The echo of the boy's outburst still lingered in the tower like a ghost long after the laughter had died down. The Tower Mage's uncertain voice finally broke through the silence.
"The Awakening Ceremony… is hereby concluded."
A murmur spread through the hall — excitement, confusion, pity. The children clutched their newly awakened grimoires close and began exiting the tower.
Except one.
Lance Valentine stood in the same place, staring at the lone page in his hand. No spine. No cover. Just a sheet of parchment without even a glow.
The laughter that had mocked him minutes ago had faded, but the sting still hung in the air. He said nothing — simply lowered his eyes and walked toward the exit.
Outside, sunlight washed over him. For a second, he raised a hand still holding the sheet of paper to block the glare — and that's when he saw it.
The page shimmered faintly, and what looked plain before now revealed a small emblem imprinted into the surface — a clover. Three leaves, faintly visible, almost the same color as the paper itself.
"…A three-leaf clover." he muttered, his voice barely audible.
The realization did little to comfort him. It was still just a page.
He studied it again, front to back — faint designs at the edge of the paper like boarder that shined under direct sunlight. Not a single word in the sheet of paper anywhere.I was hoping for a spell.
So that's it? he thought bitterly. A grimoire's supposed to amplify your magic, not give you one… but I still hoped. Maybe my magic attribute is too faint, maybe my grimoire will amplify the attribute enough for it to be aparent guess that ain't happening.
His shoulders sagged as he walked down the long stone steps walking away from the grimoire tower with the crowd.
From a distance, two cloaked figures stood watching — a man and woman whose anxious eyes never left him.
Roy spoke first, voice low. "He looks lost, Cecil. Maybe I should talk to him—tell him we're proud of him no matter what."
Cecil shook her head gently, keeping her gaze fixed on their son. "Not now. He'll only feel worse knowing we followed him. Let's give him space for now. Just… watch."
Roy frowned, guilt lining his face. "He's fifteen already, but it feels like he's been carrying this weight since he was ten. No magic attribute showing up, not even a hint… Maybe this was our fault somehow."
Cecil's voice softened. "Don't start blaming yourself again. We raised him fine. Whatever it is, he'll figure it out. He always does."
Roy stayed quiet for a moment, his hand tightening on his cloak. "Still… his grimoire—why only a page? That's not normal. Even people with poorest talent get proper grimoires."
"Maybe it's rare," Cecil said, but her tone lacked conviction.
He exhaled sharply. "No. I've never heard of anything like it. Maybe… maybe I should go back."
Cecil turned to him. "Go back? You mean—"
"To the family estate," he finished quietly. "To the Valentine library we have very old collections. There might be something there— about this kind of grimoire. About magic like his."
Cecil looked at him with worry in her eyes."Are you sure."
"Yes" Roy said. "But I decided to go back anyway now just a bit early if means finding answers.
They fell silent again, watching as their son walked toward the path with way less people. The distance between them felt heavier than any wall.
Lance sat down in shade under a large tree, unwrapping the sandwich his mother had packed. Her voice echoed in his mind — When you're upset, eat something you like.
He took a bite, chewing slowly, eyes fixed on the lonely page now tucked into the grimoire holder his father had proudly bought him years ago.
A single page instead of a book, he thought. Dad'll say it doesn't matter. Mom'll smile like always. But I know they'll be disappointed.
He sighed, slumping slightly.
Why am I here? Just to suffer? he muttered under his breath.
Lance was immersed in thought while eating
'in the past 5 years my memories of the black clover plot and all has long turned dull, from what I can still recall in the original story only two grimoires are even remotely similar to my grimoire is Julius's grimoire gotta admit his grimoire was majestic even if it kinda resembled Toilet paper, but after he returned as a child his grimoire and my grimoire are identical and another grimoire that was similar was the necromancy guy from elf arc who had a single page but he had cover and a proper book with a single page.'
'I don't remember any other similar grimoire in the entirety of black clover. I have seen all anime , then got into manga till it was revealed Julius and Lucius are same body and after that a hell lot of fragmented spoilers. '
Just as he was about to take another bite, three voices broke his thoughts.
He looked up at the sky and huffed a laugh without humor. Guess I'm one of a kind.
Just then—
"Well, well, look who it is." a mocking voice said. "The guy who got a sheet of paper instead of a grimoire."
Lance groaned he didn't even turn his head to the voice. "Go away."
That only made them laugh louder. Three boys approached — all dressed better than him, all wearing smug faces.The first was a moderately slim but sharply dressed boy with silver-blonde hair. the kind of face that might've looked charming if not for the sneer twisting his lips.
Behind him stood the twins, both broad-shouldered and heavyset, with identical round faces and mean little grins — the type of bullies who thrived under someone else's command
"You know who you're talking to?" the tallest one said. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. That's Crabbe, and this one Goyle. You're supposed to kneel down and apologize,for being rude to us you filthy little mudblood.. uh...I mean commoner."
Lance glanced at them once feeling a sense of déjà vu "Not in the mood," he said, brushing his pants and walking off.
"Hey!" Goyle snapped. "Stop right there, you bastard!"
They followed him into a narrow alley. Lance could already sense their mana signatures behind him — he walked into a dead end When he reached the center, he stopped.
"You're still following?"
"Yeah," Draco sneered, flipping open his grimoire. "Nowhere to run. Let's see if that paper of yours can help you."
A pink glow spread from his book be greatful I am casting my First spell on you after I got my grimoire "Illusion Magic: Confusing Mist!"
Thick fog spilled out, swallowing the alley. The mana shimmer distorted sight and sound, making everything outside look perfectly normal — no one passing by would notice a thing.
"Let's see you run now." Draco taunted.
Goyle grinned and opened his own grimoire. "Sand Magic: Billowing sand!"
A rush of sand swirled through the mist, sharp grains scraping across walls.
Crabbe raised his hand. "Mud Magic: Mudshot!"
Wet clumps of mud burst forward, cutting through the haze.
The plan was simple — disorient, blind, then attack together.
Lance didn't panic. He closed his eyes, focusing on his mana sense. Three signatures — one ahead, two to the sides.
When the next wave of sand rushed toward him, he moved. Stepping aside sharply, he lunged forward through the fog — his fist connected squarely with Goyle's nose. The sound cracked through the mist, and the sand spell dissipated instantly.
Lance spun, catching Crabbe's arm mid-cast and twisting it sharply. A knee to the stomach dropped the boy with a grunt and fainted shortly after.
Only Draco remained, his illusion flickering weakly. "You—You—! My father will hear about this."
Lance didn't let him finish. He stepped forward and drove his foot into Draco's balls. The boy's shriek turned into a wheeze as he crumpled to the ground, and the mist slowly began to dissipate.
Three bodies lay unconscious; In the narrow alley.
Lance crouched beside Draco and picked up his fallen grimoire.
"You made fun of mine," he said quietly, flipping through the pages. "Let's see how you feel when you wake up and find your grimoire's nothing but pages too."
He grabbed one of the pages and tried to rip it off. But instead of tearing paper, he felt his mana being drained rapidly and instead of the page ripping off his fingers caught something else — a thin, translucent sheet, almost invisible.
Lance froze. His own sheet of paper flew out of its holster.
"What the hell…" he muttered.