Imagine a storm. A cosmic hurri-cane of infinite variegations swirling around one single unwavering point. That point is Dragneel Bloom. While worlds crumble and are reborn all around her, while time itself splinters collectively into a million ‘what ifs,’ she maintains that one brightly gilded mast afloat the raging seas of chaos, anchored to that rancorous moment called ‘now’.

No past.

No future.

Yet cursed to immortality.

—————————————————————

Looking at the distorted remnants of a manipulated timeline, she wasn't watching a world she had saved but a mirror reflecting the hollowness within her. A hollowness borne of having had no beginning, no end, no story she could call her own. An effect, never a cause; a faint afterthought in someone else's grand narrative.

“A paradox am I,” she nearly whispered, her voice trembling in the silence around her. “A walking contradiction. A ghost attempting to write itself into existence.”

The very absurdity of it hit her everytime she pried herself into others’ fates. That she, of all beings, could alter time, was getting outrun by time itself. That she was an unreasonable reaction to events, not a rational action. Like a marionette made to dance to a discordant harmony of inevitability.

“You must kill me,” said her master, eons ago.

“No,” she replied, quietly but firmly. “I will not.”

“Will is a strong word Dragneel. For someone like us, there's no ‘will’.” He patted her head. “I want to choose death, out of my own will. And if you deny me that... then there's nothing more I can teach you.”

He paused, gaze narrowing.

“So, choose. Do it, or walk away ignorant.”

That moment, something had flickered inside her. It wasn’t primal as rage, but a twisting thought way beyond. Her master meant nothing to her without his knowledge. And she would rather kill than sever whatsoever was left of their bond. To do that, she needed to be stronger.


More power


More control


More of Dragneel Bloom


“I will have my own story,” she said in resolute determination, the words becoming electric within her empty mind. "Not one that is borrowed, not one made out of the scraps of others' destinies. It will be me. ‘I’."

It would not be an easy journey. She would cling to the very essence of her soul, tearing through vast chasms of chaos and silence, through infinities that threatened to undo her. But she would not break. She would wield her contradictions like weapons—not in fear, but with fierce resolve. She would rise, not as a victim of fate, but as its author. Her reality would not be given. It would be claimed—crafted by her own hand.

The first step was to comprehend The Void, that empty space between the timelines. To decipher its flow, to learn its language. To be fluent in the language of impossibility, to become the Master of Time. Then, shall she write. Not with pen and paper, but with the essence of time itself. She would inscribe a tale, reaching far and deep, down to the very core of everything that even the universe wouldn’t deny her existence.

—————————————————————

“A sacrifice, Moon,” Bloom said with rather insensitivity. “If I return your son, something must bleed in his place.”

Moon lurched forward, breath hitching as if deprived of air. Her skin, pale as mourning silk; her lips, blue like wilted violets. One trembling hand pressed against her swollen belly, the other reaching for the doorframe she could barely see through the blur of grief.

She sank to the floor, managing only a whisper.

“Take it,” she rasped. “Whatever you want. Take it all.”

—————————————————————
“To save Dragonix from its impending doom, I shall do the impossible. But for that,” Dragneel turned around gazing at each man’s face. “There needs to be a sacrifice. Your life, your majesty. That shall do.”

The looming presence on the other end raised an eyebrow, his hair flaming red, golden tanned skin and eyes that rivaled the sun. “How does my death reward you?”

Dragneel sighed. “For me to create a possibility, there's a huge price we must pay. And when you do, I’ll connect Dragonix’s fate with your child with Moon.”

The Emperor said, “I understand much of the extent of your powers but how does altering our fates help 'you'?”

“What to do, Emperor Igneous? This universe has dared name me against the wishes of the Supreme’s laws. Dragneel Bloom is Dragneel Bloom because Dragonix exists. I won't let my centuries old masterpiece down in the drain.”

“Don't worry. The difference between the other realities and this one is that you have me here. If I understand the rules of overwriting reality, Dragonix’s destruction is the truth. Its survival is false. Amongst the ninety-nine truths, a lie doesn’t make a difference. Dragonix will perish.”

Whispers broke in the Council as the gentlemen mumbled about Dragneel’s strange confidence. As much as they despised her powers, they would admit she was best at her craft.

Dragneel locked eyes with the Emperor again. A sly smirk crept up her eyes, her lips, and he saw a split second cynicism in her eyes. “Your Majesty, I’m not an amateur. “It might sound ridiculous, but I have been doing this my entire life. By this logic, every second of my existence is a lie. So I’ll create an irrefutable lie again. A lie potent enough to oppress your ninety-nine truths, that too, without lying. Because after I create this new possibility, it will become the new truth.”


“To save Dragonix from its collapse,” Dragneel said as her eyes roamed around the faces of the confused Councilmen, “I must do the impossible. But for that—” she turned slowly, letting her gaze fall like judgment across each man seated before her—“a sacrifice is required. Your life, Your Majesty. That shall suffice.”

Across the hall, the Emperor raised a single brow. His flame-red hair shimmered like a dying star, skin bronzed in sun-gold, eyes burning brighter than dawn itself.

“And how,” he asked coolly, “does my death serve you?”

Dragneel exhaled, not tired—calculated.

“To birth a new possibility, a truth must be sacrificed. Your death will root Dragonix’s survival with the fate of the child born of Moon.”

The Emperor’s voice was steady, but beneath it ran a current of disbelief. “I’ve seen the extent of your powers, Dragneel. But tell me—what does bending our fates accomplish for you?”

She turned toward him fully now, shadows coiling at her heels like silent witnesses.

“What can I say, Emperor Igneous? I am an anomaly dressed for purpose. But Dragonix named me into existence defying the Supreme’s law. Dragneel Bloom is Dragneel Bloom because Dragonix exists. I will not let my oldest masterpiece crumble into nothing.”

His jaw tensed. She noticed.

“But,” he said, “if I understand the law of overwriting realities, then Dragonix’s destruction is inevitable. Its survival is fiction. Among a hundred truths—realities already etched—your crafted lie seems weightless. Dragonix will fall.”

Murmurs rippled through the Council chamber like wind over glass. They feared her. But they could not deny—she was the finest at her craft.

Dragneel met Igneous’s gaze again. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes—sharp, sardonic. A smirk ghosted across her lips.

“Majesty,” she said softly, “I am no amateur.”

She stepped forward, a whisper in motion.

“To you, it sounds absurd. But I’ve been living this paradox for an eternity. By that logic, every breath I take is a lie. Every moment, a contradiction. So I’ll do what I always do—forge another impossibility.”

She paused, her words hanging like prophecy.

“I, Dragneel Bloom shall create a lie potent enough to silence the ninety-nine truths. A lie that deceives no one—because once uttered, it will become the only truth. Etched not by fate, but by the 'will' of Dragneel Bloom.”