A New Life in Fairy Tail

”I’m heading over there right now!”

Noah immediately turned on his heel, eager to sprint to the Magic Council’s classified archives. This elevated clearance likely came with a strict time limit, so the sooner he started downloading the knowledge, the better.

As for the ’Devil’s Heart’ aboard the Grimoire Heart airship parked on Tenrou Island, his Thought Projections were already busy analyzing it, so there was no rush to return. Right now, diving into the Council’s restricted archives was his absolute highest priority.

”Hold your horses, boy. I have something else to discuss with you,” Yajima called out, stopping him in his tracks.

”Is there something else, Grandpa Yajima?” Noah paused and turned back to the elderly former Councilman.

”Yes. During the recent sessions, several Councilors formally proposed that you be granted the title of one of the Ten Wizard Saints,” Yajima revealed. ”Naturally, some opposed the motion, citing the sheer scale of the collateral damage you caused. But overall, the supporters vastly outnumber the detractors. After all, the apocalyptic power you displayed against Acnologia undeniably qualifies you for the rank. Anyone who has reviewed the data knows this as an absolute fact.

”However, accepting the title is ultimately up to you. I wanted to ask for your thoughts. In the past, you mentioned you had no desire to become a Wizard Saint. Does that still hold true?” Yajima asked, watching Noah closely.

”Of course. My stance hasn’t changed,” Noah replied without a second of hesitation. ”Just tell them my strength is still insufficient, and I am not yet qualified to bear the mantle of a Wizard Saint.”

As Noah had considered before, adding another Wizard Saint to Fairy Tail wasn’t necessarily a good thing for the guild’s political standing, nor did he need an arbitrary title to validate his strength.

His battle against Acnologia had already proven his power. How many people alive could honestly claim to be stronger than him?

If he were ever to accept the title, it could wait until the future. He was still incredibly young. If he suddenly accepted such a high-ranking political title now, he would be buried in bureaucratic red tape and restrictions. He didn’t care about the prestige, so it was easier to simply reject it.

Wouldn’t it be much more fitting to accept the title when I eventually take over as Guild Master, just like Grandpa Makarov? Noah thought to himself, a slight smirk touching his lips. Though... doing that might put an insane amount of pressure on whoever takes over as the Master after me, since they’d be expected to be a Wizard Saint too.

”You seriously have the nerve to claim your ’strength is insufficient’?” Yajima sighed, looking at Noah with an expression of profound exasperation. ”If you aren’t qualified, then the other Wizard Saints have absolutely no right to hold the title either!”

The current Ten Wizard Saints were ranked by power. The top four, known as the ’Four Gods of Ishgar,’ were anomalies whose strength vastly eclipsed the lower six. Yajima honestly didn’t know how Noah stacked up against the Four Gods.

However, the mage currently ranked fifth was Makarov. And Yajima had personally asked his old friend for an assessment. Makarov had bluntly admitted that he was no longer a match for Noah.

By extension, that meant the bottom half of the Ten Wizard Saints were definitively weaker than the young man standing in front of him. And yet, Noah was trying to use ”insufficient strength” as his excuse?

”Alright, fine. Tell them I’m too young and still need more time to mature and settle down. Tell them I’ll consider it in the future,” Noah amended smoothly, realizing his previous excuse was a bit too ridiculous.

”That’s a much better excuse. I’ll relay that to the Council,” Yajima nodded in agreement.

Truthfully, Yajima also believed it was too early for Noah to take the title. While the prestige would make his name known across the entire continent, it would also bring a mountain of trouble.

Unlike Jellal—who had simultaneously held the titles of Wizard Saint and Magic Councilor, meaning no one dared to cross him—Noah was merely a guild mage. Even though the title represented absolute power, his young age would inevitably attract a never-ending swarm of arrogant, glory-seeking challengers. Even with his apocalyptic battle record against Acnologia, there would always be fools who simply refused to believe someone in their early twenties could be that strong.

Noah could easily crush them, of course, but swatting flies every single day would be incredibly annoying. It was much better to decline the title now and wait a few years until his age matched his legendary status.

”Is that everything, Grandpa Yajima? If so, I’m going to hit the archives!” Noah said, practically vibrating with excitement.

”That’s everything. Go on, get out of here. But remember to actually rest!” Yajima said, offering a fond, helpless smile. Makarov had warned him about Noah’s tendency to neglect eating and sleeping when consumed by research.

”I will! Thanks again!” Noah yelled over his shoulder, already sprinting out of the office.

”Kids these days,” Yajima chuckled, shaking his head.

Later, Yajima relayed Noah’s formal refusal to the rest of the Magic Council. The Councilors who had supported Noah’s nomination sighed in disappointment, but they couldn’t exactly force the title onto him. The detractors breathed a sigh of relief, though they couldn’t help but feel completely baffled. Any normal mage would weep tears of joy at the prospect of becoming a Wizard Saint, yet this kid had casually rejected it twice. Naturally, they kept their grumbling strictly to themselves.

Meanwhile, Noah blurred through the halls of the Magic Council headquarters, moving so fast he nearly gave several Rune Knights a heart attack. A few knights almost sounded the intruder alarm, but thankfully, someone recognized Noah and hastily stopped them, narrowly avoiding a massive misunderstanding.

Upon reaching the deepest, most heavily guarded section of the archives, Noah presented his credentials.

The archivist on duty, having already been briefed, verified his Level-1 clearance and escorted him into a massive, dust-free vault lined with ancient, towering bookshelves.

”This section contains the classified materials accessible with your temporary clearance. You have exactly one week. Remember, the contents of these texts are strictly confidential and must not be shared with any unauthorized personnel,” the archivist recited formally.

Noah nodded. Having frequented the lower-level archives before, he knew the drill.

The moment the archivist left and sealed the vault doors, Noah immediately grabbed the nearest grimoire and dove in.

For the next seven days, Noah practically lived in the archives. He arrived the second the vault opened in the morning and stayed until the exact moment they forced him out at night. He only returned home to sleep, appeasing the girls, before teleporting back at dawn.

During that single week, Noah didn’t just read the classified materials—he digitized and downloaded every single restricted text, forbidden spell, and historical secret directly into his personal Archive magic network. Because of the strict non-disclosure oaths, he couldn’t upload this data to Fairy Tail’s central guild library, but having it in his personal database was more than enough.

Once he had absorbed the final scroll, Noah sought out Yajima one last time.

”Grandpa Yajima, I’ve finished reviewing the materials. The knowledge I gained was absolutely phenomenal. Thank you again!” Noah bowed deeply in gratitude.

The restricted archives had truly lived up to their reputation. Countless historical mysteries and fragmented magical theories that Noah had previously only guessed at were fully explained in these classified texts. The detailed records on catastrophic, forbidden magics were particularly enlightening.

”I’m glad to hear it was fruitful,” Yajima smiled warmly. ”I’ve informed the Council of your decision regarding the Wizard Saint title. Whenever you feel ready to accept it in the future, just let me know. Even if I’m fully retired by then, I still have enough political leverage to put your name forward.”

”I appreciate the offer, Grandpa Yajima. Though, by the time I’m actually willing to accept it, I highly doubt I’ll need a nomination. They’ll likely be scrambling to find a way to force the title onto me,” Noah smirked, his eyes flashing with absolute confidence.

Yajima couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

The boy was arrogant, but he had the monstrous power to back it up. Give Noah a few more years, and his strength would eclipse the entire continent. Furthermore, Noah’s moral character was stellar. Aside from the occasional excessive collateral damage during combat—which he always diligently repaired or paid for, completely out of his own pocket—he was a model mage. He wasn’t a destructive menace like Natsu, which was why the Council rarely received formal complaints about him.

Once Noah’s age was no longer a point of contention, the Council would absolutely beg him to take the title. If a monster of his caliber wasn’t a Wizard Saint, it would make the entire ranking system look like a joke.

”I’ve finished my business here, so I’ll be heading back now,” Noah announced.

”Safe travels. Send my regards to Makarov,” Yajima nodded.

”Will do.”

Before leaving Era, Noah quietly sought out Doranbolt. He temporarily disabled the memory-alteration magic on the Council spy, exchanged a quick debriefing regarding the Council’s internal movements, and then seamlessly resealed Doranbolt’s memories.

With his Council business officially concluded, Noah teleported back to the Fairy Tail guildhall, gave Makarov a brief summary of his week, and immediately warped back to Tenrou Island to resume his real work.

Aboard the Grimoire Heart airship, the analysis of the ’Devil’s Heart’ was proceeding exceptionally well under the tireless scrutiny of Noah’s Thought Projections.

Through intense reverse-engineering, Noah had completely mapped out the Heart’s core mechanics. It wasn’t actually generating magic from nothing. Instead, it operated similarly to a living mage’s biological core: it violently absorbed massive quantities of ambient Ethernano from the environment and processed it into usable magic power. It then forcibly converted a portion of that magic into raw life force, funneling both the magic and the vitality directly into Precht’s body via complex spatial tethers.

The sheer volume and speed at which the Heart generated this power were utterly staggering. As long as Precht didn’t instantaneously drain the Heart’s entire reserve in a single attack, it provided him with a functionally infinite supply of magic and pseudo-immortality.

Noah calculated that the grotesque, fleshy engine could store roughly ten times the maximum magical capacity of Precht himself. It was no wonder the Second Master had been so terrifyingly arrogant during their battle.

However, even with that massive artificial reserve, it still paled in comparison to Noah’s own natural, monstrous magical capacity and regeneration rate.

But the technology behind the Heart? That was an absolute goldmine.

The highly advanced magical arrays used to rapidly siphon ambient Ethernano, convert it, and store it at such high densities were revolutionary. Noah immediately realized he could adapt these techniques to drastically upgrade Fairy Tail’s guildhall barrier matrix and vastly improve the functionality of the concealment spells he had embedded in everyone’s guild marks.

While Noah’s own theoretical research was incredibly broad, Precht had spent decades obsessively focusing his genius entirely on life-extension and magical generation to sustain his aging body. It was only natural that the old man had developed highly specialized systems that outperformed Noah’s general-purpose arrays.

Noah was thrilled. He fully intended to strip the Heart of its genius engineering, purge it of its dark magic, and integrate the purified theories into his own magical repertoire.

Because the Devil’s Heart relied heavily on horrific biological engineering and dark magic, Noah refused to keep the grotesque, fleshy organ intact. Once he fully deciphered its mechanics, he was going to completely incinerate the biological components.

Of course, destroying the Heart meant the massive airship would lose its primary power source.

But Noah already had a solution. Once he mastered the underlying theories, he planned to construct a clean, ethically sourced replacement engine using high-density Lacrimas to replicate the Heart’s functionality.

While an inorganic Lacrima engine likely wouldn’t be as ruthlessly efficient at absorbing Ethernano as the highly invasive, biological flesh of the original Heart, Noah was perfectly fine with that trade-off. He refused to use dark magic, knowing it always demanded a steep, corrupting price.

He was confident that with enough refinement and his own unparalleled genius, he could eventually optimize the clean Lacrima technology to rival, or perhaps even surpass, Precht’s grotesque masterpiece.

~~~

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