Laxus, to the incredible horror of his Father, grew to adore everything the elder Dreyar didn't. The boy loved the guild, the emblem, and those 'unruly' members Ivan sneered at. He loved hearing stories about the trade wars and the dreaded Blue Skull guild. Mavis, their founder, was his first hero. Makarov, and the stories of his youth, were something he chased with awe in his eyes and pride in his chest. He waved his Fairy Tail flag joyously at every parade and showed his guild mark to everyone who hadn't seen it (and plenty who had). His guild mark was the color of his Father's hair, a symbol of belonging: of power. Of family. It was his.

The boy wasn't left at the guild as Makarov and Ivan had been, but was instead enrolled in school and kept at home - some house down the road that no member of Fairy Tail had been permitted to enter. If Acnologia had to guess, it was Ivan's attempt to detach Laxus from the guild. Or, maybe it was Ivan's attempt at being better than his Father had been, at the least different. Then again, Acnologia doubted Ivan managed to be that selfless. At his core, the mage wanted to make strangers out of the people who'd "stolen" his father - perhaps he thought he was doing Laxus a favor, but Acnologia bet it was rooted in selfish daydreams. Ivan's plan, like most things in his life, failed miserably.

The guild became a sacred place Laxus could visit on weekends and sneak to after school. Each brawl and juice cup was something to remember and smile over. Each story at Acnologia's side was precious. He was enraptured with all of it, especially Acnologia.

And the Dragon King?

Admittedly, he was rather... fond. The boy was eager, as so many before him, and joyous in familiar ways. He was different too - shy at times or uncertain. He often sought Acnologia's council and there was something in his inquiries that could pull Acnologia's lips into a smile.

They became regulars at the bar after school let out. If his Father didn't catch him first, Laxus would race to the guild, sneak through the back door (which the bartender left unlocked just for him), clamber up the bar stools, and sit eagerly next to the Dragon King with his bright smile as he caught his breath. 

"Hi Acno!" Every greeting was energized, the rush of disobedience feeding the rebelliousness all Dreyars seemed to have. He'd jump onto the closest stool, barely ever able to hide his eagerness. He'd bounce in his seat and lean close.

"Laxus." Acnologia would respond with a soft smile and a gentle voice that was reserved for the Dreyar heir and him alone.

And then the conversation would turn to the boy's newest query. Whatever it was. Sometimes it was homework, sometimes it was about an old story, sometimes it was general knowledge. 

"School was really boring, but I have a question!"

"I cannot help you with your homework, I am sorry -"

"Nooo, silly, Grandpa already said he'd help!"

"Well, thank Ankserham for that."

"No! It's about you!" Laxus snickered. "We learned about a cool dragon in history!"

"Really?" Acnologia played along.

"Yeah! See, there were these really mean dragons who wanted to kill humans, and then these really cool dragons who helped humans learn to fight dragons! Wayyyy back before anyone did anything!"

"More or less," Acnologia supposed as the bartender dropped off a cup of coffee and a juice box for the two respectively.

"Are you the Dragon from the book of Apoc - Apock-a....?" Laxus cut to the chase quickly, leaning so far out of his stool that Acnologia instinctively reached out to catch him. There was no need, but Laxus didn't notice.

"Apocalypse?" Acnologia guessed blandly, reaching for his warm beverage.

"Yeah! That one. Sorry. Are you the dragon of the a-poc-al-lopse?"

"It is a mouthful, isn't it?" Acnologia sighed with a thin smile.

"Come on! Are you? They said it was a big dragon with blue markings and -" Laxus gestured to his blue tattoos emphatically.

The dragon king took a sip of his coffee before smirking: "Perhaps."

"Acno!" the six-year-old begged, pulling on his cloak insistently.

"Alright, alright yes," Acnologia sighed. "But do not call me by any titles."

"Did you really kill the King of the Dragons?"

"I had some help."

"So you're the king now?"

"There are no dragons left to be the king of," Acnologia shrugged simply.

"That's awesome!"

"No," Acnologia dismissed. "Just some old stories told by dramatic historians; temper your excitement."

"But you were so strong!" 

"Were?" Acnologai asked incredulously, but Laxus wasn't listening. The boy was swinging his feet and staring at them, his face wrinkling as he thought long and hard.

"Careful, heavy thoughts make poor company," Acnologia joked as he ruffled the boy's mess of blonde hair. "What are you thinking about so fiercely?"

Laxus giggled as he shoved Acnologia's comically large hands away from his small form, but his frown returned.

"It's just... you're in history books and in Fairy Tail. And I'm... not. So... do you think that one day... maybe... could I get that strong?"

Another familiar conversation.

"No," Acnologia supposed simply. "But that is not a reflection of you - few can."

"Oh," Laxus murmured, crestfallen.

Acnologia sighed, slowly shaking his head as he brushed a hand over his shirt against his left pectoral. There his guild mark sat, the same shade as the other marks that adorned him - this one a mark of his choosing. He stared at Laxus, a critical hum resting in the air.

"Laxus: why did I join this guild?"

Laxus blinked, perplexed, as Acnologia lowered his cloak.

"I... I don't know..."

"Was it my strength?"

"Yeah!"

"So we let every strong mage into the guild now?" Acnologia tested a wry smile on his face. Just a few days ago Makarov had turned away a promising young mage: one of those 'too arrogant, too resistant' types who had come looking to fight any and everyone he could  - to the death. He was lucky Acnologia was patient.

"Well... no..." Laxus pondered, clearly remembering the same thing. "We... we let everyone into the guild - if they're nice."

"Strength does not make the mage," Acnologia recited.

"No! Heart does!" Laxus announced proudly, Makarov's words shining through his grandson's smile.

"Indeed. I joined Fairy Tail because Mavis was a close friend. I wanted to help her. Her heart led me here."

He gently tapped Laxus' chest and smiled.

"And I have heart," Laxus recited, holding his chest.

"I would be hard-pressed to find someone who had more," Acnologia nodded.  Laxus grinned and Acnologia was thrusted back to generations of Dreyars that he had talked with in that same seat, at that same bar.

Ivan. Makarov. Yuri... 

Laxus grinned to himself as he looked at the dragon slayer, immediately recognizing something distant in his gaze.

"You okay, Acno?" the boy asked carefully.

"I am well," and like that the spell was broken, Acnologia ruffled the boy's hair again as the visions of long-past children and friends drifted through his thoughts. "I hope you know how good you truly are, child."

"I know!" Laxus grinned, and Acno noted the boy had lost another baby tooth, a large gap in his teeth.

"And... no matter what -" Acno began heavily.

He was cut off by a familiar heavy step, a few blocks away, and an even more recognizable yell: "Laxus!" Ivan shouted down the street, sending the boy scrambling off the guild chair and sprinting towards his father.

Acnologia watched the boy go, panting out excuses as he ran up to his Father's side. Ivan was seething about disobedience and fuming out a lecture over Laxus' wheezed breathing, and Acnologia watched it all and listened.

He listened to Laxus' shaking lungs, convulsing against his will in the boy's chest. He listened to the boy's heart race and his muscles strain as his diaphragm rebelled against him. He listened and his grip on the bar counter threatened to shatter it. As the two departed his mind began to wander. Gildarts would be back soon, maybe he could at least convince Ivan to let the kid see a doctor. Heaven knows Ivan hates Gildart's guts, but Gildarts had more luck talking to him than Acnologia and Makarov did.

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

He was called for shortly after that year's S-class trials. He'd flown to Tenrou and had chatted with Mavis for a few days while the young mages seethed and struggled. Obviously, the poor fellow going against him, and the sand mage going against Gildarts, were both going to have to wait until next year to try their luck again - but that's what they got for choosing the pathways with the most magic pressure.

Fools. Endearingly arrogant good-natured fools, but fools nonetheless. The trials were a good opportunity for Mavis to observe Fairy Tail's strongest in action. What she did with that information, he couldn't say, but it was likely feeding the master plan she had pinned up in the old library. She was constantly updating it with every new member or development.

The trials had wrapped up quickly and Mavis had been caught up on the most pressing of changes in the guild which made her both giggle and frown. Especially when it came to Laxus and Ivan. Knowing full well she could offer him nothing more than sympathies, Acnologia had bid her farewell and flown home, arriving back long before that godforsaken boat.

He'd arrived back to a special sealed letter sitting at his usual bar spot. He picked it up, saw the Magic Council seal, and groaned.

"Maya," he called to the bartender.

She was somewhere in the back, rustling around new supplies, but he heard a loud; "Hmm?"

"Is there some demon rampaging around Fiore?" he rubbed his head wearily.

"Uh... no?"

"Good," he disintegrated the letter in his hand and called it a day. "Then they can ask someone else."

They, in fact, could not, and three days later there was a soldier at the threshold of the guild, asking for Acnologia by name.

"It was not me," Acnologia stated simply over his shoulder. "Whatever it was - I am not responsible."

"Sir. I am here on an urgent Council matter," the mage stated, approaching the dragon slayer's side.

"If it was destruction, it was Gildart's fault. If it was paperwork, it was Makarov, and if it was -"

He got a letter shoved into his face, his fangs baring at the unwanted proximity.

"You have three days to accept," the soldier explained coldly, his face neutral as his garb rustled softly in the breeze let in from the open doors.

"Accept?" Acnologia snarled, snatching the letter from the man's hands with a terrifying ferocity. He opened the document with a much more succinct and controlled strength, skimming through its heavy blocks of paragraphs. 

He turned to question the soldier but found him already departing. That left Acnologia staring at the paper critically, his jaw settling in discomfort. He recognized the seal and the insignia... but there were quite a few words he did not recognize at a glance, and the print was minuscule.

"Is everything alright?" Makarov's voice broke through Acnologia's concentration.

The dragon slayer looked over his shoulder to where the guild master stood behind him. He'd gotten back with the other mages a day ago and he still smelled of salty brine.

"I am not sure," Acnologia answered cryptically. "They want me to participate in some... experimental research."

"What?" Makarov demanded, growing a few feet larger so he could read over Acnologia's shoulder.

"Something about dragon lacrimas and my 'innate experience'," Acnologia sighed.

"Dragon lacrima?" Makarov questioned.

"Lacrima that hold the power of a dragon," Acnologia explained quickly.

"Well, I assumed that much."

"I'm surprised they got their hands on so many..." The dragon king narrowed his eyes as thoughts tumbled through his head. Nest sites would've had to have been raided - ancient draconic graves torn up... how long had the council been working towards this?

"Are they rare?"

Acnologia glimpsed over at the wizard saint and gave a small nod. "When a dragon dies, all of its power and potential is hidden in its blood. A dragon lacrima condenses all of that magic energy into something transferrable. Usually, they were only created by great dragon families to pass on ancestral power. Few were left just lying around..."

"And they're going to put multiple into one subject?" Makarov cried in disbelief as he skimmed further.

Acnologia's face hardened as his mind danced. Ten? It sounded ridiculous. Weisslogia and Skiadrum had been fearful of embuing their children with just one, and those boys had been raised in the family those lacrimas came from. They used the magic the lacrimas gave them. Could a human truly survive ten? Ten lacrimas? Ten magic structures? Ten mana outputs?

It was suicidal, at best. Cataclysmic at worst.

"Will you go?" Makarov asked, shrinking back down to his normal size.

Many different thoughts pulled at Acnologia. He questioned why the council was meddling with such things - though a part of him suspected. His mind kept catching on Skiadrum and Weisslogia, and all the sanctity with which they had held their ancestor's lacrimas. And then, of course, he was pushing past old, old memories of his first life, trying to think of any dragon slayers he'd faced with more than one lacrima...

He couldn't recall... which didn't bode well for this test subject.

"I think I have to," Acnologia supposed. "Someone has to make sure they don't kill whatever idiot's going through with this."

"Are you going to try and stop them?" 

Acnologia placed the letter down and sighed; "I do not think I can, not through reason. The council does not seem like the type to ask for permission, they're asking for oversight... They have already decided to go through with it."

"You're the Dragon King," Makarov reasoned. "If you don't want them meddling with dragon history, they'll have to listen."

"The title is a formality," Acnologia muttered. "There are no dragons left."

With that, he stood and cracked his neck, the tattoos on his body pulsing with his resolve.

"But there will be," Makarov supposed. "If this succeeds."

Acnologia nodded... solemnly: "I suppose that's even more reason for me to go."

Even if the thought sickened him.

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

The Hybrid Theory.

That's what they were calling it: an attempt to make a dragon, human hybrid. Like it was some mere crossing of animals or magic. Acnologia scowled his way through the explanations, each clause reminding him more and more of other ambitious bastards who toyed with power through children. Because that was the lovely little detail they forgot to mention: their "subject" wasn't a mage or a researcher or some profound human desiring to find scientific answers through self-sacrifice. Their subject was a twelve-year-old boy with an eager gazeand a terrifyingly sharp smile.

He'd almost eviscerated the frog-bastard next to him when he first met the kid.

"That is a child," he growled, stopping dead as they entered the room.

The boy looked up from the medical table he'd been sitting on and Acnologia's vision waned with fury. The boy must've only been ten years younger than Gildarts, maybe five? Years older than Laxus... a true child in the grand scheme of things: too young to face the many painful ways such infusions could kill him.

"Yes sir, youths are found to be best suited for these kinds of-" The frog began far too happily, growing deathly silent when Acnologia whirled around and stared him down.

"I do not want to know how you discovered that bit of knowledge, but here is what I do know; If you want to live longer than the next five seconds you will explain to me - in a brief sentence - why a child is going through this and another five seconds to get out of my sight and bring me your superiors."

The frog shivered, growing smaller under the dragon king's terrifying gaze.

"Your five seconds began," Acnologia threatened. He had yet to blink, his eyes glowing with rage as his pupils grew into slits.

"He - he is fully aware of the dangers!" the frog croaked madly. "This process was typical for juvenile humans and dragons back during the draconic wars. Children were usually the only survivors!"

"Don't you lecture me on the damn draconic wars I was there! What about the parents?!"

"They consented!" the frog croaked.

"This could rend a human limb from limb at best, and they consented -"

"I'm right here you know!" the kid called with a quip, quelling Acnologia's growing bloodlust.

The dragon king tore his gaze away from the frog to stare at the boy whose grin had grown razor thin, like the scar over his nose: "Yeah, me, you know; the kid ready to be ripped limb from limb! You must be the scary dragon they've been telling me all about."

Acnologia gave a final growl glancing back at the terrified anthropomorphic frog: "Your superiors: now." 

The assistant scrambled away allowing Acnologia to turn his full attention to the soon-to-be-slayer. He did not soften, not immediately; his expression stayed fierce and when he spoke it was impossible to ignore the draconic canines protruding from his jaw.

"Who sold you on this?" he demanded. "What did they promise you in return for this?"

The boy was... familiar.

His dark orange hair was held up in a ponytail, his bangs spilling out to frame his young face that already donned a thin scar over the bridge of his nose. He blinked quizzically, trying to dissect Acnologia's expression.

"You know... you're not all that impressive," the boy supposed, ignoring the king's inquisition.

"Oh, and you are?" Acnologia sneered. "You are a child - scrawny and small."

"I think my large empty pool of magic energy makes up for it," the boy grinned with pride.

It was true. The boy's potential was significant, but his actual magic flow was pathetic. He was a water basin with no water to fill his arcane pool. Acnologia noted that and took a few steps around the table, looking the boy over for more familiar traits.

That hair and that scar... he knew this kid... it was itching in the back of his mind incessantly.

"So... are you here to help me or just bask in my magnificence?" the boy snickered.

"What do they call you?" Acnologia demanded.

"Serena."

"Well, Serena," the dragon king began solemnly. "Do you actually understand what is about to happen to you?"

"Yeah." The boy lounged back on the table and snickered. "They're going to stick a bunch of crystals in my chest and throw a party if I survive. Yay!"

"More than crystals," Acnologia warned. "You are to face the will and power of ten dragons. You'll never have a quiet moment in your head or a peaceful thought otherwise. That's if you survive ten different magics warring for dominance over your soul. One dragon lacrima can be ignored - you are being asked to hold far more than anyone should."

"You sound pretty against the whole thing."

"I am."

"Then why are you here?" Serena snickered. 

"The Council will not listen, and I have found mass destruction to be less convincing as the years go by."

The boy did laugh at that; "Damn, so it sounds like you're just here to make sure they do it right."

"I came here to talk you out of it - moreso now that I see what you are."

"Good luck and go fuck yourself," Serena cackled: "Not happening."

"Then your are deadset."

"Yep."

"Despite knowing the risks -"

"Dying in an explosion of magic sounds pretty rad."

"I am here to make sure you do not die," Acnologia muttered ruefully. "With or without your gratitude."

"Oh yes, thank you, your majesty."

"Watch your tone," Acnologia warned. "Since you are so certain, be aware: you are about to become the first dragon slayer in hundreds of years."

"Jealous?" Serena teased.

"Furious," Acnologia corrected darkly. "I'm still trying to understand what would compel a child to choose a suicidal chance at power."

"Everyone wants power."

"Not like this," Acnologia denied, picking the boy apart with his gaze. "So what is it: family, friends? History?"

"What's what?"

"What is pushing you to try to die?"

"Okay, well I'm not trying to die -"

"Then what are you doing?"

The boy sat up straight and stared at Acnologia for a long moment before grinning: "I'm trying to spite someone."

"Spite?" Acnologia challenged. "You could combust into a puddle of flesh and blood for spite? You could be condemned to years of pain as the lacrima poisons your bloodstream and eats at your body. You could lose your mind, your soul, your body - all of it. Out of spite!?"

"Fuck yeah," Serena snickered. "And you're not going to change my mind. Many try, and all fail. I'm simply too fabulously stubborn."

Acnologia stood there for a moment, shaking his head before a deep laugh resonated in his bones. Serena jumped when the man began to chuckle, everyone in the room shivering as those chuckles grew into cackles. The frog near the door trembled and let out a fearful croak.

Acnologia held his head with one hand, slowly pushing his hair away from his face as he was shunted years into the past and future all at once. He did know this kid - a momentary blip on his radar that he had slaughtered without a thought. He shook away the last of his laughs with a heavy sigh and the memory of a body hitting the grass, his right hand buzzing with the memory of a dragon slayer's blood.

So his name had been Serena, and he'd grown strong for the same reason Acnologia had.

"So, your parents then?" he guessed. "What - do they expect too much or not enough?"

"None of your damn business," Serena snapped. "And why're you laughing!??"

"Irony," Acnologia answered ruefully, a pained grin on his face. "So... I guess you are also ready to become an inglorious weapon?"

"I don't know: you ready to have a competitor, Dragon King?" 

And then, Acnologia did actually laugh. 

"Competitor? Oh, that's almost cute; start smaller HᴀꓕᴄHʟIɴᘓ," he snickered. The boy tilted his head at the foreign language, bristling as the Dragon Slayer took a step forward. Then, Acnologia leaned down and grinned. "Because I am ready to be King of all Dragons again."

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

There were ten: Cavern, Diamond, Darkness, Poison, Spark, Lightning, Gale, Sea King, Purgatory, and Core.

The first had to be Core. How they'd gotten their hands on a dragon species so rare, Acnologia would never know - but that flexibility of magic power was the only reason the council had even considered this suicide of an operation.

Core dragons provided no magic energy, but granted a negative flow of magic - a constant absence: an anomaly and a miracle worker in this situation. It would rework the more powerful, destructive lacrimas. It wasn't a half-bad plan by the council, but that didn't make it any less pleasurable. Everyone held their breath as the first incision was made and gloved hands settled the jewel under the boy's skin. The lacrima settled with surprising ease, its clarity melting out of a solid stage as it seemingly melted into the boy's bloodstream.

It was gruesome, to watch the sacred ceremony performed atop sterilized tables surrounded by cold strangers, watched by a few councilmen above in the observation deck. Skiadrum and Weisslogia had done their children's in secret, on a cool day in spring. Distantly, Acnologia wondered if they would've known a better way to ease the pain of such a strenuous process.

He knew they wouldn't approve of this. They wouldn't approve of an unconscious child strapped to a table with a cloth covering his face and a towel covering everything below his stomach. They wouldn't approve of a dragon slayer made like this - like something superficial... some weaponized experiment.

The next had to be the Diamond dragon - it was the least punishing of the magics and, if successful (which was a big if) it would give the boy better chances handling the rest of them. It was an unassuming lacrima, dim but faceted, glittering in the bright lights of the operating room and catching Acnologia's eyes as he paced in the shadowed outskirts. The reaction was instant, a sharp gasp pulled from Serena's body as the magic energy about him honed into something intense and dangerous. Acnologia took a careful step forward and watched warily.

The third lacrima was the Purgatory soul. The deep red crystal had been warm in Acnologia's hands, teeming with dangerous, destructive potential when he'd first inspected it. It was nothing like Igneel's... nothing warm or welcoming or protective - it sought destructive power and destructive power alone.

Spark next: this one placed on the boy's left palm. The nerve endings would prove a powerful tool to help but was probably best put in after the boy's system were numbed. The draconic senses spread without interrupting the delicate balance that were the purgatory and diamond lacrimas buried in the boy's chest, slowly dissolving into his system.

It was right about as they finished with the cavern lacrima that it all went to hell.

The boy's magic was beginning to test itself, due to the boy's subconscious will or the lacrima's nature, it didn't matter which. What did matter was the surgeon responsible for introducing the cavern lacrima just above the boy's collarbone received a brutal shock of haywire spark magic that threw him across the room and tossed it all into disarray.

Some ran to help the surgeons. Some ran to try and stabilize Serena. Some just ran.

But the cavern dragon lacrima was resting dangerously, tendrils of magic exploring the flesh around it and seeking an invasive connection through the boy's neck. Acnologia stepped in quickly, pulling the lacrima away and wincing at how it hissed against his body and soul.

It was a constant cry of some soul - take me take me take me know me know me know me know me avenge me -

"Hang on," he gritted as he gently pulled open the wound draped across the boy's collarbone and placed the large lacrima there firmly. Much more pleased with an open wound, the lacrima eased into the bloodstream, dark, earthy material spilling out over the boy's skin and Acnologia's fingers before it vanished altogether, small crystalline structures already working on stitching the wound back together.

Acnologia didn't have a chance to breathe as the next lacrima was handed to him and he looked in disbelief at the nurse.

"I am not -" he began, catching himself before he could pass off the duty. He glanced back resolutely at the boy, or at least where his head would be under the cover, and found himself grabbing the next lacrima without a second thought.

Better for him to do it... He was the King of the Dragons dammit. If these bastards were going to remake his kind, he was going to intervene at every chance. He gripped the pitch-black crystal in his hands and gazed knowingly to the boy's left shoulder where they'd planned to place it.

The Darkness dragon was almost certainly from Skiadrum's paternal side. It felt similar to the shadow dragon... soft, cold... and Acnologia had smiled. He knew full well the Dark Dragons had ostracized Skiadrum, chasing him out of his ancestral lands. Hell, they'd threaten to kill him and his mate should he ever return. The lacrima likely held some monster that had terrorized a younger Skiadrum and Weisslogia... but all it was to him was a reminder of those kinder dragons. Of Skiadrum and his scent and his purr - especially when he pressed up against Weisslogia's muzzle.

They'd hate this. They'd hate this so much but they'd hate him more for standing by and doing nothing. Their lacrimas had been blessings - final rights from the sole dragons who'd supported their choices: Weisslogia's mother and Skiadrum's Uncle. Lacrimas are sacred things, the two would've breathed, a blessing from ancestor to child, not some battery to be plugged in and bastardized. They are how a dragon passes on their power - their lineage. It is the purest of blessings a family can give a child. Not this... Not this Acnologia...

All he could do was beg their forgiveness as he sullied his hands.

The Shadow entered the boy's left shoulder. The gale in his right. That light blue breath of fresh air and serenity was so potent that Acnologia found himself reminiscing over Grandeeney again - he wondered how she would've intervened. What she would've done better.

The Sea King dragon was where even his knowledge failed him. He'd been able to shrug off the sparks of wild electricity and the occasional temperature drops as the purgatory lacrima heated the boy's body to near-burning temperature, the diamond and caven lacrima doing their best to keep Serena alive regardless of other forces. The wind in the room had begun to pick up with gale magic dancing about the room in a storm of danger.

Acnologia paused it all for a moment as Serena hissed in pain, his body fighting the restraints as the third to last lacrima hovered above him in Acnologia's palm. He placed the lacrima back and carefully sensed for any prevalent source of the boy's pain. When he found none, the dragon king raised his hands over the body and summoned a large magic circle over the boy's form. The entire room was bathed in blue light as his circle activated, the image of his draconic face snarling in its center.

"No! No - you'll interfere with the -" some foolish nurse tried to interrupt, shoved to the side with Acnologia.

"Forsake your damn dependent variables, the boy cannot handle much more," Acnologia growled, his eyes glowing as his magic circle broke it all down for him.

The cavern and purgatory lacrimas were vying for control and presence in the boy's heart. The spark magic was running rampant through the boy's nervous system. His bloodstream had incorporated itself well with the diamond lacrima, but the force of the gale was impeding the boy's ability to breathe deeply. The Core was the only reason the boy hadn't internally exploded - the constant reconstruction of magic shedding off the excess power while handling the cruel flows it couldn't discard.

"He cannot handle another - you will have to be content with what he was," Acnologia growled. Seven... surely seven was enough for them...

"He can do one more." A cold voice echoed from the magnifying circular lacrima above them and Acnologia recognized one of the councilmen as the speaker.

"ΛᴀCᴀИᴛ sKᴜΓʟƧ, he's pushed to his limit! Another could push him over the edge," Acnologia warned.

"If you are not capable, we have another surgeon on call."

"I'm telling you he could die, HᴀꓕᴄHʟIɴᘓ bᴀʁᴀƧɪꓕᴇ" Acnologia snarled. His organs were already struggling under the magic pressure and who knows how the fuck his mind was holding up. No surgeon could fix that!

"If you are unwilling to continue, step away and -"

Acnologia snarled another curse in draconic, looking back to the two lacrimas he had left.

Sea King, Lightning, and Poison. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he rolled the options over. He could just stop this all now; tear it all apart and flee with the kid in one of his claws. Doing that would make the two of them fugitives (less worrisome) and would mean he'd never go back to Fairy Tail (the real problem). Hell, knowing how petty the council could be, they could just disband Fairy Tail altogether, and that wasn't an option.

So Sea King, Lightning, or Poison? Lightning would directly challenge the spark dragon - which could destabilize his nervous system and kill the boy. Those species were known for their violent conflicts in the war, and he didn't want to bet on the lacrima's souls being pacifist types. But the Purgatory and Poison lacrimas were what had concerned him the most about this whole operation. Purgatory dragons were known for dying magnificently, in a blaze of pain and glory, like a phoenix. Poison, however, was the certain killer. Both of them together??

Young poison dragons had slim chances of survival, hence there'd been so few of them. The hatchlings weren't born with an immunity, they grew it through prolonged exposure and general resilience. If young hatchlings could die to their own poison, what in Zeref's name would that same draconic poison do to a human?

So Acnologia grabbed the Sea King lacrima and prayed he made the right choice as he held it above where the Purgatory lacrima had been placed. Hopefully, the two forces would cancel each other out and Serena wouldn't be condemned to a life with a permanent fever - always feeling as if flames licked his nerves and ate his skin... nor one of cold emptiness, like the depths of the sea.

"Stay alive," Acnologia ordered coldly as he placed both hands over the lacrima, cupping it with a dangerous strength before pushing.

The boy did scream this time, pain and power culminating in a whirlwind of magic - and the echoes of eight roars. The lights flickered and the room was baking despite the small wind that whipped at the nurse's coats. Acnologia stood in the midst of it all, staring at the limp body before him and listening - straining to make out the signs of life.

"The experiment," he distantly heard someone murmur into a recording lacrima. "Was a success..."

[TA-DA, the show-stopping, the incredible, the phenomenal, the unforgettable, the fabulous god Serena has made an incredible appearance!

God that was awful, thank Ankserham there was a professional there to help the whole process. Can't imagine how that would've gone had Acno not been there, oh wait a canonical moment -]