The night air in the Royal Capital was cooling rapidly, the stone streets radiating the stored heat of the day. The crowds had mostly dispersed, leaving only stragglers, drunks, and the newly appointed Magic Knights heading to their respective headquarters.
Lencar Abarame stood in the shadow of a decorative archway, his hood pulled low. He wasn't leaving. Not yet. His "sad boy" performance with Yuno and Asta had been a necessary social camouflage, a way to explain his lack of selection without raising suspicion. But his work for the night was far from over.
His eyes were locked on a chaotic scene unfolding fifty meters away near the courtyard exit.
Asta, wearing his new black robe—which looked three sizes too big for him—was currently being dangled by the head by Yami Sukehiro.
"Captain Yami! Please! My head is gonna pop!" Asta screamed, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.
"Shut it, shrimp," Yami grunted, a vein popping on his forehead. "I told you to come here as early as possible, not write a memoir in there. You kept me waiting for too long. That's a death sentence in my book."
"I'M SORRY! I HAD A STOMACH ACHE FROM BEING NERVOUS!"
Lencar watched, his analytical mind parsing the scene.
Lencar moved closer, sticking to the periphery. He needed to be near them, but he couldn't afford to draw Yami's direct attention. He was playing a dangerous game. Yami's Ki sensing was legendary; it didn't just detect mana, it detected intent, breath, and muscle tension. To Yami, a person hiding in the shadows usually shone like a beacon.
Lencar activated [Void Pulse] to its maximum safe output. He didn't try to disappear. Instead, he harmonized his heartbeat with the ambient noise of the city—the rustle of wind, the distant chatter. He became "background noise."
"Finral!" Yami barked, dropping Asta onto the pavement face-first. "Open the taxi. We're going home. I need a drink and a dump, not necessarily in that order."
"Right away, Captain!" Finral Roulacase, the spatial mage of the Black Bulls, stepped forward. He flipped his hair, trying to look cool despite being terrified of his captain. "Spatial Magic: Fallen Angel's Wing."
A swirling vortex of spatial mana opened in the air. It was a tear in reality, humming with a distinct, high-frequency vibration.
"Finally," Yami muttered.
A pale, mumbling figure walked past Yami. It was Gordon Agrippa, the Poison Magic user who spoke so quietly no one could hear him.
"I'm so happy to make new friends... let's have a tea party..." Gordon whispered into his collar as he stepped into the portal and vanished.
"Get in, shrimp," Yami kicked Asta toward the vortex.
"WOAH! Is this spatial magic?! It's awesome!" Asta yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Wait, Lencar didn't see this! I should tell him—"
"Get. In." Yami grabbed Asta by the back of his robe and hurled him into the portal like a sack of potatoes. Asta's scream faded as he was transported instantly to the Black Bulls' base.
Yami stretched his neck, cracking it loudly. He was about to step through when he stopped.
Lencar froze. He was thirty meters away, leaning against a wall, pretending to look at the moon. He wasn't looking at Yami. He wasn't projecting any hostility.
But Yami turned.
Slowly, deliberately, the Captain of the Black Bulls turned his head and looked directly at the spot where Lencar was standing.
Lencar felt his blood turn to ice. It wasn't a glare of anger. It was a look of deep, predatory confusion. Yami's dark eyes seemed to bore through the concealment, through the mask, and straight into the anomaly of Lencar's soul.
He feels the weight, Lencar realized, his heart hammering against his ribs. He can't see the crystals, but he senses the density. He knows I'm not just a rejected commoner.
For a terrifying second, Lencar thought Yami was going to walk over and cut him in half just to see what spilled out. The killing intent rolling off the man was suffocating. It felt like gravity had doubled.
"Captain?" Finral asked nervously. "Is something wrong? The portal is draining my mana..."
Yami stared at Lencar for one second longer. Then, he snorted and turned away.
"Nothing," Yami grunted. "Just a weird bug. Let's go."
Yami stepped into the portal and vanished.
Lencar let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His hands were trembling slightly. That was close. Too close. If he had joined a squad, if he had been around Yami daily... he would have been exposed within a week.
"Alright, that's everyone," Finral sighed, relaxing his posture. He looked exhausted. Keeping a portal open for that long was taxing. "Man, Captain Yami is really slaving me away today. I hope there are some cute girls at the base to comfort me..."
Finral prepared to step into the portal to close it from the other side.
Now, Lencar's internal command triggered. Phase Seven: The Heist.
Lencar pushed off the wall. He abandoned his stealth. He broke into a clumsy, hurried run, head down, acting like a distraught boy blinded by tears or frustration.
He aimed directly for Finral.
"Oh, man, I'm so tired," Finral muttered, closing his eyes for a second.
BAM.
Lencar slammed into Finral's side. It wasn't an attack; it was a collision.
"W-Whoa!" Finral stumbled, nearly falling over.
In that chaotic millisecond of contact, Lencar didn't apologize. He acted.
His right hand, hidden beneath his cloak, gripped his grimoire. His left hand, flailing as if to catch his balance, slapped flat against Finral's open grimoire which was hovering at his waist.
Replica magic: [Replication]
He felt the structure of the magic flow into him. It felt like geometry—complex, folding equations of distance and coordinates. It felt like a map being drawn in invisible ink.
The connection lasted for less than a second.
"Ah!" Finral stumbled back, his concentration breaking.
Because of the sudden contact and the momentary disruption of mana flow caused by the Replication, the spatial portal behind Finral flickered violently and then collapsed with a loud pop.
"My portal!" Finral cried out, looking at the empty air. "Aw man, I have to cast it again? That takes so much focus!"
Lencar fell back onto the cobblestones, clutching his grimoire to his chest, looking up with wide, watery eyes.
"I... I'm so sorry!" Lencar stammered, his voice trembling perfectly. "I wasn't looking! I was just... I was just walking and..."
Finral dusted off his coat, looking annoyed. "Hey, watch where you're going! Do you know how hard it is to stabilize a spatial tunnel when—"
Finral stopped. He looked down at the boy on the ground. He recognized the hooded cloak. He recognized the plain, unassuming face.
"Wait," Finral blinked. "You're Number 166. The guy from the end."
Lencar nodded shamefully, looking down. "Yes. The one nobody wanted."
Finral's annoyance evaporated instantly. Finral Roulacase was a flirt and a coward, but he was not cruel. He knew what it felt like to be a disappointment. He knew the sting of being the "failure" of the family compared to a prodigy brother.
"Oh," Finral's face softened. "Hey... don't worry about the portal. It's fine. I can just open another one."
He reached out a hand to help Lencar up.
Lencar took it. Phase Two: The Sympathy Play.
"I really am sorry, sir Magic Knight," Lencar said, dusting himself off. "I was just... heading to the gate. I need to go home."
"Home?" Finral asked.
"To the Forsaken Realm," Lencar lied smoothly. "My parents... they told me not to get my hopes up. I guess they were right. I need to go back and tell them I failed."
The lie hit Finral right in the heart.
"Listen," Finral said, putting a hand on Lencar's shoulder. "You didn't fail. I saw your fight. You have... good control. Just because the Captains didn't pick you today doesn't mean you're weak. Sometimes... sometimes they just don't see the potential right away."
Finral smiled, a genuine, slightly sad smile. "Don't give up, kid. Maybe try again next year? The Black Bulls are always looking for weirdos. Though, maybe don't tell Yami you bumped into me."
Lencar managed a weak smile. "Thank you. Sir Magic Knight you're... very kind. I won't forget this."
"Go on then," Finral stepped back, his grimoire glowing again. "Spatial Magic: Fallen Angel's Wing."
The portal reopened.
"Safe travels!" Finral waved, stepping into the void and vanishing.
The street was empty again.
Lencar stood alone in the moonlight. The "sadness" melted off his face like wax near a flame. He straightened his posture. He brushed the dust off his tunic.
He opened his grimoire.
There, on a fresh page, glowing in faint, intricate lines of silver ink, was a new entry.
[Attribute: Spatial Magic]
[Spell Copied: Spatial Gate]
"Transaction complete," Lencar whispered. "Thank you for your donation, Finral Roulacase."