The arena was silent. The dust from the battles had settled, and the magical lights illuminating the colosseum hummed with a low, electric buzz. The thousands of spectators had gone quiet, sensing the shift in gravity. The violence was over. Now came the judgment.
Lencar stood in the lineup of battered and exhausted candidates. He was number 166. To his left stood Asta (165), shaking not from fear, but from the adrenaline crash and the gnawing anxiety that was finally piercing his thick skull. To Asta's left was Yuno (164), standing as still and composed as a marble statue.
The Proctor's voice cut through the heavy air. "The Combat Exam has concluded. Now, we begin the Magic Knights Entrance Selection."
He explained the rules, though everyone already knew them. Your number is called. The Captains who want you raise their hands. If one raises a hand, you must join that squad. If multiple raise their hands, you choose. If no hands are raised... you are dismissed.
"Candidate Number 1: Shimon Grimoire..."
"No hands."
"Next."
The process was brutal and efficient. Lencar watched with the detached eyes of an auditor reviewing a failing company's ledger. Dozens of candidates stepped forward, hope shining in their eyes, only to be met with the stony indifference of the nine gods on the balcony.
"Rejection rate is approximately 68%," Lencar muttered sub-vocally. "The market is saturated with mediocrity."
Finally, the numbers climbed into the 160s. The tension in the air spiked. Everyone knew who was next.
"Candidate Number 164: Yuno."
Yuno stepped forward. He didn't bow. He didn't fidget. He simply looked up.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, a sound like rustling silk filled the arena.
One hand went up. Then another. Then all of them.
Every single Captain had raised their hand. Even the sleepy Dorothy Unsworth had her hand lazily in the air. Even the arrogant Nozel Silva. Even the destructive Yami Sukehiro.
The crowd erupted. It was unprecedented. A peasant from the boonies receiving a unanimous offer? It broke every social metric the Kingdom held dear.
"Incredible..." Asta whispered, his eyes wide.
Yuno scanned the balcony. His eyes didn't waver. He looked past the Black Bulls, past the Silver Eagles. He locked eyes with the masked man in the center.
"I choose... the Golden Dawn."
William Vangeance stood up, his cape flowing. "A wise choice. We welcome you."
Yuno bowed once, turned, and walked away. He stopped briefly next to Asta. He didn't say 'good luck.' He didn't need to. The challenge had already been issued years ago.
"Candidate Number 165: Asta."
Asta stepped forward. He puffed out his chest. He gripped his hands into fists. I can do this, his body language screamed. I showed them my strength! I took down Sekke!
Lencar watched the balcony.
Silence.
Not a single hand was raised.
The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten seconds. It became physically painful. The crowd began to murmur. Then, the laughter started. Quiet at first, then spreading like a virus.
"See? I told you."
"No magic means no knight."
"He beat Sekke by luck. Without mana, he's just a laborer."
Asta stood frozen. The color drained from his face. His dream, the only thing that had fueled him through years of ridicule, was dissolving in front of him.
"This is the reality of the data," Lencar thought, feeling a twinge of something—pity? No, empathy was inefficient. This world runs on mana. Asta is an outlier. The system cannot process him, so it rejects him.
But outliers are where the most interesting data points hide.
Suddenly, a dark pressure crushed the arena. The laughter died instantly.
Yami Sukehiro had jumped from the balcony. He didn't use magic to slow his fall; he just slammed into the ground, cracking the stone. He walked toward Asta, trailing smoke and malice.
He stopped inches from Asta's face. Asta was trembling, terrified.
"They're not raising their hands because they don't know what to do with you," Yami growled, his voice deep and rough like grinding stones. "You have no magic. You're a bug. A chaotic element. No squad wants to risk their reputation on a variable they can't control."
Yami leaned in, his Ki flaring. "So, tell me, kid. What makes you think you can be the Wizard King? You can't even get a job."
Asta looked down, his body shaking. Then, he snapped his head up. His eyes were burning.
"I don't care if no one wants me!" Asta roared, shocking the silent crowd. "I'll prove them wrong! I'll work harder than anyone! I'll pile up merit until they have to acknowledge me! I will become the Wizard King!"
Yami stared at him. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
Then, Yami laughed. It was a loud, boisterous sound. "HA! You're crazy. But I like crazy."
Yami turned to the other captains. "If none of you want him, I'll take him. The Black Bulls need a gopher."
He looked back at Asta. "Get ready to die, kid. Welcome to the worst squad in the Kingdom."
Asta's jaw dropped, then tears welled in his eyes. "YES SIR! THANK YOU SIR!"
As Asta ran off, screaming with joy, the atmosphere in the arena shifted again. The freak show was over. The anomaly had been contained.