Black Clover : Asta's Father

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[MC Picture ]

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The three stepped into the room, their eyes immediately drawn to the sheer complexity of the setup.

The entire space was filled with monitoring devices that hummed and beeped in synchronized chaos.

Magical inscriptions etched onto glowing panels lined the walls, casting an otherworldly glow.

But the most striking feature was the massive glass tube at the center of the room, filled with a churning storm of violent magical energy.

Its pulsating rhythm sent faint vibrations through the floor, and the heat radiating from it made the air feel thick and heavy, almost like standing too close to a roaring furnace.

Standing near the tube was Nero Kira, his presence as commanding as ever.

He was dressed impeccably in a white coat, matching pants, and pristine boots, the ensemble bearing the proud emblem of the Kira House.

Slung across his back was a sword that none of them had ever seen before—a blade that exuded authority and power.

Seated beside Nero was another figure, Damnatio Kira, a noble from a branch family of the Kira House.

His connection to Asta's lineage was distant but significant—his ancestors had been instrumental in protecting Abigail during her pregnancy.

As the trio entered, Nero turned away from his conversation with Damnatio, his eyes landing on Asta.

A slight smile graced his lips as he took in Asta's appearance.

Damnatio rose from his seat, gave a respectful bow, and excused himself, leaving the room with quiet grace.

Before Asta could say a word, Nero crossed the room in swift strides and pulled him into a crushing hug.

The sheer force of it left Asta stunned, his arms pinned awkwardly at his sides as he processed the rare show of affection.

From the sidelines, Nelliel and Mereoleona watched the scene unfold with soft smiles.

Nelliel's expression was serene, while Mereoleona smirked, her arms crossed as if silently teasing Asta for his reaction.

After what felt like a whole minute, Nero finally released Asta, stepping back to get a better look at him. "You've grown stronger since the last time we met," Nero observed, his eyes sharp with approval.

Asta, still catching his breath from the embrace, managed a grin. "I've been exercising like you told me to, and keeping up with the crazy workout schedule ."

"Good," Nero said with a nod. "All that effort will serve you well. But after the funeral, I have something for you."

Before Asta could ask what it was, Nero's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked him over again. "But first… get dressed in a better outfit. We have standards to uphold."

Asta blinked, then sighed. "Figures," he muttered, already bracing himself for whatever else Nero had planned.

---

The royal funeral of Augustus Kira Clover was an event of obligation rather than heartfelt mourning.

The gathered nobles and Magic Knight captains attended not out of grief but duty, as the late king's reputation left little room for genuine sentiment.

Even in death, Augustus inspired more indifference than sorrow.

The ceremony was held in the grand courtyard of the royal palace, a space better known for opulent celebrations than somber occasions.

The captains stood in their designated places, a mixture of formal detachment and thinly veiled disinterest marking their expressions.

Nozel Silva stood with his usual icy composure, showing neither disdain nor reverence.

Mereoleona Vermillion, temporarily serving as captain of the Crimson Lions, had her arms crossed, visibly impatient to move on from the spectacle.

Dorothy Unsworth yawned once or twice, her dreamy demeanor a little more apparent than usual.

Charlotte Roselei maintained a professional, if somewhat disinterested, air.

The fake William Vangeance stood silently, his mask as unreadable as ever, while Yami Sukehiro leaned on his katana, occasionally puffing on a cigarette, much to the disapproval of the nobles nearby.

Julius Novachrono, the Wizard King, was present, though his usual bright demeanor was tempered.

Even he seemed less invested than expected, simply watching the proceedings unfold with a detached sense of duty.

The noble houses filled the space around the courtyard, adorned in their best mourning attire.

Still, the air of affected solemnity was palpable—few, if any, were truly saddened by Augustus's passing.

Even his family, the Kira Clan, seemed more focused on ensuring the rituals were followed correctly than expressing any form of grief.

Asta and Noelle stood beside Nero, the true center of attention, as he was tasked with performing the final rites.

Nero's demeanor reflected quiet efficiency.

He held no visible grudge or fondness for Augustus despite killing the man, he just felt disgusted sharing the same bloodline , his focus purely on the execution of his duties as the head of the Kira Clan.

The rites began with Nero stepping forward, his white ceremonial robes marked with the Kira family crest.

His voice was calm but utterly devoid of the warmth one might expect from a eulogy.

"Life is fleeting, and so too is the influence one holds over it," Nero stated plainly. "We are gathered here to fulfill our duty, to honor the man and the cycle that binds us all. May his soul find its place, wherever that may be."

He raised his hand, and glowing runes began to manifest, forming a circle around the ornate casket.

Despite the beauty of the display, the atmosphere remained dispassionate.

The circle activated, a radiant light gathering as the runes spun faster and faster.

The casket and Augustus's preserved body were consumed by the spiraling light , the process utterly mechanical in its execution.

When the light faded, nothing remained of the former king—not even ash.

The nobles gave obligatory bows, and the captains maintained their stoic composure.

Nero returned to stand beside Asta and Noelle, his face neutral, as if he had merely completed a mundane task.

Julius stepped forward to say a few brief, formal words about moving forward as a kingdom, but even his speech lacked the energy he was known for.

The nobles began to disperse quickly after, clearly eager to escape the forced solemnity of the event.

Mereoleona smirked as she leaned toward Asta. "Well, that's done. Don't expect this kind of send-off when your time comes, brat."

Asta, managing a nervous laugh, scratched the back of his head. "I think I'll pass on this kind of attention."

Noelle, standing stiffly beside him, muttered under her breath, "I don't know what's worse—the ceremony or the fact that no one even cares he's gone."

And with that, the day continued as if the so-called funeral had been nothing more than another chore checked off a list.

---

The funeral concluded with a buffet held in the palace gardens.

Tables adorned with exquisite dishes and finely poured drinks lined the area, offering the nobles and captains a chance to mingle.

The atmosphere was far less somber than expected, with conversations turning to politics, alliances, and trivial gossip now that the duty of mourning Augustus was complete.

Asta and Noelle stood together at the edge of the gathering, Asta nervously sipping from his glass while Noelle, still stiff from the day's events, tried to maintain her composure in the presence of so many nobles.

From across the room, Nero approached them with his characteristic calm.

His expression softened into something almost playful as he stopped in front of them, addressing Noelle with unexpected familiarity.

"Dearest future daughter," Nero said with a warm smile, startling Noelle into nearly choking on her drink.

"Wh-what?!" Noelle spluttered, her face instantly going red.

Ignoring her reaction, Nero turned to Asta, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Asta, come with me. We need to talk."

"Uh, sure," Asta replied, glancing at Noelle, who was still reeling from Nero's words. "But, um, what was—"

"No questions," Nero cut in smoothly, already guiding Asta away. Over his shoulder, he added to Noelle, "I'm goiomg to borrow my son for a little while , Take care, my future daughter."

Noelle's protests were lost as Nero ushered Asta out of the garden and into a side hallway, leaving her behind, flustered and stunned.

---

A short time later, the two arrived at the headquarters of the Soul Knights.

The teleportation medallion —sprt of mini Bifrost—deposited them in a vast chamber lined with glowing runes and intricate engravings.

Nero led Asta through the corridors in silence until they reached a private meeting room.

The air was heavy, and Nero's demeanor shifted, growing colder and more serious.

"Asta," Nero began, motioning for him to sit, "there's something you need to understand. War is coming. A conflict that will not only test your strength but the limits of everyone in this kingdom beyomd ecer seen before."

Asta frowned. "War? What kind of war?"

Nero didn't answer directly. Instead, he stepped closer, his piercing gaze locking onto Asta's. "I've watched you grow, trained you, and seen the potential within you. But potential alone isn't enough. To survive what's ahead, you need to become something greater. Something more prepared."

"I've been training!" Asta protested. "I've been following your workout schedule, pushing myself every day—"

"It's not enough," Nero interrupted, his tone sharp. "You're strong, but not invulnerable. And I cannot allow you to remain vulnerable to the variables of what is coming."

Asta's face fell as he caught the seriousness in Nero's eyes. "What do you mean?"

Nero stepped back, crossing his arms. "There's a procedure. One that will push your body and spirit beyond their limits. It's not without risks, but the rewards will make you stronger than you ever imagined. I've already made the arrangements."

Asta hesitated. "A procedure? What kind of—"

Before he could finish, Nero's expression hardened. "And before you refuse, let me make one thing clear: this is an order, Asta. I'm not asking. If you decline, I will force you to comply. I cannot and will not leave you unprepared for what's to come."

The weight of Nero's words settled heavily on Asta. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. "You'd really force me?"

"I would," Nero replied, his voice unyielding. "Because I care about you too much to let you face this war unarmed and unarmored. You are like a son to me, Asta. I will not watch you fall when I could have prevented it."

Asta looked at him, conflicted, but the determination in Nero's gaze left no room for doubt.

After a long pause, he sighed and nodded.

"Alright. I'll do it," he said, his voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at him.

Nero's expression softened slightly, a hint of relief showing. "Good. Then let's prepare. There's much to do, and little time to waste."

---

Nebra and Solid stood awkwardly near the buffet table, their postures stiff and uncertain as they watched Noelle from a distance. Solid's face still bore the faint scars from the punch Asta had delivered during their last confrontation—a visible reminder of his humiliation. The two siblings exchanged uneasy glances, clearly reluctant but determined to approach her.

Noelle, meanwhile, stood alone, her arms crossed as she stared at the ground. Nero's abrupt departure with Asta had left her flustered, but she still carried an air of dignity. That composure faltered as Nebra and Solid stepped closer, stopping a few paces away.

"Noelle," Nebra began, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "We… need to talk."

Noelle turned to face them, her violet eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What could you possibly have to say to me now?"

Solid shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found. He took a deep breath before speaking. "We've… spoken with Nozel." His voice was strained, as though forcing the words out took every ounce of effort. "And he made it clear that we've been blind. About you, your strength, your talents… everything."

Nebra nodded, her expression surprisingly sincere. "The Kira House recognized you—saw your worth—before we ever did. That's… shameful. As your siblings, we should have been the first to see it, to support you. Instead, we tore you down."

Solid hesitated, then added, "We know we don't deserve forgiveness. Not after everything we've done to you. But we… we want to try to make it right. Somehow. Someday."

Noelle's breath hitched, and she clenched her fists. Her whole body trembled as tears welled in her eyes. For years, she had endured their ridicule, their constant berating, and now they stood before her, asking for a chance to repent?

Solid took a small step forward, lowering his head. "I'm sorry, Noelle. Truly."

The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

Without a word, Noelle raised her hand and slapped Solid across the face with all the strength she could muster. The sharp sound echoed, and Solid stumbled back, clutching his cheek.

Tears streaming down her face, Noelle turned and walked away, her footsteps brisk and unrelenting. She didn't look back at her siblings, didn't utter a single word of acknowledgment.

Barbara Gunnhildr, standing nearby, noticed Noelle's distress and opened her arms as the younger girl approached. Noelle buried herself in the older woman's embrace, clutching her tightly as sobs wracked her body.

"Please," Noelle whispered between tears. "Take me away from here. I don't want to stay."

Barbara nodded, gently stroking Noelle's hair. "Of course, dear. Let's go."

As the two departed, Nebra and Solid stood frozen in place, the weight of Noelle's slap and silence sinking deep into their hearts.

Whatever chance they had at redemption would not come easily—if it came at all.

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