Magna came rolling up on the old-ass carriage like he was returning from war. The thing creaked louder than his joints on a cold morning, but it was big, and that's what mattered.
"Told ya I'd find it," he said with a smirk, hopping off and dusting off his palms. "Still smells like Silver Eagle perfume though."
Venessa looked at the carriage and said, "I can't believe those assholes put away their pride and sat inside this old carriage."
Zura didn't even flinch. "Good. Let's load it up."
And load it they did.
Sacks, crates, bags, boxes—gold, weapons, fabrics, and shit they didn't even know the names of. It piled high and kept piling. Soon the seats were full, the floor was buried, and they were stuffing stuff on the roof and strapping it down with leftover belts and vines. It looked like a traveling treasure dump.
"Guess we're walking," Magna said with a sigh, tossing his broom over his shoulder.
Zura turned to him while adjusting a sack under his arm. "By the way… we're keeping thirty percent."
Magna blinked. "Huh?"
"Ten percent each," Zura added casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Magna scratched the back of his neck. "I mean… I ain't complaining, but where the hell are we gonna stash it?"
Venessa stepped in, all smug confidence. "Leave that to me."
And she did.
Somewhere along the way, they took a little detour off the main road, dug a decent hole in the dirt, and dumped the loot inside. Covered it up, marked it with a half-broken stick and a weird-looking tree, and dusted their hands.
"Just like bandits," Magna muttered.
Venessa winked. "Smart bandits."
By the time they made it back to the village, the sun had just begun to peek. The merchants gathered like starving rats, eyes glowing the second they saw the carriage.
Cheers turned to chaos.
People shoved, shouted, scrambled to grab their belongings. Some cried. Some hugged the loot like long-lost lovers. But not everyone was happy.
"Where's the rest of it!?"
"This is missing—my ring! I had a ring in this bag!"
"You call this doing your job?!"
"I'll report this to the king himself! You'll be demoted, punished! Just you wait!"
Zura stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight. He had read about greedy nobles and corrupt bastards in manga. But hearing it, seeing it firsthand, watching people spit on them after they risked their necks… it was different.
It hit harder.
He said nothing. Just watched. Just remembered.
When it was done—when the noise died down and the greedy hands had grabbed their fill—the three of them left without a word.
They circled back, grabbed the buried loot, tied it up tightly in a few cloth sacks, and made their slow way back to the Black Bull base.
The sun was rising. But the lights were out, and the place was silent.
Perfect.
They snuck in through the side, crept down the halls like damn ninjas, and managed to get everything tucked away into their quarters without waking a single soul.
Mission complete.
Zura shoved the sack of loot deep under his bed. It was packed so tight against the wall that even a rat would struggle to sniff it out. He dropped down on the mattress, hands behind his head, eyes on the ceiling. No words. Just silence.
He slept like the dead.
When he finally cracked open his eyes, the sun was already halfway done with the day. Afternoon light peeked in through the window. The base was quiet. Too quiet. No yelling, no explosions, no food fights.
He dragged himself out of bed, yawned like a bear, and stepped into the hallway.
Magna was the first one he bumped into. Hair messy, shirt half-buttoned, a slice of bread in his mouth. "Yo."
Venessa followed right after, hair tangled like she'd fought a windstorm in her sleep. She raised a lazy hand. "Morning, boys."
The three of them raided the kitchen like starving animals. Bread, meat, some weird soup that may or may not have been cooked yesterday. They ate, sat back, and just talked.
Magna told stories about the time he got in trouble for trying to sneak into a noble's bathhouse. Venessa laughed, shared tales about gambling wins and close escapes. It wasn't wild. It wasn't dangerous. It was… calm.
Hours passed like that.
Then, one by one, the rest of the Black Bull members returned from their own missions. Gauche. Grey. Even Finral. But still no Noelle, no Luck, no Charmy.
"They haven't returned from their mission yet."
When dinner rolled around, everyone gathered at the table. The mood was warm. Loud. Plates clanged, meat was passed around, and drinks were poured.
Then Yami walked in, dragging his chair with that usual heavy stomp, and dropped a thick folder on the table.
"Oi, Zura."
Zura froze mid-bite. "Yeah?"
"We got the mission report." Yami cracked his neck. "Merchants were pissed. Cryin' about missing items, throwing tantrums, all that noble shit."
A few chuckles went around the table.
"But—" Yami raised a finger, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small golden star. He placed it right on the table. It gleamed under the dim light. "We still got the credit. Silver Eagles are foaming at the mouth, but the report said you three handled everything. Loot recovered. Bandits dead. Job well done."
Zura's eyes widened. "So… my first star?"
Yami gave a lopsided grin. "Damn right."
Magna patted him on the back like a proud older brother. "Told ya you'd pull through."
Zura leaned forward, eyes burning now. "What's the next mission?"
The table fell quiet for a beat.
Yami leaned back, arms folded. "Next? Heh. Relax, rookie. You just finished your first. Take a break. Rest your bones. Missions'll come soon enough."
Zura sank back in his seat, a little disappointed… but that star on the table? That was real.
He didn't want to admit it, but he had started to enjoy his new life in the Black Clover universe.
*****
A/N- Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I am travelling and time is tight. I also need to publish daily chapters for my OG novel as it's participating in a monthly contest.
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