The final matches concluded as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the shattered Colosseum in shades of amber and crimson. The enchanted torches that lined the arena walls flickered to life one by one, their magical flames casting long shadows across the platforms where dreams had been won and lost. The candidates who remained—fewer than half of those who had begun—gathered in the central arena, their faces marked by exhaustion, exhilaration, and the quiet dread of the final judgment to come.
The squad selection ceremony was about to begin.
The nine captains sat in their elevated seats, their expressions ranging from bored indifference to keen anticipation. Before them, projected by William Vangeance's World Tree Magic, a massive display showed the names and faces of every candidate who had passed the rounds. The names would be called one by one, and the captains would raise their hands if they wished to extend an offer. It was, in theory, a simple process. In practice, it was a political battlefield every bit as fierce as the matches that had preceded it.
I stood near the back of the assembled candidates, a fresh tunic draped over my torso—one of the spares the exam administrators kept for situations exactly like mine. The fabric was rough and ill-fitting, designed for someone of normal proportions, and it stretched tight across my shoulders in a way that drew continued glances from certain sections of the audience. The wheel behind my head rotated in its slow, eternal cycle, visible to the captains and the high-mana candidates, invisible to Asta and the other mana-blind observers. Yuno stood to my left, his four-leaf grimoire floating at his hip, his expression as unreadable as ever. Asta was to my right, practically vibrating with nervous energy.
"They're going to pick me, right?" he whispered, not for the first time. "Someone's going to pick me. I broke that guy's cannonball! That was impressive! That was really impressive! Someone had to notice!"
"Yami noticed," I said quietly.
"The scary middle aged captain with the cigarette? He did? He really did?"
"He's been watching you all day."
Asta's face split into a grin so wide it threatened to escape the boundaries of his head. "Then I'm going to join the Black Bulls! I'm going to be a Magic Knight! I'm going to be the Wizard King!"
"You haven't been selected yet," Yuno reminded him.
"Details! Minor details! I can feel it, Yuno! Today is my day!"
The ceremony began.
Captain Vangeance rose from his seat, his masked face surveying the assembled candidates with the calm authority of a man who had done this many times before. "Candidates. You have fought well. You have demonstrated your skills, your courage, and your potential. But not all of you will become Magic Knights. The captains will now extend offers to those they deem worthy. When your name is called, step forward. If multiple captains raise their hands, you may choose among them. If no captain raises their hand..." He paused, and the weight of the silence was answer enough. "If no captain raises their hand, you have not been selected. You may try again at next year's exam."
The tension in the arena could have been cut with a blade.
The first names were called—nobles, mostly, the children of established houses who had performed adequately and whose families had political connections to certain squads. The selections were predictable. The Crimson Lions took a fire mage from a minor noble house. The Silver Eagles claimed a wind magic specialist with impeccable aristocratic pedigree. The Blue Rose Knights selected a young woman with water magic who had distinguished herself in the combat rounds. Each selection was met with polite applause and the quiet despair of those whose names had not yet been called.
Then Yuno's name echoed across the arena.
"Yuno of Hage Village."
The effect was immediate. Every captain on the observation platform straightened in their seat. Every conversation stopped. Every eye in the arena turned toward the dark-haired boy with the four-leaf grimoire as he walked forward with the calm, measured stride of someone who had expected this moment his entire life. He stopped at the center of the arena floor, his amber eyes lifted toward the captains, his expression betraying nothing.
"Captains," Vangeance said, "please indicate if you wish to extend an offer."
Every hand went up.
All nine of them. Fuegoleon's hand was raised, his leonine features alight with approval. Nozel's hand was raised, his aristocratic composure intact but his interest genuine. Charlotte's hand was raised—for a moment—before she slowly lowered it. The movement drew immediate attention.
"Captain Charlotte?" Vangeance asked. "You're withdrawing your offer?"
Charlotte's cheeks were faintly pink, though her voice remained steady. "The Blue Rose Knights are a squad of women. I make exceptions only in extraordinary circumstances. And while the four-leaf grimoire is certainly extraordinary..." She paused, and her eyes flickered—just for an instant—toward the back of the candidate section, where I stood with my arms crossed and the wheel rotating behind my head. "I believe my squad's resources would be better allocated elsewhere. I withdraw my offer for Yuno of Hage Village and reserve my selection for a different candidate."
A murmur rippled through the audience. The implications were clear. Charlotte was giving up a four-leaf grimoire holder—a once-in-a-generation talent—in the hopes of securing someone else. And there was only one other candidate in this exam who could possibly justify such a sacrifice.
"The Blue Rose Knights withdraw their offer," Vangeance confirmed. "Captain Jack?"
Jack the Ripper's grin was wide and sharp. "You know what? I'm with Charlotte on this one. The four-leaf kid is impressive, but I've got my eye on someone else. Green Mantises withdraw."
"You're both insane," Nozel said flatly. "A four-leaf grimoire is a strategic asset beyond compare. The Silver Eagles maintain our offer."
"As do the Crimson Lions," Fuegoleon added.
"The Golden Dawn," Vangeance said, "also maintains its offer."
But the damage had been done. Two captains had withdrawn, and their reasoning hung in the air like a challenge. The other captains exchanged glances—the kind of glances that preceded heated negotiations. Yuno stood at the center of the arena, his expression unchanged, but I could see the faint tension in his shoulders. He had expected to be fought over. He had not expected to be abandoned.
"Perhaps," Fuegoleon said slowly, "we should address the matter directly. Captain Charlotte, Captain Jack—you're withdrawing from the four-leaf candidate in hopes of claiming the wheel-bearer, correct?"
"The giant," Jack confirmed. "Hasegawa Ouga. The one who adapted to poison in real time. The one with the floating halo. Yes, that's who I want."
"As do I," Charlotte said, her blush deepening slightly. "His abilities are... unique. And his discipline under duress was remarkable."
"Then we're in competition," Fuegoleon said. "The Crimson Lions also intend to extend an offer to Hasegawa Ouga. His adaptive capabilities would be invaluable to our front-line combat units."
"The Silver Eagles," Nozel interjected, "have the resources to develop his abilities far more efficiently than any other squad. Our training facilities are unmatched."
"The Aqua Deer could nurture his creative potential," Rill Boismortier added, practically bouncing in his seat. "Did you see the way he just stood there? That's artistic patience! That's performance art!"
Dorothy Unsworth, the captain of the Coral Peacocks, yawned. "He's interesting. I don't usually wake up for these things, but he made me open my eyes. That's rare."
The captains' argument escalated, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of competing claims. Yuno stood in the center of it all, the prodigy whose four-leaf grimoire had been momentarily forgotten in the scramble to claim the hollow-eyed giant at the back of the room. It would have been comical, if Yuno had been capable of finding anything comical.
Then Yami spoke.
"I'm not withdrawing my offer."
The other captains turned to look at him. Yami was slouched in his seat as always, a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression the picture of casual disinterest. But his eyes—dark and sharp and full of something that might have been amusement—were fixed on the candidate section.
"Yuno of Hage Village," Yami said, loud enough for the whole arena to hear. "You've got a four-leaf grimoire, incredible mana control, and the personality of a brick wall. You'd fit right in with the Black Bulls. My offer stands."
"And the wheel-bearer?" Fuegoleon demanded. "Are you competing for him as well?"
Yami's grin widened. "Let's just say I've got an advantage the rest of you don't. I'll let you fight over Ouga if you want, but he's coming to the Black Bulls. You'll see."
The other captains exchanged suspicious glances, but none of them could decipher Yami's confidence. They didn't know about Asta. They didn't know about the protective older brother persona I had carefully cultivated. They didn't know that Yami had already identified the bait that would bring me into his squad without a fight.
"Very well," Vangeance said, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Yuno of Hage Village. You have received offers from the Golden Dawn, the Crimson Lions, the Silver Eagles, the Black Bulls, the Aqua Deer, the Coral Peacocks, and the Purple Orcas. Which squad do you choose?"
Yuno didn't hesitate. "The Golden Dawn."
The answer was immediate, decisive, and utterly unsurprising. The Golden Dawn was the most prestigious squad in the kingdom, the squad of William Vangeance, the squad that was infinitely closer to Wizard King than any other. For someone whose stated goal was to become the Wizard King, there was no other choice.
"An excellent decision," Vangeance said, and though his masked face betrayed nothing, there was a note of genuine pleasure in his voice. "Welcome to the Golden Dawn, Yuno."
Applause rippled through the arena. Yuno bowed his head once—a gesture of respect, not submission—and walked back to his place in the candidate section. As he passed me, his amber eyes met my grey ones.
"You're going to the Black Bulls," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"Because of Asta."
"Yes."
Yuno nodded slowly. "Protect him. He's an idiot, but he's my idiot."
".....I will."
The ceremony continued. More names were called. More offers were extended. The pool of remaining candidates dwindled until only a handful remained. And then, finally, the name I had been waiting for.
"Asta of Hage Village."
The reaction was not what Asta had hoped for. No hands went up immediately. The nobles in the audience snickered. The other candidates whispered behind their hands. The anti-magic boy with the dirty grimoire, the one who couldn't fly or cast or create or develop—who would possibly want him?
Then a single hand rose.
Yami Sukehiro's hand, scarred and calloused, holding a cigarette between two fingers.
"I'll take him," Yami said, and his voice was casual, almost bored, but his eyes were sharp. "The magicless kid with the giant sword. He's exactly the kind of weirdo that fits in with my squad. Black Bulls extend an offer."
Asta's face went through a journey of emotions in the span of two seconds—shock, disbelief, joy, and then a kind of radiant, incandescent happiness that seemed to light up the entire arena. "HE PICKED ME! A CAPTAIN PICKED ME! I'M GOING TO BE A MAGIC KNIGHT! YUNO, DID YOU SEE THAT?! OUGA, DID YOU SEE THAT?! I'M A MAGIC KNIGHT! I'M GOING TO BE THE WIZARD KING!"
"Asta," Vangeance said, and there was a hint of amusement in his calm voice. "Do you accept Captain Yami's offer?"
"YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES! I ACCEPT! I'M A BLACK BULL! WHATEVER THAT MEANS! I'M IN!"
"Then welcome to the Black Bulls, Asta of Hage Village."
Asta ran back to the candidate section, his feet barely touching the ground, and threw his arms around Yuno in a hug that the stoic prodigy endured with the patience of a saint. Then he turned to me, and I allowed the mask to produce a warm, approving smile.
"Congratulations," I said.
"You're next, Ouga! You're definitely next! Everyone wants you! You're going to have your pick of squads!"
"We'll see."
The ceremony continued. More names were called. More offers were extended. The night wore on, the stars emerging in the sky above the shattered Colosseum, and still my name was not called. The tension in the arena grew with each passing moment. The captains were saving their offers. They were waiting for the final name, the last candidate, the one they had been arguing about all evening.
And then, as the first light of dawn began to paint the horizon in shades of rose and gold, the name was called.
"Hasegawa Ouga. Unaffiliated."
I stepped forward.
The crowd's reaction was immediate. The women in the audience—particularly those of a certain age—leaned forward with renewed interest, their opera glasses raised. The men crossed their arms and tried to look unimpressed, with varying degrees of success. The candidates parted before me like water before a ship's prow, and I walked to the center of the arena with the measured, deliberate stride of someone who had been waiting for this moment for over a year.
The captains raised their hands.
Fuegoleon Vermillion. Nozel Silva. Charlotte Roselei. Jack the Ripper. Rill Boismortier. Dorothy Unsworth. Kaiser Granvorka. Seven of the nine captains extended offers, their hands raised high, their expressions ranging from eager to calculating. Only Vangeance abstained—the Golden Dawn had already claimed Yuno, and he seemed content with that prize—and Yami, who remained slouched in his seat with his hand conspicuously lowered.
"An impressive showing," Vangeance observed. "Seven offers. Hasegawa Ouga, which squad do you—"
"Wait."
Yami's voice cut through the ceremony like a blade. The other captains turned to glare at him, their expressions ranging from annoyance to outright hostility. Yami didn't seem to notice. He was looking directly at me, his dark eyes gleaming with something that might have been amusement.
"Before you make your choice, giant," Yami said, "let me remind you of something. The Black Bulls already accepted one orphan from Hage today. A short, loud, magicless orphan who's going to need someone to watch his back. Someone to train with him. Someone to make sure he doesn't get himself killed before he can prove everyone wrong." He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke through his nose. "Just something to think about."
The implication was blatant. Shameless, even. The other captains reacted with immediate outrage.
"That's manipulation!" Fuegoleon thundered. "You're using another candidate as leverage! That's beneath the dignity of a Magic Knight captain!"
"Using emotional blackmail to force a selection is shameful," Nozel agreed coldly. "Even for you, Yami."
"The Black Bulls have no shame," Charlotte said, her eyes narrowed. "This is exactly the kind of underhanded tactic I'd expect from a squad of degenerates."
"Degenerates who are about to get the strongest candidate in the exam," Yami replied, utterly unbothered. "Call it what you want. I call it strategy."
The mask on my face flickered—a carefully calculated hesitation, the expression of someone wrestling with a difficult decision. Inside, the void was silent. Everything was proceeding exactly as I had planned. Yami had taken the bait. The protective older brother persona had worked. Now I just needed to sell the final act.
"I..." I paused, letting the hesitation stretch. My grey eyes moved from the captains to Asta, who was standing at the edge of the candidate section with a confused expression. "I came here to become a Magic Knight. To protect people. To grow stronger." I turned back to Yami. "If joining the Black Bulls means I can do that while watching over someone who needs it... then that's where I'll go."
"A noble sentiment," Fuegoleon said, and despite his frustration, there was genuine respect in his voice. "Misguided, but noble. Are you certain, Hasegawa Ouga?"
"I'm certain." I inclined my head toward Yami. "I accept Captain Yami's offer. I'll join the Black Bulls."
"Welcome aboard, giant," Yami said, and his grin was the grin of a man who had just won a bet that everyone else thought was impossible. "You and the loud one are going to fit right in."
The ceremony concluded as the sun rose fully above the horizon. The new Magic Knights were dismissed to meet with their captains and receive their squad assignments. The audience filed out of the Colosseum, their conversations a buzz of speculation about the strange giant with the wheel and the magicless boy with the impossible sword.
And somewhere in the shadows of the arena, a figure watched with eyes full of bitter resentment. Sekke Bronzazza had not been selected by any squad. His bronze magic had failed to impress. His showmanship had fallen flat. And the two people he blamed most for his humiliation were a certain short commoner and his dark-haired self proclaimed rival.
He followed Asta when the boy slipped away to use the bathroom.
(Author note: You guys know what to do right?)