Black Clover: Hidden Fifth Leaf

It had been five years since that day.

Five years since I woke up in this unfamiliar world and accepted the inescapable truth—I was a transmigrator. But unlike the countless stories I had read, this world wasn't unknown to me.

No, I recognized it.

I had been reborn into the world of Black Clover, my latest obsession. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have waited for the anime—I would have devoured the manga instead.

My name now is Kaelith Faelan, son of two commoners, Aldric and Elara—people as hardworking as they are devoted to each other.

My father, Aldric Faelan, is a man carved from the land itself. His dark brown hair, nearly black, is always kept short—a sign of practicality over vanity. His golden-amber eyes, sharp and unyielding, reflect the weight of years spent braving the wilds. Sun and toil have bronzed his skin, his lean yet powerful frame sculpted by a lifetime of labor. He rarely smiles, but when he does, it's warm—so warm that it momentarily softens the hardened lines of his face, transforming him into someone gentler.

The village calls him "The Fortress." A farmer, a hunter, and a part-time village guard, he wields Earth Magic with practiced ease. He is not a noble, not a man of grandeur, but his strength is the bedrock of our community's defenses.

My mother, Elara Faelan, is his contrast—graceful where he is firm, gentle where he is fierce. Her silver-lavender hair, often tied in a loose braid, cascades down her back like liquid moonlight. Her silver-purple eyes, warm and wise, can turn razor-sharp when needed—sharp enough to make even my father hesitate. She is the village's only healer, her Plant Magic a delicate yet potent gift. A midwife, an herbalist, a woman who knows the land's secrets better than anyone.

We live in Harvest Moon Village, a quiet settlement on the outskirts of the Clover Kingdom. Nestled between towering mountains, rolling plains, and dense forests, our village thrives on fertile land, yielding bountiful harvests year after year. At its heart lies a small lake, where the full moon's reflection shimmers across the still water, painting the night in silver and shadow.

A place of peace.

A place worth protecting.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

A small but sturdy child stared back.

Silver-white hair, wild and untamed, framed my face in uneven strands—thicker than most, refusing to be tamed. My large silver-purple eyes gleamed with youthful curiosity, but beneath that, something older lurked—a depth of awareness that did not belong to a mere child. My skin held a healthy rosiness, my frame compact but lithe, already hinting at the boy I would grow into.

In the village, they once called me a genius.

At one year old, I could speak and read. By a year and a half, I could walk without stumbling.

Rumors spread. The villagers whispered about my future. About my potential. Some saw me as a future Magic Knight, maybe even the next Wizard King.

But fate was not so kind.

Despite my absurdly huge mana, I could not control it. No matter how hard I tried, it slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.

I clenched my fist, focusing, trying again.

A flicker of energy stirred beneath my skin—a faint hum, a promise of power waiting to be grasped. But the moment I reached for it, it shattered, dispersing like mist in the wind.

A sharp sting of frustration coiled in my gut.

The adults stopped speaking about me.

The children who once watched me with admiration turned to mockery.

I ignored them.

This village was still my home. Most of its people were kind, hardworking, and generous. They laughed together, helped one another, and shared what little they had.

Of course, there were exceptions—there always were. Some thrived on jealousy, on small-minded cruelty. But I had long since learned to brush them aside.

For the first time in two lives, I was content.

Until that night.

A deafening bang shattered the peaceful night.

The entire village woke with a start. Murmurs of confusion turned to cries of panic.

"What was that?!" My father's voice rang out, sharp with urgency.

"Something's wrong," my mother murmured, already moving toward the door. "Dear, let's go."

"Kai." She turned to me, her expression soft but firm. "Stay here. Don't come out. Wait for us to return, okay?"

I nodded. But the moment they rushed out the door, I knew I wouldn't listen.

I counted the seconds—five, ten, twenty—before slipping into the night.

Following too closely would be reckless.

But waiting too long might be worse.

The village square was ablaze with flickering torchlight, shadows dancing wildly across the buildings.

And at its center—

A nightmare.

The adults knelt on the ground, their faces a mixture of fear and fury. Five hooded figures stood before them, their grimoires summoned, pages glowing with ominous light.

"Tch. No nobles, no treasure—what a waste," one of them muttered.

I ducked into the tall bushes, my heart pounding against my ribs.

My eyes scanned the captives—searching, hoping—until I found them.

My father was bleeding.

His side was torn open, blood seeping through his tunic. He sat hunched against my mother, who knelt beside him, pressing down desperately to stop the bleeding.

A burning sensation spread in my chest—fear, helplessness, rage.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

I wanted to help them, but what could I do?

"Please, sir! Let me heal him!" My mother's voice was raw with desperation.

SLAP!

The force sent her sprawling, silver-lavender hair fanning across the dirt. She gasped—sharp, startled—before she hit the ground, her cheek already reddening.

"Shut your mouth, bitch," the leader spat.

My father tried to move. "Elara…" His voice was weak, strained.

A second hooded figure stepped forward—and drove his boot into my father's wound.

A scream tore from my father's lips.

I tasted bile in my throat.

The bastard laughed—a twisted, manic sound that made my skin crawl.

"Iron Creation Magic: Iron Spear."

A silver lance materialized in the hooded man's hand, gleaming under the moonlight.

"No! Please, have mercy!" My mother cried desperately.

They didn't listen.

They only laughed.

And something in me snapped.

Before I even realized what I was doing, my hand moved on its own.

I grabbed a stone and hurled it as hard as I could.

CRACK.

The leader staggered back, clutching his temple.

A deadly silence followed.

"Who the fuck…?" His voice was low. Furious.

I froze.

Oh no.

I'm fucked.