Black Clover : Asta's Father

Some unsavory things happened that I'd rather not say.

And uh as warned my lofe is finally destabilizing a lot expect wonky uploads.

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The grand chamber of the Kira estate was a testament of splendor.

Golden chandeliers illuminated the marble floors, and the banners of the noble houses hung solemnly along the walls as mqny of them no longer existed.

However, the weight of the occasion was undeniable.

This meeting, attended by the heads of the seven remaining subordinate houses of the Kira family, symbolized both resilience and loss—a reminder of a once-greater noble lineage now reduced by none other thwn Nero.

The remaining houses—Solayne, Lumeris, Aurelius, Candidis, Radiantus, Luminor, and Albaeren—each carried centuries of tradition and virtue.

Their representatives sat with solemn expressions, awaiting Nero Kira's decision on the future leadership of the family.

At the head of the table, Nero rose, his presence commanding attention.

Though he was about to step away from the family's leadership, his authority over the room was undisputed as he was becoming the king.

"I have called you all here today to address the matter of succession," he began, his tone calm but firm. "The Kira family must remain strong and united, and its leader must be someone who can uphold its values and guide us into the future."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

His gaze shifted momentarily, his thoughts turning to a promise made long ago.

Richita, I will not thrust Asta into this world until he is ready—not until he is recognized as the hero he was born to be.

Turning his attention back to the assembly, Nero continued. "Asta is not yet ready to take on this responsibility. The time will come, but it is not now. Until then, the Kira family requires a leader who can command respect and guide us with wisdom and strength."

Nero gestured toward Damnatio Kira, who sat silently at his right. The room's attention shifted to him, though his stoic demeanor betrayed no emotion.

"I have chosen Damnatio Kira to serve as the next patriarch of the Kira family," Nero declared. "His unwavering loyalty to the clan and his dedication to the kingdom are beyond question. I trust him to lead with honor and uphold the legacy of the Kira name."

The nobles exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from solemn acceptance to mild surprise.

But none could deny the gravity of Nero's endorsement. One by one, they stood, bowing their heads and pledging their allegiance.

"House Solayne pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Lumeris pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Aurelius pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Candidis pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Radiantus pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Luminor pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

"House Albaeren pledges loyalty to Patriarch Damnatio Kira."

The room resounded with their united declarations.

Damnatio stood, bowing deeply.

His voice was calm and measured as he addressed the assembly. "I accept this responsibility with gratitude and resolve. I will serve the Kira family and the kingdom with honor, ensuring that our legacy endures."

Nero nodded approvingly before addressing the room one final time. "With this decision, the Kira family moves forward into a new era. I trust all of you to support Damnatio as you have supported me. Together, we will uphold the strength and values of the Kira name."

The meeting concluded with a ceremonial gesture of unity, each noble head raising their house banners as a pledge of loyalty.

As the room began to empty, Nero lingered for a moment, watching Damnatio accept the congratulations of the other nobles.

---

The workshop of Barbara Gunnhilder was a chaotic amalgamation of potions, magical materials, and intricate contraptions, all testaments to her expertise in crafting and magic.

Seated amidst this organized chaos, Barbara, with her long blonde braid and sharp green eyes, looked up from her work as the fiery Mereoleona Vermillion stormed in, accompanied by a towering man with the aura of a thunderstorm—Taranis, a knight renowned for his lightning-based magic and fittingly named after the deity of thunder.

Mereoleona didn't bother with pleasantries. "Barbara, I need a cloak. One that can hide me from Nero's soul gaze for five seconds."

Barbara froze for a moment before narrowing her eyes. "Hide you from the captain's soul gaze? Are you out of your mind? First of all, I don't even know what this soul gaze of his is. And second of all, you can't hide from him. No one can."

Mereoleona crossed her arms, her fiery mane seeming to glow brighter in the workshop's dim light. "I didn't come here for lectures. I just need something that works, even if only for a moment."

Barbara sighed, setting down the flask she was inspecting. "Let me explain something to you. The captain—Nero—is a monster among humans when it comes to magical perception. Do you understand that? He can sense the mana of the entire kingdom if he wants to. That's not even an exaggeration. Every second, he refreshes the mana around him to ward off illusions, interference, or any kind of manipulation magic. You want to hide from that? It's impossible."

Taranis nodded, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Barbara's right. The captain's senses are unparalleled. It's like trying to hide from a storm while standing in its eye."

Mereoleona groaned, slamming her fist on the nearest table, rattling its contents. "I only need five seconds, damn it. Five seconds of concealment. There has to be a way."

Barbara rubbed her temples, exasperated. "Even if I wanted to, interference magic won't work. He's too attuned to the flow of mana. If you disrupt it, he'll notice immediately. The man doesn't just sense magic; he owns the atmosphere around him. If there's a way, it has to be something beyond conventional interference magic—something that doesn't tamper with the mana directly."

Taranis shrugged. "Sounds like you're out of luck. Even with a plan, this seems impossible. The captain doesn't miss anything."

Just as Mereoleona looked ready to explode with frustration, the door creaked open, and Vergo stepped in. His calm, measured presence was a stark contrast to the heated discussion. He observed the scene for a moment before speaking. "You're all overcomplicating this."

Mereoleona turned to him, her eyes lighting up. "Vergo, you can help?"

Vergo nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I can. The captain's perception is absolute because it relies on his mastery of mana flow and his conceptual awareness. But my magic—conceptual binding—doesn't interfere with mana. It anchors ideas and concepts themselves. I might be able to create something that hides you, not by masking your mana but by binding the concept of 'perception' itself for a moment."

Barbara blinked, clearly intrigued but skeptical. "That's... theoretical. And dangerous."

Mereoleona grinned, her earlier frustration melting away. "Dangerous is my middle name. Let's do it."

Vergo sighed. "Considering how you and the captain are such close friends, I can only assume this is for some kind of prank..."

Taranis chuckled, folding his arms. "A prank? Sounds about right. She's probably planning something outrageous again."

Barbara groaned, throwing up her hands. "Fine. But when Nero finds out—and he will—don't come crying to me."

Mereoleona smirked, already envisioning her plan in motion. "He won't see me coming. Not this time."

Vergo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, already calculating the intricate work needed to pull off such a feat.

If nothing else, it was going to be an interesting challenge.

---

In Asta's bed room, the soft glow of a lantern illuminated the figures seated together.

Asta, freshly awake after two days of deep slumber, sat upright, his gaze meeting the icy yet familiar eyes of his father, Nero.

Wrapped around his waist was Noelle, her arms clinging to him as though she feared he'd disappear again.

Her head rested on his lap, her silver hair spilling over like a waterfall, and a blanket draped over her shoulders, offering her a semblance of comfort.

Nero stood before them, his towering figure imposing as ever, yet his voice carried an undertone of gentleness rarely heard by anyone other than his son.

His expression remained stoic, betraying no emotion, but Asta could see the faint flicker of relief in his father's piercing eyes.

"You've been asleep for two days," Nero began, his tone even and controlled.

"Noelle has hardly left your side. She's been worried sick."

Asta glanced down at Noelle, who buried her face deeper into his lap, muttering something inaudible.

He smiled softly, his hand gently patting her head in reassurance. "I'm fine now, Noelle. Sorry for worrying you."

Nero observed the interaction silently for a moment before continuing. "Once you get used to your new strength, I have something prepared for you." His voice was calm but carried a sense of anticipation.

"A perfect armor. It's designed to complement your abilities and will protect you from the backlash of your power. Alongside it, there's a sword—a weapon specifically crafted to channel and control your destruction energy."

Asta looked up at his father, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Father. I'll make sure I'm ready for it."

Nero's cold exterior didn't waver, but Asta could feel the unspoken care and concern behind his words.

He smiled, unable to hide his appreciation for the man who was often described by others in harsh terms—heartless, cruel, cold, tyrant.

Yet none of those labels truly captured the essence of the father he knew.

To Asta, Nero was a man of action, not words.

His every gesture, no matter how subtle, spoke volumes about the depth of his care.

Whether it was crafting armor to protect him, forging a sword to guide his strength, or simply standing by silently in his time of need, Nero's love was ever-present.

As silence settled over the room once more, Asta gently shifted, pulling Noelle closer under the blanket.

His gaze returned to his father, filled with quiet resolve. "I'll live up to your expectations, Father. I promise."

Nero nodded, his icy gaze softening for just a fraction of a second. "Good. Rest now. You'll need your strength for what lies ahead."

With that, Nero turned and left the room, his cape swishing behind him.

Asta watched him go, his smile unwavering.

His one hand was on Noelle's head who had fallen asleep om his lap and the other clenched in a fist by his side.

I'll definitely surpass you one day father

so that you can rest after pushing yourself so much for my sake...

---

Patri Pov

Patri sat in a cave which was the temporary base, his chest heaving with the weight of his simmering rage.

The faint glow of the Spirit of Fire's lingering magic illuminated his restored limbs, the flesh and muscle once charred and ruined now fully regenerated.

His fingers flexed, testing their renewed strength, and while his body felt whole again, his pride was far from it.

A week of agonizing healing had done little to soothe the fury that burned within him.

His teeth clenched as he replayed the memory of his humiliation—two humans, mere Soul Knights, had not only defeated him but had done so in a manner so brutal and relentless that he hadn't even been able to unseal his true power.

"Damn them!" he snarled, his voice echoing off the cave walls. "Alice and Jean! Those wretched pests!" The names spilled from his lips like venom, each syllable fueling his hatred.

He slammed his fist into the rocky ground, his restored strength sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. "I was supposed to kill the Wizard King!" he bellowed, his voice trembling with unrestrained fury. "He was to pay for the sins of humanity, for the pain they've inflicted on my people! And yet… those two…" His voice faltered, not out of weakness, but because his rage threatened to consume him entirely.

He could still feel the phantom ache of their strikes—the crushing blows, the searing magic, the relentless onslaught that gave him no quarter.

No chance to retaliate.

No chance to unseal the power that would have obliterated them both.

"They had no honor," Patri spat, his eyes narrowing as if he could see their faces in the flickering shadows before him.

"They fought like savages, striking me down like some common beast."

The Spirit of Fire, hovering nearby, radiated a calm warmth, but even its presence couldn't douse the inferno of his wrath.

Patri's hands trembled, his nails digging into his palms. "Alice and Jean… you think you've won? You think leaving me broken would stop me?"

He rose to his feet, his gaze hard and unyielding. "The first thing I'll do—once my plan is set, once the humans are on their knees—I'll kill you both." His voice dropped into a low, menacing growl. "I'll make you suffer as I have suffered. I'll strip away that arrogance, tear apart your pride, and show you the futility of standing against me."

Patri turned to the exit of the cave, the faint light of the outside world spilling in like a beacon.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

His time would come. And when it did, Alice and Jean would beg for mercy.

But there would be none.

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