Hello everyone. My name is Ponch126 but previously underwent the username Jared_pjm. I am still active on that account; however, I will no longer be posting story updates there anymore as I am aiming to reach out to a wider audience. If all goes well, I'll be able to fall back into the flow of constant writing again and hopefully be able to proceed forward.

If you have any questions, complaints, or concerns, you may post on my message board or direct message me if you do not wish for the public domain to see. However, I insist that you do not try to post scandals or anything showing that you know me outside of this site as there is only one person that I trust completely with sharing my story ideas with and he is not here.

Anyways, if you wish to make suggestions, point out something that doesn't make sense, or notice some form of grammatical errors, please let me know in the comments. If you are just simply going to comment flames aiming any hurtful comments , or come claiming me to have stolen this story from another account, you may take it up with my legal team of My Ass. I don't care for insults, but I am not afraid to clap right back with something that will undoubtably get me cancelled anywhere. And to be frank, I am the owner of this story. As stated on both accounts, I am the same person. Jared is my legal first name, and that's all I'm giving you. Ponch is a name that a couple friends from high school started calling me and has stuck since.

A little off track, but please enjoy.

Please note that this is a reworked version of the prologue, as for looking at how my original was... yeah. We don't need to go into that.

If you want to read the original, it'll be under the same title, under the account mentioned above.

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PROLOGUE: THE FIRST MEETING

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The forests and mountainsides of Northwest Ishgar were always a sight to behold. The beautiful green shined brightly with the day and seemed to sleep with the night. The hills and large land masses glowed brightly with the moonlight and were covered in a thick fog in the mornings.

However, today the moods were ruined from the frantic running of a young man being chased by knights and guards from the kingdom of Fiore and their Magic Council. His hair was solid white mixed with traces of blue at the ends. His clothes in tatters as scratches, bruises, and cuts littered his tanned brown skin with his shirt having been completely torn off with only a blue and white bandana covering his face. His pants were no better as before they used to reach all the way down to his ankles. Now the right side barely reached his shin while his left only went to just above his knee.

On his skin, aside from the cuts that littered his body, were markings that were royal blue in design and in the shape of flames. Under the night sky, the markings seemed to glow as the 17-year-old was using the last of his magic power to his legs in order to escape faster.

He knew reason these people were from the council were investigating the commotion, but not the reason they were hunting him down. All he could think about was fighting his way out to escape to safety. The battle in the crater that had once been the town of Riverstream left him nearly alive. But despite that, he was no longer focused on the reasoning of his supposed status of wanted. He just needed to leave.

Previously he used to live in the town. Everyone knew of him as the boy that calmed the Azure Flame Dragon and were quite fond of him, despite not really knowing where he came from. The aforementioned dragon took him under his care and even trained him in the arts of a special kind of Lost Magic. The magic of the Lost Dragon Slayer, the kind that can only be taught by the most powerful dragons of centuries old. Dragon Slaying magic on its own was once lost to time, however lacrima's were still being found all over the world, and with it, new generations of the magic had been able to come into fruition, albeit slowly. The ways of needing to be taught by the magnificent beasts themselves became a lost cause as the last of them had long since died out, with the few remaining having gone into hiding or disappeared without a trace.

But the dragon looked into the boy and recognized his potential for growth. Taking the decision to use the last of his years left to train the child into one of the original ways of the art. Using his flames, he gave the last of his fighting spirit to the boy and honed his instincts until the boy no longer needed his training or guidance.

But that day came sooner than he had expected. A monster no one had seen in generations became aware of the Lost Dragon's flames being used and came to snuff his life out. And though the elder beast held no strength to keep himself alive for a fight, he would do everything that he could to make sure that the young boy he had raised would not face the terror today. And so, with his dying breath, he sealed the boy and the village away until the opponent left the continent, with either himself alive or dead. And after leaving his final gift for the boy, a weapon and a blue pullup facemask made from the scales from the tip of his tail. And after leaving them with the teen that no longer needed his teachings, he faced his death with the determination of a warrior.

A few days had passed since then. The woods that once separated the town were thinned out, reaching tens of kilometers before the first sign of wildlife had even been spotted. The young man searched desperately for the beast that took him in, but after traces of battle and the scent of death, he found the corpse of the dragon that once brought him under his wing. He was only age fifteen when he had lost his father.

A few years had passed, the teen was now a young adult and was viewed very positively by the townsfolk. Having always helped everyone out. Monday's he would visit the Stables and help maintain the horses and clean the pens. Tuesday's he would be running deliveries around to help out the shopkeeper with his orders. Wednesday's he would spend out on the lake to help bring in the haul of fish. Thursdays were for the bakery with their long list of everyday orders from the townsfolk or travelers. Fridays spent at the armory to craft weapons and armors for those needing them, and upgrade or repairs for the broken ones. The weekends he would spend away, usually hunting or training his magic as well as hand to hand. The weapon left behind for him was a knife with unordinary materials, such as the blade was made with the hardened scales of a dragon and the mask he wore around his neck everywhere used the same material only in cloth form, and when he activated his magic, the scale-like texture glowed in tandem with his own markings.

But that all changed when a dark guild came to town and started to destroy everything in their path. Immediately homes and shops were in flames with their occupants still inside. Apparently, one of the members caught wind of the young man's power and wanted to make sure that he wouldn't prove to be an obstacle. So, he went about with his crew and slaughtered everyone. By the time he returned from his hunting trip, everything was on fire and there were no survivors. His enhanced sense of smell proved that when the only human scents he caught were only those he was unfamiliar with.

He confronted the dark guild, quickly eliminating their forces without any trouble until he got to their boss. A woman no older than him, who was able to wield black ice in shapes and forms that resembled no maker magic but rather a slaying type. When they met, he would admit that her black ice held up well to the absolute heat of his flames, but he was still superior. The only thing she had on him was experience and he was not going to let that overcome him. Not after all the work he had done for this town. Not after what she did.

So, using everything in his arsenal, he attacked the woman relentlessly and overwhelmed her. But she got multiple good hits in as well. Their final clash had been in the middle of the town where their fists clashed nonstop. Every punch had its mirror. Every flame thrown about; ice was spread in the opposite direction. A standstill yet neither gave in. No longer caring about blocking, just aiming to beat the absolute life out of each other. Their final attack met in the middle; fist surrounded by a blue flame that was way too hot to comprehend anything behind it met one encased in ice which went below temperatures that were alien to this land. A blast covered the entire town and destroyed everything.

By the time the dust settled, the woman was nowhere to be seen, and the blaring sirens of Rune Knights surrounded the area. Since he was the only one standing in the destroyed village, the squadron assumed he was the culprit behind the destruction of Riverstream, and opened fire on the young man. Granted, he was covered in dried blood and had small traces of ice and dragon scales on his features, and the bodies of the raiders were nowhere to be seen to compare to the bodies of the town's inhabitants. This had been what forced the man to flee the only home he had ever known to his memory.

Which brings us to where we are now. Running through the forest desperately trying to survive the night. He couldn't afford to slow down, nor could he allow himself to go any faster than his current pace as that would only drain him. He was unaware that the shooting stopped, and that his chasers had long given up. He just ran to either the nearest town or city that he could find. His stash of money he had been saving up over the years had been left behind, but he hoped that no one would ever find it. But it was clear to him that he wouldn't be able to pick it up anytime soon, and that the joules in his pouch were all that he had left. Finally, he reached a large city which was perfect cover to blend in with the people and find an inn. The only items he had on him was a satchel which held enough money for food, clothing, and shelter, if need be, the Dragon Arms he had received, and his bandana.

Finding the closest inn, he rented a room for a single night and immediately went to sleep. The exhaustion of running away, fighting, and his wounds finally catching up to him as he landed on the soft mattress and drifted away. He could vaguely hear the door slam open in a panic but that was all null and void to him.

The person that opened the gateway into the room was a short and small old man. He had seen the boy come into town on what looked like his last legs, with a combination of ice and frozen or burnt blood all over him. No doubt the members of the inn were frightened. After all, only maniacs look like he does.

The ice on his skin was unusual in property. For one, it was ebony compared to the usual cool white that one of his younger members wielded. And despite the unusually high body temperature the boy seemed to exhibit, it was melting at a crawling pace. But that's not what he was really focused on.

The markings on the boy, some sort of scale pattern that blended into flames in a more tribal pattern, clearly matching the islander type vibe he had going on. Maybe when he was younger, the tribe he was from marked him as some sort of ritual foretelling the boy's fate. But the strangest parts were that the markings were faintly glowing. Perhaps they reacted with his magic and became a part of him; and with the exhaustion the boy obviously showed, reacted with his emotional and physical strength.

Having made his decision, he stayed on the balcony, keeping watch for the ones that followed him and forced him into this state as well as any council members that may have been alerted to his presence.

It had been several hours, the ice that stuck to his skin still present as he woke up from his slumber. Taking a second to gain his bearings, he recalled the events of the day prior and quickly melted the ice from his skin with the ignition of his hand. Looking around the room, he saw a canteen of water that seemed to have been left behind; presumably from the people prior that stayed here. Smacking his lips, his throat cried out a dry heave for the liquid, having gone dry from the hours of fighting, running, and sleep. He grabbed the canteen from the nightstand and downed the entire thing; the coolness of the water healing his sore esophagus and allowing for a better air flow. With a sigh, he looked around the room once more and saw the balcony door open, with his sack and knife next to it. Quickly grabbing the blade, he cautiously walked through the doorway and found the person behind the open gateway.

A short old man, with a white flowing jacket and a weird symbol on his back sat atop the railing, watching the bustling street below. The mid-morning crowd rushing to work and to the shops for grocery shopping in an effort to beat the noon crowd. His eyes traced every figure below, almost as if he were scanning them for something.

Sneaking up on him, he quickly wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed, with his other arm bringing the blade up to his eye.

"Who are you, and why are you on my balcony?" His tone left no room for messing around, and having released a small bit of his magic, he was begging for the elderly man to try something that would encase his end.

"Y'know, aiming any weapon at a member of the council, a Wizard Saint no less, is warrant enough for five years in prison. I kindly suggest you put that blade away and remove yourself from my form before I arrest you here and now for assault and attempt at murder." The man spoke, releasing his own magic against the boy in a similar manner. But instead of him backing off like he had hoped, the hold tightened, and even more magic was released; the heat radiating starting to burn the metal railing he was sitting on.

"The council? The very same ones that failed to show up to my dying village when we were under attack. The very same council that arrived after everyone had been killed and the remaining attacker fled to lick her wounds." Each question only strengthened his hold, the old man's airway now nearly fully constricted. "The very same council that opened fire on the last living resident of the village without even asking questions as to what had happened? That council?!"

The elder opened his eyes in shock, not from the sleeper hold, but rather what the boy had said. Not only did his entire village die from an attack of unknown raiders, but the unit that reacted to the activity opened fire on him without leaving any room for arrest or capture. Truly, the Magic Council hadn't fallen that far, have they? No, it must have been some misinterpretation of sorts. But why did they not even question the boy? Was it because of his wounds? Because the state the village was already in? Many questions rung in head, but he couldn't afford to ask. Forcefully snatching the blade from the trained fighter, he removed the arm around his airway and shoved the boy back.

"My boy-" "Don't call me that, you scum. You probably made that order and followed me here when your men failed to kill me. There's no other reason as to why you would be in my resting place with that damned jacket on your back. Well, whatever this 'Wizard Saint' title is, you can shove it if you think I give a flying fuck about your status. You want to kill me? ME?! Then you best be ready to battle, old timer. I won't go down without a fight." Lighting his fists, the blue markings began to brighten on his skin, confirming his theory.

But his supposed opponent made no room to attack, nor did he even take a stance. Raising a hand in front of him, he tossed the blade back to the boy hilt first. And spoke once more.

"I know not of the situation that happened in your village nor do I know about the notion for your troubles. I was here last night getting ready to rent my own room for the night when you stumbled in the doors bloody and frozen. Seeing your magic, I now know that the ice is not your own. Do not think of me as a member of that unit that aimed to harm you. I am merely an old man who is concerned for your health. Please, stow your flames and return your blade. I aim for no harm."

The teen could not believe his ears. Did he simply think that he was stupid? No, the minute he powered down the attacker would flank him and put him down. He was not going to allow for that. But there was something about the way the man spoke. No room for lie or even skepticism. Just concern and sincerity. Looking into the elder's eyes, the same emotions were shown to him with the scent of calmness. The man spoke the truth, he was not going to attack.

Powering down, the flames receded back into his skin and the blade returned to its holster on his waist. Falling to his knees, he finally allowed for the emotions from the day prior to surface. Grief, pain, and overwhelming guilt slammed into him all at once as the tears fell freely from his face.

The older man only looked down with empathy. The boy lost everything known to him. The families made there, his friends, their kindness, his spots for relaxation, all of it was gone, leaving the boy with nothing except the clothes on his back, the blade from his home, and a few joules for food and shelter. With the amount that he was charged, that was probably gone as well.

Stepping off the railing, he patted the teens back and let out a few words of sympathy. Voicing his apologies for the tragedies he was forced to face all at once without room for reflection.

A few minutes passed before the tears finally stopped flowing. The light and hum from the markings died down to a soft glow that blended into his tanned skin. "Sorry, for coming at you like that."

"It's fine, my boy. I imagine anyone in your shoes would react the same. But for what it's worth, I truly do apologize for your recent experience. No boy your age should have to suffer that fate."

"Perhaps." The boy looked back to the ground, his eyes moving sharply before they closed, and he stood up. "I'm going to find that woman and make her pay. I don't care if she had a reason for her actions. I will find her; and when I do, I'll kill her. After that, find the Dragon that murdered my father. Simple as that."

There was nothing but truth and conviction in his words. No anger, just determination.

"Young man, you do know what will happen if you pursue this path, don't you?"

"The families of my village and my father will be allowed for their souls to rest in peace. I'm well aware of that fact."

"But this could also make you an enemy of the public if the council sees you as nothing more than a-" "Then that will be something to worry about after they're dead. Hell, afterwards, I'll let them take me if they very well please."

"Except you can't pursue them if you do not live before then. I insist you at least think about what I am going to offer you, wouldn't be the first time I've had to talk one of you damn kids down from going off on their own."

"And how can I be sure to trust you? Considering you broke into my room and work alongside the council, I don't see any reason you wouldn't just throw me onto their doorstep right now."

"If I had any intent of doing so, this conversation would not be happening. But I'm not asking for your trust, I'm asking you to take a chance on me. A chance on a life that'll help you reach your goal. A chance to not only find those you're after, but to find a new home, new friends, a new family.

"Young man, I ask that you come back with me to Magnolia Town, a port town south of this capital and view my guild. There I have taken in children younger than yourself who have suffered tragedies of their own. Before they joined, they were alone. No one to run to except for siblings or those that would only pity them. But now, they all have a place to call home, new guildmates to call friends, new friends to call family."

The teen contemplated for a moment. While he wouldn't be alone, who would he be able to trust? Who would he be able to confide in? How can he be sure that none of these people would just turn their back on him the moment he lowers his guard? There's too many variables to take into account as to how things could instantly go wrong.

And the council was still after him, too. What would happen if the guild took in a person that may or not be on wanted posters for being a mass murder suspect? What if they just turned him in the first moment they were questioned?

"Let's say I do join you. What would happen then? I surround myself with people I don't know, with people in an entirely new place that's foreign to me. Just because you say they've suffered their own losses, and that they are this 'family' you're telling me. If anything, their tragedies may lead to them turning on me in fear of their own pasts coming up to haunt them. How am I able to see these unfamiliar faces and take what they say to heart?"

This got the old man to finally reel back a little and close his eyes in thought. Sure, if word about the tragic fate of Riverstream and her only survivor already reached his children's ears, most of them would be on edge if he suddenly brought in the man that's been framed. If anything, a couple heads he can count would attack him outright.

"Unfortunately I cannot control the emotions my children have when it comes to such circumstances. There's no telling what they may do. However, I will say this. Your father was a dragon, yes? Well, in my guild, there are two other children who make the same claim. That their parent was a dragon. However, they do not say whether or not they have passed, but rather that they disappeared one day and woke up in an unfamiliar land.

"I would like for you to at least meet these children and converse with them your stories of your parent, and listen to the stories of theirs. Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. I ask of you this as someone concerned for your well being, not as a Guild Master or Wizard Saint. Take this chance on me, and allow me to show you a way to a better life. Who knows? You may find allies in this endeavor of yours."

With an outstretched hand, he looked once more into the eyes of the teen. No longer were they the deep brown. Instead, a deep cerulean blue glowed from the orbs, his markings and mask mirroring the scene. Within the orbs, he found a new look.

He found a person hesitant yet willing to take a chance on someone else. A person who may not fully trust himself, but rather is going to learn that action instead. As well as slight excitement at the thought of being able to meet his own kind.

And thus, with conviction and curiosity taking over, he grabbed the elder's hand, a firm grip, and shook.

"I will accompany you to this guild. I hope that in the future I will not be driven away, but be given the chance to grow as my own person.

"I will believe in you, Makarov, as you believe in me."

"Thank you, dear boy. Now, I can't exactly call you that the entire time I know you. Is there a name I can use instead?"

Pulling his brows together in thought, he remembered back to a day when he was with the dragon parent. He was about twelve at the time but he remembers every single thing about it. One particular part of the day was during the rest hour, between training and learning customs. The words his parent said to him.

"Such a sweet child, yet that wonder and unmatched happiness you express can sometimes lead you into terrible decisions. Such a beautiful chaotic flame you carry within you, and yet, nothing can bring you down."

"How can chaos be beautiful?"

"Dear boy, by itself, chaos brings destruction and disorganization to the world. Many view it as a bad thing. However, in midst of event, there are things within the destruction that are simply a wonder to behold. How despite everything falling, a family remains strong and pushes forward to unknown heights. That despite being weak, even the teenager was able to take down the goliath. Chaotic events like that are truly beautiful, as it shows that through disorganizing the destruction, something wonderful can blossom. That is what you are, child. A beautiful chaotic ball of fire."

"Chaos. My name is Chaos, not for what it represents, but rather the beauty behind the disorganization that ensues."

"And a last name?" "Dranigon, named after my father and his race. Flarigon, The Last Lost Dragon from the Flames of Time."

And this, dear reader, is how Chaos Dranigon's story begins.

END SCENE

Whew! This rewrite took longer than I thought it would. Now, if you have read the original story, right off the bat you can recognize that this version of chapter one and the original version are completely different, as they have nothing resembling each other except for the name and meeting Makarov first. I also decided to change the meaning behind Chaos' name, as being called that solely because "death and destruction follow me everywhere I go, so I have decided that I shall be Chaos." is more edgy than Shadow's spinoff game and every interpretation of him after '06.

Why did I make the change? Well for one, I was interested at the time of first reuploading and making minor changes to the chapter. But when I started reading it for myself, I quickly realized that it wasn't making any sense on its own, and even less sense compared to the later chapters of the original story. So instead of revise and editing it, I scrapped the entire thing and wrote a completely new beginning, one that fits the narrative of "every young child of the guild has suffered something terrible in their past". And in doing so, I quickly began to love this new version more and more. How Chaos gets his name, how even though its how he gets to Fairy Tail, this is going to be his story, and not "Fairy Tail except I replaced Natsu with my own OC."

Again, key moments in FT won't be touched such as the Tower of Heaven and Nirvana I don't plan on adding Chaos, Esmeralda, or Sky to the former arc because I feel it would take away the moments from the original characters triumphs and hardships. Natsu's fight against Jellal to save Erza is a beautiful and raw scene, and to take that away with "a stronger opponent against Chaos, Sky, or Esmeralda" would completely make that point mute. As for Nirvana, that was Wendy's arc. While I could very easily give Chaos that "parental" role for her, it wouldn't feel right because it would interfere with the relationships she was able to form with the other guildmates.

Granted, I'm not saying I'm going to skip over them entirely with a time-skip. Instead, I will create a new arc for the characters. They are going to have their own opponents such as the fight I gave earlier.

As for the rest of the FT cast, they won't be as of importance. The Strauss siblings are a maybe at this point as I'm not sure where I want to have them stand, but I don't want to throw them in just to barely use them, I may as well use them as the rest of the cast instead "Oh I was important one chapter, but now I'm not."

Thank you for reading. Please give your thoughts and insights and please, if you're going to criticize, use information that's actually important instead of "Well, I don't like your story because (place any published character) is not the MC, therefore your story is bad." If you are going to just try to offend me, I will honestly not care because me and my legal team of a Thonked Tubby, Zooted Tubby, and their goth girlfriends will tell you to take it to the department of My Ass.

Comment, like, and vote if this was something you enjoyed, and give me things that say why you liked it. I'm interested in everything you have to say.