Back then, the days blurred together in a way that felt endless.
They were about ten—no older, no wiser—and the world still felt impossibly large.
"W–Wait...!"
Xierra's voice broke through the open air, thin and breathless. Her steps faltered against the uneven earth as she struggled to keep up, small fingers curled tightly into the hem of her dress. Heat clung stubbornly to her skin; loose strands of hair plastered themselves to her flushed forehead, damp with sweat.
"Don't—" she wheezed, chest rising in shallow, uneven pulls, "—don't walk so fast!"
Her legs burned with protest, each step heavier than the last. Physical exertion had never been her friend. The ache that followed, the clinging grime, the way her lungs always seemed to lag behind her body—it all felt like a punishment rather than freedom. No matter how often she tried, no matter how much she pushed herself, her breathing never quite learned the physicality others seemed born with.
Sometimes, when the tightness lingered too long in her chest, she wondered if something inside her was broken.
Father Orsi had mentioned something once—some trick, some way to ease the strain—but whenever she tried to ask again, he was suddenly busy. Distracted. Gone. Sister Lily had become the messenger between them, her smiles gentle but evasive.
Today, Xierra had decided she wouldn't let it go.
The wind swept past in soft currents, threading itself through tall grass and rustling leaves into motion. It carried whispers—low and playful—brushing against her skin and tugging at her clothes as though urging her onward. The plants responded in quiet harmony, swaying in waves beneath the open sky.
Ahead of them stretched a field so wide it made her slow to a stop.
Green unfurled endlessly, dotted with fragile white blossoms that nodded lazily in the breeze. Some flowers remained tightly closed, as if patiently waiting for a promise only spring could keep. Beyond them, gentle hills rolled toward the horizon, their silhouettes softened by distance beneath a sky painted in clean, endless blue.
The sounds of life drifted faintly from Hage Village—roosters crowing, sheep bleating, the distant clatter of tools against wood. Animals wandered the fields in small, scattered numbers, an unusual sight for a village that relied more on trade than livestock. Their presence felt temporary, borrowed, like the moment itself.
Xierra lingered there, quietly absorbing it all.
It wasn't often Father Orsi and Sister Lily took everyone out like this. Not beyond the woods. Not down unfamiliar paths. The air felt lighter here, the breeze kinder, as though the world itself had decided to indulge them for a day.
She didn't notice when footsteps slowed beside her.
Yuno came to a stop as well, his small hands dropping to his sides. His amber eyes widened as they traced the same open expanse, lips parting slightly in awe. It was larger than anything he'd ever known—larger than the woods, larger than the paths between villages.
They had lived their lives within boundaries they hadn't realized were there.
"It's... really pretty," Xierra murmured, wonder softening her voice.
The exhaustion slipped away, chased off by the breeze. She bounced lightly on her toes, a small laugh escaping her as she turned toward Yuno. He nodded in quiet agreement, gaze still fixed ahead as though afraid the scenery might vanish if he looked away.
They resumed climbing, the newly laid cobblestone steps easing the ascent. Villagers must have installed them recently—wide enough for small feet, steady enough for the elderly. Even so, Yuno's attention wavered. His foot caught. His balance tilted.
"Whoa—!"
Xierra gasped, instinctively stepping forward. Her muscles screamed in protest, too slow to react in time. Yuno tumbled sideways, landing in the dirt with a soft thud.
Her heart jumped.
"Yuno...!" She crouched beside him immediately, reaching out without hesitation. "Are you okay?"
The apology lived in her voice, unspoken but heavy.
Yuno let out an awkward laugh, blinking rapidly as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. "I–I'm fine," he said quickly, nodding as if to convince himself. "Really."
"Does it hurt?" Xierra asked, already inspecting him. Her small hands were gentle as they hovered over scraped knees and dirt-streaked sleeves. She offered her hand, and he took it, grip trembling.
Before he could answer, a familiar voice rang out from above.
"Watch where you're going, Yuno!"
Asta stood at the top of the hill, grinning like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong. He jogged back down, crouching to examine Yuno with exaggerated seriousness. "You can't just run like that!"
"You ran first," Yuno muttered flatly, brushing dirt from his clothes.
"Huh?! No, I didn't!"
Xierra let out a small giggle before she could stop herself. She raised a brow at Asta, lips pursed in a perfect imitation of Father Orsi's scolding stare. "We both saw it, Asta. You can't deny it."
Asta recoiled dramatically. "Are you saying this is my fault?!"
He raised his voice without warning. Xierra flinched, hands flying up to cover her ears as a sharp ring echoed in her head.
"Please don't shout," she said softly, exhaling to steady herself. "And I wasn't blaming you. We're all responsible."
She turned back to Yuno, her focus unwavering. Taking his hands again, she checked his palms carefully before brushing the remaining dirt from his knees. Her touch was warm, deliberate, grounding.
Yuno froze.
His breath hitched as he watched her—really watched her. The way her brow furrowed in concentration. The way her fingers tightened slightly around his. When he looked up, he met her eyes, blue and luminous, reflecting something gentle and unshakable.
The tears stopped without him realizing when.
"Let's go," Xierra said, smiling at him. "The others are waiting."
The smile struck him harder than the fall ever could.
It was soft, but bright—like sunlight breaking through clouds he hadn't known were there. Something fluttered strangely in his chest, unfamiliar and warm, and before he could stop himself, he smiled back.
She laughed quietly at his dazed expression and stood, pulling him up with careful steadiness.
"Slowly," she reminded him, tilting her head toward the path. "We don't want you slipping again."
"Boo. Crybaby," Asta muttered, already halfway up the hill, hands clasped behind his head as if gravity didn't apply to him.
Yuno flushed, hastily wiping his cheeks with his sleeves. "Well—"
"But it's okay!" Asta added loudly, flashing a grin that could rival the sun itself.
Xierra shot Asta a sharp glare, her brows knitting together in reflex. His voice—always too loud, too sudden—had startled her again. She hated that it still did, even now. The sound echoed briefly in her chest before she could steady herself.
A second later, she realized what she was doing.
Her fingers were curled tightly into the fabric of Yuno's shirt, clutching him as though he were an anchor. He stood slightly taller than her, solid and unmoving, and without meaning to, she had pressed closer.
The boys noticed immediately.
Their laughter burst out in tandem, light and unrestrained.
"Wh—don't laugh!" Xierra protested, cheeks burning as she hastily tried—and failed—to let go.
"And you're such a scaredy-cat," Asta teased, grinning far too wide for her liking.
"Am not!"
She puffed her cheeks in a pout, but it only seemed to amuse them more. Her grip on Yuno loosened only marginally, fingers still tangled in his sleeve. No matter how she tried to straighten herself, the damage was done—her soft voice and stubborn stance only fueled their laughter.
Asta jabbed his thumb toward his chest, posture brimming with confidence. His eyes gleamed brightly, as though the sun itself had taken residence behind them. "Like I said! It's okay! I've got both your backs, Yuno—Xierra! Got it?!"
Xierra turned her face away, muttering, "Why am I even involved...?"
Asta didn't miss a beat. "Because you're scared of everything."
"Huh?!" She whirled back around, indignant. "That's not true! And I can take care of myself!"
She stuck her tongue out at him before tugging Yuno along, forcing herself forward step by careful step. The incline demanded her attention, but she refused to slow down. Asta only laughed again, darting past them with nimble, eager strides, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground.
Yuno stayed beside her.
Once they were a little farther from Asta's reach, he lifted a hand and gently patted Xierra's back—slow, steady, familiar. The motion was simple, practiced. He'd done it countless times before, whenever her breathing wavered or her nerves got the better of her.
She exhaled quietly.
The tension melted from her shoulders, replaced by a warmth she hadn't realized she needed. Her steps grew more even, her grip finally releasing his sleeve. She glanced up at him briefly, offering a small, grateful smile. He returned it, subtle but sincere.
Ahead of them, Asta had already abandoned the stone steps, sprinting straight up the grassy slope as though the hill itself were nothing more than a suggestion.
"All right, let's go, you two!" he shouted, voice carrying easily across the open field.
The wind caught his words and sent them spiraling upward.
"Everyone's waiting at the top!"
.
.
.
The bread crumbled faintly between Yuno's fingers as he hesitated over another bite. He brought it to his mouth anyway, stubborn as ever, teeth sinking in with visible effort. After a moment, he faltered, chewing slowly before swallowing with a soft wince.
"It's good, but..." His voice came out slightly muffled as he gave up on the next bite altogether. "...it's hard as rock."
He offered a small, apologetic smile, as if the bread itself might feel offended. Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes—not from pain alone, but from the way the dryness caught in his throat. Above him, fragments of blue sky peeked through a lattice of leaves, sunlight breaking apart as it filtered down, dappling his pale hair and trembling lashes.
"That's our Sister Lily!" Asta declared proudly, completely unfazed. "You're such an amazing cook!"
He grinned with absolute sincerity, even as he struggled just as much—if not more—to bite into his own piece. The muscles in his jaw strained, veins rising along his temples as he tugged uselessly at the bread. Still, his praise rang out, bright and unwavering.
Xierra watched the scene with a crooked smile tugging at her lips.
She knew better. Very much so.
But she said nothing.
Let Asta believe what he wanted, she thought fondly, even as she caught his fleeting grimace when the bread refused to yield. Bursting his bubble felt unnecessary—especially when he looked so proud, sitting beneath the shade with crumbs on his cheeks and sunshine caught in his eyes.
The picnic unfolded quietly around them, simple and warm. The ground beneath the tree was cool despite the season, roots rising gently beneath the soil like veins. Cicadas hummed in the distance, their song blending with the rustle of leaves overhead. Summer was rarely kind to them—its heat unrelenting, its days long—but here, tucked beneath the canopy, it felt almost forgiving.
"Xie," Yuno said suddenly, glancing sideways at her. "How did you finish yours already?"
His eyes lingered on her empty hands, then flicked back to his half-eaten bread with renewed confusion. "Didn't it... hurt?"
She blinked, momentarily surprised. "Hmm?" Tilting her head, she considered it honestly. "It's not that hard compared to the ones before."
She sounded genuinely puzzled, as if the answer were obvious.
A bead of sweat slipped down Yuno's temple as he let out a quiet, nervous laugh. He stared at her for a second longer before looking away, silently questioning why he ever asked.
"When I grow up," Asta announced suddenly, bread still hanging awkwardly from his mouth, "will you marry me and cook for me, Sister Lily?"
The question was so earnest—so absurdly serious—that Yuno froze mid-bite. Xierra barely managed to hold it in before laughter bubbled up from her chest. Asta's predicament only made it worse; he couldn't even bite through the bread, let alone deliver a proposal properly.
Sister Lily turned toward him, calm and composed as always. Her teal eyes softened as they settled on the boy beside her. "It was Father who baked those," she said gently. "Would you like to marry him instead?"
The silence that followed was brief.
Then Asta erupted.
"W–What?!" He flailed dramatically, face flushing red as he protested with every ounce of his being. His voice rang through the clearing, arms windmilling as though that might somehow undo her words.
Xierra clamped a hand over her mouth, cheeks puffed as she struggled to suppress another laugh. She had already taken a second piece of bread—how, Yuno didn't know—and nearly choked as she tried to contain herself.
The sight of her struggling only broke Yuno's restraint entirely. He laughed openly now, tears spilling freely as his shoulders shook.
"Asta," he managed between breaths, "that's not possible."
The rant screeched to a halt.
Sister Lily calmly lifted her grimoire, its pages fluttering softly in the breeze. Nearby, Rekka slept soundly against the tree's roots, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. A baby rested securely in her arms, small fingers curled around her sleeve.
"She's a woman of the cloth," Xierra added, swallowing the last of her bread. "And you're not old enough."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if weighing the logic of it all. Wanting to marry someone who had devoted her entire life to God felt... very Asta. Selfish, maybe. But sincere in a way only he could manage.
Asta snapped his head toward them, eyes blazing. "I'm not done yet, Yuno! Xierra! I won't give up until I'm an adult—no matter what!"
The fire in his gaze burned hot and fearless, untouched by embarrassment or doubt.
Sister Lily watched them with quiet fondness, lips curving into a knowing smile.
"Well," she said softly, "good luck with that."
Yuno wiped at his eyes, still smiling. "Uh-huh. Though I don't think luck will be needed."
"Hey!"
.
.
.
"And then, the world was covered in deep, deep darkness. Just when the demon tried to destroy the world—"
"He's not gonna get away with that!" Asta burst out, springing upright as if he were already mid-battle.
Yuno, seated close beside him, flinched and clapped his hands over his ears with a quiet hiss. Xierra, on the other hand, stiffened completely. The word demon landed heavy in her chest, cold and sharp, and for a heartbeat, her breath forgot how to move.
"...a very brave mage appeared," Sister Lily continued smoothly, her voice a steady current that guided the story forward. She turned the page with practiced care. "The brave mage fought the demon and brought the dawn back to the world."
Yuno glanced back at her, attention caught not only by the tale but by the gentle certainty in her tone. Beside him, Xierra seemed to awaken from her frozen state. She carefully climbed onto her little stool, rising just enough to peer over Sister Lily's shoulder. Her small fingers curled into the fabric of the nun's habit, mindful not to lean too heavily, as though afraid she might break the moment.
"Finally, he defeated the demon," Sister Lily read, angling the book so Xierra could see. "The mage's light shone upon the whole world. The long, long night came to an end. This was the dawn of our world."
Xierra's eyes traced the illustrations rather than the words. She lingered on the flood of color spilling across the page—the sharp contrast between shadow and gold, the way light seemed to bloom from the mage's outstretched hand. Stories were nice, but pictures spoke louder to her. They moved. They breathed. They felt real in a way that words sometimes failed to be.
She leaned in closer, memorizing every detail, already thinking of how she might borrow the book later—
"Yes!" Asta shouted.
The sound struck like thunder.
Xierra startled violently, her heart leaping into her throat. The book slipped from her focus as her shoulders shook, breath hitching sharp and fast. Asta froze, realization dawning as he took in the scene—Yuno rubbing his ears, and Xierra trembling where she stood, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
Imaginary shadows crept too close for her liking.
Before the fear could take root, Sister Lily drew Xierra gently against her, arms warm and solid. She murmured soft reassurances, words meant only for her, brushing a steady rhythm between Xierra's shoulder blades. Xierra clung back instinctively, fingers fisting tight as she buried her face into the familiar safety of the nun's shoulder.
The storybook lay forgotten at their side, its pages still open to a world bathed in light.
"The mage was named the first Wizard King," Sister Lily concluded once Xierra's breathing slowed, her voice calm as a benediction. "And he became a legend."
"The Wizard King..." Asta echoed, awe settling into his tone as he picked up the book again. Yuno repeated the words more quietly, eyes shining as if something distant had just been placed within reach.
They stared at the illustration together, seeing not ink and paper, but possibility. Power. A dream so vast it felt almost holy.
Xierra said nothing.
She listened, but unease lingered beneath her ribs. Her brow creased faintly as she glanced back at the image of the demon, its form half-lost in shadow. Something about the story scratched at her thoughts, leaving a question that refused to fade.
Sister Lily noticed.
She smiled softly and smoothed Xierra's hair, fingers gentle and reassuring. "...and they all lived happily ever after," she added, as if stitching comfort onto the ending.
When Asta handed the book back, Sister Lily closed it and rested it on her lap. Xierra tilted her head up, blue eyes thoughtful rather than afraid.
"Sister," she asked quietly, "why did the demon want to destroy the world?"
Sister Lily's expression softened, lips parting to answer. "Well, that's because—"
"Because he's evil, of course!" Asta cut in immediately, confidence ringing loud and clear.
Xierra blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of it.
"That's not fair!" she protested, turning to face him fully. "We never heard their side of the story! That can't be the only reason!"
"But it doesn't change the fact they're mean!" Asta argued, arms crossing tight over his chest.
"That's not a valid reason!"
"What do you mean 'valid'?! Of course it is!"
"I'm pretty sure you don't even know what 'valid' even means!"
"Huh?! I'm not stupid!!"
"I never said you were!!"
Their voices overlapped, indignant and earnest, sparks flying in every direction. Yuno watched them with a small, crooked smile, warmth spreading quietly in his chest.
Across from him, Sister Lily laughed—light and unrestrained—and Yuno soon joined her, the sound blending into the room like sunlight through stained glass.
.
.
.
The morning was wrapped in a fragile hush. Birds stirred within the treetops, their chirps light and tentative, slipping between pauses in the wind's low murmur. Above them, the sky stretched dull and overcast, its muted gray a quiet departure from the brilliant blues Xierra had grown used to these past few days. It felt heavier somehow—like the world was holding its breath.
At the edge of Hage, not far from the worn dirt paths the children knew by heart, the colossal skull of a three-eyed demon lay half-sunken into the earth. Time had smoothed its edges, moss creeping along its surface, yet its presence remained unsettling. Perched upon it stood a statue—upright, unwavering—a silent testament to a battle long past, to a victory etched into history.
"Hey, Sister," Asta called, his legs swinging carelessly through the gaps of the wooden fence. "The Wizard King still exists, right?"
"Yes," Sister Lily answered, glancing over her shoulder. "The title has been passed down through generations. They've always protected the Clover Kingdom with their magic. It's because of the Wizard King that this land has known peace for so long."
"That's awesome!!!"
The shout cracked through the air.
Xierra jolted, nearly dropping the book in her lap. Her shoulders tensed before she could stop herself, heart fluttering in protest.
"...Asta, please stop yelling," she said, voice tight but controlled as she closed the book and marked her page. She slid off the bench beside Sister Lily and fixed him with a pointed look.
Asta only grinned wider, utterly unrepentant. "Hahaha! I can't help it! And don't be a scaredy-cat—"
"—I am not!"
"Are too!"
A vein throbbed faintly at Xierra's temple. She took one step forward before Sister Lily gently caught her by the shoulders, holding her back with a sigh already laced with familiarity. Asta laughed openly, delighted by her reaction.
"Is the Wizard King really that important?" Yuno asked from behind them.
The question cut clean through the noise.
Xierra exhaled, tension draining from her arms as she turned. Her expression softened when she met Yuno's gaze. "He's second only to the king," she explained, voice steadier now.
Asta went quiet.
He stared toward the distant statue, sunlight briefly breaking through the clouds to catch in his eyes. That same fire—the one that never seemed to dim—burned there.
"All right," he said suddenly. "I've made up my mind!"
Yuno blinked. Xierra tilted her head, puzzled.
Asta climbed fully onto the fence, planting his feet wide and setting his hands on his hips. He turned to face them, chest puffed out despite his small frame.
"I'm... going to become the Wizard King!"
The world seemed to pause.
Sister Lily froze, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. Yuno stared, stunned into silence. Xierra didn't speak at all—but the way her eyes widened, the way her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of her dress, said more than words ever could.
For a moment, it felt as though the sun itself had fallen too close to the earth.
"...Sister?" Asta prompted.
Sister Lily blinked and pressed her palm to her cheek. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I wasn't expecting that. What brought this on?"
Yuno's mouth curved into the faintest smile. Xierra caught it, and something warm settled in her chest as she looked back at Asta.
"Well," he said, gesturing wildly, "he defeated the demon, right? That means he was super strong! And that's awesome!" His grin returned full force, arms flailing as if he could already see it. "I wanna be awesome too! And—"
He stopped.
The shift was subtle, but Xierra felt it immediately. His smile faded, determination sharpening into something quieter, heavier.
"If I become important... if I become the Wizard King," Asta said, voice lower now, "I can make everyone happier, right?"
Yuno's breath caught. Xierra's fingers tightened at her side, heart tugged painfully tight.
"You'll get to wear nice clothes and eat all the good food you want!" Asta continued quickly, trying to outrun the weight of his words. "And I'll make this crappy little church huge and amazing!"
"'Crappy'...?" Sister Lily echoed.
Xierra snorted despite herself, exchanging an amused glance with the nun.
"I'll get you anything you want too, Sister!"
"I'll... look forward to it," Sister Lily said with a strained smile, sweat beading faintly at her temple. She glanced toward the other two. "Right? Yuno, Xierra?"
Xierra nodded enthusiastically, grin bright and sincere. Yuno clutched his pendant and nodded as well, eyes never leaving Asta. "Yeah."
"I'm gonna become the Wizard King!" Asta declared. "So, Sister—marry me—!"
"That's a completely different subject," Sister Lily said at once.
Asta's face drained of color.
Xierra burst into laughter, unable to hold it back as Asta crumpled dramatically. Yuno laughed softly too, eyes closed in quiet amusement.
"Not yet!" Asta shouted, rallying himself. "I won't give up!"
They watched him with fond smiles, something unspoken weaving between them.
"No! Not yet, yet, yet—no!!!"
Yuno stifled another laugh. Xierra glanced at him, wide-eyed for a second, before smiling just as brightly.
The Earth had once been a star, too.
"Some things never change."
"That's Asta for you."
"Hey! Are you talking behind my back?!"
"No," Xierra said sweetly. "We're right in front of you."
"Huh?!"
To Be Continued...