The walk through Magnolia's evening streets was quiet.
Macao led the way toward the small inn he'd arranged, with Romeo walking a few steps ahead, stealing glances back at Teresa every few seconds. She followed silently, her gaze never lingering on any one thing for long, but her awareness remained sharp. Her silver eyes flicked over the small details of Earthland's life: the faint magical glow of the lacrima streetlights, the bustling energy that hummed beneath the surface, and the easy warmth exchanged between strangers.
It was all... curious.
Unlike the rigid villages of her old world, where fear hung in the air like mist, this place breathed with noisy, unpredictable life.
Macao finally stopped before a modest wooden building tucked just off one of Magnolia's quieter streets. The glow of warm lamplight leaked through its windows.
"Here we are," he said, pulling open the door. "It's nothing fancy, but it'll be safe, and the staff here are used to hosting guild members."
Teresa stepped inside and glanced around. The inn's interior was simple—wooden floors, a few small round tables, and soft lighting. The air smelled faintly of tea and baked bread. It was not unwelcoming, but she remained detached.
The innkeeper, already briefed by Macao, simply offered a polite nod as he handed over the key to Teresa's room without question. Macao waved the man off.
"Put it on the guild's tab," he said.
"You're offering much to a stranger," Teresa observed as they ascended the stairs.
Macao shrugged. "It's what Fairy Tail does. We don't leave people stranded."
Romeo chimed in excitedly from behind, "Besides, you seem nice enough! Even if you don't smile much."
At that, Teresa's faint smile flickered slightly—her usual distant, unreadable expression.
"I smile enough."
They reached the second floor, and Macao opened the door to a small but clean room. A single bed, a table with a simple oil lamp, and a narrow window looking out toward Magnolia's rooftops.
"It'll do for now," Macao said. "Get some rest tonight. We can talk more tomorrow."
Teresa stepped into the room and turned to face him. "I will not be a burden."
"You're not," Macao said sincerely. "You've handled yourself fine so far. And... we could use a little more strength around here."
Teresa tilted her head slightly. "Your guild's strongest are absent."
"Yeah." Macao sighed softly. "They've been gone for some time now. Our S-Class mages were on an important mission... but they haven't come back."
Teresa studied him for a moment, noting the subtle strain in his voice. "You carry their absence with responsibility."
"Someone has to keep things together while they're gone." He smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
For a brief moment, she recognized the weight in his posture—the quiet exhaustion of one tasked with protecting others. It was familiar.
Romeo stepped forward with his usual youthful optimism. "Don't worry! They'll come back. I know it."
Macao ruffled his son's hair, smiling genuinely this time. "Yeah. We'll keep things running until they do."
Teresa nodded. "You are strong."
Her words were simple, without embellishment. A statement of observation rather than praise.
"Get some rest," Macao said again, gently closing the door behind him.
For a long while, Teresa stood in silence in the small room.
She had not slept comfortably in years—even before she died in that distant world. Sleep was always light, always alert. A habit that carried over into this strange place.
She approached the window, opening it slightly. The cool night air carried faint voices from the street below. Laughter. Conversations. The life of the town continued beyond her presence. She did not belong here. Yet she was here.
She closed her eyes, reaching inward.
Her Yoki pulsed softly—restrained as always, the monstrous power within held tightly under control. It had sustained her through battlefields, through impossible odds, through the terror of Awakening. She had lived longer than many of her kind ever did. But here... Earthland's magic pressed gently against that Yoki, not as an enemy but as something curious. Responsive.
She frowned slightly as she felt the subtle shifts.
The energy around her was different from her own, yet not incompatible. Earthland's magic was alive—abundant, wild, yet strangely eager to bond, as if offering new forms rather than resisting her presence.
Her armor felt warm against her skin. She focused on the sensation forming deep inside her chest. An odd pressure. A flicker of something... malleable.
Out of instinct, she raised one hand.
And in response, a faint ripple of energy shimmered around her arm.
The air twisted briefly, and her cloak flickered—then vanished entirely, dissolving into strands of light. Surprised, she inhaled sharply. Her breastplate, gauntlets, and boots followed immediately after, dissipating into the same glowing stream, drawn inward as though her body itself had called them away.
She stood now in her light black Claymore tunic—the familiar uniform she had worn beneath her armor for years. The sword remained sheathed against her back for a moment longer, but when she focused again, the same ripple of light pulled it away, storing it somewhere... else.
A void space. A pocket dimension.
Not her Yoki. Something different. Something... new.
Requip.
Though she had never learned it, the world's magic had fused with her being, forming this instinctive ability—limited, precise, and uniquely tied to her equipment.
Not like Ezra's Requip—she had no library of countless weapons or armors to call upon. No variety. No complexity.
Only what belonged to her.
Her armor. Her sword. Her cloak. Nothing more.
She stood, flexing her gloved hands, feeling the strange emptiness where the weight of her armor had always been.
Her silver eyes narrowed slightly. This world reshaped things. Not through force, but through invitation.
It would take time to fully understand the extent of this merging. But for now, she recognized the usefulness.
Outside her room, Macao and Romeo lingered briefly in the hallway.
"Do you think she's dangerous, Dad?" Romeo asked softly.
Macao paused, considering. "She's dangerous, yeah. But I don't think she's a threat."
"She seems lonely," Romeo whispered.
Macao nodded. "Some people choose to walk alone."
He glanced back at the closed door, sensing the quiet aura of power behind it.
"Let's give her space. She'll find her place, or she won't."
Inside, Teresa returned to the window once more. Her faint smile lingered—distant, unreadable, yet present.
A world so full of life, offering its magic to her like an open hand.
She would not reach for it. Not yet.
But she would observe.