Edward once dreamed of creating a magic system that could empower humanity without the dangers or complications seen in other worlds. The kind of system that would allow people to protect themselves, stand on their own, and shape their fate. free from the dependency on gods or cosmic entities.

He'd studied many different systems over the centuries, but it was the magecraft of the Nasuverse, despite its flaws that had left a lasting impression. He envisioned a world where such a system could exist in a safer, refined form. One without the corruption, madness, or fatal costs.

The breakthrough came only after the Presence gifted him the power of Hope. At first, Edward couldn't control it. It was too vast, too abstract, bound not to logic but to the intangible. Hope wasn't a weapon or a tool. It was belief. Faith in possibilities. It took him centuries to fully understand it. To grasp its mechanics, its language, its will.

Eventually, he began experimenting. He tested different methods, ways to stabilize it, channel it, understand how to connect it with humanity's natural evolution.

When he finally achieved clarity, he shaped fragments of this power into distinct concepts. Tools. Embers. He called them the "Seeds of Evolution." Designed with one purpose: to let humans awaken to magic on their own terms.

He selected specific regions to begin the process—Africa, Vinland, Moskva, and Greece. Places he had personally touched and transformed in previous centuries. His influence lingered there, and so did the echoes of the change he had brought. Now, he wanted those echoes to become foundations.

Edward didn't base the system on the chaotic magic of the DC Universe. That magic was too unpredictable, too entwined with external deities and arbitrary rules. Instead, he leaned on the knowledge shared by Caster, and adjusted the framework, eliminating the dangers and breaking points. He designed the base system from scratch, adapting it with the power of Hope, which also governed plausibility and the impossible.

Hope, after all, is rooted in desire. Every time a person says "I hope," they are expressing a desire that walks the line between possible and impossible. "I hope I pass despite not studying," "I hope I survive this," "I hope she forgives me."

Edward realized that desire, when guided by belief, could be transformed into something tangible. That became the cornerstone of his new magic system.

From 200 AD to 800 AD, he traveled tirelessly. He didn't stay in one place long. He moved across deserts, forests, mountains, and cities, always teaching in secret.

In Africa, he passed through small villages, watching young shamans feel something stir in their blood. In Greece, philosophers and mystics began crafting words for phenomena they could not explain. In Vinland, warriors learned how to wield runes that felt alive. In Moskva, hidden sects whispered about a power deeper than ice and fire.

He even visited Japan. He could only stay for a short time, Amaterasu's anger still burned after their last encounter. Edward respected her pain and did not fight back. He left quietly, after planting the seed.

Throughout all of it, he took care to implement three failsafes into the system.

First: no magic could ever be used to harm other humans.

Second: no one without hope could wield the system. If a person gave up on themselves, the system would lock them out.

Third: no magic born from this system could be used to harm the planet or cause destruction.

This was non-negotiable. He had seen what unchecked power did to Earth in other timelines, and he wouldn't allow that here.

By the time the 9th century passed, Edward could finally pause. Humanity had begun to master the new system. It was subtle, many still didn't recognize it for what it was, but it was growing. Natural-born magi emerged in each generation. People learned to weave mana into art, combat, healing, and invention. And for once, Edward allowed himself a moment of pride.

But even he couldn't predict what came next.

Around 1000 AD, a group of magus working in secrecy attempted something new. They had studied the principles of Edward's system deeply, but unlike him, they weren't content with its limitations. They wanted more. They wanted miracles. They discovered a sacred relic, one that had once been drenched in divine blood.

The Holy Grail.

They poured their magic into it, combining Edward's system with rituals far older. Their intention was pure: to expand the Grail's power, to allow it to manifest greater pwer and protection.

But the result was something else entirely. A phenomenon Edward would later describe as a miracle or a mistake, born of Fate.

The Grail responded. Not as a relic. Not even as a vessel. But as something new. It repurposed the Hope-based magic into something unique. It became a wish-granting mechanism. And because their intent had been to help humanity, Edward's failsafes didn't stop it.

He received the warning too late.

By the time he arrived, the Greater Holy Grail had already been created. A device capable of granting the deepest wishes of humanity every hundred years. But there was a catch. It needed energy, far more than any natural source could provide. The cost was massive.

Human sacrifice was considered at first.

But Edward's failsafe immediately rejected it, and any attempt to use human life as a battery destroyed a mage's circuits permanently.

So the magi devised a new method. They would summon heroes of the past, legends tied to relics, and use their spiritual energy to power the Grail.

Still, the summoning process was unstable. Incomplete. There was no bridge between the relics and the heroes. No foundation.

That's when Edward stepped in again, reluctantly.

He created the final piece: the Throne of Heroes. A spiritual database, anchored from his own being, that recorded the legacies of historical heroes, those rooted in real events and DC's timeline. He was careful.

There would be no alternate genders or alien reinterpretations. Attila the Hun was not an alien. King Arthur remained the man he had been. He banned dangerous classes like Avenger or Foreigner. Also Chaotic spirits wouldn't be considered a hero. Only one with a noble soul would be in the system.

With the Throne of Heroes established, the summoning system stabilized. The Great Holy Grail Wars were born, secret tournaments where seven Masters would summon seven Servants and battle for the right to claim the Grail's wish. It became the greatest secret of the Magus Society.

As punishment for their recklessness, Edward forbade them from using magic openly in the world. They were to retreat into the shadows, hidden behind their enclaves and wards.

But he allowed the Holy Grail Wars to continue, as controlled battlegrounds for the Magus. He knew they would find new ways of conflict. So let it be that.

It would seen as a battle to hone their skills in a fair competition. No one could cheat. No one could bypass the protocols. Each war would be overseen by a Ruler-class Servant who reported directly to Edward.

Every participant's wish would be screened. Every method scrutinized. Only when a wish and its execution were found to be without malice or violation of the system would Edward permit the rewards to proceed.

And thus the Great Holy Grail Wars began in 1215 AC, and continued in every hundred years or so . Sometimes it could manifest early if the man was recovered. There were some individuals who tried to use it for evil, but the failsafes guaranteed their destruction.

In time, many famous people participated, although at time they were unknown. There were rumors that John D Rockefeller won the Great Holy Grail War and asked for a great fortune to last generations.

*****

After developing and establishing the magic system. Edward's journey brought him back to the British Isles. The land he had once guided beside Arthur Penndragon was now broken. Kings fought petty wars for crowns and gold while the people starved.

Fields lay fallow, villages burned, and no hand came to aid them. Edward helped where he could. food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, but he refused to bestow them the gift of magic.

He knew what these kingdoms would become. Britain and Spain were already reaching outward, soon to set sail across the seas, ready to colonize, plunder, and commit atrocities in the name of empire.

He could have ended it easily. A single stroke would remove weak kings and tyrants. A single threat might halt their ambitions. But Edward had learned, painfully, that even his best intentions could lead to horror.

The memory still weighed on him.

Years ago, when plague swept across Europe, Edward had given a small village the gift of healing magic while passing by. The villagers welcomed strangers, treating all who came with kindness. Their names spread as great healers.

But the local bishop saw only power. He imprisoned and tortured the villagers, trying to steal their secret from them. When they would not speak, he branded them heretics, claiming they had brought the plague. The frightened mob believed him. The villagers were executed publicly.

When Edward returned, he found only ash and silence. The homes were burned. The kind people he had known were gone. Local whispers told him what had happened. He stood in the ruins, staring blankly at the blackened ground.

"It's all my fault," he muttered. "I forgot about their greed for power."

The next day, people the church laid in ruins. The bishop was found nailed to his own cross, his bones shattered, eyes wide in terror, his blood scrawled across the broken walls in a single message:

"God does not exist here."

Edward never again tried to solve every problem. He had thought himself wiser than men, but even he underestimated the depths of human greed and fear. He could not protect everyone, not from themselves. Still, the guilt lingered. The memory of that village never left him. He prayed for their souls, though he doubted Heaven had listened.

As these thoughts gnawed at him, a familiar voice spoke inside his mind, regal, with a weight that carried centuries of command.

Saber: "So you have seen it. The humans we protect are capable of atrocities that defy reason. Despite this, do you still wish to save them? To watch over them? To be their guide?"

Edward let out a slow breath. "That's the thing. I know some people are beyond redemption. But there are so many who deserve it. I won't abandon millions for the sins of a thousand. I've chosen to walk this path to the end, even if it shatters me."

The voice pressed again, sharper this time.

Saber: "Why go so far? Do you wish to end up like me?"

Edward smiled faintly, though it held no joy. "Because when the path is too difficult to walk, that's when you know it's worth walking."

A low chuckle answered him, rising into laughter that rang with pride.

Saber: "Magnificent. Even as you face your sins, your hope shines brighter. I am glad, Edward Elric. Glad to have finally found a worthy successor to carry my will."

Edward smiled helplessly. "Your words fill me with pride. But I'm not sure I'm worthy."

Saber: "It is true, because I have spoken it. I pray you never need to use my strength, but should the day come, I will offer my blade gladly. The fate of humans rests on your shoulders now."

A different voice cut in, sharp and mocking, the kind that always came with an unsettling laugh.

Ruler: "Oh my, the big guy finally acknowledges someone. And here I thought he'd never speak to anyone, not even his fellow Spirits. What an honor."

Karna: "Don't speak so harshly, Ruler. He has his principles. His judgment is his own."

Ruler's tone turned bitter. "Easy for you to say. He won't even look at me. Considers me a monster. Not that I care, but it pisses me off."

A booming laugh interrupted, arrogant and dripping with confidence.

Gilgamesh: "Fuhahaha! Only a fool wastes breath caring what others think. Everything this king does is law. If I say it is right, then it is right."

A deep, gravelly voice spoke next, dismissive and edged with scorn.

Kratos: "You sound an awful lot like Zeus, Archer."

Karna: "Here we go again." He sighed, already weary of the argument.

Edward chuckled quietly at the familiar bickering. Though they came from different ages and legends, these heroes, kings, warriors had become something like companions. They offered him their strength, their counsel, and even their quarrels. For all their differences, Edward knew they cared for him in their own ways.

He didn't say it out loud, but he was grateful. Grateful not only for their power but for their wisdom, their guidance, and even their presence when silence threatened to swallow him.

*****

Edward departed the British Isles without ceremony and headed to Venice. His presence there, though subtle, had shifted a few fates in small ways. He experienced the Renaissance and even got to talk with some visionaries and artists. But he didn't stay there long.

But now his attention turned southward, toward the battered kingdom of France. The Hundred Years' War had drained its spirit, its people ground between the boots of ambition and betrayal.

By 1426, the flames of conflict had nearly consumed what remained of French resistance. Many believed the end was near.

But Edward knew otherwise.

A spark was coming. A girl, young and unremarkable by birth, would rise from obscurity. She would speak of visions, of voices, of divine guidance.

And despite the cynicism of kings and the scorn of men, she would rally armies and shift the tide.

Yet Edward also knew how such stories often ended. Once her purpose was fulfilled, her existence would become inconvenient. The same crown she helped preserve would abandon her. And the pyres would claim another innocent.

He hated those moments, when humanity revealed its worst side. Still, he endured. He never stopped trying to guide them, even when they proved themselves unworthy. Even when his own hope began to waver.

France, 1426

Duchy of Bar

The war had devastated the region. Fields once green had turned to rot. The roads were filled with the displaced families without homes, children without parents, men without limbs. Edward moved among them quietly, offering what little he could: food, water, warmth. He carried no banners and wore no emblem. To them, he was simply a stranger with kind soul and calm eyes.

He knelt by an old woman who could barely lift her head and handed her a loaf of bread. A boy beside her clutched a cracked wooden cup, which Edward filled with clean water drawn from a small enchanted flask he carried. It wasn't much. And he knew it.

After hours of tending to them, he stood near the edge of the makeshift camp, watching smoke rise in the distance. Villages continued to burn. The bloodletting never ceased.

His thoughts were troubled.

"Should I pick up my weapon once again?" he wondered. "But no matter who I fight for, the rot is the same on both sides. Even the Burgundians, French by name, aid the English. It's not a war of right and wrong anymore. It's a contest of lesser evils."

Before he could consider more, shouting erupted behind him. Screams of panic. Horses neighing. He turned sharply.

A band of nearly fifty riders charged toward the camp. Bandits, not soldiers. Opportunists who preyed on weakness. They wore scraps of armor and carried rusted blades, but their cruelty was sharp.

Edward didn't hesitate. A flick of his wrist, and a majestic sword appeared in his hand.

The weapon gleamed in the light, its blue and gold hilt shining, the purplish blade glowing faintly with holy energy. It was Durandal, the fabled sword once wielded by Roland. An ancient relic of faith and valor, now in the hands of a reluctant guardian.

"Get behind me!" Edward called out to the refugees.

They obeyed without question. Mothers clutched their children. The injured crawled to safety. And Edward walked calmly toward the charging bandits.

They didn't last long.

He moved with precision. Every strike landed cleanly. Steel clashed against steel, but Durandal never faltered. Within minutes, the ground was littered with bodies. The few survivors turned and fled, their courage broken.

Cheers erupted from behind him. The refugees praised him, calling him a savior, a hero. He gave no answer. He simply lowered his sword, its glow fading as it vanished from his hand.

He turned to leave when he felt a small tug at his sleeve.

Looking down, he saw a girl, no older than fifteen, dressed in coarse peasant clothes. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes were wide with awe.

"Are you a famous paladin like the stories, sir? Sent to protect the innocent? " she asked quietly. "You are very strong."

Edward offered a soft chuckle and reached down to ruffle her hair. "Nope, little girl." he said. "Just a wanderer passing through."

She asked softly, " Are you here to save us? "

Edward sighed, " I'm afraid not, little girl. That role has been decided for someone else."

She looked up at him with hesitant curiosity. "The war's been going on for so long. So many people are dead. Even the villages are raided by bandits as we live in fear. Do you think...it would be over one day?"

Edward looked into her eyes. The innocence there was still intact, but it trembled under the weight of war. There was an unusual intelligence in her eyes.

He exhaled slowly. "All wars end when their purpose is achieved," he said. "This one… will have a catalyst. Someone will raise a holy banner and claim they've received guidance from God. People will rally behind them. They'll win battles. They'll become a symbol. But…" he paused.

"But?" the girl whispered.

"There will be a price," Edward finished. "When symbols outlive their usefulness, those in power discard them. Even if they were once beloved."

The girl gasped. "But lying about divine will, Isn't that… blasphemy?"

Edward shrugged. "It's just a white lie for the greater good. But not everyone likes good things. Some people… just want to watch everything burn."

He patted her head gently and began walking away. She stood still, watching him disappear into the gray light of dusk. His words settled deep within her, though neither of them realized in that moment just how much they would shape the future.

She would remember the strange wanderer with the glowing sword. She would remember his calm voice, the way he spoke of banners and divine voices. And in the years to come, when visions began to haunt her dreams and voices echoed in her waking thoughts, she would take his words to heart. But her simple thoughts would remember him as an Archangel.

That girl would become the Saint of Orléans, Jeanne d'Arc. She would lead France to unlikely victories, lifting the siege of Orléans and restoring the fractured faith of a nation. But her triumphs would be brief.

When she no longer served their purpose, her allies would abandon her. The English would capture her. A puppet Pope would condemn her. And they would burn her alive in the marketplace at Rouen.

Or so the story was meant to go.

On the night before her execution, she would vanish from her cell. Her chains shattered. No trace left behind. Some would say the angels rescued her. Others believed it was divine will.

One thing was certain, No one ever saw her again.

But in time, the people would raise her memory higher than any banner. She would become a symbol of resistance. Of faith. Of Hope.

****

Edward sat high above the city of Paris, his legs dangling off the edge of the palace rooftop. The moonlight cast a soft glow across the landscape below. The streets were quiet at this hour. Paris, still under British control, slumbered beneath him.

He leaned back, arms folded behind his head, eyes scanning the wide expanse of the midnight sky without really seeing it. His expression was unreadable. A sigh left his lips, long and tired.

A light, cheerful voice broke the silence.

"Brooding again?"

Edward didn't need to look to know who it was. He smirked faintly as he tilted his head.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said. "Who's going to die tonight?"

Death appeared beside him and settled down on the rooftop just as casually, lying back and looking up at the stars. She gave him a light nudge on the arm.

"Don't make fun of my work," she said with a soft smile. "Can't I come just to hang out like I said?"

Edward let out a quiet chuckle. "You can. I just didn't think you'd have this much free time. Your visits are getting more frequent. You were here just two weeks ago." His tone was teasing, but not unkind. "Not that I mind your company."

Death looked amused. "Not many can say they enjoy the company of Death," she said. "Back then, I had to be careful. You weren't invulnerable. My presence could've put you at risk. But now that you're as strong as I am, more or less, I don't have to worry. And I've found it's nice having someone to talk to. Someone who can keep up."

Edward raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "Careful now. That almost sounded like a compliment. And a confession. Is the aloof Death finally falling for my charms?"

He smirked, but Death didn't flinch. She tilted her head toward him, keeping her expression unreadable.

"And if I did?" she asked calmly. "Would you sweep me off my feet and carry me into heaven where we live happily ever after?"

Edward laughed. "You've gotten good," he said, amused. "Before, you'd get all shy and vanish while blushing like a maiden."

Death let out a sound of irritation. "That's probably your imagination from spending too much time around Delirium. How is she, by the way? I never see her around anymore."

"She's having fun with her new pet," Edward replied.

Death blinked and looked over at him, confused. "When did that happen?"

Edward grinned. "She wanted a doggy. So we stole Fenrir from his prison."

Death sat up slightly. "Fenrir? The wolf from Norse myth?"

"Yup," Edward said. "The same one. Poor guy was just chained up since I beat up Odin years ago. We rescued him, and now he follows her around like a lost puppy."

Death stared at him for a moment, then shook her head and laughed. "You're impossible," she said, smiling. "No wonder she likes hanging around you. You spoil her like Destruction did."

Edward shrugged. "Well, who can say no to such an adorable little sister? She just wants attention. Olethros gave her that, back when he still lingered. He even told her to come to me if she felt lonely."

Death softened at that. "You know, you have a charm that melts hearts, even we are no exception." she said. "I heard you rescued that little girl Jeanne, too."

Edward scratched the back of his neck, slightly sheepish. "I didn't know it was her when I spoke to her as a kid.. I was just talking to her. Didn't expect her to be the one leading a whole movement. I felt guilty later, like I accidentally put those ideas in her head. So… I snuck into her cell and got her out. She's living in Vinland now, with her mother."

Death chuckled softly. "Such a kind soul. And I suppose the Pope dying mysteriously had nothing to do with you?"

Edward shrugged again. "Come on, DiDi. You were there. You saw me do it. Want me to lie?"

Death gave him a side glance, smiling faintly. "Good to know you're honest. So tell me then…" Her tone shifted slightly. "Where is my brother hiding?"

Edward yawned. "I'm feeling sleepy. Maybe I should turn in for the night."

She gave him a flat look. "Liar. You don't need to eat or sleep. You're just trying to escape the conversation."

He gave a light laugh. "You know me too well. It's like we're the perfect partners."

Death looked away for a moment. Her posture changed, less relaxed, more thoughtful. Edward noticed immediately and nudged her gently with his elbow.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She was quiet for a second, then turned back to face him. Her voice was quieter now.

"Hey, Edward…" she said. "What do you think of me?"

Edward blinked. "That came out of nowhere," he said. He tilted his head, pretending to think seriously. "Hmm… I don't know. Jury's still out on that one. Maybe someone could bribe me to pass a positive verdict."

Death laughed and stood up. "You had to ruin it. Answer seriously for once."

Edward smiled, "well, you are pretty, fun , and have a nice personality. I enjoy spending time with you, if that's what you are asking."

She looked away and smiled. The moon slipped free of the clouds, its light stretching across the rooftop and illuminating her pale skin and black clothing, giving her an ethereal beauty. For a moment, she just stood there, quiet, as if considering something.

Then she turned to look back at him with a radiant but conflicted smile.

"I must be out of my mind, and I might regret saying this later," she said quietly. "But I think… I have started to fall for you.... No, I think I already did." She smiled brilliantly as she looked at him affectionately.

Edward sat up, stunned. He opened his mouth, trying to respond, but before he could say a word, she just turned around, and vanished. Leaving only the silence behind.

And the sound of her wings.