Black Clover : Asta's Father

Still not healthy but i was able to finish the chapter.

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The darkness retreated, and Nero's eyes snapped open to the sound of his name, yelled with desperation.

"Nero! Wake up!" Nel's voice pierced his senses, and he found himself staring into her wide, concerned eyes as she shook him violently.

The room spun as he regained awareness, and what he saw chilled him to his core.

His study, once a haven of order, was wrecked.

The walls were cracked, books and artifacts scattered and damaged.

The air still crackled with residual mana, sharp and oppressive, as though a storm had passed and left only destruction in its wake.

Nel's grip on his arms tightened. "Nero, what happened here? You're bleeding!"

Only now did he feel the sting of his wounds, his body covered in blood from countless cuts and burns, though his natural healing courtesy of immense mana had already begun to mend them.

He turned his head and froze.

The source of the chaos was unmistakable—his grimoire.

It floated in the air, emitting an eerie blue glow.

Mana swirled around it in unnatural waves, heavy and suffocating.

Even now, its aura was alive, volatile, and ravenous, as though it had been feeding on the storm it had unleashed.

"Nero?" Nel's voice broke through again, softer but no less concerned. "What is going on? What is that?"

"I…" Nero hesitated. "I don't know."

But he did.

He stood shakily, his legs unsteady, and reached for the grimoire.

The moment his fingers touched its cover, he felt it—power, raw and overwhelming, surging through him like a torrent.

The grimoire had changed.

The once-pristine four-leaf clover on its cover was gone, replaced by something far more ominous.

A fifth leaf had formed, jagged and uneven, yet glowing with an ethereal blue light, even in its dormant state.

The sight of it sent a shiver down his spine he would never forget this symbol in his entire life.

No human was supposed to have a five-leaf clover.

Only devils, bore such grimoires.

Yet his was different.

It wasn't tainted with dark energy like the grimoires of the devils he had encountered.

The light that pulsed from the fifth leaf was pure, bright, and unrelenting, as if it rejected corruption altogether.

And then there was the deeper truth, the one that connected everything—the relationship between clovers, bloodlines, and the past.

Peasants rarely, if ever, received four-leaf clovers because they lacked the heritage necessary to awaken them.

Now it was clearer than ever why.

The divine nature of these grimoires was a reflection of Quincy lineage.

The five-leaf clover, however, was something else entirely.

It wasn't a state anyone could reach anymore—it was an aberration, a mark of those who had been forced into the devil state long ago, transformed by the corruption of their souls.

Nero was an exception.

His resemblance to Haschwalth, his unnatural affinity for magic, and now this—there was no denying the truth.

The grimoire's fifth leaf didn't appear by chance.

His "dream" was probably some sort of awakening that is yet to complete given it was fragmented at best.

---

A lot of things suddenly made sense.

Richita's unnatural condition—the way her body drained mana and life from those around her—wasn't random.

It was a mutation, a Quincy ability gone awry, their natural affinity to absorb mana running completely out of control.

Then there was his resemblance to Haschwalth.

It wasn't just a coincidence or a trick of fate.

The bloodline connection was undeniable now, and the implications ran deeper than he had ever wanted to admit.

Nero walked to a shattered mirror hanging precariously on the wall.

His reflection was distorted by the cracks, but even through the jagged glass, he could see it—his eye.

The pupil wasn't whole anymore.

Thin lines were carved through it, as if it were beginning to split into four distinct sections.

It wasn't complete, but it was undeniable.

Was he being taken over by remnants of yhwach.

He rubbed a hand through his hair, his mind racing.

The puzzle pieces were coming together, yet the full picture remained just out of reach.

Taking a deep breath, Nero turned to Nel, who stood frozen, worry etched on her face. Her lips parted as if to ask something, but he raised a hand before she could speak.

With a focused gesture, he began repairing the destruction in the room.

Threads of pure mana flowed from his fingers, wrapping around broken objects and fractured walls.

It wasn't just mending—it was reformation.

He wove the mana into the matter itself, fusing atoms together until the bonds reformed and the room stood whole again.

The air grew quiet as the last crack sealed itself, leaving the study pristine, though the heavy tension lingered.

Nel hesitated, then tried again. "Nero, please. What happened? You're scaring me."

He shook his head, forcing calm into his voice. "I need time to figure this out, Nel. Until then…" He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Please understand."

There was a finality to his words, one that left no room for further questions.

Nel bit her lip, her worry unspoken but evident.

She gave a reluctant nod, her shoulders tense as she stepped back, leaving Nero alone with his thoughts.

As the door closed behind her, Nero looked down at the grimoire in his hands, its faint blue glow still pulsing softly.

The lines in his eye, the fifth leaf, the connections to the Quincy and devils fr the dream—it was all leading somewhere.

But where?

And more importantly, why?

---

Meanwhile, miles away, Asta and Noelle were flying back to the Black Bulls' headquarters after their date.

The air was crisp, and the stars above sparkled like diamonds.

Asta was grinning ear-to-ear, recounting their adventures, while Noelle tried to mask her flustered expressions.

Their lighthearted moment was interrupted when they noticed a peculiar sight: a group of children walking out of the nearby village.

Their steps were unsteady, their eyes vacant, and above them, snow fell gently from a cloudless sky, the flakes shimmering unnaturally with a faint magical hue.

Asta's cheerful demeanor vanished instantly. "That's not normal," he said, his voice edged with seriousness.

Noelle frowned. "Magic snow... It's affecting them. Look at their eyes."

The duo landed near the children, Asta crouching down to block their path. "Hey! What's going on? Where are you all going?"

The children didn't respond, their faces blank as they trudged forward like puppets. Asta noticed the faint glow of magic swirling around them, the snowflakes clinging unnaturally to their skin.

"Magic influence," Noelle muttered. "We have to stop this."

Without hesitation, Asta activated his anti-magic. His grimoire floated in front of him, and with a burst of energy, his massive sword materialized in his hand. He swung it in a wide arc, dispelling the magic around the children. The snow melted instantly, and the children collapsed to the ground, blinking in confusion.

"Are you okay?" Asta asked, concern in his voice.

One of the children, still trembling, whispered, "The snow... It was calling us... Someone in the woods..."

Asta's expression darkened. He looked up at the sky, watching the snow continue to fall. This wasn't random—it was deliberate, and whoever was behind it had malicious intent.

"Noelle," he said, his tone firm. "We need to warn someone. Go find a way to inform the captain or any other Magic Knights."

"But what about you?" Noelle asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Asta gave her a confident smile. "I'll be fine. I can handle this. Just make sure everyone knows what's going on."

As he spoke, his grimoire began to emit a strange, dark aura.

The book floated open, and from within it, a newly-acquired sword emerged, its blade coated in a black, viscous energy that seemed to pulse with life.

The aura surrounded Asta, growing darker and thicker until a single horn sprouted from his head, and his body radiated anti-magic energy.

Noelle stared, stunned. This was Asta using Liebe's anti-magic in unison for the first time—a transformation that seemed almost primal in its power.

"This... This isn't like before," Noelle thought, her heart racing. She remembered his fight in the dungeon when he'd brushed off his injuries like they were nothing, calling it "play stuff." Now, she realized just how much he had been holding back.

Asta's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Noelle, go!"

Without hesitation, Noelle climbed onto the second anti-magic sword as it floated beside her.

The sword, sensing Asta's intent, zoomed toward the capital, carrying Noelle at an incredible speed.

Asta turned back toward the snow-covered town.

Raising his sword, he slashed horizontally with all his strength.

A massive arc of pure anti-magic darkness erupted from the blade, slicing through the magical snow and dispelling it entirely.

The air cleared in an instant, the unnatural magic erased effortlessly.

"Whoever you are," Asta muttered, gripping his sword tightly. "You're not getting away with this."

---

Mereoleona Vermillion stood amidst the heart of an extreme mana zone, the air around her crackling with raw energy.

Flames erupted from her fists with each strike, her physical body and magic pushed to the very brink.

The ground beneath her was scorched, molten in some areas, a testament to her relentless training.

Her breathing was heavy, but her eyes burned with unyielding determination. "Not enough," she growled, throwing another flaming punch into the empty air.

The heatwave that followed warped the landscape around her.

Suddenly, a faint blue light pulsed from the pouch at her side.

She stopped mid-strike, her sharp instincts immediately catching the subtle shift in energy.

Reaching into the pouch, she pulled out a medallion—a simple, seemingly unassuming object she had been gifted long ago by her beloved colleague.

The blue light grew brighter, flickering with an urgent rhythm.

Mereoleona's sharp eyes narrowed as she studied it.

Recognition dawned on her, and a wide grin stretched across her face, brimming with fiery confidence.

"Hah! So you finally called for me, Nero," she said, her voice echoing in the mana-rich zone.

The flame in her hair flared brighter as if responding to her rising excitement.

She held the medallion up, smirking as though she'd just won some long-standing bet. "You said you'd never call me. Too proud for your own good, weren't you? And now, look who's asking for help!"

She chuckled, tossing the medallion into the air and catching it effortlessly. "Alright, you stubborn man. Let's see what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into this time."

Mereoleona clenched the medallion tightly, the blue light spreading and enveloping her in a swirl of mana as world broke around her spwce magic activating.

With a final smirk, she let the light take her, vanishing from the extreme mana zone in a flash of blue energy.

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