Wielding magnetism magic in fairy tail

No! Put your foot forward first, then throw a punch! After that, kick, and finish with a downward slash. Now, do it again—faster!"

Damien gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance as his grandmother barked instructions from the side. His small frame moved swiftly, punching the air before snapping his leg forward in a sharp kick. As he pivoted, he slashed downward with the knife in his hand, mimicking the motion she had shown him countless times before.

It had been two years since he was reincarnated into this world. In that time, Damien had poured most of his energy into training under his grandparents. His days were filled with drills like this—refining every movement, every strike.

Right now, he was training with his grandmother, working on the unique fighting style required to wield the magic sword he had learned to call Silentfang.

Not that he could actually wield Silentfang yet.

It wasn't because of any "you're not strong enough" or "you haven't earned it" excuses. No, the real reason was much simpler.

It's too damn heavy.

Silentfang was a one-handed sword, meant to be used in tandem with kicks and punches, flowing between offense and defense. His grandmother had honed the technique over years, wielding the blade in her dominant hand while striking with her free limbs. Damien was being trained the same way—slash with his right hand, punch and kick with the rest.

But at his current size, the blade might as well have been a greatsword. Silentfang, for now, was just an impressive wall decoration. Instead, he practiced with a knife that felt more proportional to his age.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today," his grandmother called, lowering her arms with a satisfied nod.

Damien lowered his stance, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Thanks, Grandma."

"Don't slack off tomorrow," she added, already making her way toward the house.

"I won't," Damien replied quickly, but his mind had already wandered elsewhere.

As soon as he stepped away from the training ground, Damien extended his right hand, focusing on the small knife still clutched tightly in his grip. Faint sparks of purple crackled from his fingertips, dancing across the blade's surface like static.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

I finally learned magnetism.

It had taken him a long time, but the moment he had been waiting for had finally arrived. Magnetism was a power he dreamed about long before he was reincarnated. Now, it was his reality.

But there was a problem.

"This isn't the modern age," Damien muttered under his breath, flipping the knife absentmindedly. "There's no metal lying around everywhere like back home."

In a world without skyscrapers, cars, or junkyards full of spare parts, magnetism wasn't as convenient as he'd imagined.

But… I think I have a way to fix that.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Damien's thoughts were abruptly cut short by a loud yell from further down the road. His head snapped up as he spotted a group of villagers gathered near the market. At the center of the commotion, a man—clearly a traveler by the looks of his rugged clothes—was picking a fight with one of the locals.

Damien tilted his head. There's been a lot of travelers passing through lately. Is there a festival going on or something?

It wasn't often their village had this much activity. More and more outsiders had been coming through recently, some staying longer than usual. It wasn't a problem—yet—but Damien couldn't shake the feeling that something was stirring.

Still, it wasn't his business. He wasn't about to get involved in a petty argument between adults.

Damien turned on his heel, continuing his walk back to the house.

When Damien finally arrived home, his grandfather was already waiting for him, seated comfortably at the table with a cup of tea in hand.

"Did you finish training?" his grandfather asked without looking up.

"Yeah, Grandpa," Damien replied, stretching his arms over his head.

"Good. Then are you ready for—"

"Nope," Damien cut him off immediately, flopping down onto the chair across from him. "I don't want to train right now. I'm really tired."

His grandfather raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Tired? From just some lousy physical training? You've gotten soft, brat."

Damien's eyes narrowed playfully. "If you don't let me rest, I'll tell Grandma you said her training was lousy."

His grandfather's eyes widened for a split second before he quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! You win. Go rest, you little blackmailer."

"Thanks, Grandpa." Damien grinned smugly, hopping off the chair and heading toward his room.

As he climbed into bed, his thoughts drifted while he stared at the ceiling.

It's been two years, and I haven't seriously thought about what I want to do.

The thought had been nagging at him for a while now.

Do I want to leave the village? Start a business? Join a guild?

He let out a sigh. "I can think about this tomorrow," he mumbled, shutting his eyes.

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion ripped through the village, jarring Damien awake. His eyes shot open, and for a split second, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

Shouts and frantic footsteps echoed outside his window.

Damien scrambled out of bed and rushed outside. His grandparents were already there, standing alert. His grandmother gripped Silentfang in his right hand, the blade gleaming faintly under the moonlight.

"What's happening?" Damien blurted out, still groggy.

His heart sank when he followed his grandfather's gaze.

Fires blazed across the village, casting flickering shadows against the buildings. Dark figures moved swiftly through the streets, torches in one hand and curved swords in the other. Flags emblazoned with a pirate insignia swayed in the smoke-filled air.

Pirates? Damien thought in disbelief. We aren't even near the sea…

The village soldiers scattered, some engaging in fights while others fled to evacuate the villagers. Damien watched in shock as his grandfather stepped forward.

With a wave of his hand, several pirates' weapons flew from their grip, spiraling through the air before crashing back down on them with brutal force.

His grandmother dashed forward, taking down enemies with swift strikes and powerful kicks, her movements fluid and relentless.

Damien stood frozen, overwhelmed by the chaos unfolding around him. He clenched his fists, trying to summon his magic, but a powerful explosion shook the ground beneath his feet.

From the smoke and flames, a figure emerged.

A towering man stepped through the haze, radiating overwhelming magic energy. The sheer pressure emanating from him made Damien's knees feel weak. His eyes widened in terror.

What… what is that amount of power?

He wanted to run, to help, to fight—but his body wouldn't move.

Someone… someone stronger…

His breath caught in his throat as fear pinned him to the ground.

"Lin, take Damien and run!" his grandfather's voice cut through the noise.

Before Damien could even process the words, his grandmother grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fight.

"Grandma, wait! Grandpa—"

"Don't argue," she snapped, her grip tightening.

She weaved through the burning streets, striking down pirates that got in their way. Damien could barely keep up, his mind racing in panic.

Suddenly, a beam of light shot through the air.

His grandmother gasped as it pierced her shoulder, causing her to stumble.

"Grandma!" Damien cried, reaching out to steady her as she collapsed to one knee.

A silhouette emerged from the smoke. Damien squinted but couldn't make out her face. The figure—undoubtedly a woman—walked calmly toward them, her movements graceful and composed.

His grandmother rose to her feet, blood trailing down her arm. Without hesitation, she engaged the woman in combat. The two clashed, their blows shaking the ground beneath them. Sparks flew as blades met, and shockwaves rippled through the air with every strike.

The sound of the battle was deafening, disorienting Damien as he stumbled backward.

The fight was too fast—he couldn't keep up. All he could see were blurred flashes of light and steel.

Then, silence.

Damien's eyes focused as the dust settled.

His grandmother lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.

"Grandma!" Damien screamed, rushing to her side. He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he tried to shake her awake.

Tears welled in his eyes as he lifted his head. The woman stood there, staring down at him. Her presence radiated something Damien couldn't describe but he glared at her with hatred, bloodlust—but it vanished the moment she unleashed another small surge of magic.

Damien's entire body locked up.

I… I can't move.

He waited for the end.

But the woman turned and walked away, leaving him alone with his grandmother.

As soon as she disappeared into the night, Damien forced himself to move.

He gritted his teeth, dragging his grandmother away from the burning village.

His mind raced, but one thought echoed louder than the rest.

I have to get stronger.