Black Bulls Base
To begin this tale, I must first introduce myself. I am a book—Azazel by name. Not an angel, nor a demon, but a fragment of a fallen library, imbued with sentience. My pages hold the knowledge of Black Clover, and I am tasked with recording the story of one particular individual: Loyce, in this iteration of the world that the lower gods call Black Clover.
Morning at the Black Bulls' Base
The morning light filtered through the window, casting its glow upon a fifteen-year-old boy. His black hair lay tousled from sleep, and as his amber eyes flickered open, a sheen of cold sweat glistened on his skin. Despite his usually calm demeanor, something had unsettled him.
Loyce sat up in bed—a simple brown frame with white sheets and a black blanket, a practical choice for temperature control. Beside him, on a small nightstand, sat a cup filled with his favorite drink—pomegranate juice—next to a steak and cheese sandwich he had prepared the night before. Oddly, he ignored it today.
It had been years since Loyce found himself reborn into the world of Black Clover. Now, he lived among the Black Bulls.
"So, Loyce, how'd you sleep?"
He exhaled sharply. "I thought you said that method would help me sleep better."
I observed him carefully. He didn't look disgusted, but I knew the truth—he found my presence unsettling. He had been my keeper since his father entrusted me to him, along with the blue stone necklace he now wore.
Loyce had manifested his magic early, but control remained a challenge. To remedy this, I granted him access to his father's spells. However, magic is tied to the soul, and though the attribute was the same, he was not his father. His body rejected the spells, causing severe backlash—a consequence of my forceful implantation.
"Loyce, it will only work if you stop forcing it."
A tired sigh. "Fine... I'm heading to the black market. Need anything?"
My spine needed new thread. Hopefully, he would find some enchanted thread. I had to avoid that witch at all costs—if she saw me, all my plans would be ruined.
Without another word, he locked me in a drawer. It didn't matter. My soul was chained to his—he could never truly be rid of me.
Loyce's POV
I took a bite of my sandwich, glancing around the room.
Don't forget my thread.
"Yeah, yeah," I thought back. "I already told you—if I find it at a good price, I'll buy it."
Fair enough. Wait—what are you looking at?
"The casino. Thinking about gambling everything."
No, you idiot. That old hag will clean you out.
"We'll see about that."
Look, I wouldn't care if it didn't involve my thread money, but it does. So listen—that old lady? The one with the sack of yul? That's the current Wizard King in disguise.
I paused. "Damn. I was hoping to scam some Green Mantis knights."
Oh? You thinking of snitching to Marx for a pay raise?
"If it gets us richer, why not?"
Sellout.
"So what? If it works, we get the money."
Fine. I'll contact Marx.
"Wait—you can do that?"
No. He'll just think it's you.
A glowing magic circle flickered in front of me as Marx's communication spell activated. His face appeared, looking as irritated as ever.
"Loyce, I'm busy. What is it?"
"I found him." No need for clarification—he already knew who I meant.
"Where?"
"First, let's discuss a salary increase."
A heavy sigh. "How much?"
"500%."
Marx winced but, to my surprise, agreed.
I gestured toward the old woman. "See that little granny with the huge sack of yul? That's just a transformation spell."
Seconds later, Julius revealed himself.
"Marx, how'd you find me?" the Wizard King asked, grinning sheepishly.
Let's go.
Yeah, we both knew how this would play out—Julius would start asking questions, Marx would scold him until he gave up, and then he'd return to the castle like nothing happened.
"Think he'll be mad?"
Nah. Julius doesn't hold grudges.
The Black Market
"Thread. Buy me the thread."
"You idiot, I'm the one paying for it."
The vendor was an older man, likely in his sixties. As he counted the coins and handed back my change, something felt off.
"Wait... I don't think I paid that much."
Hah. Who's the idiot now? Overpaying like you still live in an era where people actually give change.
I gritted my teeth but said nothing. He—no, it—was right. I had forgotten how cutthroat economics could be.
I shifted my focus. "I should probably buy everyone gifts, right? Since I got promoted and all."
I wouldn't know. I can't see your memories. But if you're asking whether it's a cultural norm—no, it's not.
"I just thought it'd be nice. I am their new vice captain, after all."
You know that's only because Julius suggested it, right? Yami didn't actually want another vice captain. But you do have a new rank coming at the annual award ceremony.
I didn't bother questioning how he knew that. He—no, it—just did.
"How does a book even have a gender?"
I'm bound to you. I take your gender.
"Sir, you're blocking my other customers," the vendor snapped. I stepped aside, shaking my head.
Gifts for the Squad
In the end, I bought:
A five-month flower shop subscription for Finral—he'd appreciate it.A duel with Luck—not exactly a gift, but he'd enjoy it more than anything I can buy.A crate of smuggled Heart Kingdom fruits for Charmy. How they got here? Not my problem.A stockpile of booze for Vanessa—because what else does she love?Picture frames for Gauche—he'd need more for his ever-growing Marie collection.A mirror and a note for Grey—she'd understand.A sword repair kit, loaded dice, and marked playing cards for Yami—because I'm tired of him gambling away his clothes.Notes containing things I noticed about Gordon for GordonAnd for Magna, a mana ring from Dominante Code—it increased spell efficiency.
"Wish the ring worked for me."
But they didn't. Magic wasn't that simple.
And so, I made my way back to the Black Bulls' base, arms full, my sentient book nagging in my mind.
Somehow, this was my life now.