Prologue

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"All living things believe in someone superior to them, and cannot live unless they blindly follow them. Then, the objects of their faith try to escape this crushing pressure by seeking another being that is more superior to them to believe in. And they, in turn, seek a stronger being still. That is how all kings are born. That is how... all gods are born."

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The stands of the grand colosseum were packed with eager spectators, all awaiting the Magic Knight selection.

The candidates stood below , casting nervous glances up at the dais where the Magic Knight Captains gathered.

Each one's presence was as imposing as their reputation, from the poised Nozel Silva to the sleeping Dorothy Unsworth.

The grounds of the colosseum echoed with the low whispers and the occasional cheer.

One seat, however, remained noticeably empty.

And beside it stood a young woman with a quiet but undeniable strength in her stance.

She wore the emblem of the Soul Knights—a rare sight, as their captain had been absent from this ceremony for years.

Nozel frowned, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the empty seat. "That arrogant man has skipped the selection for three years now," he scoffed, arms crossed and voice dripping with disapproval.

Even Dorothy opened one eye, looking uncharacteristically awake. "It's annoying, isn't it?" she mumbled. "Even I show up."

A sudden burst of laughter echoed across the colosseum.

Yami Sukehiro, captain of the Black Bulls, leaned back in his chair with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

He laughed, blowing a cloud of smoke, completely unbothered by the disdainful looks from the other captains. "Hahaha, Maybe he's got a bad stomach or something," Yami chuckled, tapping the ash off his cigarette."Or Age is catching up to him."

The vice-captain standing beside the Soul Knights' empty seat barely blinked at Yami's remark, though her clenched fists hinted at a trace of irritation.

She kept her gaze steady on the candidates, exuding a silent but fierce loyalty, her presence has been constant for the past years —even if their captain was once again absent.

The crowd and candidates murmured in confusion, curious about the Soul Knight captain's mysterious absence.

Whispers circulated among the crowd.

"Who is this captain, anyway?" one candidate muttered.

"Why doesn't he ever show up?"

"I heard he's the strongest of the captains here," another replied in awe. "But no one's seen him in years."

Just as the murmurs started to grow, William Vangeance, the captain of the Golden Dawn, rose from his seat.

He stretched out his handand spoke "World Tree descend" and with a flash of golden light, a colossal magic tree sprouted in the center of the colosseum, its branches unfurling gracefully.

As it extended over the arena, brooms appeared, floating in the air for each candidate to grab.

William's serene voice echoed through the colosseum, "We will now begin the Magic Knight's Entrance exam"

"The ten of us will evaluate your performance, and then we will select the candidates that we would like to add to our squads."

"You may choose the squad you would like to join, on the other hand those who are not chosen by any captain will count as disqualified"

" All right Begin !"

With that, the excitement in the colosseum rose, and the candidates began flying with the brooms, eager to prove themselves under the watchful eyes of the captains.

Yami smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette as he watched the nervous candidates scrambling to mount their brooms. "Alright, kids, let's see if you can even keep yourselves from face-planting," he muttered, chuckling to himself.

The other captains rolled their eyes at him, but Yami simply leaned back, thoroughly entertained by the chaos below.

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As the brooms floated down from the massive branches of William's magic tree, each candidate grabbed one with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Asta, in particular, looked at his broom with fierce determination, gripping it like his life depended on it.

"Alright, broom! Let's do this!" Asta yelled, clenching his fists and narrowing his eyes, his enthusiasm spilling over into the stands.

But when he hopped onto the broom and clenched his legs around it, nothing happened.

The broom didn't so much as twitch, let alone lift him off the ground.

Asta's face twisted with effort as he gritted his teeth, trying to will the broom into the air.

He clenched his fists, scrunching his eyes shut as if sheer willpower could make him fly.

"Come on, up, up, UP!" he shouted, drawing laughter from some of the onlookers.

But the broom remained stubbornly still, only emphasizing his struggle.

Meanwhile, across the arena, Yuno had already soared high into the air, floating effortlessly above the other candidates.

His calm demeanor and natural magic control made the feat seem effortless, and he barely glanced down as he maintained his balance with ease.

Some of the captains nodded in approval, impressed by Yuno's control.

"Look at that kid go," Yami observed with a laugh, flicking his cigarette. "He's barely even trying."

Nozel watched Yuno with a subtly raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while William Vangeance's masked face turned slightly, an approving nod barely visible beneath the golden mask.

Asta, on the other hand, was still firmly on the ground, straining so hard his face turned bright red. "WHY WON'T YOU FLY?!" he yelled, drawing more chuckles from the captains and murmurs from the crowd.

But Asta didn't let up, still shouting and giving it everything he had.

Even though he couldn't manage to lift himself a single centimeter, given his lack of magic.

---

In the vast and elegant grounds of the Kira Estate, where the grandeur and pride of the royal noble house stands on full display, surrounded by towering stone pillars and lush gardens, sits the head of House Kira—Nero Kira, captain of the Soul Knights.

The Soul Knights were an unusual squad, considered by many the least functioning of the Magic Knight squads.

Its members rarely took on missions or patrols unless ordered directly.

This wasn't due to a lack of power or discipline, but rather because of their focus on unique specialization such as research or specefic things like that.

The Soul Knights were established by the king's decree for a very specific purpose.

Or rather Nero Himself

Because while Augustus Kira Clover XIII might be the official ruler, those with insight knew that he was nothing more than a figurehead.

The true power behind the kingdom was Nero Kira.

Nero had overtaken Augustus's influence to the throne while also preferring to keep himself in the shadows while maintaining full control over the country.

This allowed him to avoid the meddlesome attention of the other noble houses who were constantly vying for influence and royal favor.

But Nero's quiet control wasn't the only secret he carried.

He was, in fact, a transmigrator—someone from another world whose memories had only come back to him long after he was reborn in this one.

He cursed the unknown power or fate that had brought him here, as those memories resurfaced far too late.

When they had returned, he had already lost the one person who had meant the most to him.

Richita Staria.

No one ever knew about Nero's relationship with Richita, the quiet bond he cherished beyond all his titles and power.

She had been a commoner, living on the outskirts of the forsaken realm, and yet her presence had been more valuable to him than all the luxuries of noble life.

His mind wandered to the memories of his old self.

The cursed reminders of his failure.

Nero first encountered Richita by chance on a sunny afternoon, during one of his frequent flights across the Clover Kingdom.

Even at a young age, despite lacking a grimoire, he possessed immense raw power—enough to rival, even overwhelm, a vice-captain with nothing more than the sheer density of his mana.

As he soared over a quiet, isolated meadow, he spotted a figure far below. Curious, he dropped down from the sky, landing with a boom.

The girl—a young woman, really, clearly a few years older than him—stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Before he could even introduce himself, she was already shouting at him, her voice urgent. "Get away from me! Run! You have to leave!"

Confused, he took a step closer, and she backed away, trembling, warning him that she was dangerous. "I drain life and mana from anyone who gets close. I can't stop it. Please—just go."

At first, Nero thought it might be a misunderstanding or a myth she had been told to scare others off, but then he felt it—a slight, almost imperceptible weakness.

It was as if a small fraction of his mana were being siphoned away.

To him, it was like taking a single bucket of water from the vast ocean within him, hardly noticeable.

Smiling in reassurance, he took another confident step forward, letting her know she had nothing to fear from him.

As he spoke with her, he quickly became intrigued by the mysterious girl who carried this strange burden.

Beneath her caution and fear, she possessed a kindness and gentle humor that touched him, and they spent hours talking as the afternoon faded.

From that day, they met often, and over time, their relationship blossomed from unique friends to something deeper with each stolen moment.

Though Richita was four years older than him, the difference didn't matter to Nero.

With her, he could be himself—just Nero since she didn't know him, not a noble prodigy or the future head of the Kira family or even the possible king.

But their time together was fleeting, and Nero would never know just how much he'd lost until it was too late.

In their time together, he had dedicated himself to finding a way to ease the burden of her strange ability.

Knowing she drained the mana of anyone close to her, he began working tirelessly to create a device that would supply her with a steady stream of magic—enough to allow her to live among others without fear of harming them.

With her own magic stabilized, she might finally experience the freedom he wished so desperately for her.

But one evening, everything changed.

The tension between them erupted into an argument, sparked by something in her that seemed distant, almost haunted.

In his immaturity, the young Nero had stormed off, pride and frustration clouding his heart.

When he returned, expecting to find her waiting as always, Richita was gone.

He searched everywhere, tearing through villages, fields, and forests, questioning anyone who might have seen her. But despite all his efforts, she had vanished without a trace.

Nine long, painful months passed, and still, he couldn't let go.

Driven by the emptiness in his heart, he continued his search, refusing to accept a world without her.

Eventually, his journey led him to the quiet village of Hage, where whispers of a woman matching her description had surfaced.

When Nero finally found Richita in the small, quiet village of Hage, the reunion was far from the joyful moment he had imagined in his months of searching.

She looked worn and fragile, holding a tiny newborn in her arms with the fierce protectiveness of a mother, yet there was a guilty look in her eyes as she met his gaze.

"Nero," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I… I deceived you." She looked down at their son, her fingers tracing his small face as she spoke.

"When I realized I was pregnant, I was terrified. My condition… it drains mana, life itself. I thought… I thought it might kill him."

She paused, her eyes filling with both regret and relief as she continued. "I didn't want you to suffer. If something happened to him… I couldn't bear to let you feel that loss."

Nero listened in silence, unable to say anything.

She had been protecting him in the only way she knew—by disappearing, by hiding the existence of the thing which might cause him that immeasurable pain.

She had kept this secret, run away, and bore the burden alone, all because she feared her condition would harm their child and didn't want to bring him into what she saw as inevitable heartbreak.

"I thought… maybe if I left, you'd be spared the pain if something went wrong."

She swallowed, her voice breaking.

"It was selfish. I know. I didn't even ask you—I couldn't. I was too afraid you'd try to stay, to save us both from something I thought was certain."

Nero's heart ached, torn between anger, profound sorrow and undeniably happiness.

Happiness at the deep love she had for him.

All those months he had spent tirelessly working on a solution to her mana-draining condition, all the hope he'd held that they could have a life together—she had pushed that away, thinking she was sparing him.

But he could see the toll her decision had taken on her. Her face softened as she looked at him, her regret laid bare. "I was wrong, Nero. I see that now. I can't undo what I did, but I'm here now. And so is he."

He knelt beside her, reaching out to touch their son, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mixture of love, relief, and loss.

Holding his tiny hand, he felt the weight of everything they might have lost because of a choice made in fear—a choice made out of love.

In that moment, he forgave her, understanding that everything she had done was out of her fierce desire to protect him, to keep him safe.

Though fate had other plans.

As Nero held his newborn son in his hands, he felt an unsettling emptiness—a complete and utter lack of mana.

Not even a flicker of the magic that flowed so strongly in his own veins.

His heart skipped as he realized the truth, stunned and struggling to accept it.

How could this be? Nero was unmatched in mana density; it was an inheritance that should have been passed to his child as naturally as his name.

The memory of his own birth was nearly legend within the Kira family.

His mana had been so overwhelming that it became a danger to his mother, forcing her into premature labor to prevent her from dying as his magic consumed her from within.

Doctors and nurses alike had tried to help, only to suffer the consequences of his immense, uncontrolled power.

Merely touching him without proper mana skin had pulverized flesh and bone alike.

The first doctor to hold him had perished in seconds, burned from the inside out as Nero's infant cries unleashed a surge of raw, untamed mana.

The aftermath was etched into the very stones of the Kira estate. The walls bore the scorched marks of their shadow , haunting reminders of the nuclear-like devastation his mana had once caused.

No one could erase the impressions left by his power that day; they served as an eternal symbol of his legacy—a legacy he had fully expected to pass on.

And yet here was his son, a child with no trace of magic.

The emptiness felt like, a cruel twist of fate that left him dumbfounded.

He looked at the boy, innocent and unaware, yet untouched by the magic that defined his bloodline.

He searched Richita's face, hoping she might have an answer, but her expression only mirrored his own surprise.

This was not what either of them had expected.

The realization hit Nero with a cruel clarity: the noble world revolved around magic, a truth as deeply rooted as the stone foundations of the kingdom itself.

His son, born without mana, would be seen as less than nothing in this society.

Yet Nero, defiant and proud, was prepared to stand against the entirety of Clover Kingdom, if that was what it took.

The boy would be raised as a Kira, mana be damned.

He was his son, and Nero would shield him from any scorn the world might throw their way.

But Richita had other thoughts.

When he voiced his intentions, her gentle refusal surprised him. "Nero," she murmured, taking his hand, "I don't want our son to suffer in that world. I've seen what it's done to you—the pressure, the expectations. That's part of why you and I were able to find each other."

She paused, searching for the words. "I don't want him to live under the weight of noble rules or the magic he doesn't have. I don't want to see you fighting battles for him, or for us, just to bend the kingdom's structure to something we don't need."

She squeezed his hand, her gaze filled with a fierce, protective love. "Let's give him a life without those burdens. A life that's simpler, where he doesn't have to look over his shoulder or live up to impossible expectations. And me… I don't want to be dragged into noble life, Nero. I don't want to stand in a castle where I'd always feel like an outsider, or ask you to wage war on the kingdom to bring me there."

Her words stopped all the plans of destroying the noble houses from Nero's mind.

She was content here, in the quiet simplicity of the forsaken realm, far from the eyes of nobles and the pressures of the kingdom.

Her happiness lay not in status or titles but in the freedom of a life they could share without interference.

And as he looked at her, he understood. Richita, with her love and her wisdom, was asking him to let go of his pride for their son's sake, for their sake.

She was right.

Perhaps raising his son as a noble, with all the weight that came with the Kira name, would only lead to pain.

With a heavy heart but newfound clarity, he pulled her close, nodding as he whispered, "Alright, Richita. We'll give him that life. Free of burdens, free of expectations."

He kissed her brow, silently promising her and their son a life built on love, not legacy.

A life that honored their choices and their happiness over power or pride.

Alas He failed

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As you might have guessed this chapter is simply setting the tone.

It has every bit of starter information needed to understand the MC without him doing anything at this point.

Stones and Reviews please