Six months had passed since Saru had received his grimoire—an ancient-looking tome wreathed in golden light, bound not by leather or thread but seemingly by will alone. The Black Bulls' base had not known a single day of peace since. Furniture had become animate. The walls sometimes sang. Once, the latrine flushed in reverse for three weeks.
And now, on the day of the Magic Knight Entrance Exam, the base was in full-blown panic.
"SARU!"
Magna's voice rang out as he stomped through the halls, eyes scanning every corner of the hideout. He kicked open a supply closet, half-expecting the Monkey to leap out with a banana bomb or worse.
Nothing.
"Where the hell is that brat?!"
Meanwhile, Gordon was gliding through the basement like a whispering ghost, murmuring, "Maybe… he turned into fog… or became one with the mushrooms again… I hope he's warm…"
"I checked the rooftop and every beam!" Luck said cheerfully as he popped down from the ceiling. His hair was frazzled from lightning magic, and there was soot on his face. "But I did find three raccoons in his hammock. Do we keep raccoons?"
"Of course not, you psycho!" Magna snapped. "Why would we—oh, never mind."
Upstairs, Vanessa was pacing in the common room, worry painted across her usually relaxed face. Her coat hung loosely over her shoulders, her curls half-tied. She bit her thumbnail as she spun in place. "Not in the kitchen, not in the laundry room… not even in Charmy's snack vault…"
"Saru never misses food," she muttered to herself. "That's not a good sign. That's not a good sign."
At that moment, Finral threw open the main door, eyes wide and sweating bullets.
"Yami!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Do you know where he is?! It's time for the exam and Saru is nowhere to be found!"
Outside, the sun shone peacefully, casting long shadows over the grassy clearing. Yami stood near the entrance of the base, one hand in his pocket, the other raising a cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag and exhaled a slow stream of smoke, completely unbothered.
"How the hell should I know?" he said flatly. "You think anyone can predict what that little bastard's gonna do?"
Finral flailed, panic making his voice go up an octave. "But in the entire Clover Kingdom, the only person he ever listens to is you!"
Yami turned and stared at Finral like he'd grown a second head. "Since when has that monkey ever listened to anyone?"
Before Finral could answer, Vanessa burst through the doors, panting, her cheeks flushed from running. "We've searched every inch of the base! He's not here!" Her voice trembled with something deeper than panic. "What if he's gone off on one of his rampages again?! What if he gets disqualified?! What if he—!"
She stopped, clutching her coat tight around her.
Yami flicked ash to the side, expression unreadable. "Relax. If there's one thing I know about that brat, it's that he doesn't miss out on a good time. My guess? He's already at the venue."
Vanessa stared at him for a moment, searching his face for certainty. "You really think so?"
"Yeah." He exhaled again. "This kind of mess is his idea of foreplay."
Finral stepped between them and clapped his hands. "We'd better hurry, then! If we're late, we're the ones who'll catch hell!" With a dramatic flick, he opened a swirling portal to the capital.
Vanessa took one last glance over her shoulder toward the base, still hoping Saru might drop from the chimney or crash through the roof.
But the only sound was the wind.
They stepped through.
The Magic Knight Entrance Exam venue buzzed with energy. The circular stone arena was surrounded by stadium-style seating and towering battlements. Nobles in crisp robes and commoners in patched cloaks filled every corner, united by one thing—hope. Boys and girls, all fifteen, each dreaming of glory, stood waiting for the exam to begin.
Excitement filled the air like charged magic.
"I'm getting nervous…" muttered a blonde noble, tugging his sleeves as he shifted from foot to foot.
Nearby, a tall commoner slapped at the air, ducking repeatedly. "Oww—what the hell is with these birds?!"
Dark shapes swooped over the heads of the crowd. The infamous anti-magic birds. Black-feathered nuisances trained to seek out low mana. The less magic you had, the more they tormented you.
"They're called anti-magic birds," a smirking noble explained, adjusting his cloak with pride. "The weaker your magic, the more they peck at you. Simple as that."
He puffed out his chest. Only two birds rested lazily on his shoulders.
Then his eyes landed on someone at the center of the crowd. The boy stood utterly still, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed ahead. Not a single bird went near him.
"Hey… look at him!"
"No way…"
"Not a single anti-magic bird?"
"That's the guy, right? From the boonies!"
"The one with the four-leaf clover grimoire?!"
Whispers erupted.
Yuno didn't acknowledge them. He simply stood, calm and unbothered, confident in his strength.
Until it arrived.
A shriek tore through the air—a new kind of squawk, louder, shriller. A brown bird with a wild mane of feathers divebombed from the sky, cackling like a demon.
"What the—" Yuno blinked.
PECK PECK PECK!
"HEY—STOP THAT!"
The bird latched onto his head, stabbing with its beak like a hyperactive woodpecker. Wind magic surged—but the bird didn't flinch. In fact, it cheered, flapping faster.
"WHAT IS THIS THING?!" Yuno cried, flailing as the bird danced on his face.
Then, just as quickly, the brown menace lost interest and zipped away—leaving Yuno's perfectly styled hair puffed and mangled like a scarecrow's. He stood frozen in disbelief, a twitch in his cheek.
The bird did not stop.
It launched into the crowd like a missile of chaos.
PECK!
"Gah!"
FLAPFLAPFLAP
"MY EYES!"
It descended on every poor soul in sight, leading the charge like a demonic general. The anti-magic birds followed in its wake, energized by its lunacy.
And then—Asta.
The poor boy was already buried under a cloud of angry birds. The moment the brown one locked eyes on him, it let out a triumphant war cry.
"NOT ME! ANYONE BUT ME!" Asta yelled, trying to run. He was already hunched over, arms flailing wildly, but the addition of the brown bird was too much.
"MAKE IT STOP! I'M BEING EATEN ALIVE!"
Nearby participants cracked up.
"Look at that guy!"
"Hah! He's got every bird on him!"
"Is that a scarecrow or a person?!"
"I'm dying—someone get him a stick!"
As Asta tore across the crowded exam grounds, screaming like a banshee with feathers, he ducked, rolled, and twisted, desperate to shake off the small army of Anti-Magic Birds assaulting him from every angle. And leading them—like a general of mischief—was that same ugly brown bird with a shaggy mane and sharp, glittering eyes that had pestered everyone since morning.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!!" Asta cried, arms flailing, eyes wild. "I DON'T EVEN HAVE MAGIC, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!"
He wasn't looking where he was going.
Thud.
Asta slammed chest-first into a broad, unmoving figure—solid as a wall and twice as imposing. He bounced off like a rubber ball and fell flat on his back, blinking stars from his eyes. The Anti-Magic Birds scattered at once, startled by the collision—all except one.
That mangy brown bird.
The bird hovered, staring down at the man Asta had just crashed into, and to Asta's horror, its sharp little eyes glimmered with playful recognition.
"Oh man…" Asta muttered, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. "Sorry for bumping into you, mister—"
"You wanna die, runt?" came the low, growling reply.
Asta froze.
Before him stood a tall, muscular man with dark hair, a black cloak, and the scariest eyes Asta had ever seen outside a nightmare. Magic pressure rolled off him like smoke. A vein popped on his forehead. His cigarette hung from his lips like a warning.
The man was pissed.
But just as he reached for his sword—likely to turn Asta into paste—a sudden peck on the top of his head paused him mid-motion.
The brown bird had landed on Yami Sukehiro.
And was now pecking the captain of the Black Bulls like he was no different from the rest of the exam goers.
Yami reached up calmly and grabbed the bird in one hand.
"You little bastard," he muttered. "I was wondering where you flew off to. Playing stupid pranks again, huh?"
The bird squawked and thrashed in Yami's grip like it had no intention of going quietly.
Asta sat there with his jaw halfway to the floor. "Wait… wait… he's talking to the bird?!"
Yami sighed and held the creature up at eye level. "Now's not the time for games, kid. Transform back already—the exam's about to start."
The chaos stopped.
The bird fell still.
And then—light.
A soft, golden glow enveloped the bird's body. Feathers fluttered in the air, drifting like dandelions in the wind. The shape in Yami's hand began to shift—elongating, stretching, morphing.
A boy emerged.
Fifteen, maybe. Wild brown-black hair tousled every which way, untamed as always. A loose white shirt hung off his lean frame, paired with blue pants tucked into martial arts boots. Bead bracelets clinked lightly on his wrist, and a matching necklace gleamed in the sun. He grinned, hanging upside down from Yami's grip like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Heheh… You caught me again, Yami."
Saru.
The Monkey of the Black Bulls.
The entire courtyard went dead silent.
One by one, the participants, nobles and commoners alike, recognized the boy who'd been tormenting them in bird form for hours. Faces contorted with dawning horror, frustration, and disbelief.
"THAT bird was—?!"
"No way—he was the monkey brat?!"
"He's been pecking my head since sunrise!"
A noble girl stomped her foot, red-faced. "He flew off with my hairpin! That was a family heirloom!"
Saru dropped from Yami's grip and landed with an easy crouch, still grinning. "What can I say? You guys were easy targets."
"YOU LITTLE—!"
Several exam-goers nearly lunged at him—until they felt Yami's gaze pin them in place.
"Touch him and you're out before the exam even starts," Yami muttered, smoke curling lazily from his lips.
That was enough.
Most grumbled and turned away, rubbing their heads or glaring daggers, but no one dared make another move.
Meanwhile, Asta's brain had finally restarted.
"YOU'RE—YOU'RE A KID?! I MEAN—YOU WERE A BIRD—AND THEN—AND THEN YOU TURNED INTO A KID?!"
Saru turned to him, amused. "Yup."
"That was magic?! Transformation?! How'd you even do that?! That's so COOL!"
Saru raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"HECK YEAH! You tricked everyone!" Asta said, his panic fully replaced by awe. "That's gotta be some crazy transformation spell or something! Are you from a noble house?! Do you have bird magic?!"
Saru burst into laughter. "Nope. Just me being me."
Yuno, watching from nearby, narrowed his eyes. The calm, composed prodigy didn't speak at first, but the flicker of surprise in his sharp gaze gave him away. He hadn't expected that—not the transformation, not the power, and certainly not the aura that still lingered in the air around Saru like leftover lightning after a storm.
He walked forward, arms crossed. "That bird annoyed me all morning."
Saru flashed him a grin. "That's because you're too serious. Lighten up."
Yuno didn't reply. He simply turned away, but the tension in his shoulders remained. He was watching now—closely.
The rest of the exam crowd parted around Saru like he was made of fire and mischief rolled into one. Mutterings followed him like shadows.
"That's the one from the Black Bulls…"
"He got a four-leaf grimoire, didn't he?"
"They say he rides a cloud…"
"I heard he peed on a noble's house from a rooftop—"
Saru just stretched his arms overhead and yawned.
"Man, that was fun."
Yami groaned. "Just don't start a riot before the exam begins."
"No promises," Saru replied cheerfully.
And just like that, the Monkey of the Black Bulls stepped into the arena—with a grin, a swagger, and a crowd full of irritated exam-goers wondering what storm had just landed in their midst.
And the exam… hadn't even started yet.