In another distant world---
All humans are born with an innate, hidden potential.
Emotion. Spirit. Intimidation.
When properly honed, these invisible forces of will can manifest into a tangible power.
That power is called—**Haki.**
---
Noah opened his eyes, emerging from his meditative state. Slowly exhaling, he raised his palm—and it was instantly cloaked in a strange, jet-black sheen.
Armament Haki.
It gleamed as though fused to his flesh.
To test its power, Noah gently triggered his explosive gloves with a fire-based blast, directing it against his Haki-clad right palm.
The controlled explosion was only one-third power, but even so, the direct heat and force would normally leave him grimacing. Instead, all he felt was a dull pressure. No pain, no real damage.
The defensive enhancement exceeded his expectations. And if defense improved this much, the offensive boost must be incredible as well—though he wasn't reckless enough to test that inside the dormitory.
"…So this is the power of the naval hero's world. Not bad at all."
Noah collapsed backward onto the bed.
Yet, despite wielding this new strength, his mood soured. Unlike self-contained power, Haki required constant training to improve. Armament Haki could evolve—from a palm, to full body coverage, to wrapping weapons and amplifying strikes.
It was a growing power… which meant effort.
"Ugh. Can't you just upgrade it all at once? Skipping levels would be so much easier…" Noah groaned, rolling around on the mattress.
To put it nicely, he was "content with the status quo." To put it honestly: he was lazy.
Back in Edolas, under Faust's stern supervision, training wasn't optional. Sword drills, combat routines, honing magical tools—his father forced diligence on him.
But here, in Aslant? No chains. No watchful eyes. Bit by bit, discipline eroded. Laziness bloomed.
Still, Laxus's fury that day lingered in his mind. Clashing with the Thunder Dragon Slayer was inevitable. And until then, Noah would need strength.
"…Alright. Next year. An hour of Haki practice a day. That's manageable."
---
Time skipped forward. Magnolia's streets glowed with holiday cheer. Christmas was here.
The guild bustled with laughter and lights, garland-wrapped beams, lanterns, ribbons, and even a towering Christmas tree in the yard, decorated with glittering gifts dangling from its branches.
Dressed in a Santa Claus costume, Makarov waddled to the counter. "Mira, how do I look? Convincing enough to be Santa Claus?"
Mira blinked. "Too thin, Master."
Santa should be round and jolly, not short and scrawny.
The old man huffed. Old age had shrunk his stature; his appetite wasn't what it used to be. Shaking his head, he sighed—only to be interrupted by Noah.
"Morning, President. You going as a dwarf?"
Before Noah could smirk, Erza's flat voice cut in. "If you can't speak properly, don't speak. The President is obviously Little Red Riding Hood."
Said with a perfectly straight face, sharper than any blade.
Makarov twitched. To think Erza's "defense" of him amounted to a harsher insult…
Quickly he changed the subject. "Noah, surprised you came. I thought you'd use 'rest after a mission' as another excuse to hide in the dormitory."
Noah yawned. If it weren't for Erza literally dragging him out of bed, he would've. Supposedly, this was his first Fairy Tail Christmas, and "King's Game" was on the agenda.
And for some reason, Erza was *thrilled* about it.
Curious, Noah asked Makarov what this **King's Game** was. But at the mere mention, Makarov's face darkened. Like someone recalling trauma. His reaction only deepened Noah's curiosity.
So Noah did what came naturally. "Natsu! Come play!"
The pink-haired boy popped up instantly, Happy and Gray in tow.
"What's the game, Noah? Can't wait! I'll crush Gray for sure!"
"Hah? You single-celled idiot, I'll be the one crushing you!"
Tension rose instantly. If Erza hadn't glared, they'd be brawling already.
Noah snorted. "…Erza wants you guys to play King's Game."
The moment the name dropped, both Natsu and Gray froze.
"Th-That game…?" Natsu's jaw dropped.
"I suddenly have business—see ya!" Gray tried to flee.
But Erza's eyes narrowed—and her looming shadow seemed to multiply her size a hundredfold. Both boys broke instantly.
"It's a fun game! Very fun!!" They forced enthusiastic smiles, trembling.
Noah raised an eyebrow. For even dumb, fearless Natsu to panic, this game was *definitely* cursed.
Feigning a bathroom break, Noah ducked out. If Erza came looking, best to be somewhere she'd never search.
The third floor. The Guildmaster's office.
…Except, Makarov was already there, clearly also hiding.
"Oh. It's you. Place is messy, sit wherever." The old man waved him inside.
Decor aside, the only real treasure was a framed photo of Fairy Tail's founders. Four figures: Mavis, Precht, Warrod, and Yuri.
Noah sighed softly. "Life is… unpredictable."
Makarov's gaze softened, memories flooding of friends long gone. From those four pioneers, only he remained bound to the guild.
"Ah… damn Gildarts. When's he coming back to take this burden off me…" the old man muttered.
Noah, catching the grumble, chuckled and asked more about King's Game.
Makarov explained: lottery sticks were drawn. Whoever picked the "President's" stick ordered others to perform tasks.
In theory? Sounded like harmless dares.
But Noah's blood chilled. "…Wait. Don't tell me all the orders were…"
Makarov's grim smile confirmed it. "Embarrassing. Shameful. Sometimes cruel. Gray once had to wear ten layers of clothes. He nearly imploded. Another time, someone was forced to strip naked and scream the name of their crush."
"Social. Death." Noah whispered. A true weapon of guild-wide humiliation.
No wonder Natsu and Gray quaked like children.
He quickly changed topic. Makarov produced a box of Santa costumes, asking Noah's help to disguise himself better. Tonight, he would deliver gifts to orphans.
Touched, Noah suggested adding a *beard.* With snow-white whiskers, at least Makarov looked less like a dwarf and more like Santa.
"Not bad!" the old man grinned at the mirror. "At last, I won't be recognized."
But Noah only stared oddly. "…President, try a wig too."
Amused, Makarov let him fit one atop his bald head.
And then—Noah froze.
From a few steps back, with the fake beard and wig, Makarov looked… identical. To *Faust.*
His father.
The resemblance hit like lightning. Suddenly, Noah recalled all of Faust's bizarre punishments for Ivan, his resentments, his venting. It all made sense.
*Parallel worlds. Makarov and Faust… they're counterparts.*
Which meant… technically… by generational logic…
"I'm… Laxus's uncle? Half-grandfather? Step-brother?!" Noah's head spun with chaotic titles.
Makarov watched Noah's strange grin. "…What's with you, boy? Do I look funny?"
Noah waved both hands, laughter spilling. "No, nothing. Just remembered something hilarious."
"What?"
"I'm going to be an uncle."
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