I Have Death Note as Grimoire in Black Clover

In a desperate flight for my life, my heart raced with fear.

Ah! Terrified and helpless, I cried out for aid!

The man in distress was unmistakably a textbook example of a nerd.

Did he sport glasses?

Check.

Was his hairstyle utterly devoid of any style, reminiscent of an antiquated 1800s school?

Check.

Did he wear stereotypical geeky attire?

Check.

In the current moment, the nerd dashed through the streets, his hands outstretched in supplication, but the people either fled or brushed him aside in haste.

"No escape for you, you bastard!" a man garbed in attire that screamed "gangster" bellowed, hot on the nerd's heels.

"Leave me alone!" the nerd shrieked, his voice cracking.

"I won't let you get away! I'll end you with a blade!" the gangster retorted, relentless in his pursuit.

The nerd, known as Light, sprinted frantically, sticking to the roadside in panic.

Why did fate choose me for this torment? Light's thoughts spiraled into despair.

This ordeal was a consequence of his momentary lapse in judgment.

He had intervened when he witnessed the gangster accosting an elderly man, but the gangster's attention had swiftly shifted from the old man to him after Light had given the gangster a swift kick in the rear.

As he rescued the old man, he had unknowingly become the target.

"No escape for you, you bastard!"

The gangster closed in, and Light, left with no alternative, bolted toward a road still frequented by vehicles.

"Hey, halt!" the gangster yelled, but his pursuit faltered.

Light, oblivious, dashed across the road, unaware of the speeding truck hurtling toward him like lightning.

Crash!

The collision with the truck launched Light into the air, blood staining his face.

Ah... What's happening? Why does time feel so sluggish...

Is this... Could it be... The sensation of heightened neural activity...

Perhaps... I'm nearing death's embrace?

Ah... My cherished collection of novels.

My stash of mature novels.

My trove of adult visual novel games.

My cache of anime.

My compilation of mature... animated content...

I wish for my hard drive to be erased from existence.

I can't bear the thought of my family discovering their seemingly innocent nerdy son harbored such secrets on his computer.

No...

My consciousness fades.

Even my memories seem to dissolve.

What... What's transpiring?

...

...

..

..

.

.

.

Upon awakening, all I beheld was the radiant sun, its light gracing my visage.

Attempting to move my hands, I realized they had diminished in size.

I tried to speak, "Waa ma mu," but only unintelligible sounds emerged. I couldn't comprehend the meaning of my own words.

"Waah!!!" an involuntary cry escaped my lips.

"Ohh... The infant is wailing~. What's the matter?" a voice, belonging to a middle-aged man, I deduced, addressed me. The words were unfamiliar, though.

Drawing from faint yet retained memories of my former life, I understood I had been isekai'd.

A middle-aged man in priestly garb approached.

"Hohoho! How's it going, little one? Don't fret, Father Priest is here for you! Baba ba boo!"

Though I didn't grasp his words, his expression suggested he was soothing me.

Oddly, my agitation ebbed slowly. An overwhelming drowsiness overcame me.

Before I knew it, slumber had embraced me.

...

Father Orsi tenderly laid the now-calm infant in a crib before hurrying to attend to other squalling babies.

Ah!

That resounding cry alone informed Father Orfi that Asta was the loudest.

Yuno, nearly silent, seemed destined to become a well-behaved child, Father Orfi surmised.

As for the new baby left at the church's doorstep, much like Yuno, he seldom cried.

His name was Light, etched onto a necklace around his neck.

Light.

Such an exquisite name... He might well become a devout servant of the Lord God in time. Father Orsi even contemplated Light inheriting the church, based solely on his name.

The day concluded with Father Orsi attending to the three babies.

Undoubtedly, he was a capable 'Father'.

...

Time flowed, and three years had come to pass.

The trio of infants Father Orsi had cared for were now toddling about.

In Father Orsi's eyes, Light was the most reserved, even quieter than Yuno.

He spoke only a few words and tackled tasks without complaint.

Much like Yuno, yet with subtle distinctions, as Yuno had been quite the weepy baby despite his tranquility in infancy.

Remarkably, Asta, the one who cried the most, exuded optimism. He radiated cheerfulness, though he remained the loudest.

His speech was perpetually booming.

As if he were in military service every time.

...

"Hmm, good morning, Yuno and Light," Asta exclaimed as the sun finally greeted the day.

"Morning, Asta," Yuno responded with a nod.

Light, engrossed in his thoughts, simply acknowledged with a nod.

"Hey, Light, morning!" Asta repeated, noticing the lack of response.

Light sighed softly, giving in. "Morning."

"Why are you always like this? Exhausted or what? Get some energy!" Asta complained, before adding, "Train hard! You'll be the Wizard King, just like me, someday!"

"Wizard King?" Light's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Quite the impossible dream you've got there, kid."

"Impossible? Nothing's impossible! I'll be the Wizard King, mark my words!" Asta's declaration echoed loudly.

"Very well. Mr. Sanguine. Attend to your duties, hewing timber," Light uttered, his voice tinged with ennui.

"Mr. San-what? Just wait! I shall rise to Wizard King's mantle!" Asta, bemused yet undeterred, retorted.

"Alright, Asta, early mornings don't need your yelling," Father Orsi chimed in.

"Absolutely!!!" Asta responded boisterously.

Father Orsi sighed in resignation.

...

Light observed Asta. There was a strange familiarity whenever he looked at him.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he felt a connection...

Ah... This life is nothing short of dull.

No internet. No anime to watch.

No One Piece or Naruto to follow.

Except for the intriguing magic in this world—based on what he knew—his magic might remain inferior if his grimoire is inferior level. He could easily be outmatched by someone with more powerful grimoire.

Light found himself at a loss in this situation, leading him to dedicate time to honing his magic while performing chores.

Performing even the simplest spells with magic was undeniably convenient.

Light a fire? Forget lighters. A flick of magic would suffice.

(New Novel I just written. It's new, but please give a comment about this new creation.)