A New Life in Fairy Tail

But upgrading the guild’s infrastructure was a long-term project. For now, Noah’s immediate priority was fully comprehending the ’Devil’s Heart’ and mastering the vast archives of magic he had secured from the airship.

While his Thought Projections tirelessly analyzed the Heart in the engine room, Noah’s true body, alongside several newly manifested clones, began diving into the massive library of texts and grimoires they had extracted from the vessel.

Although Noah already knew many of the spells within the archives, Precht had spent decades traveling the continent, hoarding incredibly rare and obscure magical knowledge. Many of these spells were completely new to Noah—some he had only ever heard of in legends. Naturally, he devoured them without hesitation.

Among these new spells, Noah focused his intense scrutiny on the category Precht prized above all else, the magic he claimed was closest to the absolute root of the arcane: Lost Magic.

Lost Magics possessed utterly terrifying, reality-warping effects and unimaginable destructive power.

However, they all came with severe, often fatal drawbacks, catastrophic limitations, and an absurdly high learning curve. One minor miscalculation during casting could easily result in total magical depletion, irreversible physical mutation, or instantaneous death.

Precht had managed to collect detailed records and treatises on dozens of different Lost Magics. Noah read through every single one.

Having reviewed the archives, Noah had to admit that Precht wasn’t entirely wrong in his assessment. The sheer conceptual power of Lost Magic truly was incredible; it allowed a mage to manipulate fundamental laws of reality in ways standard magic simply couldn’t.

For instance, one of the Lost Magics detailed in the archives was the Arc of Time. This magic allowed the user to manipulate the ”time” of inorganic objects, fast-forwarding or rewinding their temporal state to alter their physical condition.

Time manipulation, even on a minor scale, was an unimaginably profound concept. The ability to casually manipulate the temporal state of matter was terrifying.

The primary limitation of the Arc of Time was that it was entirely ineffective on biological organisms. A mage couldn’t directly fast-forward or rewind a living person’s time.

But even with that restriction, it was a ridiculously powerful utility and combat magic. After all, you were literally controlling time.

Furthermore, the archives detailed a highly classified, forbidden spell associated with the Arc of Time: Last Ages. This taboo magic supposedly allowed the user to literally rewind the time of the entire world at the cost of their own ”time”—their life.

Noah was already vaguely aware that such a spell existed, and he knew it functioned exactly as described. But actually holding the theoretical framework and magical calculations for the spell in his hands sent a massive thrill of excitement through his veins. He immediately began analyzing it.

While Noah’s personal magical database was incomprehensibly vast, he actually possessed very few spells related directly to temporal manipulation. The vast majority of his knowledge regarding time magic came exclusively from his studies in the Celestial Spirit World, where the temporal flow was naturally anomalous. Finding high-tier time magic in Earthland was practically impossible.

Noah was profoundly grateful to the Celestial Spirit King; without the foundation he had built studying in the Spirit World, he wouldn’t even be able to comprehend the complex equations of the Arc of Time.

Through his analysis, Noah quickly discovered another massive limitation to the Arc of Time: the magic cost scaled exponentially with the volume and mass of the object being manipulated.

Rewinding the time of a small rock was trivial. But attempting to manipulate the temporal state of something massive—like an entire building or a mountain—would instantly drain the magical reserves of an average S-Class mage.

Furthermore, even if he perfectly mastered the spell, Noah had no intention of using it casually. It was a Lost Magic heavily tied to the fundamental laws of time. God only knew what horrific, creeping side effects prolonged usage might cause.

Azuma had literally turned into a tree from overusing the Great Tree Arc. Dragon Slayers physically mutated into Dragons if they overused their magic. While Precht’s archives didn’t explicitly state the physical toll of overusing the Arc of Time, Noah wasn’t stupid enough to test it on his own body. He would only use it in absolute emergencies.

Noah then shifted his focus to the forbidden spell, Last Ages.

The mechanics were brutal but straightforward: the caster forcefully converted their entire remaining lifespan into pure, unadulterated magical energy, releasing it in a single, explosive burst to violently pry open the temporal axis of the entire world, forcing time itself to rewind.

The amount of time rewound was directly proportional to the sheer volume of magical energy released.

Crucially, the process was absolute and irreversible. A mage couldn’t simply say, ”I only want to burn my existing magic reserves and spare my life force.” The spell fundamentally operated by burning the caster’s biological ”time” until nothing remained. It was a guaranteed suicide technique.

However, when Noah ran the theoretical magical calculations for the spell against his own power, his eye twitched violently.

Rewinding time by twenty or thirty seconds wasn’t too demanding. An average S-Class mage burning their entire life force and magic reserves could likely achieve that.

But the magical cost to rewind time scaled exponentially, not linearly.

Noah hypothesized that this was because the natural flow of time was a constant, unstoppable forward pressure. The further back you tried to force it, the more crushing the temporal resistance became, requiring astronomically more magic to overcome.

A stronger mage possessed more magic, and a longer, more vibrant life force would naturally yield a massive burst of energy upon conversion.

But because the cost scaled exponentially, even the absolute strongest mages in history couldn’t rewind time very far.

Based on his calculations, if S-Class powerhouses like Ultear or Erza sacrificed their lives to cast Last Ages, they would likely only rewind the world by roughly one minute. Laxus might manage a minute and a half. Gildarts, given his monstrous power, might stretch it to seven or eight minutes.

If Noah himself cast the spell, burning his unfathomable magical reserves and his incredibly potent life force, he estimated he could rewind the world by roughly ten to fifteen minutes.

But that’s completely useless! Noah thought, shaking his head.

Using the spell meant guaranteed death. And rewinding time by ten or fifteen minutes barely gave anyone enough time to fundamentally change the outcome of a massive, continent-spanning disaster.

If the spell could be safely controlled and the massive cost mitigated, it would be the ultimate trump card. Time reversal was the most broken concept in existence.

But Last Ages lacked any control mechanism. Once activated, the spell forcibly burned the caster until they died. There was no stopping it.

Naturally, Noah’s immediate instinct was to modify the spell. If he could eliminate the uncontrollable life-drain side effect, he would possess the ultimate temporal super-magic.

However, after a few preliminary attempts, he was forced to temporarily abandon the project. His fundamental understanding of temporal physics simply wasn’t deep enough yet. Modifying a spell that actively warped the temporal axis of the entire planet was incredibly complex. It wasn’t something he could achieve in a few weeks.

He shelved Last Ages for future research and moved on to the other Lost Magics in the archive.

He found the detailed treatises for all the magics utilized by the Seven Kin of Purgatory: Flame God Slayer Magic, Human Subordination Magic, Arc of Embodiment, Ushi no Koku Mairi, and the Great Tree Arc.

He had personally witnessed the devastating power of these spells during the war.

Naturally, the archives also detailed their fatal flaws and restrictions. The most fundamental hurdle was innate aptitude: if a mage wasn’t born with the specific, highly anomalous magical alignment required for a given Lost Magic, they could never learn it, no matter how hard they tried.

Furthermore, even if a mage possessed the aptitude, wielding the magic required an absurdly high baseline magical capacity. Lost Magics were notoriously inefficient and drained mana rapidly.

And then there were the specific, crippling drawbacks.

Human Subordination Magic was completely useless against non-human entities (like animals, Spirits, or Demons). Arc of Embodiment was bound by strict conditional limitations and required absolute, unwavering concentration to maintain the constructs. Ushi no Koku Mairi was heavily reliant on the physical voodoo doll; if an enemy stole the doll, they could literally use the magic against the caster. And the Great Tree Arc physically mutated the user into a plant.

Reading through these fatal flaws, Noah immediately understood why these magics had been ”Lost” to history.

The absurdly strict aptitude requirements meant that very few mages in any given generation could even attempt to learn them. Combine that with the crippling side effects and the high probability of sudden, catastrophic death or mutation during combat, and the magics were inherently unstable. If a master of a Lost Magic died unexpectedly in battle before passing on their knowledge, the magic simply vanished from the world.

Despite their flaws, their raw, unadulterated power was undeniable. It was no wonder Precht had been so arrogantly confident that Fairy Tail couldn’t defeat the Seven Kin. Wielding that many high-tier Lost Magics gave them a massive tactical advantage.

But as Fairy Tail had violently proven, raw magical firepower didn’t guarantee victory.

Ultimately, the true strength of a spell depended entirely on the mage wielding it and the volume of magic poured into it.

Standard Light Magic was incredibly common and fundamentally basic. But when cast by Makarov Dreyar? No one in their right mind would call it weak.

Similarly, Ice-Make Magic was standard. But the sheer difference in power between Ur’s Ice-Make and Gray’s was like comparing an avalanche to a snow cone.

Macao’s Purple Flare could burn down a house. If Noah cast basic Fire Magic, he could boil the ocean and incinerate a mountain range.

However, the unique, conceptual effects of Lost Magic simply couldn’t be replicated by standard elemental spells. Noah wanted those conceptual effects. His goal was to thoroughly research the theoretical mechanics of how these magics achieved those reality-warping effects, and then synthesize those mechanics while actively neutralizing the fatal side effects.

Even if stripping away the side effects resulted in a massive drop in the spell’s raw destructive power, Noah didn’t care. He had more than enough raw power. He wanted the utility.

Fueled by the sheer thrill of discovery from the Council’s restricted archives and Precht’s grimoires, Noah completely immersed himself in theoretical research for another full week.

When he finally snapped out of his academic trance, he realized he had completely forgotten to do something important.

He immediately manifested a Thought Projection, had it retrieve the original structural blueprints of the Grimoire Heart airship, and quickly drafted a modernized, highly efficient retrofit schematic based on the ship’s current layout.

He then took the blueprints back to the guildhall and proudly asked the guild for their input on the renovations.

The moment they realized Noah was officially converting the dark guild’s apocalyptic warship into Fairy Tail’s personal luxury transport, the guildhall erupted in chaotic excitement. Everyone instantly began shouting out ridiculous modification suggestions.

”It absolutely needs a massive bar!” Macao yelled.

”I request a quiet, dedicated library space,” Levy chimed in.

”A target range would be nice,” Bisca suggested.

”IT NEEDS A MASSIVE STAGE SO I CAN PERFORM!” Gajeel roared, striking a pose.

”Ooh! What if we install a swimming pool on the top deck, like the one we have out back?!” Laki suggested brightly.

”That’s a brilliant idea! Tanning in a pool while flying through the clouds sounds amazing!” Cana cheered. The rest of the girls instantly agreed, their eyes sparkling at the idea of a flying luxury resort. The boys were equally enthusiastic about the prospect of a pool party in the sky.

”A flying... urp... ship...” Natsu groaned, instantly turning a sickly shade of green and slapping his hands over his mouth. Just hearing the word ’transport’ triggered his motion sickness.

Gajeel’s face also turned incredibly pale as he swallowed hard.

Laxus’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced it back to a neutral scowl.

Since Noah was the one redesigning the ship specifically for Fairy Tail, it was highly probable he would install his specialized anti-motion-sickness enchantment arrays to accommodate the guild’s three Dragon Slayers.

Laxus glanced over at Noah, only to see the younger mage flashing him an incredibly smug, meaningful smirk. Laxus felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread.

”Alright, since you guys have so many ideas, write them all down on the board. I’ll review the list and see what’s actually structurally feasible,” Noah announced over the din.

He obviously couldn’t implement every single chaotic idea, but crowdsourcing suggestions was the easiest way to figure out what the guild actually wanted.

Hearing this, the mages eagerly grabbed chalk and began scribbling their ideas on the central blackboard, immediately arguing over the details.

When conflicting ideas arose, the mages naturally resolved the dispute by throwing punches, much to the cheering delight of the onlookers.

Noah stood by the bar, listening to the chaos. A bar, a stage, and a library were perfectly reasonable. A swimming pool was also structurally viable; the airship was massive, and its buoyancy and stabilization arrays were top-tier. He ran the spatial calculations in his head and determined he could easily fit a medium-sized pool on the upper deck without compromising the ship’s aerodynamics.

But then, the suggestions started getting completely unhinged.

”We should totally set up a few farming plots on the deck to grow our own veggies!”

”Yeah! And we can build a coop and raise chickens and ducks!”

”Why stop there? Let’s raise some pigs!”

”Ooh, sheep would be great too! Fresh wool!”

Noah stared blankly at the board, his jaw dropping slightly.

Farming? Livestock? he thought in utter disbelief. It’s an airship, not a floating agricultural commune! Where the hell am I supposed to fit crop fields and a pig pen?! Just buy extra food and store it in a spatial freezer!

Terrifyingly, a significant portion of the guild was actually nodding along to the livestock idea, looking incredibly excited.

Noah’s eye twitched. He made a solemn vow to permanently veto the pigs and sheep. He might allow a tiny planter box for some herbs, and maybe a few chickens if he could soundproof the coop, but an entire floating farm was absolutely out of the question.

Ignoring the escalating agricultural debate, Noah casually strolled over to Laxus and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

”Hey, Laxus. If we’re going to retrofit the ship’s power grid and stabilization systems, I’m going to need your help,” Noah smiled brightly, his tone dripping with profound, hidden meaning.

~~~

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