Fairy Tail: O King of the Fairies

The streets of Shirotsume were alive with motion and sound, a bustling symphony of life that both fascinated and overwhelmed me. I hadn't realized how isolated I had felt in the forest until now. Here, the hum of activity and warmth of human connection surrounded me at every turn. Yet I couldn't allow myself to lower my guard—not in a world where danger might be hidden in plain sight.

The name "Shirotsume" stirred a faint memory. Ah, yes, this was the town where the tale of Everlue and Kabby is. The scenes from the anime popped on my mind. No wonder it was familiar. That arc marks one of the duo's early adventures as Fairy Tail members, highlighting their teamwork and determination.

The uneven cobblestones beneath my feet had been worn smooth by the countless steps of merchants, travelers, and townsfolk over the years. To my right, a blacksmith worked tirelessly at his forge, his hammer ringing out in rhythmic clangs as sparks danced like fireflies in the air. The acrid tang of smoke and molten metal blended with the more enticing aromas of the market—freshly baked bread, sizzling meats, and the faint sweetness of honey.

A child darted past me, giggling as she chased after her brother. Her laughter rang out, clear and carefree, and for a moment, I couldn't help but smile. Even in a world like this, innocence remains.

Adjusting the hood of my traveling cloak, I kept my movements casual, aiming to blend into the crowd. My sword bumped lightly against my hip, a subtle reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of these stone walls. The sights and smells of the town were intoxicating, but I couldn't let myself get distracted. My journey wasn't just about survival—it was about understanding this world, its rules, its people, and, most importantly, its threats.

I passed a vendor selling leather-bound books, their covers embossed with intricate patterns of runes. Beside him, a woman displayed racks of vials filled with shimmering liquids—potions, no doubt. They caught the light in dazzling colors: deep emeralds, fiery reds, and soothing blues. I slowed my pace, pretending to examine the goods as I discreetly listened to the chatter around me.

"Have you heard? Another caravan was attacked near the forest," one merchant whispered to his companion, his expression grim. "The survivors said it wasn't just bandits this time. Something bigger… something smarter."

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My thoughts immediately went to the Vulcans I had encountered. If they were becoming more organized, this town might not be as safe as it seemed. I made a mental note to dig deeper into the rumors once I had settled in.

The town square unfolded before me like a storybook illustration—stone fountains, wooden benches, and townsfolk milling about their business. Children splashed each other near the fountain while an older woman carefully adjusted a basket of apples on her head. At the far side of the square, my eyes caught sight of a hanging wooden sign, swaying gently in the breeze: Silver Hearth Inn.

Relieved, I made my way across the square. The inn's door creaked as I pushed it open, and the warmth inside enveloped me like an embrace. The aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of woodsmoke. The inn was alive with murmured conversations, the occasional clink of mugs, and the laughter of a group of travelers seated near the hearth.

Behind the bar stood a burly man with a thick beard and calloused hands, polishing a glass with a practiced motion. His sharp eyes met mine as I approached.

"Welcome to the Silver Hearth," he greeted, his voice deep and steady. "Looking for a drink, a meal, or a bed?"

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "A bed and a meal, if it's not too much trouble."

The man studied me briefly, his gaze flicking to the sword sheathed at my side. "You don't look like the farming or merchant type," he said, a faint hint of suspicion in his tone. "Passing through, are you?"

I nodded, keeping my tone calm. "Just a traveler. I'm here to rest before moving on."

He grunted, not unfriendly but cautious. Sliding a key across the counter, he said, "Second floor, last door on the left. Dinner tonight is stew—it's not fancy, but you won't find better this side of the valley."

"Thank you," I said, placing a few coins on the counter. The weight of the small pouch of currency in my pocket—a seemingly endless supply from the Celestial Inventory—reminded me of the privilege my ability granted. In this world, resources could mean everything.

At a small corner table, I dug into the stew the innkeeper had promised. It was hearty and flavorful, with chunks of tender meat, root vegetables, and a rich, savory broth. Each bite warmed me from within, erasing the fatigue from my journey. I leaned back in my chair, allowing myself a moment to simply enjoy the meal.

The conversations around me, however, kept pulling at my attention.

"Another caravan ambushed," one voice muttered at a nearby table. "That's the third this week. The guards need to do something, or no one'll dare use the roads."

"Bandits?" another man asked.

"Maybe. Or worse." The first man lowered his voice. "They say it's Vulcans, but smarter now. Planning their attacks, hunting in packs. You ask me, that's not natural."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Smarter? Packs? My encounter with the Vulcans had been brutal enough, but if they were evolving, adapting… It wasn't just dangerous—it was terrifying for the people of this town.

Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, I finished my meal and made my way upstairs to my room. It was simple—a sturdy wooden bed, a small desk, and a washbasin in the corner—but it was enough. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the single window, casting soft shadows across the room.

Seated on the edge of the bed, I opened the Celestial Inventory, scrolling through its endless catalog. The names of weapons, enchanted armor, potions, and rare artifacts blurred together as I scanned for something useful. My fingers hovered over a section labeled "Knowledge," and I made a mental note to explore it further later. 

Leaning back on the bed, I allowed myself a moment to reflect, piecing together everything I had learned so far. The sights and sounds of Shirotsume, the whispers of danger in the air, and the chilling mention of Vulcans evolving into smarter, more organized hunters—it all painted a picture of a world in flux. But one revelation stood out above all else, anchoring my thoughts.

The year was X770.

I inhaled sharply as the realization sank in. X770—a pivotal point in this world's timeline. Seven years before the arrival of the Dragon Slayers, those children pulled from time, and thirteen years before the events of canon would begin to unfold. This was no mere coincidence; this was an opportunity.

I sat forward, a slow grin spreading across my face. Seven years. Thirteen years. Plenty of time. Enough to prepare, to fortify, to reshape the future into something stronger, something better.