The final week in Sosei was a period of "Low-Power Standby." Lencar spent his time with his parents, helping with the harvest one last time. He was quiet, dutiful, and gentle. He wanted them to remember this version of him—the helpful son—not the monster he was becoming.
Rion and Marta were happy. They saw the "Three-Leaf" clover on his belt and thought their son was going to the Capital to fulfill a dream, not to become a heretical anomaly.
"You've grown so much, Lencar," Rion said one evening as they sat by the fire. "Your eyes... they look like you've seen the whole world already."
"I've just been looking at the numbers, Father," Lencar replied with a sad smile.
On the night before his departure, Lencar stood on the roof of the farmhouse, looking toward Hage. He could see the faint glow of mana from the church—Asta was likely doing ten thousand sit-ups, and Yuno was probably meditating on his four-leaf glory.
He opened his grimoire. The golden ink of Absolute Replication shimmered in the moonlight.
[Current State:]
Magic Stage: Peak Stage 6 (Approaching Stage 5).
Attributes: Sand, Wind, Fire, Concealment (All Absolute/Flexible).
Anti-Magic: Heretic Mode (Refined).
Soul Status: Stage 1 Reinforced (Multi-tasking optimized).
Concealment: Fully Encrypted (Ki and Mana sensors nullified).
"I am ready," Lencar whispered.
The final dawn in Sosei arrived not with a thunderclap, but with the quiet, persistent scent of damp pine and the cooling ashes of the hearth. Lencar Abarame sat at his small wooden desk, the light of a single flickering candle illuminating the pages of his blank grimoire. Outside, the village was just beginning to stir—the low lowing of cattle and the distant, rhythmic thud of a neighbor's well-bucket acting as the soundtrack to his final performance review.
In his previous life as Kenji Tanaka, the final day of a major project was always reserved for a "Post-Implementation Audit." He would sit in a sterile office in Tokyo, comparing the initial projections against the final datasets to ensure the system's integrity. Today, the system was his own body and soul.
"Time for the final comparison," Lencar whispered, his voice steady.
He leaned back, closing his eyes to look inward. He brought up the mental image of himself exactly six months and one day ago—the morning he had walked toward the Grimoire Tower as a boy with nothing but a decade of "Mana-Forging" and a small, flickering mana pool.
Baseline: Day 1 of Grimoire Acquisition.
Current Status: Day 180.
The numbers that materialized in his mind were staggering.
Physical Integrity: Lencar flexed his right arm, the one that had been shattered only weeks ago. It was now denser than the wood of the desk he sat at. Through the brutal "Mana-Forging 2.0" and the reinforcement of the four soul crystals, he had achieved a 8.0x increase in raw physical strength. He wasn't just stronger; his muscles were more efficient, his bones reinforced by a month of high-pressure siphoning.
He compared this to Asta. During the qualification fight, Asta had been a whirlwind of raw, unoptimized power.
"Based on the kinetic force of his swings back then," Lencar calculated, "I am currently 6.0x stronger than Asta was during our duel. Even accounting for Asta's own growth over the last month—and I know he's been swinging that slab of iron day and night—I am at least 3.0x stronger than the current version of Subject A."
It was a terrifying thought. In a world of magic, he had built a body that could likely shatter a Junior Magic Knight's skull with a single, non-magical punch.
Mana Capacity: This was the bottleneck he had recently shattered. From his native 1.0 baseline to the Yuno-siphoned 25.4, and finally to the current 52.8 Units. A 2.1x increase since the day he siphoned Yuno. He was no longer just a high-capacity commoner; he was approaching the reservoir of a minor Royal.
Mana Control: This was the most dramatic shift. On Day 1, he could only run "scripts"—clunky, binary spells that he couldn't shape or steer. Now, with his reinforced soul, his control had increased 10.0x. He could weave the mana, throttle the output, and multitask between four different elemental archetypes with the precision of a master weaver.
Soul Integrity: The four soul crystals from the bandits had been the primary catalyst. His soul was 3.0x stronger, a change that reflected in his "Processing Power." He could now hold a conversation while simultaneously running a concealment shroud and preparing a sand-trap in his mind without a single drop in efficiency.
"The architecture is complete," Lencar noted.
He opened his grimoire to the pages rimmed with yellow, green, red, and purple. He looked over the spells he had developed over the last month—spells that were now truly his.
Sand Creation Magic: "[Desert's Maw]" – A flexible, high-volume burial spell.
Wind Reinforcement Magic: "[Atmospheric Shroud]" – A passive defensive layer and sensory net.
Flame Creation Magic: "[Crimson Needle]" – A high-precision, piercing thermal attack.
Concealment Stealth Magic: "[Void Echo]" – The multi-layered shroud designed to fool Yami and Vangeance.
He felt the power humming in the book, a restless, hungry energy that was finally matched by the strength of his own spirit. He was no longer a host for foreign magic; he was the administrator of a multi-elemental empire.
The Hage village square was a chaotic sea of peasant-spun wool, tearful goodbyes, and the sharp, exciting smell of travel bread. A massive caravan—a series of horse-drawn wagons reinforced with basic earth magic—stood waiting near the church. This was the lifeline of the region, the only safe way for commoners to traverse the miles of bandit-infested forests and rocky passes that led to the Common Realm and the Royal Capital.
Lencar stood near the lead wagon, his bag slung over his shoulder. He wore his simple, dark traveling clothes, his grimoire tucked into its hidden holster.
As he waited, the crowd began to shift. He heard the voices first.
"Lencar! Lencar Abarame!"
He turned to see a group of villagers approaching. Old Man Goro was at the front, leaning on his cane, followed by the mason, Rek, and several other farmers. They weren't just there to watch the "Champions" leave; they were there for him.
"We brought you some travel rations, lad," Goro said, handing him a heavy parcel wrapped in wax paper. "The earth in the Capital is cold and hard. Don't forget the taste of Sosei soil."
"Thank you for fixing my roof, Lencar," another woman said, clutching his hand. "My children would have frozen this winter if not for you."
"And the wall!" Rek added, grinning. "That Stone Magic of yours—well, the 'scripts' you used—they saved me months of labor. You're a good man, Lencar. Don't let those nobles change you."
Lencar felt a strange, uncomfortable twitch in his eyes. He wasn't used to this. He had helped them for data—to siphon their magic and maintain his disguise. But looking at their honest, weathered faces, the cold logic of the Analyst felt... inadequate.
"I was just being efficient," Lencar said, though his voice was softer than intended.
"SO COOOOOL!"
Asta's voice shattered the moment like a hammer on glass. The grey-haired boy was vibrating with energy, his eyes literally shimmering with stars as he stared at the crowd surrounding Lencar. Asta and Yuno were also surrounded by the church family—Sister Lily was wiping her eyes, and Father Orsi was wailing loudly about his "precious sons" leaving.
Asta bounded over to Lencar, his black grimoire bouncing against his hip. "Lencar! That's amazing! So many people came just to say thanks to you! You really are a hero of the village! Even more than Yuno!"
Yuno, standing a few paces back, gave a quiet, neutral snort. "Hero is a strong word. He was just a very busy handyman."
Asta ignored him, still beaming at Lencar. "I want people to look at me like that one day! With stars in their eyes because I helped them! You're so cool, Lencar!"
Lencar's eye twitched again. He looked at Asta's genuine, unbridled admiration and felt a pang of something he couldn't quite quantify. "You will also experience this in the future, Asta. Probably with a lot more shouting involved."
"I hope so!" Asta roared, turning back to hug Sister Lily for the tenth time.
The caravan driver cracked his whip, signaling the final boarding. The heavy wooden wheels groaned against the dirt.
"Lencar!"
The voice was different. It wasn't the boisterous gratitude of the villagers or the loud ambition of Asta. It was Marta and Rion. They had been standing back, allowing the village to have its moment, but as the caravan began to move, they rushed forward.
Marta grabbed his good arm, her eyes red-rimmed. "You have the travel pass? You have the extra socks I packed?"
"I have everything, Mother," Lencar said.
Rion stood beside her, his hand resting on Lencar's shoulder. The man looked older in the morning sun, the lines of his face deeper. "Lencar. I know we talked about you coming home. I know we asked you not to try so hard."
He paused, his grip tightening for a second.
"But you're an Abarame. If you're going to do this... if you're going to stand before those Captains... you do it with your head held high. You don't let them look down on you just because of where you were born."
"I won't, Father," Lencar said.
Marta leaned in, whispering so only he could hear. "Just stay safe. The world is big, Lencar, and it doesn't have a heart like this village does. If it gets too cold, you just turn around and come back. The door is never locked."
"I know," Lencar said.
He stepped up onto the back of the wagon, joining Yuno and a still-sobbing Asta. The caravan began to roll forward, pulling away from the square. Lencar watched his parents—Marta waving her handkerchief and Rion standing tall, his hand still raised in a silent salute.
He watched the demon skull shrink into the distance. He watched the villagers return to their chores, the "Data Points" of his childhood fading into the landscape.
"Phase Five: Implementation," Lencar thought, but the thought lacked its usual coldness.
He reached into his bag and felt the travel pass. He was leaving the only place that had ever felt safe. He was heading into the den of the lions, armed with a blank book and a soul full of stolen gems.
Yuno sat across from him, staring at the horizon with a quiet intensity. Asta was already hanging off the side of the wagon, screaming "GOODBYE HAGE! GOODBYE SOSEI! I'M GONNA BE THE WIZARD KING!" at the top of his lungs.
Lencar leaned his head back against the rough wood of the wagon. The journey to the Capital would take days. Days of observation. Days of hidden training.
He looked at the two protagonists. They were walking toward their legends. Lencar looked at his own hands—the hands that had dismantled four souls in a ravine.
Conclusion: The journey is no longer a variable. It is the transition.
He closed his eyes as the wagon jolted over a rock. He didn't look back again. He was focused on the shimmering heat haze in the distance, where the Royal Capital waited like a massive, complex machine, ready to be dismantled and analyzed.