Asta's declaration left everyone utterly stunned. The courtyard fell silent, every gaze fixed on the strange young man who had just draped a Demacian child in the colors of his foreign order. Cithria stood frozen where she was, her sword arm limp at her side, unsure if she'd just witnessed an act of madness or heroism.
"What?" Darryl whispered, his small voice breaking the silence. He looked up at Asta in disbelief, his wide eyes shimmering with confusion.
Asta only laughed, warm and carefree, as though the weight of the entire kingdom wasn't pressing down on him. "Welcome to the Black Bulls, kid. The others are going to love you."
Garen took a slow, deliberate step forward, his heavy armor creaking as he reached out to place a hand on Asta's shoulder. "Asta," he said, his tone low but firm, "what are you doing?"
"Well," Asta replied with a shrug, "I don't trust any of you to keep him safe. And I like the kid. Seems like he's got guts."
"No. No, no." Garen shook his head, his patience thinning. "That's not something you can just decide."
Asta rolled his eyes. "Well, sorry about that, but I already did. The kid's a member of the Black Bulls now. Which means if anything happens to him, you'll be picking a fight with us."
The words struck like a spark in dry grass.
"Such insolence!" one of the MageSeekers behind Garen roared, his staff flaring with runic light. "That boy is a citizen of the Great Nation of Demacia!"
Garen raised a hand sharply, silencing him before things could escalate further. His sigh was heavy, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and reluctant admiration. "Asta… I understand why you're doing this. But you don't understand what the consequence..."
"What consequences?" Asta snapped, his tone hardening as he brushed Garen's hand from his shoulder. His eyes met Garen's without hesitation, full of fire and conviction. "You think I care about that? Look me in the eyes, Garen, and tell me he'll be okay. Tell me you'll keep your people from hurting him."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Garen's jaw tightened, but no answer came.
Then, from behind the front line of MageSeekers, one of the two who had accompanied the first squad from the city stepped forward. He was taller than the others, his silver-trimmed cloak swaying as he bowed his head slightly.
"Sir Asta," he began calmly, "I can assure you the child will be well cared for. We only wish to ensure that his power does not endanger himself, or the innocent citizens of Demacia." His tone softened slightly, almost diplomatic. "I would never harm a fellow Demacian."
Asta looked at him with a pitying look. "Why did you have to go and lie to me?" He said. "You really were going to hurt a child weren't you? Your own ki betrays you."
"Ki?" The MageSeeker said confused.
Asta turned back to Garen. "I understand that this is not my land. However, as I have found myself here for the time being that makes me an Emissary from the kingdom of Clover."
Garen stared at Asta as he understood what he was getting at. "...I see."
Garen's gaze lingered on Asta for a long, heavy moment. The sound of wind through the courtyard banners was the only thing moving between them now. The man's sheer audacity, to invoke diplomacy after nearly igniting a standoff, was something that even Garen couldn't decide whether to admire or condemn.
"You would claim the rights of an emissary," Garen finally said, his voice measured.
The tension in the air crackled like kindling about to catch fire. The MageSeekers behind Garen began to murmur among themselves, uncertain whether to take that as an insult or a declaration of war.
Darryl stood between them, clutching the edges of the oversized Black Bull cloak around his shoulders. The insignia, an absurd, grinning bull skull, hung down to his knees. He didn't understand all of it, but he knew one thing for certain, someone was standing up for him.
"Sir Garen," the silver-trimmed MageSeeker spoke again, his tone tightening. "This foreigner is making a mockery of Demacian law. Permission to restrain him."
Garen didn't answer immediately. His eyes moved to the boy, small, trembling, holding on to that cloak like it was a lifeline. Then to Asta, unarmed, defiant, and yet completely unwavering.
The MageSeekers took Garen's silence as consent. The two standing at the front stepped forward, lifting their staves as runes began to glow across their shafts.
Asta sighed, his voice calm but edged with warning. "Let it go already. He's under my protection now."
"Silence, foreigner!" one of the MageSeekers barked, his staff flaring with golden light.
Asta's eyes narrowed. For the briefest instant, Cithria could have sworn one of them flashed red. "I said," Asta repeated slowly, "let. It. Go."
Thwoom!
The world itself seemed to convulse. The sky turned crimson for a heartbeat as the deafening sound of thunder split the air. A shockwave burst outward from Asta's body, tearing through the courtyard in a violent gust that rattled armor and bent banners backward.
No one moved.
The MageSeeker who had raised his staff froze mid-motion, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. 'What… what is this? This presence? This feeling? What is happening?'
The air had become suffocating, thick and heavy, like invisible chains crushing down on every living thing.
'The air... it's so heavy. So this is the true power of a mage.' Cithria tried to draw her sword, but her fingers wouldn't respond. Her muscles locked under a weight that was not physical. Her heartbeat pounded so violently she thought it might burst. 'Is this even magic?'
Garen gritted his teeth and tried to step forward, only for his heel to lift an inch before slamming back down. "I… can't move," he muttered through clenched teeth. His leg felt like it had turned to stone.
Across from them, the MageSeeker's breath came out in short, ragged gasps. Panic twisted across his face as he dropped to one knee. 'Can't… breathe… It's like my body's being crushed from the inside out…'
And then, everything vanished.
The courtyard dissolved into darkness. The MageSeeker found himself suspended in a void, endless and cold. Two colossal crimson eyes opened before him, vast enough to swallow the horizon. They stared into him, through him, until every trace of thought dissolved into primal terror.
'Everything in my body is screaming. That If I stay here any longer… I'll…'
D. E. A. T. H.
His body went limp. The staff clattered against the stone as he collapsed, eyes rolled back, foam spilling from his mouth.
And just like that, it was over.
The pressure vanished. The sky returned to its calm blue, the courtyard silent save for the sound of the fallen MageSeeker's body hitting the ground.
Asta exhaled quietly, straightening as though nothing had happened. His expression was calm, but his eyes, those faintly glowing red eyes, told a different story.
Garen was the first to move, barely. His armor groaned as he turned toward the fallen MageSeeker, eyes wide with disbelief. The man lay twitching on the cobblestones, his staff rolling out of reach, faint trails of foam still clinging to his lips.
"What… what did you do to him?" Garen demanded, his voice low and cautious, though it lacked its usual authority.
Asta crouched, his tone softening again as he placed a reassuring hand on Darryl's shoulder. "You okay, kid?"
Darryl only nodded, still trembling but trying his best to hold his head up.
"That's good." Asta smiled, standing back up to face the gathered soldiers. "Now, I don't want any more trouble. The boy's coming with me. End of story."
"You can't just take him!" one of the MageSeekers barked, though his voice cracked mid-sentence.
Asta's eyes turned toward him, calm, yet sharp enough to make the man flinch. "Then try to stop me."
No one moved.
Even the birds that had once perched along the city walls had gone quiet.
Finally, Garen raised his hand again, this time not in command, but in restraint. "Enough," he said, his voice weary. He turned to the MageSeekers. "Stand down. That's an order."
"But sir..."
"I said stand down!"
The command echoed across the courtyard, leaving no room for defiance. The MageSeekers hesitated before slowly lowering their staves, though their glares lingered on Asta.
Satisfied, Garen looked back to the foreigner. "You've made your point, Asta. Take him, if you must."
"Sir..." One of the MageSeekers started to say.
"No." Garen's single word cut through the courtyard like a blade. "You will not lay a hand on him."
The MageSeeker's eyes widened. "But..."
"I said no." Garen's tone left no room for argument. "This matter falls under my jurisdiction now. Demacia will not be seen striking down an emissary before due inquiry."
Asta grinned faintly. "Heh. Knew you had a good head under all that armor."
"Don't push your luck," Garen muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
Cithria finally exhaled, lowering her sword. The crowd began to murmur again, some in disbelief, others in outrage. What they had witnessed was unheard of, a foreign knight forcing the hand of Demacia's most respected commander in the middle of the capital.
But amid the storm of whispers, Darryl's small, shaking voice rose again.
"I... I don't hate magic."
The words seemed to strike harder than any spell could have.
Every head turned toward him.
"I don't!" Darryl shouted, his voice cracking, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "I tried! I really tried to hate it like everyone else, but I can't!"
Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Some stepped back as though the confession itself were dangerous. A mother clutched her child closer; a soldier muttered a prayer.
Asta knelt beside him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Then don't," he said quietly. "You don't have to hate what you are."
Darryl sniffled, looking up at him, eyes wet. "But… everyone says I'm cursed."
"Then I guess I'm cursed too," Asta said with a wide grin. "Because I've never had magic, and I turned out just fine."
The boy blinked. "You… don't have magic?"
"Not a drop," Asta said, laughing softly. "And I still became a Magic Knight."
Cithria's hand tightened around her hilt again, not from hostility, but confusion. "A Magic knight… without magic?" she whispered under her breath.
Garen finally turned away, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I will have to report this to the Council," he muttered. "You've put me in an impossible position, Asta."
"Yeah," Asta said cheerfully. "I'm pretty good at that."
For a long time, no one spoke. Then Garen sighed. "Very well. Until the Council decides, the boy stays under your protection. But if you so much as bend the law while in Demacia, I won't hesitate to stop you myself. Even if it costs me my life."
"Fair enough." Asta extended his hand. "Guess that makes us temporary allies."
Garen hesitated, then clasped it firmly. "Temporary," he repeated.
As they shook hands, the courtyard began to disperse, whispers following them like a tide. The MageSeekers withdrew, reluctantly, their eyes burning with quiet fury.
Asta looked down at Darryl, who still clutched the cloak around him. "Looks like you're stuck with me, partner."
Darryl nodded slowly, a shaky smile forming on his face. "Okay… Captain Asta."
Asta grinned. "Heh. Still not used to that."