3rd Person POV
[Simulation Room - Sector 3]
"How the fuck did she progress this fast? My soldiers have never developed this quickly...is this some kind of aggressive bounce-back, like a dried sponge sucking water?" Arto mutters while scratching his head, looking at the tablet recording Erza's progress, showing a sharp spike in performance after 2 weeks of training "She has been training in time-dilated environment with higher gravity....and she still completed 2 times the regular regimen of Abyssgard Legion, absurd..."
Grayfia raises an eyebrow, arms folded. "You sound almost offended."
"No, impressed—and concerned," Arto corrects, zooming in on Erza's biometrics. The graphs show erratic spikes, her body adapting at impossible rates. "This isn't natural progression. It's like watching evolution on fast-forward."
Robin leans over his shoulder, tapping the screen. "It's a perk of her Sacred Gear, it helps any form of combat training develop with insane speed, that's why I insisted on teaching her basic knowledge first, because once she started this, she would progress with a speed even her brain couldn't follow, and it could make her get bored of studying because the progress wouldn't be as rewarding as training."
Arto exhales sharply through his nose, swiping to another dataset—Erza's literacy scores, painstakingly logged by Robin. The upward curve is less dramatic, but still steep. "And her breakdowns?"
"Expected." Robin's fingers brush the screen where Erza's nighttime cortisol levels spike. "Imagine realizing you could've fought back years earlier if you'd just known how to read a guard rotation schedule."
Grayfia's nails click against the console. "She's plateauing in swordsmanship."
Kiba's voice cuts in from behind them, startlingly close. "Because she's copying me." He steps into the light of the holoscreen, arms crossed. His training gi is damp with sweat—evidence of another brutal session. "Every parry, every feint—she mirrors perfectly but doesn't adapt. It's like watching a shadowboxer."
"With this rate, we have to slow her down, we need to reduce her training time, focusing more on studying magic, tactic, strategy, it would develop her on a more overall term other than purely training combat like this, it's also a way for her to start designing her armors and equipments for Requip" Arto said, handing over the tablet to Grayfia. "Kiba, you're not training her tomorrow, Grayfia will take her to a spa day—" Kiba snorts. "She'll stab you."
"—and Robin will tutor her on Spellcrafting Formulas," Arto continues, ignoring the interruption. "We'll cycle her through low-combat disciplines until her mind could keep up with her body, and starts enriching the core power of hers, Requip: The Knight—the ability to summon armors and weapons—by teaching her battle history along with magic, and helping her with her ideas, she'll be able to expand her arsenal exponentially by her Sacred Gear"
Robin's lips quirk as she taps a finger against her chin. "Right, I'll set up the learning program soon, but it would require her to learn some more advanced knowledge to at least know how to visualize the spells she wants to make when learning Chapter 1: Intention's magical indexes—"
The door hisses open before she can finish. Erza stands framed in the doorway, her new eye gleaming under the harsh facility lighting. Sweat-soaked and panting, she grips the doorframe for balance—clearly having sprinted here straight from training.
"Kiba... cheated," she gasps, glaring at the swordsman. Kiba blinks. "I—what?" "You threw sand!" Erza accuses, pointing dramatically. "And flashed at my eyes using that stupid little finger of yours" She comes to the Knight of Rias' peerage "We...duel again...now!"
Kiba holds up his hands in mock surrender, but the corners of his mouth twitch. "That's called dirty fighting, Erza. Not cheating. Big difference. Do you expect people to be polite and fair to you when your life is on the line?" His tone is light, but there's steel beneath it—the same edge he uses when correcting footwork.
Erza's nostrils flare, her chest still heaving. "I expect you to fight clean when training!" Arto steps in between the 2, "Okay, okay, you both have a point in this, I don't blame any of you for doing what you did, you did really well and I am really proud of both of you, but Kiba is right about not everyone is going to play fair, well, most people won't when their life is threatened, but Erza is right about pointing it out because she is in training phase, it's my mistake to not clarify the rules before training"
Kiba's smirk fades into something more thoughtful. He rubs his knuckles—still raw from their earlier bout—before nodding. "Fair enough. Next session, I'll announce the ruleset beforehand." His gaze flicks to Erza. "But don't expect mercy just because we're sparring."
Erza's restored eye narrows. "Fine, you're off the hook this time, Kiba. But Arto, what are we training for tomorrow?" Arto remains composed as he answered "Well, you won't be training tomorrow, you'll focus on muscle recovery and...learning"
Erza's fingers twitch at her sides, still vibrating with leftover adrenaline from the spar. "Learning?" The word comes out sharper than intended—"But I am progressing so well—"
"It's time we develop your Sacred Gear, and developing it would require more than just raw power" Arto points out, flipping the tablet screen toward Erza. The display cycles through schematics of armor and weapons—each design annotated with dense mathematical formulas. "Requip's true strength lies in adaptation, not replication. You'll need to understand battle history, metallurgy, and magical theory to craft armors that counter specific threats."
Erza's nose wrinkles as she squints at the equations. "This looks like Robin's handwriting." Robin chuckles, materializing beside Arto with a fresh stack of papers. "Because it is. You've mastered basic literacy—now we're upgrading to applied literacy."
She taps the top sheet, where a diagram of a greave twists into fractal patterns. "Chapter One: Intention where you will learn about magical indexes to make the spells you want, and it would require visualization on a higher caliber, visualization with precise indexes to know exactly what you want from your spells."
"I...don't get it" Erza shakes her head, Robin comes over, patting her shoulders "I didn't too at first, but Arto taught me, and now I will teach you" She says, handing Erza a pen "First, go relax your muscles, we start after lunch, okay?
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Erza learning math]
"Why do I have to know math and physics to learn magic, Robin?" Erza asks at her desk, gazing at the first chapter of Arto's book Spellcrafting Formulas, newly authorized for her to read.
The answer comes as Robin leans over her shoulder, tapping a finger against the page—the gesture almost affectionate if not for the surgical precision in her touch. "Because intention isn't just wanting something hard enough," she murmurs. "It's knowing exactly how to want it."
Robin flips to a diagram showing intersecting arcs of energy—simple Newtonian physics layered with runic modifiers. "When you summon armor, your Sacred Gear doesn't pull it from nowhere. It reconstructs based on templates in your subconscious. The clearer the template, the stronger the manifestation." She taps Erza's forehead lightly. "Right now, your templates are instinctive—raw potential with no refinement. We're giving them structure."
The lesson progresses in fits and starts. She raised one hand, palm up. A thin thread of silver-blue mana rose from her skin—stable, filtered, pure—coiling slowly into a simple, perfect circle that hovered above the table.
"When a spell is cast, stable mana—filtered, controlled mana—flows from the caster's body or from mana-storing items through the magic circle. It is bent, shaped, directed by the magic sigils. That shaping creates the effect. And that effect… is what we call....Magic."
Erza leans closer, her eyes narrowing as she tracks the mana's path. The circle pulses—once, twice—before dissolving into motes of light. Robin doesn't rush her. She lets the silence stretch, letting Erza's fingers hover over the fading glow as if she could catch the remnants between her fingertips.
"Now you," Robin says, nudging a blank sheet toward her. "Think of...a spell you want to make, then we will dissect it into something that is more precise than imagination, no need to think about the circle, just an effect."
Erza frowns, fingers tightening around the pen. "Something sharp," she mutters after a pause. "A blade that—" She stops, frustrated. The words feel clumsy in her mouth, inadequate for the crystalline idea in her mind.
Robin's fingertip taps the paper. "Specifics. Length? Weight? Edge geometry? Single or double-sided?" Each question carves away vagueness, forcing precision.
"Seventy centimeters," Erza blurts, surprising herself. "Curved, like Kiba's practice saber, but thicker—" She gestures vaguely at her forearm.
Robin's pen scratches across the page, sketching rapid measurements. "Full tang construction, then. And the edge? Come on, don't stop there, be more specific—"
"Serrated near the hilt," Erza interrupts, her voice gaining certainty as the image clarifies. "For catching blades. Smooth toward the tip—for clean cuts."
Robin's eyebrows lift fractionally—the first genuine surprise she's shown all afternoon. She flips to a fresh sheet, sketching faster now. "Now we're getting somewhere. Is your sword...like this?" Robin extends her hand and the sword appears out of thing air—exactly as Erza described—"Take it, feel its physical effect"
The moment Erza's fingers close around the hilt, the blade stays firmly in her hand like a real one—despite manifesting from thin air. Its weight pulls at her wrist exactly as she imagined. The serrated base scrapes against her thumb when she adjusts her grip, the smooth tip gleaming under the lamplight. It feels...correct. More than correct—inevitable, as if this sword had always existed somewhere, waiting for her to describe it into being.
Robin's eyes narrow in assessment. "You see, this is how far this book can take you, I just needed your imagination to create this sword out of thin air....but even so..." She snaps her fingers and the sword disappears "it's not as stable as physical sword, its physical effect you felt was nothing but imitations from the spell I made, and as long as the mana flow could sustain it, the sword stays, but one moment of losing focus, and it's gone"
Erza's fingers flex around empty air, still remembering the phantom weight. "But it felt real."
"Exactly, that's how far mana bending can make things feel real—but they aren't," Robin says, snapping her fingers again. This time, the sword reforms mid-air—only to dissolve halfway, its edges fraying into blue static before evaporating entirely. "Magic is an illusion given weight, Erza. The difference between a spell and steel is permanence." She taps the textbook open to a dense diagram of overlapping circles. "Your Requip bypasses this limitation—not just storing magical objects in dimensional pockets, it allows you to create physical magic weapons and armors out of your imagination, that's why Arto insisted you on learning Spellcrafting Formulas—so you can recreate anything you imagine with precision."
Erza's fingers twitch, itching for the phantom hilt again. "But how does math help me summon armor?"
Robin flips to a page filled with angular symbols. "Because numbers don't lie." She drags a finger down a column of equations. "Every curve, every seam—each has a mathematical equivalent. Master these, and you can craft armor that deflects bullets or breathes underwater without trial and error." Her gaze sharpens. "Or were you planning to test every variation by getting stabbed?"
The bluntness makes Erza's eyes blink. She looks down at her hands—still calloused from gripping swords that weren't hers, still bearing thin scars from armor that failed her. "...No."
"Obviously, but that's what magic casters have been doing for centuries, that's why creating a new spell is so hard and time-consuming, they spent their time testing their own imagination to find the right amount of mana to bend, and find the right shape of mana to bend to produce the desired effect." Robin tosses the pen onto the desk with a clatter. "Until....Arto came into the scene...."
She closes the book for Erza to see its author—Abyssgard stamped in silver foil beneath the Gremory crest. "He systematized spellcraft. Turned guesswork into geometry. United every magical framework into one single system that runs on one sigil alphabet and formulas instead of superstitions."
Robin's fingers trace the embossed title with something approaching reverence. "This book? It's an example of how magic and science can coexist, do you now understand why everyone in this house holds Arto in such high regard? Why do we all learn from him and call him our teacher?"
Erza's fingers hover over the book's spine. The leather is cool under her touch, embossed with faint geometric patterns that buzz against her fingertips—some latent magic humming beneath the surface. Her eyes throbs faintly as it picks up the minute fluctuations, the way the equations seem to shift when she blinks. "So… I'm not just learning math. I'm learning his math."
Robin's lips quirk. "Precisely." She flips the book open to a dog-eared page filled with intersecting arcs. "And once you understand these principles, you won't just summon armor—you'll design it. Every joint, every seam tailored to your exact needs."
Her fingertip taps a diagram of a gauntlet, its plates annotated with fractions. "Imagine plating that hardens against specific attack vectors. Or greaves that redistribute kinetic energy."
"And Arto...was the author...of all this?" Erza's voice is hushed, her fingers tracing the embossed name on the textbook's spine as if it might burn her.
Robin exhales through her nose—a sound caught between amusement and exasperation. She leans back in her chair, the wood creaking under her weight. "Not quite, this book, its foundation was of the people of Arto's Legion, Abyssgard, hundreds of thousands, working through tens of thousands years to created the rough version of this book, Arto viewed himself was merely a carrier of their legacy, never claimed all the glory on his name, you can see even in the author name, his name was in the background, only felt when touched, but the name Abyssgard was highlighted, his Legion was highlighted, do you understand what that means?"
Erza traces the letters–Abyssgard in bold relief, Arto almost blending into the leather. Her fingers still. "He...gave credit to his people."
"To their sacrifice," Robin corrects softly. "Every equation here was paid for in blood. Arto just...systematized the receipts, carried them with him, then later translated it to fit this world, and teach it to us, not to assert his legion's legacy as something absolute, but to spread the knowledge for us to know, to use, to question, and to improve"
Robin traces the lower part of the book's cover, revealing more names of 'co-author' Nico Robin, Nami Nerona, Rias Gremory, Akeno Himejima, Albedo Atreides, Kiba Yuuto, Grayfia Lucifuge, Sona Sitri, Tsubaki Shinra—each embossed with varying prominence. "We all contributed," she murmurs.
"Refined formulas, tested applications, creating more advanced formulas in his system, creating techniques we teach to others. That's what makes this house different—knowledge isn't hoarded at one point, it belongs to everyone."
Erza's fingers press harder against the names, feeling the subtle heat signatures left by their owners. Her eyes pick up the microscopic indentations where Grayfia's nail once scratched the leather in frustration, and sees the faint coffee ring from Nami's mug that somehow enhances the equations beneath it. The book feels alive with their histories.
"Now, enough sentimental, let us go back to learning magical indexes...." Erza looks at Robin, intending to ask to ease the curiosity inside her about the man she had only seen training her in combat—always in control, always precise, never cruel but never gentle either—but stopped...and started learning.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Robin creating a sword out of thing air for Erza]
By midnight, Erza's eyes throbbed with fatigue, the intake of that much knowledge is such a short time, even if it's hours due to the time-dilation device Robin used, it's still a lot, "I know it's a lot, but Intention takes about 10% of this book, mastering it means learning the rest won't be as hard anymore"
Erza exhaled sharply through her nose, fingertips pressing into her temples. The equations swam before her eyes—the precision that once thrilled her now a tangled mess of variables and runic modifiers. "It's like...trying to drink from a firehose," she muttered, the analogy awkward on her tongue but painfully accurate.
Robin chuckled, stretching her arms overhead until her joints popped. "Welcome to real education," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Not the Tower's brand of memorization-by-beating. This?" She tapped the textbook's spine. "This is the part where your brain fights back."
A knock at the doorframe interrupted them. Grayfia stood there, silver hair catching the dim light, a tray balanced in her hands. "You missed dinner," she said, gliding forward with that eerie, effortless grace. The tray held two bowls of steaming ramen—thick noodles swimming in broth, topped with slices of perfectly seared pork. "Eat. Then sleep. Your brain won't retain anything if it's starving."
Erza's stomach growled audibly. She stared at the bowl like it might bite her and without a word, she takes the bowl and immediately digs in when Robin and Grayfia are still watching. Robin giggles as she reaches over to stop Erza "Don't rush, dear, it won't fade away, I'm so sorry for forcing to study this much—"
"Delicious," Erza interrupted, her mouth full, cheeks bulging. Broth dribbled down her chin as she slurped another noodle with reckless abandon. Grayfia's eyebrow twitched—barely perceptible—but she produced a napkin from thin air and wiped Erza's messy mouth "Chew next time, okay? Do you want another bowl?"
Erza swallowed thickly, wiping her sleeve across her lips before freezing under Grayfia's glacial stare. "...Yes." The word came out hoarse, too loud in the quiet room. Robin muffled a laugh behind her hand, but Grayfia merely turned toward the door—though Erza's hypersensitive eye caught the faintest upward twitch of her lips.
"So, are you coming with us on our vacation trip?" Robin asks while eating her own bowl of ramen, Erza turns to her, then to the desk, to the book, to the luxury her friends couldn't have "I...don't know....if I can go around enjoying things while my friends...." Robin looks at the girl before her, a sigh, and a hand on her head "I see, you're thinking about your former comrades, don't worry, I am already looking into their whereabouts, the bounty we set for them has been received by a guild of Magic Institute, Fairy Tail....."
"May I join them?" Erza asks abruptly, her fingers clenching around the chopsticks. The wood creaks ominously. "The guild? You can if they accept, I'll let them know about your request, but they won't be heading out until the next fortnight, so in the meantime, you have to train yourself, both with knowledge and power—"
Her chair screeches backward as she stands too fast. "I'll train twice as hard. Whatever it takes."
Grayfia's hand lands on her shoulder—cold, unyielding. "You'll train smarter," she corrects, steering Erza back into the chair with effortless strength. "Or you'll be useless to them with broken bones and fried nerves." Her fingers linger, pressing just enough to emphasize the point. "Understood?"
Erza's jaw works silently before giving a stiff nod. Robin exhales through her nose, closing the textbook. "Good. Now, finish your bowl, maybe get another one, and sleep well, you've done more than enough today, my smart Erza, I'll inform Guild Master Makarov about your request of joining the expedition on the search for Tower of Heaven"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Erza sleeping]
[Simulation Room - Sector 3]
Erza steps into the sector like usual, but she doesn't see Arto anywhere, so she starts looking around to search for her trainer "Who are you looking for, Miss Erza?" Celine's voice rings next to her ear and makes her jolt up in panic, she has never been able to get used to this AI assistant Celine keeps popping out of nowhere "A-Arto, where is he?"
Celine projects a holographic arrow pointing toward a corridor. "Master is currently training in Sector 1: Adaptive Training Ground, do you wish to observe?"
Erza follows the pulsing light through sterile white halls, her eyes catching glimpses of machinery humming behind glass panels—some familiar from Robin's lessons, others utterly alien. The air thickens as she approaches Sector 1's vaulted doors, which slide open to reveal a cavernous space where gravity seems optional.
Getting inside, she sees the sector is an empty high-tech gazing booth looking out a window of pure darkness, coming into the place that is called Sector 1, She looks around, trying to look for Arto but he doesn't seem to be here, so she calls "Celine"
The AI's voice answers "Yes, Miss Erza?" the female voice asks, Erza turns to where it came from "Where is Arto, I thought you said he is here" Celine doesn't waver because her data is always right "You need to get closer to the control panel near the window and sit down, I'll show you where Master is"
Erza scowls but obeys, her boots clicking against the polished floor as she approaches the curved console. The moment she sits down, the buttons start pressing themselves in the most creepy way possible under Celine's control and before her appears a screen broadcasting a scene she has never seen before, a blue fire shining brightly in the darkness, it's flares washing away waves and waves of dark tides approaching it.
"That's Master." Celine says as the camera zooms in closer and closer to the blue fire—and Erza realizes it's not fire at all, but Arto, standing at the center of an endless void, his entire body wreathed in crackling cerulean energy.
One hand carrying his sword, the other has a spell circle shifting every moment as he fights the darkness while casting spells into a rain of power. The screen flickers—static distorting the image: the way Arto's stance shifts infinitesimally between spells, how his free hand redraws sigils mid-combat without hesitation, the precise angle at which he deflects dark tendrils that lash toward him.
It's only now she is able to witness the true power of the man she has been training under for the past weeks, a warrior who can fight with both weapons and magic simultaneously—something she has never seen before.
Erza leans forward, her fingers pressing against the console's cold surface as she watches Arto weave through the darkness with terrifying efficiency. Each movement is calculated, each spell cast with surgical precision, his sword carving arcs of blue fire through the encroaching shadows while the sky is raining down meteorite showers of spells, buffing him, debuffing them, kill them, freeze them, burn them, bind them—all happening at once—an impossible symphony of destruction and defense.
"How did he do this?" Erza's whisper barely carried over the console's hum. "Years, years of constant war and battles honed him into something that other would call a 'living weapon'" Akeno steps into the sector with unsurprised expression, she has seen this too much to be amazed anymore "This is a battle he used to fight in his sleep, it's called...Dark Arena"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Erza noting down Arto's fighting technique]
Erza leans back against her seat after hearing Akeno's story about this place, about how its origin as Arto's murderous consciousness desperate to survive to the point creating an adaptive mechanic to train its owner to win and survive—a training tool that pushes its users to their limit and beyond—"So this place....is the reflection of his own....painful dream, where he is never allowed to rest unless he wins?"
"Indeed, and that dream lasted 3000 thousands years, torturing him while sharpening his mind into a weapon with the ability to think and adapt at insane rate" Akeno's voice dripped with uncharacteristic solemnity as she tapped the console, freezing the projection. The image crystallized into a perfect tableau—Arto mid-leap, sword trailing blue fire, his free hand contorted into a sigil that twisted space itself.
"What you're seeing is what he used to endure alone in the darkness of his own head....but now, he reflected it into a training ground for us, its adaptive nature was a tool too good to get rid of, we've been training in this place more almost a year now, it forces us to evolve beyond our limits—just like he had to."
Erza's fingers twitched toward the frozen image, her eyes tracing the fractal patterns of energy spiraling from Arto's fingertips. "So when we train here...we're fighting his nightmares?" The question tasted odd—too intimate, too raw—but the words tumbled out before she could stop them.
Akeno's lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. "No, we fight his ability to learn and counter in the form of monsters, they are not mindless" She points down the seemingly chaotic waves of monsters surging at Arto, "See how they move? Flanking him, adapting to his tactics, learning from their own failure to make better tactics—Robin called it a 'self arm race', when he has to be smarter...than himself, imagine you having to do it for 3000 years, you'll know his power was never a bornright, but a curse"
The console beeped—Celine overlaying tactical data across the frozen projection—highlighting Arto's micro-adjustments between attacks. Erza's eye throbbed as it parsed the information: trajectory recalculations mid-swing, mana redistributions to reinforce weak points, even predictive spell adjustments based on the darkness's shifting patterns.
"And we...train against this?" Her voice cracked. "Not at his level, obviously," Akeno chuckled, reactivating the feed. The frozen image dissolved back into motion—Arto pivoting into a spinning slash that cleaved through three converging tendrils while his offhand conjured a barrier against a hail of black spikes. "We usually train in a combined squad, Rias and Sona leading 2 peerages together, lost some, won some, survived some, but there are always lessons to learn, that's the value of this training ground—"
A deafening crash cut her off as the projection flickered violently. Onscreen, Arto's form blurred suddenly—his movements accelerating beyond human limits as the void around him writhed, tendrils fracturing into thousands of needle-thin projectiles. Erza's restored eye burned as it struggled to track the shifts—his sword now leaving afterimages, his spells layering atop one another in impossible combinations.
"Incredible....what is this called? His fighting style?" Akeno's lips curved into a smirk as she tapped the console, freezing the feed on Arto mid-motion—his blade bisecting a serpentine tendril while his free hand twisted into a sigil that shattered three more. "Battle Mage, or Warrior Mage, that's how Arto called himself, a demanding one as it could fry your mind in endless calculation, but an almost perfect one"
Erza's eyes stick to the console, watching Arto extend his sword into a sword spear, when the darkness gathers into something that is screaming power, the darkness condenses into a humanoid figure—tall, faceless, wielding a blade of pure void that matches Arto's stance perfectly.
"That's what we called the synthesis creature, the final boss of a battling session in Sector 1, the pinnacle of what the Arena has learnt rolled into one form" Akeno explains as Erza watches Arto engage the darkness-made warrior—their blades colliding in sparks of blue and black, each strike perfectly countered, each feint anticipated. The figure moves with eerie familiarity, mirroring Arto's footwork, his grip adjustments, even the minute shifts in his breathing.
Erza's restored eye twitches as she realizes—It's him. The Arena synthesized him. The thought lodges in her throat like a blade. "Because inside the arena that was built to kill a man again and again, he is the strongest weapon it has ever faced,"
Akeno murmured, her fingers tightening on the console's edge as the projection shuddered—Arto's blade locking against the shadow's with a force that sent visible shockwaves through the void. "Every time he wins, the Arena learns. Every loss makes it sharper, until it reaches the one final conclusion that is the most perfect weapon it could ever make....is him."
Witnessing the fight, Erza finally understood why they all call him their teacher, even Robin, there are always things that can be learnt from him, from the way he fights to the way he casts his spells, now she finally understood Robin's word 'Arto might not be the author, but he is the greatest user of Spellcrafting technique', it all rests in how he applies his knowledge into reality instead of learning for the sake of it—it's about the application, the practicality, the execution.
The battle has ended when the train of thoughts is still running inside Erza's mind, Arto has won again against himself—his sword spear plunging into the shadow's chest with a finality that sent fissures of blue light spiderwebbing through its form. And from the sky, a blue fire sword plunges into the ground of the arena, flaring brightly as all the injuries have been cured and Arto just deliberately step into the fire of the sword and appear in the platform of the watching booth—his breathing controlled, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin.
"Good morning, Erza, Akeno, you came to find me?" The scent of blood clung to Arto as he stepped fully from the dissipating blue flames, his armor suffers from some dents, cuts and marks, but nothing too severe as he pulls the hood off, revealing the usual Arto the inner circle knows, wasn't the pristine face of the noble or how people see him, but the real Arto beneath, his face destroyed by scars jagging across his entire face.
Raven-black hair, short and sweat-matted, Gray-pale skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones, almost corpse-like in tone. Sunken eyes ringed with deep, bruised shadows. jagged claw marks across the cheeks and brow, burn-like welts along the jaw, deep gouges that had healed poorly and pulled the features into something harsh and monstrous. His lips were thin and pale, with a vertical scar running through the upper one, leaving a small cleft—like some cruel parody of a beauty mark.
The nose had clearly been broken multiple times and healed crooked. Beneath the scars, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the blood—Erza saw it. The same sharp intelligence Robin had described, the same relentless focus she'd witnessed in his training sessions. But there was something else now, something raw and unguarded in the way his fingers trembled slightly as he unbuckled his vambraces.
Akeno was already moving, her fingers weaving a purification spell that washed the worst of the battlefield grime from his skin. "You haven't fought here for a while, Arto, at least bring us along, it's dangerous going in there alone, you know that," she chided softly, hands lingering near the fresh cuts that still seeped crimson.
Arto leans into Akeno's touch and care with a smile "I have to keep myself sharp once in a while, Rias has been too smug with calling me Chubby Wolf lately," he says with a chuckle while stretching his neck, the vertebrae popping audibly. Erza stares at his scars—the way they distort his expressions—and realizes why he always wears that hood during training. Not for mystery, but for mercy.
"Arto..." Erza finally speaks, her voice low and hesitant, but Arto is not rushing her, "How can I be a warrior like you?" Arto tilts his head, his dark blue eyes looking at her intensely, searching for something "Why? Aren't you afraid of what it could make you into? Am I not an example clear enough for you to know the cost?"
Erza's fingers curled into fists. The scent of ozone and iron still clung to the air, mingling with the faint hum of the Simulation Room's machinery. She met his gaze—scarred face and all—without flinching. "Because my enemies won't care about the cost. And neither will I, if it means protecting them."
"Your friends? Are you willing to pay that price to protect them, knowing fully what it would do to you?" He asks as he takes his slow steps towards Erza and before her, he kneels down, directing her eyes with his "Are you willing to face the abyss to protect your friends?" Blue fire burns brightly inside his pupils, his gaze pierces into her very soul.
Erza doesn't flinch as she looks back into his eyes "Yes, I would pay that price to protect my friends" The red fire burns as well in her eyes as they both stay silent for one long moment, no blinking, not turning, like 2 statues staring at each other—
Even Akeno, who has ventured into Arto's darkest nightmares, couldn't understand what the 2 are doing, standing still, staring at each other—until Erza's eye starts bleeding, her restored eye weeping crimson down her cheek—yet she refuses to blink.
Arto was the one who blinks first as he breaks the connection "I see, you have a terrible childhood, Erza" he comments, standing up like nothing happened, but Erza, he vomited on the spot—stomach emptying onto the pristine floor—her entire body shaking from the aftershocks of whatever just passed between them.
Akeno caught her before she could collapse, fingers pressing against the pulse point on Erza's neck. "What did you do?" she hissed at Arto, but he was already moving, pulling a vial of iridescent liquid from his belt.
"She saw it....my story, as I saw hers," Arto murmured, uncorking the vial with his teeth. He tipped Erza's head back, pouring the shimmering liquid between her lips. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed instinctively—the potion's glow tracing her veins like liquid starlight. "A story weighs too much on her, it made her body convulse, puking was the lightest reaction, she survived, that's a good sign."
Akeno's fingers tightened around Erza's shoulders as the girl gasped—her eyes clearing instantly, the bleeding stopping mid-drip. "Arto, your life....how could you live like that? How could you live with yourself like that?" Erza mutters, absolutely terrified with what she saw inside his memories—blood, fire, and darkness
Arto knelt beside her, his scarred lips quaking into something too bitter to be called a smile. "Because I had no choice, my life was like that, a living weapon serving a goal that was never mine to begin with." He pressed a cold palm against Erza's forehead—the contact sending a pulse of stabilizing energy through her trembling limbs. "That's the price I had to pay for power, Erza, I was this powerful that was never any gift, it was a curse marked on me by countless agonies."
The potion's glow spreads through Erza's veins, knitting together the psychic fractures from their soul-deep exchange. She inhaled sharply as her eyes refocused—the last dregs of Arto's memories dissolving like smoke. His fingers lingered near her temple, tracing the edge of her scar. "Becoming a warrior like me is something I never wanted to happen to anyone, it was never any glory in being a weapon, Erza."
Erza's nails dug into her palms. "But I need to be stronger, I need to protect them, I need to save them, break their chains, free them, my friends, Arto, they are suffering out there—" Her voice hitched, raw with desperation.
"That's my soldier," Arto murmured, his thumb brushing away the blood trailing from Erza's nose. The gesture was almost paternal—if fathers were forged in warzones. "I've been looking for something that could remind me of my own kin, and it seems....you're one, Erza, a person who could become an Abyssgard warrior."
"Will it make me stronger?" Erza asks, but Arto shakes her head "It won't physically, but it will arm you with a will that will never be broken, a spirit that will never be defeated, and a valiant heart, do you want it?" Erza's answer is immediate "No Abyss harms what AbyssGard" Erza says in that sentence, the motto of Abyssgard Legion.
Arto laughs "That's the spirit, Erza, but that sentence alone won't make you an Abyssgard, you need to prove it that you're strong enough, even against your greatest fear, that's the maturing ritual of an Abyssgard soldier,"
With a snap of his fingers, Erza and Arto are now in Sector 3, where something like a ritual site has been prepared—there's a circle with runes around it and a small dagger placed at the center of the circle—simple yet ominous. The air hums with suppressed energy, thick enough to taste like copper on the tongue.
Arto steps into the circle first, barefoot, his scarred soles pressing against the glowing sigils. "This is the Abyssgard Trial," he says, voice low but resonant in the chamber. "You will face your greatest fear, amplify by hundreds of times, if you could defeat it, you'll automatically be accepted as an Abyssgard soldier and I, the last supreme commander of the legion, will grant you your a name, a title, Abyssgard's war name" He picks up the dagger—its blade blackened as if scorched—and extends it toward Erza hilt-first. "This isn't a weapon. It's a key. It will unlock the trial."
Erza's fingers close around the hilt. The metal sears her skin—not with heat, but with a creeping dread that slithers up her arm like a living thing. The chamber dims as the runes flare crimson, casting jagged shadows across Arto's ruined face. "What happens if I fail?" she asks, her voice steadier than she feels.
"If you failed, you can try again if you want, as many times as you want, it was never about passing or failing, it was about facing the fear inside and keeping your goal intact" Arto says as he steps back, leaving Erza alone in the circle. The dagger trembles in her grip—its weight shifting unnaturally, as if filled with liquid darkness.
"Now, are you ready?" Arto's voice reverberated through the chamber, warping at the edges as the runes pulsed in sync with Erza's accelerating heartbeat. She exhaled sharply, rolling the dagger's hilt between her palms—its surface now prickling with static against her skin.
"Always." Erza drove the blade into the circle's center point. "Then remember what you're protecting, Erza!" Arto's shout was snuffed out by darkness as it swallows him, leaving Erza utterly alone.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Robin hugging Erza]
Robin is heading down the Simulation Room with Rias, Akeno and Grayfia to check on Erza after Akeno informs them about what Erza was taking part in—the Abyssgard Trial—something they have never witnessed before.
But when they are at the entrance of Sector 3, the door is locked tightly by Arto's Master authority, refusing anyone entrance—including Rias—who frowns at the glowing red rune hovering above the scanner. "Arto locked us out?" Her fingers hover near the panel, hesitating.
Akeno shakes her head, pressing a hand against the chilled metal. "He is serious about testing Erza's resolve, he pushed past all the general training for Abyssgard's new soldiers, like he is desperately looking for a kin in Erza," she murmurs.
"What do we do now?" Rias asks, fingers twitching toward the scanner again—but Grayfia catches her wrist with gloved precision. "We'll have to wait, there is nothing else we can do, Erza will definitely be safe because the trial would never try to kill its test subject, but we can't be so sure about her mental state"
Akeno raises her concern, Grayfia nods as she pulls Rias back from the door, her expression unreadable. "Let's head into Sector 2 to wait, we can only hope that Erza could win, or could recover from seeing...."
Robin's fingers twitch—her usual composure fractured by the uncharacteristic tension in her jaw. "What exactly is she seeing in there?" The question slips out sharper than intended, her voice carving through the Simulation Room's sterile hum.
Akeno exhales, her fingers tracing the edge of the locked door's frame. "Her greatest fear, amplified. And knowing Erza..." She doesn't finish the thought. Rias's nails dig into her palms. "We should be in there with her."
"We can't, Arto would never allow that, to Abyssgard Legion, that ritual is sacred" Akeno answers, "It is a ritual that tests a person's rightfulness to be an Abyssgard, if we interfere, it would be insulting."
Robin's fingers tighten her other hand, worried, scared. "But Erza...she shouldn't be alone with whatever horrors that trial conjures." Her eyes stick to the door of Sector 3, waiting desperately for the door to open. "It seems Arto saw something in her eyes that made him allow this" Akeno cups her chin.
"What do you mean?" Rias echoed, fingers curling around Akeno's sleeve. The air in Sector 2's observation lounge hummed with tension, sterile and suffocating. Robin's summoned eyes blinked into existence along the ceiling—dozens of irises darting toward Sector 3's sealed door as if sheer will could penetrate the reinforced alloy.
Akeno's lips parted, "Erza saw Arto fighting in Sector 1, and when their gazes locked—It seems he saw something in Erza, something that made him believe that she can withstand the trial, and defeat it," she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of the scanner's denial rune. "Or perhaps...he sees himself in her."
Grayfia's gloved hands tightened around the tray she carried—steaming cups of tea trembling slightly. "Then we wait," she said, her voice steel-wrapped velvet. "And trust."
The minutes stretched like tar. Robin's summoned eyes flickered restlessly along the walls, parsing heat signatures, energy fluctuations—anything to pierce the veil of Sector 3. Rias paced, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Akeno's fingers twitched toward her prayer beads, but she resisted the habitual motion.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Robin pacing back and forth impatiently]
Hours go by, the door is still closing, Robin is getting more and more restless like a mother waiting for her child in the operation room, her fingers twitching every second, her eyes darting around, she couldn't summon her eyes inside Sector 3, but she could feel the energy fluctuation inside—wild, erratic, like a storm trapped in a bottle.
Then—silence. The humming energy cuts off abruptly, leaving behind an unnatural stillness. Robin's breath hitches. The scanner's red rune flickers once, twice—then shatters into motes of light. The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing Sector 3's dim interior.
Akeno is the first to move, darting forward—only to freeze mid-step. The others crowd behind her, their breaths catching in unison.
Erza is at the center of the ritual circle, swaying slightly on her feet until finally slumps down into kneeling state, her eyes is looking up at Arto who happily announces "You've done well, Erza Scarlet, facing your worst fear, defeating it, and keeping your goal intact, you've passed. And I, Arto Abyssgard, supreme commander of Abyssgard Legion, will now grant you your status and name. Stand, my warrior, you're no longer Erza Scarlet, you are now Erza Abyssgard Scarlet, Warrioress of Abyssgard Legion."
Arto extends his hand toward Erza, who takes it shakily—her fingers trembling against his scarred palm. As he pulls her upright, her pupils dilated, inside, 2 bright blue fire are burning in her eyes—identical to Arto's.
The moment Erza stands, the ritual circle flares one final time—a pulse of cobalt light radiating outward—before dissolving into motes of fading energy. Robin is already moving, her arms wrapping around Erza's shoulders before the girl's knees can buckle again. "You idiot," Robin murmurs into Erza's sweat-damp hair, her voice cracking. "You absolute reckless idiot."
Erza sags into the embrace, her breath ragged against Robin's collarbone. "I saw…everything," she whispers, voice raw as if scraped from her throat. "The Tower…Jellal…all of it, but worse. Hundreds of times worse." Her fingers clutch at Robin's sleeves, knuckles white. "But I had to fight for them, because no one else would." The blue fire in her pupils flickers, dimming to embers—still there, but banked beneath exhaustion.
Arto watches from the edge of the circle, his arms crossed, scars pulled taut by something too complex to be proud. "Took her 3 failed attempts to surpass it, not precedented, but impressive nonetheless when she asked me to initiate the trial again because 'someone has to save them'" he said with a proud voice "It's truly a wonder to meet someone from another world that carries the same will of Abyssgard Legion"
The chamber hummed with residual energy, the scent of ozone and burnt metal clinging to the air. Robin's grip on Erza tightened "Arto...answer me, you moron, will there me any mental problem or trauma happen to Erza because of this trial?" Her voice was sharp as a blade.
Arto shrugs "No, the flame will cure it all as it will protect the owner's will and spirit from breaking—I am an example how this wretched flame preserves one's sanity despite enduring....unspeakable horrors" His voice drops to a whisper on the last words, "You'll be fine, Erza, your will is now reinforced to another level, nothing could break you easily, not anymore."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Erza looking at herself in the mirror]
[Arto's mansion - Living Room]
"Woah, so cool~!" Nami squeals as she looks into Erza's eyes "Those blue flames are amazing~!" She pinches her cheek lightly "Does this mean you're now part of the Boss's legion?"
Erza blinks—the movement slower than normal, as if adjusting to the strange new fire behind her vision. "Yes..." She flexes her fingers, watching the faint blue embers dance along her knuckles. "But I don't feel different. Just...clearer."
Robin is still hugging Erza like a mother bear "Clearer how?" Erza tilted her head, the blue fire in her pupils flickering like candlelight caught in a draft. "Like... my vision has improved a lot, the world appears to be more colorful now, and I can see through Kuroka's illusion spell." She pointed at the catgirl who froze mid-bite into a tuna sandwich—her camouflage flickering visibly around her shoulders like static. "Whoa, rude." Kuroka pouted, her tail puffing up.
Arto chuckled, leaning against the marble fireplace. "That's just the beginning. The flame enhances perception—lets you see through deception, illusions, even veils of magic." He tapped his own scarred temple. "Useful when you're knee-deep in enemy territory and everyone's lying to your face."
Nami's eyes gleamed with sudden financial possibilities. "Wait, does that mean she can spot counterfeit bills just by looking at them?" She snatched a crisp yen note from her pocket, waving it under Erza's nose. "Tell me if this is fake!"
The blue fire in Erza's pupils pulsed—then dimmed. "It doesn't work like that," Arto sighed, plucking the bill from Nami's fingers. "The flame reveals intent, not ink composition. Though..." He flicked the note between his fingers, and it burst into harmless blue embers. "This one was counterfeit."
Nami gaped as the ashes drifted onto the Persian rug. "You burned my emergency getaway cash!" Grayfia materialized behind them with a silver dustpan, her maid uniform immaculate. "Lady Nami, we discussed this. No more laundering operations using Master Arto's forgeries."
Before Nami could retort, Albedo has returned from Atreides domain and immediately clings to Arto's arm "Master, I've finalized the paperwork—" She froze mid-sentence, her golden eyes locking onto Erza's new gaze. The succubus inhaled sharply, her wings twitching involuntarily then looked back at Arto expectingly "Master, when do I get those eyes?"
Arto blinked—once—before barking out a laugh. "Albedo, you don't just get them. They come with the Trial." He gestured vaguely at Erza, who was now experimentally tracing the path of a stray ember hovering near her fingertip.
Albedo's grip tightened on his sleeve. "Then I volunteer." The words came out too fast, her usual purr replaced by something brittle. "Right now. Today." Akeno choked on her tea. Grayfia's broom handle snapped clean in half.
Robin—still wrapped around Erza like protective ivy—turned sharply. "You have no idea what you're asking for," she hissed, her voice uncharacteristically venomous. But Albedo doesn't care "I know his will, Robin, protecting what you hold dear with everything you have, even if having to have the Abyss, I know that too well, I already have what I would die to protect"
The room fell silent. Even Nami's usual chatter died mid-breath. Arto studied Albedo, his scarred fingers tapping an irregular rhythm against the fireplace mantle. "You're serious," he stated—not a question. The succubus didn't blink, her golden gaze burning with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism. "Master, I have been yours since the auction block. This is just... formalizing it."
Rias inhaled sharply, her nails digging into the armrest of her chair. "Arto, you can't possibly—" "Yeah, I won't let Albedo do it yet, because witnessing a person I care about writhing in pain, fear and agony is....a lot, I can't take it often, it would make me go protectively dictator"
Albedo's wings drooped visibly, the tips brushing the Persian rug. "Master," she murmured, fingers curling into his sleeve like a child clinging to a promise. Arto hugs her into his arms "Albedo, you know I love you too much to see you in pain, but you're already strong enough, you don't need the flame to be of value to me, I only did it to Erza to prepare for her coming trip to find her friends, Guildmaster of Fairy Tail has agreed to let her join their expedition searching for Tower of Heaven, I need her to be able to protect herself from illusions and lies and whatever that tower builders could come up with"
Akeno cleared her throat, her teacup clinking against its saucer. "Speaking of which—when exactly is this expedition?" Her fingers tightened around the porcelain, knuckles whitening. Robin straightened "2 weeks from now," she said, voice steadier than it had any right to be.
Next is Nami "And from the data we have gathered about the sea current at the time, the position where Erza was found, we can finally circle the general location of the island where Tower of Heaven is being built, it might be to the west of Portugal, the northern region of Atlantic Ocean"
The teacup in Robin's hand cracked—a hairline fracture spreading like ice across porcelain. She didn't seem to notice, her fingers tightening around the broken handle as she leaned forward. "How certain?"
Nami flipped open a holographic chart above the coffee table, nautical lines glowing blue against the mahogany. "87% confidence interval if the data provided are correct, it's likely it's an island carefully hidden, maybe it's using a spell to make it over above the sea level, if not, Robin would have been able to detect it using her network of eyes"
Nami continues by turning the map "It's likely near the island of Funchal—right along the ancient trade routes where slave ships used to pass," she murmurs, tapping a spot where three currents converged. The holographic lines pulsed red—like veins under skin. "But we'd need to be there to confirm, or even calculate the location of that place, it means...."
Arto sighs "Welp, it means our vacation trip to visit merfolk civilization in another world will be cancelled for this expedition with Fairy Tail" His announcement sure made some of his family feel uneasy because they have been planning for that trip since the moment they found that world via Sector 80's Inter-dimensional Portal.
Robin's fingers twitched—her usual composure fractured by the uncharacteristic tension in her jaw. "And who exactly is going on this expedition?" The question slips out sharper than intended, her voice carving through the living room's warmth.
Everyone look at each other and one by one....raises their hand, Rias, Akeno, Kiba, Koneko, Kuroka, Grayfia, Albedo, Nami, Robin, even Erza herself is looking confused at this development "Wait—all of you?" Erza's voice cracks slightly, her newly enhanced eyes darting between them. The blue flames flicker uncertainly.
Arto grins "Of course we are all going, because firstly you're a part of this family now, meaning we are not letting you go on your own, second, we have some deals to settle with Atlantis, right, Rias?"
Rias nods, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. "Yeah, we intended to extend a deal with Atlantis to protect their people from being hunted and sold in Auction Houses, extending the service of magic-tech in exchange for their guidance on sea shiftment, places to hide secret data and if we're lucky, their voluntary scales to make armors. Nami helped us draft the deals."
Nami beams, flipping open a ledger with her free hand. "If this deal is a success, we can expand AFM's cover range into shipping companies, offering financial managing service along with comfortable shipping routes in exchange for them having to use our magic-tech engine designed by Gremory Industries which produces no sounds, eco-friendly and never having to refill"
Robin exhaled sharply through her nose—half exasperation, half reluctant admiration. "So this is both a rescue mission and a corporate expansion." Her fingers drummed against Erza's shoulder, nails tapping an uneven rhythm.
"Obviously," Nami chirped, snapping the ledger shut with a flourish. "Multitasking is efficient. While we are on the way, Rias, Albedo, Akeno and Grayfia will separate from the group to head to the Atlantic while I will be tracking the island while assisting them in bargaining with whoever are in charge down there, cool?"
The holographic map flickered as Erza leaned forward, her blue-flame gaze piercing through the projection. "You're all coming...for me?" The words came out raw, like she'd bitten into something too hot.
"Of course, when you're a part of this family, you're stuck with us, and so do your problems" Kiba answers, flipping his dagger with a smirk—the blade catching the firelight in a streak of silver. "Besides, I owe you for that sparring match where you broke three of my swords."
Koneko—perched on the armrest with a cream puff halfway to her mouth—nodded once. "Too reckless to go alone." Kuroka stretched lazily beside her, tail flicking. "And where the little kitten goes, this nee-san follows~"
The room's warmth seemed to crystallize around Erza, pressing against her ribs. She opened her mouth—closed it—then exhaled sharply through her nose, the blue embers in her pupils flaring briefly. "This is...excessive."
Robin's fingers tightened on her shoulder. "Welcome to the Abyssgard household," she murmured dryly. "Where personal space is a myth and rescues come with corporate mergers."
"Then I'll prepare the supplies for our trip, I assume Nami will take care of the ship" Grayfia announces. Nami's grin turns predatory. "Already handled. Secured an ex-military ship, Gremory R&D will take the task of retrofitting into something that could be set as an example for shipping companies about our silent, smooth, intelligent and powerful ship upgrades"
Arto exhales through his nose—half exasperated, half impressed—as he watches Nami's fingers dance across her tablet, projected financial models spiraling into the air. "You bought a warship."
"Salvaged," Nami corrects primarily. "From a certain naval graveyard near Sicily. And technically? It's a 'marine research vessel' now." Her smirk widens as the hologram reshapes into sleek contours. "New engines, new weapons, new defense against magic, intelligent control panel, light, suites, freezers, pools—"
"Okay, no pool, we are on a rescuing operation, not vacation" Arto states "You can add it after we're done to make it our official yacht, but for now, prepare places for the captives to stay, expand the freezer, or prepare more spatial inventory cubes to store more food and drinks"
Nami pouts but nods, fingers flying across her tablet with renewed intensity. The holographic projection shifts—blueprints expanding to show reinforced bulkheads and hidden compartments. "Fine, fine. But I am adding heated flooring. And maybe a sauna. For...medical purposes."
But it doesn't seem to satisfy Arto's military mind "Let it be medical chamber for the injured, Robin will operate there as our doctor both physically and mentally"
Robin's fingers twitched—not from tension this time, but from the phantom memory of surgical steel. "I'll need at least three spatial cubes for medical supplies," she murmured, already mentally cataloging trauma kits and neurostabilizers. "And reinforced restraints. The Tower's survivors won't be...cooperative." Her gaze flicked to Erza, whose blue-flame eyes darkened at the implication.
Grayfia snapped her fingers, summoning a holographic checklist that materialized before her as she took notes down what to buy and how much "Will we have kitchen, Master? Or we cook meals by portions and store them using preservation spells?"
Arto tapped his chin—once—before nodding. "Portion cooking. Faster deployment if we need to mobilize quickly, and in case we have many captives delivered home, we need something for them to eat." Grayfia nods as she notes down what Arto said to prepare for their trip.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Nami buying ships]
Erza is now inside Sector 3 again, but it's different now with a training ground and a library prepared specifically for her—its walls lined with floating holograms of tactical simulations and spell matrices. The blue fire in her pupils casts jagged shadows across the projected battlefields as she traces formations with newly precise movements.
"So, what do you think?" Arto asks as he heads into the place as well with Robin. "This is where we will stay for the next 2 weeks, or more like...4 years and 4 months for your extensive training, you said you want to be a Warrior Mage like me, yes?
Erza's fingers twitched—not in hesitation, but in anticipation. The blue flames in her irises pulsed brighter as she took in the impossible geometry of the time-dilated training chamber. "Four years compressed into two weeks..." Her voice was steady, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her.
Robin materialized beside her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Arto. "You didn't mention the temporal strain." Arto shrugged, "I wanted to stress test the time-dilation function of this place for a while but didn't have any chance, but this is the one. Celine..." he calls the AI assistant.
"Yes, Master Arto?" The robotic voice answers from the ceiling "inform other sectors that time-dilation will be limited for the next 2 weeks under my order, time-consuming experiments should be limited until the stress test is over, so help them rearrange their schedule for me, okay?
The holographic projections flickered momentarily as Celine processed the command. "Understood. Reallocating temporal resources across Sectors 1 through 79. Notifying all research teams." Arto nods "Good, now, Erza, once this place is closed, it will stay closed for the next 4 years, there will only be me, Robin and you training, studying in this sector, foods and supply will be enough for us to use for years, training materials are already prepared, Robin will teach you everything about spatial spells—"
Robin's fingers twitched against her forearm. "Wait." The single word carried enough weight to make even the holograms stutter. "You're locking yourself in here with us?" Her dark eyes narrowed, scanning Arto's face like she expected to find cracks in his composure.
Arto blinked—once—slow, deliberate. "Of course. Did you think I'd subject Erza to four years of solitary training?" His scarred fingers tapped against his thigh, an irregular rhythm that matched the pulse of the blue flames in Erza's gaze. "The Trial proved her will. This?" He gestured at the shifting spell matrices surrounding them. "This proves her discipline."
The chamber hummed with displaced energy as Celine's voice echoed again. "Master Arto, Lady Rias is requesting—" Arto looks up "Send her voice down here" The air crackled before Rias's voice spilled into the room, sharp with static. "Arto, explain why you're vanishing for two weeks right before we mobilize!" Her tone carried the weight of a queen, but underneath, something frayed.
Robin's fingers tightened around Erza's shoulder—protective, possessive. Arto exhaled through his nose. "Rias. Four years for us, two weeks for you. Erza needs this." A pause. The static thickened. "And you'll have me back before the ship's engines are warm."
The silence stretched until Rias huffed. "Fine. But if you miss our departure, I'm dragging you out by your hair." The connection severed, leaving the scent of ozone and unresolved tension as the door closed before them "Now, let us begin, Erza!" Arto announces