You step out of the carriage—enchanted to look like a mundane Fiore delivery wagon—into a drizzle-slick alleyway in Crocus, Erza Scarlet at your side. Her scarlet hair clings to her armor, her cape fluttering behind her like a war banner. She walks with that same unshakable purpose that makes even raindrops get out of her way.

You glance down at the parchment dossier sealed with the Council’s crest. “Trix Operation,” it reads in cold, bureaucratic lettering, hiding a task that borders on cosmic insanity:

Pretend to be married. Raise a child. Protect her at all costs. Even if she can bend reality.

Erza takes the folder, reads two lines, and snaps it shut with a flick that could cut through stone. “Wonderful,” she says with dry sarcasm. “We’re now the Council’s idea of a stable family. And I’m apparently the mother. But anyway, i have slain demons, dragons, and dimensional horrors. How hard could motherhood be?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. You’ve seen dragons. You’ve seen Erza. Dragons are easier.

Then you meet Irene.

Six years old. Crimson hair. Eyes that glow with ancient power. And a magical arsenal that should be impossible for someone her size.

Enchant Magic. Eye Magic. Sage Dragon Slayer Magic. And the worst of them all—Universe One—miniaturized into a child’s giggle.

You knew this mission would be bad. You didn’t expect it to rewrite the laws of physics before breakfast.

The first morning, Irene “tests” the spatial boundaries of the apartment. You walk into the living room and find all the furniture stacked on the ceiling like a bizarre art installation.

She pops into existence behind you—literally blinks into reality with Enchant Magic—and hugs your leg. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Mommy!”

Erza crosses her arms. “Irene,” she says in her calm, terrifying voice of authority, “why is the couch upside down?”

Irene beams. “Because it likes being tall!”

Erza sighs. “She used Universe One like it was glitter glue. She is definitely your daughter." She said before turning towards the little girl. How about we practice magic without turning the bathroom into a swamp this time?”

Irene tilts her head. “No.”

You both exhale in sync. Parenthood is worse than war.

The mission continues. You and Erza pose as a “normal” couple in a quiet neighborhood. The neighbors assume Erza’s deadly glare is just her focusing very hard on choosing apples at the market. Irene teleports into bakeries. Erza threatens PTA members who question her daughter’s aura. You survive it all.

One night, Irene sits on her bed while Erza tucks her in. “Mommy,” she whispers, clutching a tiny dragon plushie, “will the dark mages come?”

Erza freezes—only for half a heartbeat—but you see it. Fear. Love. Fury.

“No one will touch you,” Erza says softly. “Not while we’re here. You’re far too strong to let them win.”

Irene beams. “Then I’ll be strong forever!”

Later, you meet Erza in the kitchen. The room smells faintly of burnt bread from an earlier incident involving Irene and Sage Dragon Slayer fire breathing. Erza glares. “Hair knots are the true enemy. I will defeat them.”

That's when the attackers come.

A guild of corrupt mages hunting Irene’s power. An entire battalion. A hundred strong. And they aren’t subtle—they break through dimensional barriers at dawn.

Erza grabs your wrist, eyes blazing. “Time for a family brawl.”

The fight is chaos wrapped in domestic comedy:

Irene bends the space around you so spells miss by miles. Erza requips into armor that should not fit in your tiny hallway. You fight with enchanted kitchen utensils because the soup ladle is apparently magical now.

And somehow...

You won.