Chapter 35: The Birth of Mystogan

Wendy, tears streaming down her face, turned away with Mo En, Macao, and Jellal, glancing back repeatedly at everyone waving farewell, as if afraid she would never see them again.

“Don’t be sad, Wendy. Itachi can visit the Cat’s Den folks often in the future.”

Mo En gently patted Wendy’s head and comforted her softly.

“Mm, I know, Brother Mo En.”

Wendy looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes, yet nodded firmly.

“This parting today is for a better meeting next time.”

Wendy wiped her tears and repeated the words Mo En had once used to comfort her.

This child had actually swallowed every bit of the chicken soup that Mo En had fed her—and even applied it herself to comfort herself.

Though she often cried and shed tears at the drop of a hat, like a little crybaby, Wendy’s character carried a quiet resilience.

“That’s right. It’s only a temporary separation.”

Mo En nodded with a smile; he and Grandpa Macao silently kept the truth from Wendy, avoiding any exposure of Robin’s deception.

They decided to wait until Wendy grew older and more emotionally mature before considering whether to reveal the truth.

As for Robin’s sudden death or the entire Cat’s Den vanishing—such things wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

Strong magicians usually live long lives. Grandpa Macao was eighty-one, yet his health was so robust Mo En dared not claim he was healthier. There were magicians still active past a hundred. Magicians were a profession that grew more formidable with age.

Mo En believed this was deeply tied to the concept of magic power: all things possessed magic power, intrinsically linked to life force, soul, and will. Magicians, with their deep reserves of magic power, naturally lived longer than ordinary people.

Beside Mo En, Jellal remained silent, his brow furrowed in confusion as he strained to recall—but no memory of the Cat’s Den surfaced.

That night when he brought Wendy to the village, he had scoured the ruined settlement and found only Robin.

“By the way, when I brought Wendy to the village—”

Jellal had barely begun when Mo En reached out and clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Itachi already met the Cat’s Den folks when Itachi arrived, didn’t Itachi?”

Mo En glared at Jellal, his tone serious, emphasizing the words “met” with extra weight.

“Did I?”

Jellal looked startled. After Mo En removed his hand, he asked hesitantly.

“Well… it could have happened!”

Mo En nodded firmly, his eyes silently urging Jellal.

“Alright… I did meet them.”

Jellal understood and immediately changed his answer.

This bizarre exchange left Wendy staring wide-eyed, puzzled but unable to pinpoint why.

“Jellal, we’re heading to the guild soon—we’ll enter the city. There are some things I need to tell Itachi beforehand.”

Macao interjected at the right moment, steering the topic away.

All three turned to Macao. The old man’s tone was grave, as if about to reveal something vital. Jellal listened intently, his expression serious.

“Eldor is a parallel world to Ezelon. So, Itachi may encounter many people here who resemble those from your world—but they are not the same individuals.”

Macao spoke seriously to Jellal, feeling it necessary to warn him.

Otherwise, this honest boy might be deceived.

“So that’s why!”

Jellal’s face lit up with sudden understanding.

No wonder! No wonder he’d always felt Macao looked familiar!

The head of Fairy Tail bore a striking resemblance to his father—the king of Eldor!

Though there were minor differences, Jellal wouldn’t mistake them: the resemblance between Macao and his father was uncanny.

Yet Jellal said nothing. He considered it disrespectful to mention it, and though it was impolite, he had to admit his father was no good man.

Thus, he fully grasped Macao’s meaning: only their appearances were similar. Everything else—personality, character—was entirely different.

“Should I cover my face and change my name? Pick a new name to use in this world?”

Jellal asked. Covering his face and changing his name seemed the easiest way to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Jellal was stubborn. He hated burdening others with his problems. He didn’t want to cause trouble for the Jellal of this world—even if the chance of meeting him was slim, the risk was too great.

“I think that’s a good idea. Fewer troubles are always better.”

Mo En supported him—he knew Jellal hated complications.

“How about ‘Mystogan’? A gun that spews hypnotic mist—your hypnotic magic left a strong impression on me.”

Mo En added casually, naming him. He watched Jellal’s expression—no reaction.

This wasn’t what Mo En expected. So Mystogan wasn’t Jellal’s real name after all?

“Mystogan? Sounds good.”

Jellal’s eyes brightened. He liked the name—it tied to his magic and had no connection to Jellal.

“Then it’s settled. From now on, call me Mystogan.”

Without hesitation, Jellal chose “Mystogan.” Mo En’s expression turned surprised.

‘So… I’m the one who named him Mystogan?’

Mo En was startled. He couldn’t untangle the causality.

Was Jellal always meant to be called “Mystogan,” or did his arrival create the name?

‘Huh… too complicated. Let it be.’

Mo En shook his head and dropped the tangled question of cause and effect.

“Mystogan, do your best. I’m growing more eager to reach Eldor. Meeting another version of myself? That actually sounds interesting.”

Mo En clapped Mystogan on the shoulder. He was curious about this “parallel world”—wondering if someone like him existed in Eldor.

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(End of Chapter)