Chapter 377: Royal Capital IV
The instant the words left the overseer’s lips—
BOOM!
Salim began to raise his grimoire, lightning magic sparking at his fingertips. But before the spell could even form, Dave vanished.
The crowd blinked. One moment he stood calmly in the dueling circle. The next—
Shave.
A blur of silver-black streaked across the arena.
Salim’s eyes went wide, his spell collapsing mid-cast. "Wha—?!"
Dave reappeared directly in front of him, his movement so sharp it cracked the air like a whip. His hand clamped around Salim’s wrist, twisting it with effortless precision.
CRACK!
The noble’s grimoire tumbled from his grasp as Dave pivoted, driving him into the stone floor.
THOOOM!
The arena floor cratered, dust exploding outward. Salim’s body rattled violently against the stone—and then went limp.
Gasps echoed across the stands.
"Wh-what just happened!?"
"I didn’t even see him move!"
"Was it space magic? He just appeared!"
Salim didn’t move. His head lolled sideways, unconscious before he could even realize he’d lost.
Dave stood over him, expression calm, almost disinterested. He let go, stepping back, as though the fight hadn’t even mattered.
The overseer hesitated, staring at the noble sprawled unconscious at Dave’s feet. Finally, he raised his hand. "...Winner—Dave."
The coliseum roared. Commoners cheered wildly, while the nobles sat frozen in shock, their pride crushed under the weight of what they’d just seen.
On the balcony, the Captains leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Was that... space magic?" one muttered.
"No, I didn’t sense a spatial ripple..." another said.
Yami exhaled a long stream of smoke, smirking faintly. "Nah. That wasn’t space magic. That was pure physical skill. Kid didn’t teleport—he just moved faster than your eyes could follow."
The Crimson Lion King captain let out a low chuckle. "Pure technique, huh? To make nobles faint without even drawing his grimoire... he’s dangerous."
Yami tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he tracked Dave returning to the candidate line. "First the four-leaf, then the sword brat, now this silver-haired kid. Where the hell are they pulling these monsters from?"
He flicked his cigarette into the air, catching it again between his fingers. "They’re not just flukes. This ain’t coincidence."
At his side, Finral straightened when Yami glanced at him.
"Oi, Finral," Yami said lazily, though his gaze never left Dave. "Do me a favor. Go dig up some info on these kids. Where they came from, what hole they crawled out of, all of it. If the higher-ups don’t already have an eye on ’em, we’re gonna need to."
Finral nodded quickly, already preparing a portal.
After Dave’s match ended, the overseer wasted no time. The duels continued one after another—nobles flaunting their grimoire spells, commoners desperately trying to prove themselves. A few showed promise, most stumbled and fell, and others were crushed outright.
But the atmosphere had changed.
Every candidate that stepped into the circle felt the weight of what had just happened—Asta’s raw swordsmanship, Yuno’s four-leaf brilliance, and Dave’s overwhelming speed. The nobles’ arrogance had cracked. The common-born candidates fought harder, emboldened by the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, strength wasn’t determined by bloodline alone.
By the time the last duel ended, the overseer raised his hand and bellowed:
"Enough! All candidates, stand in line! It is time for the Captains to make their selections."
A hush fell over the coliseum.
Up on the balcony, the Captains straightened. One by one, they raised their hands when they saw a candidate they deemed worthy.
The overseer’s voice rang out. "Remember the rules. If no Captain raises a hand for you, you are dismissed. If one does, you may choose. If more than one raises a hand, the decision is yours."
The process began. Candidate after candidate stepped forward. Some walked away crushed, rejected by all. Others smiled nervously, chosen by one or two Captains. A few nobles earned multiple hands, though none shone with the same intensity as the three who had dominated the arena.
Then it came to Yuno.
"Candidate—Yuno."
Gasps rippled through the stands. Nearly every Captain’s hand shot up instantly. The four-leaf grimoire hovered at his side, radiating light that silenced all doubt.
The overseer nodded. "Almost all Captains have chosen you. Your decision?"
Yuno didn’t hesitate. He lifted his gaze to the balcony, eyes locking on one squad. "Golden Dawn."
The Golden Dawn captain smiled faintly, already satisfied, as the others lowered their hands in reluctant acceptance.
Next came Dave.
"Candidate—Dave."
Once again, a wave of hands went up. The memory of him crushing Salim in a single strike still burned vividly in the Captains’ minds. His speed, his control, his refusal to even use his grimoire—it was the kind of power that spoke volumes without needing words.
The overseer looked up. "Nearly all Captains wish to claim you as well. Your choice?"
Dave’s silver-black grimoire flickered faintly at his side. He raised his chin and spoke calmly. "Crimson Lion Kings."
The Crimson Lion King’s captain let out a booming laugh. "Excellent! A warrior’s heart belongs with us. You’ll fit right in."
Finally, it was Asta’s turn.
"Candidate—Asta."
For a moment, silence stretched. His grimoire sat heavy in his hand, black lightning crawling faintly along his sword.
Then—one hand rose. Yami’s.
The Black Bulls captain grinned lazily around his cigarette. "Heh. The brat’s got guts. I’ll take him."
The overseer raised an eyebrow. "Only one Captain has chosen you. Do you accept?"
Asta slammed his fist to his chest, grinning wide. "Yes! I’ll join the Black Bulls!"
Laughter and murmurs rippled across the stands—some mocking, some doubtful—but the fire in Asta’s eyes silenced the sting.
And so it was decided.
The ceremony ended with the overseer dismissing the candidates. One by one, the chosen recruits followed their Captains, the rest filing out with mixed faces of defeat, relief, or quiet pride.
Among the crowd, three figures lingered near the center—Asta, Yuno, and Dave.
They stood facing each other, the noise of the coliseum fading for a moment as if the world itself had paused just for them.
Asta scratched the back of his head, his grin still wide. "Well... guess this is it, huh? We’re all headed in different directions."
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