The sun crept gently through the frost-laced windows of the Fairy Tail guild hall, casting golden shafts of light over half-eaten platters, discarded mugs, and a few sleeping mages who hadn't quite made it to their beds after the previous night's celebration. Amid the morning quiet, Krampus sat on the edge of a table, his smaller legs dangling, sipping a glass of warm milk while observing the waking hall with quiet curiosity. Having stayed in one of the guild's spare rooms overnight—since he had yet to find permanent accommodations—he was still adjusting to this new rhythm of daily life.
He glanced across the hall where Laxus was training, repeatedly throwing lightning-charged punches into a padded dummy. The boy's form was good—a little wild, but undeniably powerful. However, as Krampus watched with his ever-alert senses, something tugged at him. A slight distortion, a subtle misalignment in Laxus's magical aura. It fluttered unnaturally, like cloth caught on a hidden thorn.
He narrowed his eyes.
Something was wrong.
Sliding down from the table, Krampus padded over to the training area. Laxus paused mid-swing and grinned. "Wanna spar? I got my lacrima tuned up. I'm stronger now!"
Krampus returned a small smile, but his expression quickly turned serious. "I want to look at something first. Do you mind if I examine your connection to the lacrima?"
Laxus blinked. "Huh? Uh, sure? It's just inside me. You can see that stuff?"
Krampus nodded solemnly. "Yes."
Then, without further warning, he activated the full scope of his gaze.
His halo spun faster. The whites of his eyes darkened to a glowing, eerie scarlet, with slit pupils like a predator's and glowing scarlet rings around his golden irises. The transformation was immediate and dramatic—the guild hall seemed to dim around him as his sight honed in with supernatural precision.
Gasps echoed through the hall as guild members turned to stare. Makao dropped his cup. Wakaba's pipe fell from his lips. Even Gildarts leaned forward with a curious grin.
"Yo," someone muttered, "his eyes just went full demon lord."
"That's so metal," said another.
Krampus ignored the reactions, stepping closer to Laxus. With his full magic sight, the truth was laid bare. The lacrima fused within Laxus's body pulsed with unstable rhythm. While powerful, its anchoring was imperfect—artificial, like a bone graft that hadn't settled. Magic bled through in irregular bursts, and its feedback loop threatened to twist Laxus's developing temperament, amplifying aggression and isolation.
He frowned. "This isn't optimal. The lacrima's connection to you is flawed. If left as-is, it may distort your emotions over time."
Laxus flinched. "What? But Gramps said it was working fine now!"
"It is working," Krampus said gently, "but not in harmony. Let me fix it."
Without waiting, he raised his hand, golden chains shimmering into existence. They slithered gently toward Laxus, not to bind in restraint, but to weave with subtle purpose. Each link glowed with intent, carrying the phrase: You will be whole.
The Rule of Binding activated silently but profoundly. The chains passed through Laxus's body and coiled around the lacrima, threading it to his magical core with seamless precision. No pain, no resistance. Just integration.
Laxus's eyes widened as he felt a warmth spread through his chest. For the first time, the lacrima's presence felt natural—like an extension of himself rather than a foreign object. His lightning flared briefly in arcs of perfect gold, crackling with clean, potent harmony.
"Whoa..." he breathed. "That felt amazing. It doesn't buzz like before. It's just... right."
Krampus blinked, eyes returning to normal as he waved the last spark of his chain away. "Good. It won't influence your personality now."
Laxus looked at him with shining awe. "Thank you! That was awesome! You're awesome! Seriously, that was... incredible."
Krampus tilted his head slightly, clearly confused by the praise. "It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing!" Laxus insisted. "You fixed me. You're the coolest guy I know. I wanna train with you every day!"
From behind, Wakaba laughed. "Careful, kid. You might end up on the nice list permanently."
The guild hall buzzed again, this time with admiration. The terrifying glow of Krampus's demonic eyes had turned out to be a healer's light, his power not just punishing the wicked but lifting up the good.
And Laxus? He now followed Krampus like a lion cub with a new older brother.
Later that day, with the hall full and voices high, Laxus tugged on Krampus's sleeve. "Hey, Krampy. You said you were actually full-grown, right? Like, adult-sized?"
Krampus nodded slowly.
"Then show us! C'mon, I wanna see! Please? You said you looked cool, right?"
A few heads turned at the boy's excitement. Makarov, sitting with a large tankard of ale, raised an eyebrow. "If you're comfortable, lad. We don't spook easily."
Krampus hesitated, his brows furrowed in silent thought. A moment later, he nodded.
Magic shimmered around him—his halo glowing brighter as his small form expanded, rising, shifting, broadening. Muscles swelled beneath fur that darkened to a rich, black slate. His limbs thickened and lengthened, stretching toward his full seven-foot height. The fur remained dense, but defined every bulging muscle like a sculpted statue beneath velvet.
His mane burst forth—an explosive crown of greyish white that reached down to the small of his back, styled wildly and spikily with majestic flare. His leonine face retained its fierce power, but now carried the hardened lines of a warrior. Fangs jutted slightly from his upper lip like ivory tusks, and massive golden ram-like horns curled around his rounded lion ears. A glowing neon blue snowflake-shaped halo hovered just above his head, casting a soft chill light.
He wore his spiritual equipment, as if born in it. A dazzling red sleeveless long coat with a white fur trim and a hood swayed around his enormous shoulders, left open to proudly display the majesty of his powerful pecs and ridged eight-pack. Flexible, fingerless gauntlets with plated armor segments sheathed his forearms, built for function more than flair. Heavy golden chains looped around his neck like decorations and restraint all in one. His snug, military-style camo pants hugged his titanic legs, belted tightly at the waist, tucked neatly into heavy-duty, steel-toed combat boots. A thick lion tail with a tuft of grey-white fur flicked behind him, swaying lazily.
The room fell deathly silent.
Makao choked on his drink.
"Holy hell," someone whispered.
"He looks like something straight out of Tartaros... but with a Christmas coat."
Gildarts laughed loudly. "Now that's a proper entrance! You weren't kidding, kid. That's a body carved by war and winter!"
Laxus gasped in awe, eyes sparkling. "That's... gnarly! In the best way! You're huge! You look like a boss monster—but, like, a cool one!"
Even Makarov, ever the composed master, gave a low whistle. "Seen worse. Seen stranger. But this? This is something else."
Krampus looked around, bracing himself for fear, rejection, suspicion—anything but what he received.
Admiration.
Curiosity.
Even respect.
He blinked once, then again, almost confused. His heart fluttered.
They're not afraid? They're not recoiling?
He looked down at his massive clawed hands, then back at Laxus's wide grin and sparkling eyes.
They... like it?
A deep part of him warmed, like snowfall under morning sun. He had prepared for rejection. He had dressed down for comfort. But here they were—Fairy Tail—accepting him exactly as he was. No mask needed. No illusions.
He swallowed.
Maybe I really am home now.
Fairy Tail had seen strange. But now, they were beginning to see something rarer.
A miracle worker in a red coat and boots.
And he was one of their own.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Over the following week, Krampus fully settled into the rhythm of guild life. Though he continued to wear his smaller form for comfort and mobility, he now treated it not as a disguise, but as a relaxed expression of himself—one he would grow from naturally alongside Laxus.
Despite his imposing nature and divine magic, Krampus quickly found himself fitting in more than expected. He helped Macao reinforce a training dummy's enchantments, quietly repainted the front sign after an explosive prank gone wrong, and even helped Wakaba's daughter with a stuck zipper—his thick claws surprisingly gentle.
But it was the guild's library that truly captured his heart.
After requesting and receiving access from Makarov, Krampus stepped into the tall, slightly dusty chamber filled with parchment, bound grimoires, and spell scrolls organized by affinity. It smelled of vellum and aging magic—faint ink and ozone lingering in the air.
He sat cross-legged in his larger form, the books looking almost comically small in his massive hands. But there was a reverence in the way he handled each one—as if each volume was a whisper of the world's truths. He did not just read; he understood. Concepts, formulas, and diagrams unraveled before him like children's stories. What would take others weeks or months to grasp, he absorbed within minutes. His trait as a genius still manage to carry over to excel in magical studies.
This knowledge is not foreign to me, he realized with a quiet wonder. It's like... remembering something I always should have known.
When he stumbled upon Script Magic, his eyes lingered longer. The art of embedding words with power—to command reality through semiotics—resonated so deeply that he felt his magic pulse in his veins. It was not just compatible—it felt like home.
Soon, he was testing small effects.
"⛧[Burn]⛧," he whispered in the library courtyard, and a rune etched into the air turned crimson, igniting a focused line of heat.
"⛧[Silence]⛧," and the noisy group of brawling rookies outside went mute mid-curse, causing a ripple of panic before he canceled the effect with a chuckle.
His affinity with Rune Magic followed naturally. To Krampus, runes were not arbitrary symbols—they were condensed intent, written in the language of the world. When he traced a sigil mid-air, he could feel the weight of it press into space like a seal of divine authority.
He began writing hybrid chains of script and runes in patterns, exploring the layering of meanings, testing their boundaries. His Rule of Binding—golden chains that carried judgment and protection—suddenly felt like it had evolved. He wasn't just enforcing cosmic law. He was beginning to write it.
Is this why I was given this power? he wondered, penning an experimental rune-sentence across a glowing scroll. To codify order into magic? To bind the unjust and uplift the worthy?
His halo flickered softly above his head with each new insight. Even alone, he could feel the air shimmer in anticipation—as if the guild itself recognized the scope of what he was becoming.
When he came across the Lightning Magic scrolls, Krampus read with keen interest—not for himself, but for Laxus. The elemental matrices were elegant but primal, emphasizing destructive arcs, rapid movement, and high-voltage output. But something about it felt… rudimentary.
"This could be so much more refined," he murmured.
His mind drifted—back to another world, another life where a young girl with sparks in her hair could flick a coin and vaporize concrete with scientific elegance.
"Railgun," he whispered. "Of course."
He wrote down formulas. Magnetic acceleration. Ion channeling. Barrel stabilization via air pressure. It was not typical Fairy Tail magic—but it could be.
That night, he handed Laxus a bound notebook, hand-written in impossibly neat script.
Laxus flipped through it with awe. "This is... lightning magic?"
Krampus nodded. "A variation. A conceptual evolution. You'll have to build control over magnetic fields first, but your lacrima's stable now. You can manage it."
"Will it shoot lightning bullets?"
"Yes. And if mastered... even bolts that cut through mountains."
Laxus gaped. "Holy crap, I'm gonna be awesome."
"You already are," Krampus said softly. "This will just help you channel it better."
Laxus grinned and punched his fist into his palm. "Tomorrow we start training!"
Krampus chuckled—an increasingly familiar, warm sound—and nodded.
This is what it means to grow, he thought. Not alone. Together.