Chapter 2: The Magic Knight's Exam
The capital of Clover Kingdom buzzed with excitement — banners fluttering, vendors shouting, mana lights dancing in the morning air. Every street thrummed with energy as aspiring Magic Knights streamed toward the great coliseum.
Lucian Silva moved quietly through the crowd, the hood of his silver cloak drawn low. Around him, hopeful mages flaunted sparks, waves, and bursts of colored light. It was a festival of ambition — and arrogance.
He could feel the difference between them and himself. Their magic had form. His was infinite — and therefore formless.
He clutched his black grimoire. Still blank, at least to other eyes.
Inside the coliseum, hundreds of young mages gathered before the massive stone arena. Floating platforms surrounded them, where Magic Knight captains observed from above — each a legend in their own right.
Lucian's sharp gaze flicked across them until he spotted a familiar figure.
Nozel Silva — his eldest brother — stood with his arms crossed, his silver hair immaculate, his aura cold as steel.
Lucian's jaw tightened. Of course he's here.
Nozel's eyes met his for the briefest moment — recognition flashing, followed by disdain. Then he looked away, as if Lucian were nothing more than a stranger.
Lucian said nothing. He'd expected no less.
The crowd murmured as two figures entered the arena — one tall and calm with wind swirling around him, the other loud, short, and carrying no magic at all.
"Yo, Yuno! We're finally here!" shouted the smaller one, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's show these nobles what we're made of!"
Lucian glanced toward the voice.
So that's them… Asta and Yuno. He'd heard rumors even in the Silva manor — the peasant duo from Hage, one born without magic and the other blessed with exceptional mana.
He felt something stir in his chest — curiosity, maybe even kinship.
The exam began. The captains watched as the examiner barked orders.
"First test! Create a broom and fly!"
Dozens of mages soared upward on streams of magic. Yuno rose gracefully, wind magic swirling elegantly beneath his broom. Asta's broom, however, didn't even twitch.
Lucian stood motionless, eyes closed.
He whispered softly, "Omni Magic: Material Creation — Aerial Flow."
Mana shimmered around him. Instead of a wooden broom, a construct of pure mana formed beneath his feet — a smooth, translucent disk of energy that responded to his thoughts. He rose into the air silently, controlled and effortless.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"What kind of spell is that?"
"It's not wind, or light… what is it?"
Nozel's eyes narrowed, recognition and suspicion flickering across his face.
Lucian didn't care. He simply floated, serene amid the chaos.
The next test: Accuracy.
Targets appeared — floating disks, darting through the air. Competitors hurled fireballs, ice shards, bolts of lightning.
Lucian held up his hand.
"Omni Magic: Elemental Shift — Fire to Lightning."
A flame appeared in his palm, twisting into crackling arcs of electricity that shot through three targets at once. The crowd gasped.
"Impossible — that's two different affinities!"
Lucian lowered his hand, expression calm. Inside, his heart pounded. The strain of channeling multiple magics made his veins feel like they were burning — but he refused to show weakness.
He caught a flash of green out of the corner of his eye — Asta grinning like a madman, swinging his massive anti-magic sword at a target and obliterating it in half.
The crowd laughed, some mocking, others impressed.
Lucian smiled faintly. That guy's crazy… but kind of amazing.
When the combat trials began, things grew serious. Mages paired off for duels, and Lucian found himself opposite a cocky noble boy with wind magic.
"Well, well," his opponent sneered. "A Silva, huh? Thought your family only dealt in water. What's wrong, little prince — lost your element?"
Lucian didn't respond. He just opened his grimoire. Its pages shimmered faintly — to everyone else, they looked empty.
"Ready… begin!"
The noble launched slicing wind blades, sharp and fast. Lucian moved fluidly, tracing a circle in the air.
"Omni Magic: Spatial Fold."
The air bent — and the wind blades vanished, reappearing behind the noble, slamming him to the ground.
The arena went silent.
Lucian stepped forward, his voice steady.
"I don't need to explain my magic to you."
The examiner raised his flag. "Winner — Lucian Silva!"
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"Spatial magic?"
"No, it looked different…"
"Didn't he just copy that other guy's attack?"
From the stands, the Magic Knight captains whispered among themselves.
Yami Sukehiro of the Black Bulls leaned forward, smirking as he chewed on a cigarette.
"Oi, that kid's interesting. His mana feels… endless."
Nozel's eyes flicked toward him, his tone icy. "He's a Silva. But he's reckless and unrefined. A poor reflection of our house."
"Eh," Yami grinned, smoke curling from his lips. "Sounds like my kind of guy."
When the selections began, mages stood nervously before the captains. Flags were raised for those who passed; others walked away in shame.
Lucian waited, expression unreadable. He knew his siblings would laugh if he failed.
Captain after captain passed. Nozel didn't so much as glance his way.
Finally, Yami raised his hand lazily.
"Oi, silver-haired kid. You — the one with the weird mana. You're coming with me."
The crowd gasped.
Lucian blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
Yami grinned. "Yeah, you. I like the way you fight — calm, clean, and full of secrets. You'll fit right in with the Black Bulls."
Lucian hesitated — then bowed slightly.
"Thank you… Captain."
As he turned to leave, he caught Nozel's cold gaze. His brother's lips tightened — not with pride, but with irritation.
Lucian smiled faintly.
Finally, I've stepped out of your shadow.
Outside the arena, Asta caught up to him, still buzzing with energy.
"Hey! You got picked too, right? Black Bulls! That's awesome!"
Lucian nodded. "Yeah. Looks like we'll be squadmates."
Asta punched the air. "Then let's become the strongest Magic Knights together!"
Lucian chuckled softly. "I'll hold you to that."
As the sun dipped over the capital, the two walked toward the horizon — one with no magic, one with all magic — bound by the same dream.
And so, the outcast of the Silva family took his first step toward the place that would become his true home.
The Black Bulls awaited.