The Tiānkōng Empire was a vast and peaceful dynasty founded on knowledge, philosophy, combat, skill, and, above all, honor. In this realm, honor was regarded as more precious than jade, silk, or any other fine treasure, and an individual's standing in the empire was determined by their honor. Makarov, once a young samurai known for his strength, intelligence, bravery, and exceptional fighting skills, had earned the title of the most honorable man in the empire. However, it was his kindness, patience, wisdom, and humility that garnered him the deep respect of all Tiānkōng citizens, including the emperor himself.

The emperor, who had never married or fathered children, devoted his life to building and nurturing the empire. He often thought of Makarov as the son fate had denied him. As the old emperor sensed his time on earth was drawing to a close, he declared Makarov as his heir.

Makarov ruled the Tiānkōng Empire with benevolence, bringing joy and prosperity to his subjects while doing everything in his power to protect them. In times of peace with neighboring realms, he felt secure. However, the onset of the Great War shattered that tranquility. It pained him deeply to send countless men into battle, witnessing the grief of mothers, sisters, wives, and children mourning their lost sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. Though he believed his actions were for the greater good, he felt no sense of victory.

Longing to fight alongside his men, Makarov was deemed too old for battle by the council. Instead, his son and heir, Ivan, was appointed to lead the army in his stead. While Ivan matched his father's strength and combat skills, he lacked Makarov's wisdom and compassion. A ruthless warmonger, Ivan seized every opportunity to shed blood, dismissing any attempts at non-violent solutions. He refused to negotiate or even entertain the possibility of a peace treaty, much to his father's dismay.

"The only honor in war is to defend and protect!" he told Ivan. "But you have killed for pride and power! You murdered a warrior who was unarmed and injured! There is no honor in such actions!"

"Old age has made you soft, Father," his son replied. "We must take drastic measures to demonstrate our strength, so that no realm will dare challenge us again. Tomorrow, we will conquer the Kiwanja Tribe."

"What?!"

"Our army outnumbers those savages three to one. Defeating them will be easy, and afterward, we'll move on to Lazan City and the Vendershav Kingdom. Father, we shall rule all four realms."

"Enough! Silence! I will hear no more of this!" he declared furiously. "I commanded my armies to fight in this war to protect my people, not to conquer the world!"

"Don't be a fool, Father!"

"No, Ivan, you are the fool! To even suggest we take such an evil and unforgivable path! You disappoint me terribly, my son. You have no honor!"

Ivan faced the ultimate disgrace when his father, the emperor, declared him dishonorable—a truth that shattered his reputation and the loyalty of his men. Desperate to reclaim his lost honor, Ivan chose a path of darkness instead of seeking redemption. In a vile and unforgivable act, he sent his eight-year-old son to the front lines of battle, believing that sacrificing his only child would appease his father and restore his standing.

By the grace of God, Ivan's general defied his orders and rescued the boy from the war zone, returning him safely to the emperor's palace. Witnessing the lengths to which Ivan would go, Emperor Makarov faced an agonizing decision—one far more painful than sending men to war. He had his son arrested and executed for high treason, a choice that shattered his heart and left him vowing never to forgive himself.

After the war, Makarov was determined to protect the empire from future threats, fearing that another tragedy could corrupt another heir as it had his son. He ordered the construction of a massive wall along the empire's borders to deter invaders and prevent future conflicts. Although he contemplated making peace with neighboring realms, his council advised against it, believing that a strong defense was the best way to secure a safe and prosperous future for his new heir, his grandson Laxus.

Yet, this part of the story is not solely about Makarov or Laxus; it centers on a young woman named Erza. The daughter of the emperor's most esteemed scholar, Erza was abandoned by her father before her birth. Her mother, seeking refuge, approached the palace, bringing with her remarkable knowledge of magic and lore. Moved by her plight, the emperor granted them sanctuary, allowing her to train as a royal scholar while Erza grew up alongside his grandson and the niece of the royal ambassador, Goldmine, who was also the emperor's oldest friend.

Over time, Makarov came to love Erza as if she were his own flesh and blood. Although she did not embody the quiet grace and poise of the ambassador's niece or other young women in the empire, she possessed a unique balance of intelligence and strength, firmness and gentleness, light and dark. Like a rock, she was resilient, yet soft like a cloud. For this reason, Makarov affectionately referred to her as a "Yin-Yang child."

"You are truly blessed, Irene," he once told her mother. "A Yin-Yang child will bring greater honor to her family than any other."

Inspired by Makarov's words, Irene began training her daughter to surpass her as the royal scholar. Like her mother, Erza had a natural aptitude for magic and philosophy, finding joy in hours spent reading and writing like a true scholar. Yet her passions extended beyond academia; she thrived on the thrill of climbing mountains, practicing archery, and observing the royal guards in training. Deep down, she was uncertain of her true calling. All she knew was that she wanted to honor her mother, who had dedicated her life to providing her with the best, and the emperor, who had been the father she never had.

For the most part, Irene was proud of her daughter. By nineteen, Erza had blossomed into a scarlet-haired beauty with a sharp mind and a strong sense of honor. However, her temper could flare, and she sometimes spoke out of turn, forgetting her place. Makarov, being a patient and understanding man, was not easily offended by such behavior. But Irene recognized that others in high positions would not be so tolerant. Determined to raise Erza to be composed and self-controlled, she aimed to ensure her daughter would have a bright future—one as radiant as that of the emperor's heir. She would accept nothing less.

"Of all days to be late," Irene sighed one morning. "I should have prayed harder. Maybe I should have visited Sonya or called upon the spirits for luck?"

"How lucky can they be? They're dead," Ambassador Goldmine replied, glancing skyward. "Besides, I've brought you all the luck you'll need."

He unveiled an object shrouded in a sheet.

"What is that?" Irene asked, intrigued.

"The luckiest charm a girl can have."

As he removed the sheet, a magnificent creature emerged from the cage: the head of a golden pheasant, the body of a mandarin duck, the tail of a peacock, the legs of a crane, the mouth of a parrot, and the wings of a swallow.

"Good lord! Is that a phoenix?!" Irene gasped as the bird screeched and flailed against the bars.

"Yep! One feather from this magnificent beast ensured my niece would one day become empress, and just one feather will guarantee your daughter gets into the academy."

"How did you even catch it? They nest on the highest peaks."

"It was quite the climb," he chuckled. "Good thing I'm not afraid of heights."

"And phoenixes are notoriously fierce when threatened."

"You're telling me! This beauty fought like a rabid dog. It tried to peck out my eyes and eat my liver. But it'll all be worth it to help Erza."

"You're far too kind, Goldmine," she said, smiling nervously and keeping her movements slow. "You really didn't have to do this. Your support would have been more than enough."

"Nonsense! Anything for my niece's best friend. Now step back; I've got a feather to pluck."

Irene moved away, her mind racing as she sought her daughter. Today, Erza was meeting with the headmistress of a strict but promising academy. If she impressed her, she'd be on her way to becoming a fine scholar. If only she would arrive on time.

Suddenly, the air filled with furious screeches and agonized screams. As soon as Goldmine opened the cage, the phoenix lunged, clawing at his face.

"Irene, help! It's going for my eyes again! Ow! Back off, bird brain! Before I turn you into Kung Pao chicken!"

Irene facepalmed, shaking her head in frustration.

"Why me?" she thought. "Why me?"

She could already tell this morning would not be smooth or easy. Then again, nothing ever was for her or her daughter. It often felt like a curse—an endless struggle through life.

"Please get here on time," she prayed while trying to assist. "Please impress the headmistress."