The heat was unbearable.
Asta's heart hammered in his chest as the monstrous firestorm tornado roared toward him, its core swirling with flame, lightning, and wind so intense it distorted the world around it.
Each rotation screamed like a living beast — hungry, wild, and all-consuming.
The stone floor cracked beneath his boots.
The air seared against his skin. Even through the barrier, it felt like the entire arena was going to melt.
For a heartbeat — just one — fear flickered across Asta's face. His breath hitched as his instincts screamed to run, to dodge, to do something. But then another voice rose inside his mind — that stubborn, defiant voice that had never once let him back down.
He clenched his jaw, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.
"No…" he growled under his breath, eyes blazing.
Then, louder — with all the force in his lungs — "NOT YET! I'M NOT DONE YET! I'LL BECOME THE WIZARD KING!!"
The shout tore through the arena like thunder.
And at that exact moment, the Ven-Drive responded.
The crimson lights along its surface flared violently, then darkened — replaced by streaks of black and red energy that surged outward like wildfire. The air around Asta rippled and bent, and a deep hum vibrated through the ground.
"W-what is—?" gasped someone in the crowd.
Asta's arm trembled as energy began to gather. It wasn't controlled mana — it was chaos, raw, unfiltered destruction. The Ven-Drive's core devoured the ambient mana from the air, compressing it into a small, pulsating sphere and something gushed from deep within the five leaf clover grimoire and turning the sphere formed from mana into a black-redush sphere that erased mana in front of the gun's barrel.
The wind screamed louder, the world itself seeming to twist from the pressure.
Up in the stands, Nova's eyes softened into a knowing smile. So, Liebe's lending a hand… Otherwise, Asta could never produce that much anti-magic.
The crowd barely had time to blink before Asta shouted, "TAKE THIS!!"
He pulled the trigger.
The black-red sphere erupted forward — not as a beam, but as a pulse of annihilation, a shockwave that devoured everything it touched. The tornado, magnificent and terrifying just moments before, collided with the pulse head-on—
And vanished.
No explosion. No fire. No thunder. Just silence.
The roaring storm of three elements was simply… gone.
Gasps and cries of disbelief rippled through the stands.
"It disappeared?!"
"No—no, it didn't explode, it just—!"
"It was erased!"
Even the captains were visibly shaken.
Fuegoleon frowned deeply. "That wasn't a counterspell… It didn't deflect the tornado — it erased it."
Charlotte's brows furrowed. "The energy was unstable, yet it nullified the spell completely."
Nozel Silva crossed his arms tightly. "I couldn't sense any mana from him. Not a drop. Yet he wields a grimoire."
Jack the Ripper grinned faintly. "Heh. Now that's interesting. Maybe the brat's cutting magic itself."
William Vangeance's eyes flashed sharply — his attention locking onto Asta's black grimoire and the massive blade gleaming dully in his hands. For a moment, the faint golden hue in his irises deepened — no longer a reflection of his own magic, but of another soul stirring inside him.
The air around him shifted. His usually composed expression stiffened, his jaw tightening.
Inside, Patry, the elf soul bound to his body, had awakened at the sight.
A dark, burning rage rippled through his mana.
That grimoire — that accursed, defiled relic — once belonged to Licht, the leader of their people. Once pure, radiant, and divine — now corrupted into a grotesque five-leaf clover, tainted by despair.
And the one wielding it?
A human.
The very race that had betrayed and slaughtered them.
William's hand trembled faintly at his side as Patry's fury surged beneath his calm exterior. His voice escaped in a low, almost inaudible whisper, tight with contained hatred.
> "To see Licht's grimoire and his sword… in the hands of a human. How disgraceful."
The golden light flickered violently in his eyes before dimming again, the human half of William forcing it down. He exhaled slowly, regaining composure — but the resentment lingering in his aura was unmistakable, faint and sharp like a knife pressed beneath the surface.
Nobody noticed this change in captain Vengeance, as other magic knight captains' discussion grew louder.
"If he doesn't have mana, then how does he cast?"
"What's that energy? It's not magic, but it acts like it."
"He's using an artifact and a grimoire — but they're synchronized! It's like grimoire bound weapon/artifact."
Yami exhaled a long stream of smoke, grinning slightly. "We don't know what kind of magic that is, but one thing's clear." He jabbed his cigarette toward the field. "That energy's got nullification effects. Whatever it touches — magic or mana — it just stops existing."
He glanced at the other captains. "Whether it can erase every type of magic… that's still up for debate."
The captains' voices buzzed faintly through the arena's lower stands — speculation, curiosity, and disbelief blending together. But high above them, in a separate royal viewing chamber draped with gold and velvet, the mood was very different.
The Clover Kingdom's King shifted uncomfortably on his throne, his earlier smirk fading into a tight line. His jeweled fingers tapped nervously against the armrest as he stared at the peasent boy standing proudly in the arena below.
The King finally broke the silence, his jeweled hand gripping the armrest tightly.
"Wizard King," he said sharply, his voice quivering with restrained disbelief, "what was that? How did that three-elemental spell simply vanish? It wasn't deflected or blocked — it was erased!"
Julius didn't answer immediately. His golden eyes flickered, reflecting the fading glow of the projection. He frowned slightly, brows furrowing as he replayed the moment in his mind.
After a few seconds of quiet thought, he exhaled softly.
"…I don't know."
The King blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. "You— don't know?" he demanded, his tone rising. "You're the Wizard King, the most learned mage in the kingdom, and you don't—"
But Julius interrupted calmly, still gazing at the image. "It's not that I can't understand it. It's that it doesn't fit within what we know."
He clasped his hands behind his back, his tone thoughtful and measured — the voice of a scholar dissecting the impossible.
"You see," he began, "when one element opposes another — for example, when water meets fire — they still interact. Water may extinguish fire, yes, but it leaves steam behind. A reaction. A byproduct of the mana and physical energies colliding."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Even when wind disperses fire, or lightning burns through air, mana is still left behind. There's always something — heat, vapor, light, static, even residual magic particles. Because that's how mana behaves: it transforms, it doesn't disappear."
The King listened, his frown deepening. "…And yet, that black and red energy—?"
Julius nodded slowly. "It did none of that. When it struck the tornado, there was no explosion, no residual mana, not even heat. It didn't overpower the magic — it simply made it cease to exist."
He turned to face the King fully, his golden eyes sharp with curiosity.
"That's not suppression or resistance. That's erasure. A force that removes mana itself from existence. Fire, wind, thunder — all gone, without leaving even trace energy behind."
The King swallowed hard, his earlier arrogance faltering. "…That's… impossible. Magic is the essence of life. It can't simply vanish."
Julius's lips curved faintly, though his eyes held none of his usual playfulness — only deep, fascinated awe. "And yet, we just watched it happen."
Meanwhile Nova was also frowning hard. Yes, where did the mana go? According to his information from World Tree, Anti-Magic is extreme form of nullification magic. So Anti-Magic is still magic. Then the mana that formed the tri-elemental tornado should still be present. But that mana simply disappeared.
It means Anti-Magic still have many secrets than he knows of.
---
Down below, Silas Velnir stared at the empty air where his tornado had once been — eyes wide, lips slightly parted. His normally perfect composure shattered entirely.
"No… No, that's not… That spell was impossible to stop!" he hissed, stepping back as Asta straightened, smoke rising off his shoulders.
Asta grinned, lowering his weapon. "Guess impossible's just another word for boring!"
Silas's jaw clenched, his gems dimming as his mana drained completely. He tried to summon another attack, but his grimoire barely flickered — pages trembling weakly. The fire in his eyes faded, replaced by exhausted disbelief.
And then —
Asta dashed forward.
The Ven-Drive shifted, armor plates locking into place as his speed spiked. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, Demon-Slayer Sword raised high, anti-magic aura swirling violently around it.
Silas flinched, instinctively raising his arm — but no mana came.
He could only watch as the blade's edge stopped inches from his chest, wind from the swing whipping his hair back.
The tip of the sword hovered there — steady, unshaking.
Silas's throat tightened. His hand trembled, then dropped to his side. His pride burned worse than any wound.
"…I concede," he muttered, the words tasting like ash.
The crowd erupted — cheers, shock, disbelief blending into a deafening roar.
"He beat a Velnir noble!"
"That monster destroyed a triple-element spell!"
"Who is that kid?!"
In the stands, Nova smirked faintly, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.
He's getting stronger faster than even the system can measure.
Asta lowered his sword, breathing heavily, a wide grin splitting his soot-stained face.
"I told ya," he said, looking up toward the captains' seats, "I'm not stopping till I'm Wizard King!"
Above, Yami laughed, loud and carefree. "Heh… good answer, kid."
And for a moment — the whole coliseum was silent.
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CHAPTER:- [134 - GRAVITY RUNES] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON