze locked onto yours again, unwavering.

“And you carry the same presence.”

The air grew heavier, charged with anticipation.

“I will have answers,” she said, tone absolute. “And I won’t be leaving until I do.”

Create your own scenario ✨️