The noise across the arena faded the moment a single figure stepped forward.
William Vangeance stood at the front, his presence calm yet commanding, enough to draw every eye toward him without effort. Even without raising his voice, the weight behind it carried across the entire field.
"The Magic Knight Entrance Exam… begins now."
A brief pause followed, just enough for the words to settle.
"Those who stand here today will be judged. Not by words, not by status, but by your ability."
As his hand lifted, magic responded.
The ground trembled slightly as a massive tree rose from the center of the arena, its trunk expanding upward and outward in seconds. Branches spread in all directions, thick and numerous, before shifting again, reshaping themselves into long, smooth forms.
Brooms.
One by one, they detached from the branches and descended toward the candidates, each landing neatly in front of them.
Asta watched it quietly.
Constructed entirely from magic.
Asta watched the tree closely as it formed, his eyes following the movement of the branches as they split, shaped, and distributed themselves with precise control, each one turning into a broom and landing cleanly in front of a candidate.
…This level of control.
It wasn't just the size of the spell.
It was the precision.
Every branch, every movement, every distribution—perfectly managed without waste.
And this isn't even his full strength.
Asta's gaze remained steady for a moment longer before shifting away.
There was no need to test the broom.
He already knew what he would use instead.
Around him, the others had already begun.
Some lifted easily, rising into the air with practiced control. Others wobbled, struggling to maintain balance before stabilizing. A few failed completely, unable to lift themselves even slightly.
Asta didn't move.
Not toward the broom.
Instead—
his sword responded.
The grimoire opened slightly, and the blade rose, settling beside him without hesitation.
Asta stepped onto the sword, his stance steady as it lifted cleanly off the ground, rising past the others without using a broom.
The difference was immediate.
While the rest relied on magic to stay afloat, there was nothing around him—no mana, no visible support, nothing that explained how he was even staying in the air.
That was what drew attention.
Not from the candidates—
but from above.
The captains watched.
Yami leaned slightly, his gaze fixed on Asta as the sword carried him through the air.
"…That kid."
Beside him, Finral Roulacase frowned, watching more closely.
"…Captain… that's not a broom."
He focused again, trying to sense it.
"…I can't feel any mana from him."
Yami didn't look away.
"He's got none."
Finral blinked.
"…Then how is he even staying up there?"
Yami's smirk deepened slightly.
"…That's the interesting part."
Above them, William Vangeance remained still, his gaze fixed on Asta longer than the others. The method didn't matter to him in that moment. It was the sword. Something about it felt familiar in a way he couldn't immediately place, a distant recognition surfacing without a clear answer.
That blade.
The thought lingered.
The test ended quickly.
There was nothing more to prove in it.
The next trials began without pause.
Seeds were handed out, each candidate instructed to channel their magic and grow them. Around Asta, sprouts formed, some quickly rising into full plants, others barely emerging from the surface.
Asta stood still.
The seed in his hand remained unchanged.
The next test followed.
Targets were placed at a distance, and candidates launched spells toward them. Flashes of magic filled the air as attacks struck, missed, or scattered across the field.
Asta didn't move.
There was nothing to launch.
He didn't react.
Didn't explain.
Didn't try to compensate.
These aren't my field.
The transitions were quick.
No time wasted.
Then the final stage.
Fuegoleon Vermillion stepped forward, his presence firm, steady, carrying authority without force.
"The final test will determine your combat ability."
His gaze moved across the candidates.
"You will fight."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Tension replaced noise.
Candidates began choosing opponents, some stepping forward confidently, others hesitating.
One of the matches began first.
A candidate using water magic stepped forward, facing another who raised earth magic in response. The clash started quicklywater surged forward, crashing against rising stone as the two tested each other, spells colliding and breaking apart across the arena.
The rest watched.
Thenanother movement.
One of the candidates stepped forward, stopping directly in Asta's path.
Asta recognized him immediately.
Seke.
So he's here too…
In canon, he had already seen how this would go—loud, overconfident, relying on flashy magic to cover the gaps in real ability. Not useless, though. His bronze magic had both offense and defense, enough to handle weaker opponents and pass through early stages.
But that was all.
"You can fly," Seke said, looking him over with a slight sneer. "That's about it, right?"
Asta didn't respond.
Seke clicked his tongue, lifting his hand slightly as bronze magic began to form around him, shaping into a weapon.
"Let's test that."
Asta watched him for a brief moment.
Measured.
Then he moved.
Not toward him.
Past him.
The decision was already made.
"I'm not fighting you."
Seke's expression stiffened for a second, caught off guard by the dismissal.
"—What?"
But Asta didn't slow.
Didn't turn back.
Ahead another voice.
"Oi."
A noble stepped forward, blocking the path.
His gaze fixed on Yuno.
"Village trash… you think you belong here?"
A faint scoff followed.
"I'll show you your place—"
Asta reached him first.
A single step.
A single push.
The noble lost his balance instantly, stumbling back several feet before hitting the ground, more from the sudden force than anything else.
A brief silence flickered.
A few nearby candidates turned.
Asta didn't look at him.
Didn't acknowledge it.
He kept walking.
Stopping in front of Yuno.
Yuno had already turned.
Of course he had.
Their eyes met.
No surprise.
No reaction.
Asta's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Let's fight."
No anger.
No shouting.
Just a statement.
Yuno answered without hesitation.
"…Fine."
The exam had truly begun.