The Accidental Savior

Two years had passed since Nick Romero first stepped into Fairy Tail's guild hall, a nervous seven-year-old with nothing but a flute and a desperate desire to get back home. Now, at nine years old, Nick stood in the middle of a lush clearing deep in Magnolia Forest, admiring the fruits of his labor: his very own house.

The small cabin was modest but sturdy, built with the skills he'd picked up from countless construction missions. Its wooden walls gleamed with fresh polish, and a thin trail of smoke curled from the chimney, hinting at the warmth inside.

"Not bad," Nick muttered, leaning on the shovel he'd used to clear the surrounding area. "It's no castle, but at least I don't have to share it with Wakaba's snoring anymore."

The Wives System chimed in, its screen glowing faintly beside him. "Congratulations on your progress, Nick! Your construction skills have advanced significantly."

"Thanks, I guess," Nick said, wiping sweat from his brow. "But I'm pretty sure 'Advanced Construction' isn't going to save me in a dungeon. Unless the monsters are impressed by good carpentry."

"Building strong foundations is essential in all endeavors," the AI said cheerfully.

Nick groaned. "You're worse than a motivational poster."

Life in Fairy Tail had been... eventful. Over the past two years, Nick had trained tirelessly, completing missions, refining his music magic, and trying to make sense of his place in the multiverse. But no matter how much progress he made, one thing never changed: his abilities were entirely support-based.

"Let me get this straight," Nick said one morning, pacing in his cabin. "I've spent two years practicing magic, and I still can't attack anything?"

"Correct!" the Wives System chirped.

Nick groaned, flopping onto a chair. "So, what, I'm just supposed to serenade monsters while everyone else does the fighting?"

"Music magic excels in enhancing allies and mitigating threats," the AI explained. "Your role is crucial in creating harmony on the battlefield."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Did you just make a pun?"

"Unintentionally."

Each year, the Wives System bestowed Nick with a new skill. On his eighth birthday, he had received Dancing Grace, which turned him into an exceptional dancer.

"Why dancing?" Nick had asked, staring at the glowing notification.

"Dancing is an expressive art form that enhances coordination and social interaction," the AI replied.

Nick had sighed. "Right, because moonwalking is totally going to save my life in a dungeon."

At nine, the system had granted him Singing Virtuoso, a skill that made his voice resonate with magical properties.

"Let me guess," Nick said dryly. "This is supposed to help me charm monsters into not eating me?"

"Incorrect," the AI said. "Singing can amplify the effects of your music magic, providing stronger support and emotional resonance."

Nick blinked. "Emotional resonance? What am I, a Disney princess?"

"Not yet," the AI replied.

Nick threw a pillow at the screen

The cabin had been a labor of love—or, more accurately, a labor of avoiding Wakaba's snoring in the guild's nursery. Nick had saved up money from construction missions, gathering materials and learning the necessary skills along the way.

Macao and Wakaba had helped with the heavy lifting, while Makarov supervised.

"Kid's got determination," Wakaba had said, puffing on his pipe.

"Or he just doesn't want to listen to your snoring anymore," Macao quipped, earning a laugh from Nick.

The result was a cozy home with a small practice area for Nick's magic and a makeshift kitchen where he'd perfected the fine art of not burning toast.

One sunny morning, Nick sat on the porch of his cabin, strumming a lute—a new addition to his collection of instruments. He played a soft tune, watching as faint trails of light wove through the air, creating a shimmering dome around him.

The Wives System appeared beside him. "Excellent progress, Nick! Your ability to create defensive barriers has increased by 12%."

"Great," Nick muttered. "Another 88%, and maybe I'll actually feel useful."

"Your abilities are already invaluable," the AI said. "Support roles are critical in ensuring the success of any team."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, tell that to the monsters. I'm sure they'll appreciate the moral support while they're chewing on my face."

That evening, Nick sat at his small dining table, a map of Magnolia spread out before him.

"Alright," he said, tapping the map. "I've got the house, I've got some basic skills, and I'm not dead yet. What's next?"

The AI chimed in. "Next steps include mastering additional instruments, increasing your magical output, and refining your swordsmanship."

Nick frowned. "Swordsmanship. Right. Because I'm just so good at swinging a stick around."

"Your coordination has improved significantly since your training began," the AI said.

Nick sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "Yeah, but I still feel like a walking punchline. I mean, dancing and singing? What's next, juggling?"

"Juggling is an excellent way to develop dexterity," the AI replied seriously.

Nick groaned. "That was a joke."

"Noted."

Nick's time in Fairy Tail hadn't just been about training. He'd grown close to many of the guild members, forming bonds that made him feel like part of a family.

"Kid, you've got potential," Gildarts had said during one of their spars. "Not a lot of it, but it's there."

"Thanks," Nick had replied flatly, picking himself up off the ground. "Your confidence in me is overwhelming."

Cana had taken to calling him "Maestro," teasing him endlessly about his magic.

"Play me a song, Maestro," she'd say, holding up her drink. "Something dramatic. I need a soundtrack for my life."

Nick would roll his eyes but oblige, playing a slow, mournful tune on his flute. "There," he'd say. "The Ballad of Cana and Her Poor Life Choices."

The guild would erupt in laughter, and for the first time in a long while, Nick felt like he belonged.

As the stars twinkled above the forest, Nick sat on his porch, the Wives System hovering nearby.

"You've come a long way, Nick," the AI said. "Your progress exceeds initial projections."

"Thanks, I guess," Nick said, plucking a soft melody on his lute. "But it still feels like I've got a mountain to climb."

"Every journey begins with a single step," the AI said.

Nick chuckled. "And every journey ends with a really annoying motivational quote."

The AI flickered. "Would you like another?"

"Pass," Nick said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he let himself enjoy the peace of the moment, his music filling the night with soft, magical light.