For the longest time, the piece that didn't fit had been masked behind the unknown. To an outside observer—or even to Albion himself—his existence was a chaotic patchwork of inexplicable traits.
His hyper-accelerated learning. The sudden, violent spikes in his physical capabilities. His heightened senses. The unnerving speed at which his mind digested traumatic strain. Even the physical shift in his features—the terrifying, otherworldly refinement the scientists had once noted in their muted, clinical tones—felt like a collection of separate anomalies.
Then came the glowing fuchsia eyes. Then came the marks carved onto his flesh—the physical manifestation of a title he had accepted in the dark: KING.
So many separate questions.
It was only after stepping out of the library and listening to Sheila break down the architecture of an Ethernal Awakening that the dominoes finally fell. The realization didn't come to Albion as a comforting truth. It came as a cold, terrifying deduction.
Codex Magic is not what makes me abnormal.
An Ethernal Awakening did not create something from nothing. It merely dragged what was already hidden into the light. His own defeat at Gajeel's hands had unlocked Codex Magic.
Which meant Codex Magic was simply his Maho. His base element. His tool. It was not the foundation.
Because the enhanced senses hadn't arrived when he unlocked his magic. The physical evolution hadn't triggered in the library. The shift in his body and the dark script on his skin had all surfaced in the wake of a completely different storm: his confrontation with Amon.
The battle in his inner world had not granted him new abilities. It had broken a lock.
For five years, Albion's existence had been fractured. His identity broken, his very mind splintered into pieces—a division so profound that Amon had been able to carve a home out of the cracks. But when Albion stood his ground and accepted the weight of the title, that internal fracture fused. The restraint broke.
And something dormant inside him finally began to function properly. It was not ten different abilities, but merely one.
Adaptive Evolution.
Albion's true anomaly was not a spell, nor was it a blessing. It was a biological and spiritual compulsion to survive.
Most humans required years to process hardship; Albion's mind digested it like fuel. Traumatic events that would take a normal person a lifetime to understand were analyzed, dismantled, and adapted to in minutes. Stress did not crush his mind—it forced it to reorganize.
When facing total psychological annihilation against Amon, his dormant nature had responded to save him. It sharpened his perception so he could see. It forced his physical body to evolve to handle the strain. It accelerated the developmental timeline the scientists had observed years ago, rushing his physical growth forward to handle a burden no five-year-old was ever meant to carry.
The tattoos were not a prize; they were the scars left behind when the internal restraint snapped open.
Every injury. Every failure. Every drop of psychological terror. His body and mind absorbed them, analyzed them, adapted, and permanently mutated to ensure he could never be broken the same way twice.
Standing alone in the water-filled corridor, Albion looked down at his oversized sleeves. The truth was far more unsettling than he had imagined.
He was not a child who had happened to awaken powerful magic. Codex Magic was just the tool he wielded. The real anomaly... was him.
And the most terrifying part of all was that he still had no idea what—or who—had built the engine inside him in the first place.
'As usual, every answer brings even more questions. Which only makes it more complicated.' Albion sighed softly to himself.
Now was not the time to dwell on it.
Standing a short distance down the hall was Juvia. She hovered slightly above the pooling water, her gaze neutral and composed. Beneath her, the standing water hissed violently, rising into thin wisps of dense steam.
She's vaporizing the water, Albion observed silently.
He remained standing at the corner for a long moment, watching her beneath the shadows of his hood. Silent. Unmoving.
"Do you need something?" Juvia asked softly, without breaking her concentration or turning her head.
"Pay me no mind. I am merely watching out of curiosity," Albion replied, his voice flat and measured. "Though, I would like to ask a few questions."
"You may do as you wish," Juvia said politely. "It is no trouble."
She spread her hands outward, her palms facing the floor. The water around them hissed again, expanding into white steam. She was careful to redirect the heat away from where Albion stood.
She was cleaning the hallway floor. Slowly dismantling a disaster she had caused. At this rate, it would take her a while.
Albion took a long time to speak. The silence stretched so long that Juvia almost assumed he had drifted away. Right as she considered speaking again, his calm voice cut through the quiet.
"Earlier, Sheila mentioned that you fought in this corridor. Who was your opponent?" Albion stared at her, unblinking. "Was it Gajeel? You mentioned him before."
Juvia did not break her focus. Unlike Sheila or Albion, her manners were carefully practiced, even when tired. After a deliberate pause, she answered.
"You are correct. I fought Gajeel," Juvia said, her speech deliberate and measured. "We had... a difference of opinion. I will not burden you with the details. However, our conflict spilled into the main hall, and the corridor was flooded as a result."
She adjusted her hands, compressing another patch of water into steam.
"When the senior members observed the damage, we were disciplined," she continued softly. "Sheila instructed me to clear the water from the guildhall."
"...I imagine Gajeel did not accept that gracefully," Albion noted.
A tiny, subtle smile broke through Juvia's polite mask, accompanied by a soft, breathy chuckle.
"No. He did not," Juvia said, a hint of her age briefly slipping into her tone. "He stated that he did not care about the guild or its rules. The guild members did not appreciate his words, as he disrespected the Master. Gajeel is currently engaged in a fight with one of our strongest members—an S-class wizard."
"And an S-class wizard is...?" Albion asked, his voice steady and questioning.
Juvia's gaze lowered slightly toward the steaming floor, though her hands remained outstretched, keeping her magic steady.
"S-Class Wizards are... special," Juvia explained softly, choosing her words with careful deliberation. "They are the people the guild relies on when a task is too dangerous for anyone else. Think of the strongest person you have ever seen. An S-Class Wizard is likely stronger than that. At least... most of them are."
She paused, watching the moisture evaporate into thin air before continuing.
"In my opinion, they are among the most capable people in the world. The only wizards consistently considered greater are the five Wizard Saints. Many people spend their entire lives trying to reach S-Class and never succeed."
"Spoken like a true loser," Albion noted calmly.
A tiny twitch appeared near Juvia's eye. A faint crease formed on her forehead as a rare flicker of irritation passed over her usually serene face. She took a slow, quiet breath, actively choosing to ignore the comment, and returned her full attention to the water.
Albion stood silently for a long moment, staring at the floor as his mind digested the information. His lack of standard social skills made the silence stretch longer than usual.
"I swear..." Albion sighed softly, pulling his oversized hood a bit lower. "Only Gajeel would pick a fight with someone like that."
Juvia gave a small, polite nod. "I agree. What kind of person picks a fight with someone so clearly stronger?"
Another brief pause fell over the corridor. Albion tilted his head slightly.
"So you are saying you would only fight someone who is weaker than you?"
"I am saying it is logical to engage in a fight you know you can win," Juvia replied, her voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "Is that not the basic principle of being a wizard?"
Albion stared at her neutrally, his fuchsia eyes unblinking in the dim light.
"I disagree. If I only fight those who are weaker than me, there is no purpose. Doing that is pure foolishness. I would much rather fight someone stronger. If I do not, how will I ever adapt? How will I grow?"
To Albion, the logic was absolute. The only reason he had evolved so drastically in less than a day was because he had been backed into a corner, forced to adapt or be destroyed. Adversity was the only metric that mattered.
"You know..." Juvia said quietly, turning her calm blue eyes toward him. "You sound very much like Gajeel in that regard. I assumed you two would get along well."
Albion shook his head once.
"Unfortunately, no. I respect his strength, and I acknowledge that fighting him was the catalyst for unlocking my magic. But I dislike his mindset. Living purely for yourself sounds like a defense mechanism. It belongs to a frightened child."
Juvia paused her magic for a split second, surprised by the depth of his observation.
"Oh? That makes me curious," Juvia said, her curiosity genuine. "How old are you, Albion?"
"I am five. My sixth birthday is in October," Albion answered straightforwardly. "What about you?"
"I am eight. My birthday is July 12th."
"Happy early birthday."
"Thank you," Juvia replied, a faint, polite warmth in her tone.
A brief silence settled between them—much shorter this time. Juvia shifted her position slightly, turning her body fully toward him for the first time.
"How do you know Gajeel, anyway?" she asked softly. "I shared my story with you. It is only fair if you share yours."
Albion considered the request for a moment before giving a small shrug. He saw no harm in answering.
In concise, direct terms, he explained what had happened earlier: meeting Gajeel in the guildhall, the escalation into a one-sided beatdown, and his eventual recovery in the library. He kept his explanation clear and objective, sticking purely to the physical events.
He intentionally omitted the details that mattered most.
He did not mention that the woman who adopted him—the woman he called "Mother"—had sold him to Phantom Lord-like property. He did not mention the three-month bargain struck with Master José, nor the threat that had been looming over his head: awaken magic in ninety days, or be thrown into the streets.
Technically, since Codex Magic had already awakened, Master José's deadline was no longer a threat. The condition was met. Albion would remain in the guild.
As for why he kept it to himself? Albion couldn't quite articulate it. A deep-seated caution kept him guarded around anyone in Phantom Lord. Aside from Sheila, his few interactions with his guildmates had taught him one clear lesson:
To Albion, everyone in this guild was dangerous. And until proven otherwise, none of them could be trusted.
"I see. So you lost to Gajeel as well," Juvia observed softly, her tone entirely matter-of-fact.
Albion gave a single, silent nod.
Another quiet, slightly awkward pause settled between them as the two children stared at each other. Just as before, it was Juvia who broke the silence.
"This may sound unusual, but..." She leaned forward, floating down just enough to bring her face uncomfortably close to his, scrutinizing him with quiet intensity.
"You are beautiful."
Albion tilted his head back slightly, his expression flat. "...What?"
"I noticed it earlier, but seeing you up close makes it obvious," Juvia continued thoughtfully, avoiding contractions as she listed her observations. "Specifically, your fuchsia eyes are very striking. Your complexion is also surprisingly clear. I do not mean to be envious, but... you are a boy, correct?"
Albion let out a quiet, tired sigh. "The fact that you require clarification is concerning. Do I truly resemble a girl to you?"
"Slightly," Juvia admitted with a solemn nod. "If your hair were slightly longer, I would have assumed so."
Albion sighed again, pulling his oversized hood lower over his ears. He had never paid much attention to his physical appearance, but he certainly cared about his gender. What five-year-old wouldn't?
"Are you expecting me to call you beautiful in return?" Albion asked plainly.
Juvia paused to consider the question. "Well... yes. I offered a compliment, so it would be polite to receive one."
"Hmm."
Nodding once, Albion leaned in even closer, matching her distance until they were practically nose-to-nose. This time, Juvia was the one to give him a puzzled look as his bright fuchsia eyes bored into hers.
For nearly a full minute, he said nothing. He simply stared, analyzing her face like a subject in a lab. Finally, he spoke.
"Your frame is slender and somewhat awkward. You resemble a porcelain doll. And... you look very girly."
Juvia let out a soft, breathy giggle. "I would hope so. I am a girl, after all. Is there anything else?"
Albion spent another thirty seconds in deep concentration.
"Your azure eyes are unusually large and vivid. Similar to the ocean. Your skin also reminds me of snow." He paused, before adding calmly, "Though the doll comparison still stands."
Juvia's serene expression twitched.
Having reached her limit with his deadpan commentary, she hovered slightly higher over the water, reached out, and grabbed both of Albion's cheeks with her hands.
"You have no right to speak!" Juvia said, her usual polite restraint slipping into direct childish frustration. "You have a completely round baby face! And look at how short you are—are you truly near my age?"
Standing at four-foot-five—and elevated even higher by her floating magic—Juvia completely towered over the three-foot-four boy.
Albion winced as she pinched his cheeks, but despite his total lack of social grace, he fired back without hesitation.
"At least I do not wear ridiculous pigtails!"
"That is because I am a girl!"
"A doll-looking one!"
Juvia squeezed his cheeks tighter, causing the boy to squirm and uselessly swat at her wrists.
"Okay, okay. Could you two knock it off and stop acting like brats?" an amused, older voice called out from down the corridor.
Both children froze. In total sync, they snapped their heads toward the source of the voice.
"Who are you calling a brat?!" they yelled in unison.
Juvia's eyes widened the moment she registered the taller figure standing near the doorway, and she instantly let go of Albion's cheeks.
"Sheila?"
Sheila stood a few paces down the corridor, her posture perfectly relaxed. Holding a cigarette between her gloved fingers, she brought it to her lips and took a slow, measured drag.
"Where did you even get a cigarette?" Albion noted, rubbing his sore, reddened cheeks.
Sheila exhaled slowly, a thin plume of gray smoke drifting upward into the damp hallway air before her dark eyes met his.
"...Imagination," she replied smoothly, her voice completely devoid of inflection.
Both Albion and Juvia stared at her in deadpan silence.
Sheila ignored their judgment entirely, her expression as unreadable as ever as she casually tapped the ash into the air.
"Why don't we play a game?" she asked softly.
"A game?" Juvia blinked.
"Why would we do that?" Albion countered, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Sheila held the cigarette loosely between two fingers, her gaze shifting between the two young wizards.
"Why not? It presents an opportunity for the two of you to become better acquainted," Sheila said, her tone cool and methodical. "You two, along with Gajeel, are the only children currently under Phantom Lord's roof. Building a functional rapport would be... advantageous."
She paused, taking another quiet drag before letting the smoke escape through her lips.
"Furthermore, it serves as a practical demonstration of your capabilities as wizards."
"Our magic...?" Juvia asked softly, tilting her head.
"Precisely," Sheila nodded. "And I suspect you, Juvia, are rather curious regarding Albion's abilities. Particularly considering he is the only other individual in this guild to have experienced an Ethernal Awakening." She turned her cool gaze to the five-year-old boy. "Just like you."