The training area behind Fairy Tail was a large field marked with burn marks, sword cuts, and small craters. This was where the guild's strongest members practiced their magic and sparred with each other. The grass was worn down to dirt in many places from years of magical battles.
Erza Scarlet stood in the middle of the field. Her long red hair moved slightly in the morning breeze. She had already changed into her Heart Kreuz armor - silver metal plates that covered her body like a second skin. In her hands was a simple steel sword, nothing fancy or magical, just a well-made weapon that had seen many fights.
"Master Makarov told me about your situation," she said as Riven walked toward her. "Ancient magic bonded to your soul. Voices in your head. Transformation abilities you can barely control. Is that right?"
"That's about right," Riven said. Training with Erza made him nervous even on good days, and today was not a good day.
"Good. Then we can skip the talking and get to the important part." She lifted her sword into a fighting position. "Show me what this Djinn power can do."
Riven took a deep breath and tried to calm his mind. He could feel Baal's presence sitting quietly in the back of his thoughts like a sleeping dragon. He raised his right hand and called on that power.
"Djinn Equip: Baal!"
Golden light began to swirl around his body like liquid metal. He felt the familiar tingling sensation as magic tried to reshape his clothes into armor. Power started flowing through his arms and legs like warm honey. For just a moment, he thought it was going to work.
Then everything collapsed.
Instead of the magnificent golden armor from the temple, only small sparks danced across his skin. The magic twisted and fought against itself before dying out completely. Pain shot through his nervous system like he had grabbed a live wire. He stumbled backward and fell to one knee, gasping for breath.
Small electrical burns appeared on his fingertips where the power had tried to manifest. His whole body shook from the magical backlash.
Erza lowered her sword and walked over to him. Her face showed concern rather than disappointment.
"That's exactly what I expected to happen," she said, offering him her hand. "You're trying to force the magic to obey you. Ancient power doesn't work that way. It requires understanding, patience, and most importantly, respect."
Riven took her hand and let her pull him back to his feet. Frustration burned in his chest like acid.
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You can switch between dozens of different armors and weapons like it's nothing. You make it look effortless."
"Exactly," Erza said with a small smile. "And how do you think I learned to do that? I spent years practicing. Hundreds of failed transformations. Countless hours understanding each piece of equipment and how it connected to my magical energy."
She began walking toward the guild hall, gesturing for him to follow.
"You've been bonded with this Djinn for what, a few days? Did you really think you would master legendary power immediately? Even the greatest mages in history needed time to grow into their abilities."
As they walked, Erza continued explaining. "Requip magic is about partnership between mage and equipment. You have to understand each weapon and armor set, know their strengths and weaknesses, feel comfortable with their weight and balance. But what you're dealing with now sounds much more complex."
They stopped at a side door that Riven had never noticed before.
"There's someone you need to meet," Erza said. "Someone who might be able to help you understand what you're dealing with."
-The Archive Workshop-
The side door led to a narrow staircase that went down below the main guild hall. Riven had never known these underground rooms existed. The stairs were lit by magical crystals that glowed with soft blue light. The air got cooler as they went deeper, and strange smells drifted up from below.
At the bottom of the stairs was a workshop unlike anything Riven had ever seen. The room was huge, much larger than he would have expected from looking at the guild hall above. Tall bookshelves lined every wall, packed with ancient books, scrolls, and strange objects wrapped in cloth. Workbenches covered in tools and half-finished projects filled most of the floor space. In one corner, a magical forge burned with steady flame that never seemed to consume any fuel.
The air smelled like old paper, metal polish, and something else - the sharp scent that came after lightning strikes.
A woman looked up from her desk as they entered. She appeared to be in her twenties, with short brown hair that looked like she had run her hands through it many times while thinking. Round glasses sat on her nose, and her practical work clothes were stained with ink, metal shavings, and colorful magical residues.
"So you're the one who bonded with a Djinn," she said without any greeting. "Master Makarov told me you'd be coming down here eventually."
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Riven asked, looking around the impressive workshop.
"Lisette Crowley," she replied, finally giving him her full attention. "I research magical artifacts and ancient weapons. I also study how different types of magic interact with the human body. Apparently, I'm now your personal consultant on legendary powers that could kill you if used incorrectly."
Her tone was somewhat sarcastic, but Riven could see genuine excitement and curiosity in her eyes. This was clearly someone who loved exactly this kind of challenge.
Lisette stood up and walked to a large table covered with scrolls and drawings. She unrolled one that showed detailed illustrations of various magical artifacts. In the center was a drawing that made Riven's breath catch - a golden crown-like circlet that looked exactly like the one that had appeared above his head during his transformation in the temple.
"This matches historical records from before the year X200," she explained, pointing to symbols and notes written around the drawing. "What scholars call the Lost Age, when magic was supposedly much more powerful and diverse than what we see today."
She pulled out another scroll, this one showing a warrior in magnificent golden armor wielding a spear wrapped in storm clouds.
"According to these texts, Djinn weapons were fundamentally different from any magic we understand today. Traditional Requip magic works by storing weapons and armor in pocket dimensions, then summoning them when needed. The items exist separately from the user - you call them forth, use them, then send them back."
Lisette moved to another section of drawings that showed complex magical diagrams.
"But Djinn Equip works through fusion, not summoning. The Djinn doesn't just lend you its power - it temporarily merges its consciousness with yours. The armor and weapons you see aren't separate items being summoned. They're physical manifestations of your combined consciousness and magical energy."
Riven leaned closer to study the diagrams. "That's why it felt so different from my normal Requip magic. It wasn't just putting on armor - it was like becoming someone else entirely."
"Exactly," Lisette said. "And that's also why it's so dangerous."
She opened a thick book filled with historical accounts and pointed to several entries marked with warning symbols.
"Most records of Djinn bearers throughout history end badly. Some users were overwhelmed by the Djinn's consciousness and lost their own identity, becoming insane or dying from the mental strain. Others couldn't achieve stable fusion, causing their magical circuits to burn out from the incredible energy involved."
A chill ran down Riven's spine as he read some of the account titles: "The Mad King of Stella," "The Burned Mage of Bosco," "The Lost Prince of Seven."
"What about the successful ones?" he asked quietly.
Lisette's expression became more serious. "They became legends. Kings who could reshape entire continents. Warriors who commanded the elements themselves and led armies to impossible victories. But even the successful ones rarely lived peaceful lives. Power of that magnitude tends to attract enemies, challengers, and those who want to claim it for themselves."
The workshop fell silent except for the quiet crackling of the magical forge. Riven stared at the historical accounts, beginning to understand the true scope of what he had gotten himself into.
"So what am I supposed to do?" he asked. "I can't just ignore this power, but I don't want to go insane or burn out my magical circuits either."
Lisette's stern expression softened slightly. "You learn. Slowly, carefully, with people watching your back to make sure you don't lose yourself in the process. The fact that you're asking these questions instead of immediately trying to conquer the nearest kingdom tells me you might actually have a chance at this."
She walked over to another shelf and pulled down a thick leather journal with blank pages.
"I'll help document your progress and research the history of other Djinn bearers. We'll try to understand the mechanics of how this fusion process works and find ways to make it safer. But ultimately, the relationship between you and Baal is something only you can figure out."
Lisette handed him the journal along with a simple pen.
"Start writing down everything. Every attempt at transformation, every conversation with the Djinn, every sensation or emotion you experience. The more information we have, the better chance we have of keeping you alive and sane while you master this power."
As Riven took the journal, he felt a faint stirring from Baal's consciousness in his mind. The Djinn seemed pleased by this methodical approach.
"There's something else you should know," Lisette added, her voice becoming more serious. "According to the historical records, there are seventy-two different Djinn in total. If one has awakened and chosen a bearer, others might start awakening as well. Ancient magic tends to attract more ancient magic."
She pointed to a map on the wall marked with various symbols and locations.
"There could be other people out there going through the same thing you are. Some might become allies. Others..." She shrugged. "Well, history shows that Djinn bearers don't always get along with each other."