One month. Thirty-one days of methodical, private torture.
The sun had not yet risen. Lencar stood in the fallow field, steam rising from his bare shoulders. He was in "Mage Mode," and the oppressive weight of Yuno's mana was no longer a crushing burden. It was a familiar, heavy cloak, one he had learned to move in.
"Phase A," he muttered.
He dropped into his push-up stance. He willed the mana to resist him. He pushed.
His muscles, now woven with the experience of fighting an ocean, screamed. The rep was just as agonizing as it had been on Day One. The difference? He didn't collapse.
He finished the rep. He took one, sharp, hissing breath. And he went down for another.
And another.
And another.
He completed a full set of ten. Each one was a near-aneurysmal, body-shaking, vein-popping nightmare. When he finished the tenth rep, he finally let his chest hit the dirt, his body thrumming with the aftershock of a power he had successfully, brutally dominated.
He rolled over, his chest heaving as he stared at the dim, pre-dawn sky. His body had changed. He hadn't gained the bulky, showy muscle of a bodybuilder. He had become denser. His Mana-Forging 2.0 had packed his muscle fibers, reinforcing them with his own will, making his entire frame feel like it was carved from ironwood. He was a 15-year-old built like a veteran-in-training.
His "Drain" phase was no longer a clumsy, eight-hour marathon of recoil. It was a five-hour, high-intensity gauntlet. He had learned to brace for the [Towering Tornado]. He used the [Chain-Dance Slasher] as a mobility tool, firing the clumsy chains at trees to pull himself through the forest at high speeds. It was artless, ugly, and terrifyingly effective.
His "Dual-Casting" was now a mundane, nightly ritual. He would sit at his desk, his grimoire (disguised) open. In his left hand, the [Magic-Sealing Chain] would be wrapped gently, silently, around his bedpost. In his right, the [Tiny Fireball] from his father's magic would hover, stable and unwavering. He would sit there for an hour, the tiny flame his only light as he read a dry, technical book on agricultural magic he'd borrowed from the village elder.
The "Toggle" was his greatest achievement. The one-second hiccup was now instantaneous. Click. The world went silent, his body light and agile in Heretic Mode. Click. The ocean of mana rushed back, ready to be wielded. The nausea was gone. All that remained was a dull, thrumming headache, a price he was more than willing to pay.
He had become a perfect, two-mode weapon.
He finished his morning routine and headed toward Hage to deliver a small sack of his family's surplus flour to the church. It was a good cover, and the orphans were always hungry. He preferred it to Asta's family, who had the loud, boisterous, and entirely-too-nosy Father Orsi.
As he approached the village center, he saw a crowd gathered by the Grimoire Tower. It was unusual. He saw Asta's shock of grey hair and Yuno's tall, aloof silhouette.
"What is this?!" Asta's voice, as always, pierced the air. "A battle before the exam?!"
Lencar's analytical mind went on high alert. He walked over, his face a mask of calm, commoner curiosity. The old Tower Master, looking flustered, was pinning a new parchment to the village notice board.
"Ahem! By decree of the regional magistrate, Lord Fungen!" the old man announced to the crowd. "Due to the... ahem... 'unprecedented number of hopefuls' from the Sosie-Hage region this year, we have been instructed to hold a preliminary qualification tournament!"
A murmur of panic went through the crowd of teenagers.
The Tower Master continued, "The capital believes it is a 'waste of resources' to have so many commoners travel to the exam, only to fail. Therefore, a qualification battle will be held in Hage in one week's time!"
Asta grabbed the parchment, his eyes scanning it frantically. "It says... it says it's an elimination tournament! And only the top two finishers will be granted travel passes for the Entrance Exam!"
The air went still. Lencar did the math instantly.
Three protagonists. Asta. Yuno. Me.
Two slots.
This was an unforeseen variable. A data point his meta-knowledge had not provided.
This wasn't a simple formality. This was a filter. Yuno, with his four-leaf clover, was a guaranteed lock for one slot. That meant the second, and final, slot was a free-for-all. Every other hopeful—including Asta with his new Anti-Magic grimoire and himself with his hidden Replica magic—would be fighting for that single, remaining chance.
"A tournament... a real fight," Lencar whispered to himself. His pulse didn't quicken. His breathing didn't change.
Kenji Tanaka, the data analyst, simply re-calibrated.
This is a hassle, he thought, his eyes glancing at Asta's fiery determination and Yuno's cool, unbothered confidence. But it's also a perfect test. A controlled environment to gather data on Asta's Anti-Magic and Yuno's true power.
He looked at Asta, who was already screaming at Yuno about how he'd be the one to win.
This changes nothing, Lencar thought, turning and walking away from the crowd, his mind already running calculations. It just moves the first boss-fight up by a few months.