Prompt: As a last-ditch effort, Lucius casts a spell to show everyone how perfect life could be—a world without Asta, a world where he reigns supreme. But it backfires spectacularly. And few take it harder than Noelle.
—
The sky cracked open like glass.
Light poured down—not golden, not divine.
Wrong.
Noelle's breath caught as her Sea Dragon's Cradle dissolved around her.
Mana disruption? No—something worse.
All around her, the battlefield froze.
Fists halfway to connecting.
Spells mid-flight.
Even the wind held its breath.
And then she saw him.
Lucius.
Hovering above them, robes pristine, halo of false holiness burning behind his head.
He wasn't panicking.
He was smiling.
"No more fighting," he said. His voice echoed inside her skull. "It's time you all saw the truth."
Noelle's hand clenched around her wand.
"What are you planning?" she hissed.
Lucius raised one hand.
His grimoire spun open beside him, pages flipping faster than wind could cause.
She felt it immediately.
Space-time magic.
But layered. Twisted with something unfamiliar.
Memory? Soul?
She couldn't tell.
The mana pressure made her knees buckle.
"This world was cursed the day that boy was born," Lucius said calmly. "Let me show you how much better it could've been… without him."
No.
Noelle's eyes widened.
Not him.
Not—
ASTA.
She surged forward, but it was already too late.
The spell released in a silent pulse.
No flame. No explosion.
Just—white.
It swallowed the horizon.
Yami vanished.
Then Vanessa. Luck. Grey. Finral.
Yuno.
Asta.
"No—!"
She screamed, mana surging wildly.
But there was nothing to fight.
Nothing to block.
The light passed through her like a breath.
And then the world was gone.
No battlefield. No friends. No Asta.
Just a soft, cold hum—
—and the beginning of a thousand lives where he never existed.
—
The first thing Noelle felt was cold.
Not wind.
Not snow.
Just that old, familiar chill of a house too big and too empty.
Her eyes opened slowly.
The battlefield was gone.
The sky outside was dim, overcast, weighed down with clouds like wet wool.
She was standing in the Silva estate.
Again.
Her room—no, the room. The one they locked her in after Acier died.
Same velvet curtains. Same marble floor. Same gold-framed mirror that didn't show her reflection right.
Her body was smaller.
Younger.
No grimoire.
No robe.
Just a stiff lilac dress and bare feet.
A child's body.
But her mind—still hers. The real Noelle. Trapped.
"No…"
She turned, heart pounding.
No Asta.
No anyone.
Just silence.
Then the door opened.
Nebra.
Eyes sharp. Smile cruel. Holding a silver tray with tea she didn't make and bread she wouldn't eat.
"Oh. You're awake," she said flatly.
Noelle didn't answer.
Nebra stepped into the room, placing the tray on a side table.
"Still sulking? Tch. You know it's your fault, right?"
Noelle's nails dug into her palms.
"...What is?"
Nebra raised a brow. "Mother's death."
There it was.
Like a slap.
Noelle flinched, but she'd heard this line so many times before.
"I didn't—"
"Of course you didn't mean to," Nebra snapped. "But it still happened."
The words fell like bricks.
"You were born," she continued, adjusting her earrings in the mirror. "And she died."
She turned with a smile that didn't touch her eyes.
"Even the maids say so."
Not real, Noelle reminded herself. This isn't real.
But her chest still hurt.
It always hurt.
The door opened again.
Solid.
Taller. Smirking. Sword on his hip like he'd earned it.
"Still crying?" he said, striding in. "Gods, what a disgrace."
Noelle stepped back.
"You're not real," she whispered.
"What?"
"You're not real!"
She tried to cast. To summon water. Anything.
Nothing came.
No spell. No mana flow.
Like she'd never trained a day in her life.
Solid's grin widened.
"What, trying to fight back now?" he scoffed. "Too late."
He stepped forward, grabbed her by the collar, and shoved her back into the wall.
Not hard.
Not gentle, either.
Just like he always did.
"Why are you even still in this house?" he hissed. "You're a stain. You're useless."
Her heart thudded wildly.
Still no mana.
Still no escape.
"Stop," she whispered.
"You know what Nozel said?" Solid laughed. "That you'll never be allowed to fight. Not even as a joke."
"Shut up…"
"You'll never get a grimoire. Never join a squad. You'll just rot here. That's all you're good for."
"Shut up—!"
But her scream cracked into a sob.
Her legs gave out.
She slid down the wall as Solid turned and left, laughing to himself.
Nebra didn't even look back.
The door shut.
And the silence returned.
—
Days passed.
Or maybe weeks.
Time meant nothing in that place.
She ate in silence. Slept in silence.
No training.
No missions.
No warmth.
Just memories of lives she should've had.
And the creeping numbness that told her maybe this was all she ever was.
Noelle stared out her window.
Below, Solid sparred with royal guards.
Above, Nebra laughed with noble guests.
Somewhere in the estate, Nozel discussed diplomacy and legacy and heirs that mattered.
And she—
She was just a locked-away name.
An embarrassment with no magic control and no voice to scream.
—
She snuck out once.
Crept through the halls.
Made it to the Royal Library.
She read everything she could.
Water magic. Control theory. Spell structure. Focus techniques.
She tried.
Night after night.
Hour after hour.
In secret.
In silence.
And nothing changed.
Her mana wouldn't listen.
Her heart wouldn't stop shaking.
And no one cared.
—
One day, she dared to ask.
"Nozel," she said quietly, standing at the edge of his study. "Please… I want to fight. I want to be useful."
He didn't turn to her.
Didn't even look.
"You'd only embarrass us."
The words were soft. Dismissive. Like he was brushing off dust.
"You'll stay here where you can't ruin anything."
And that was that.
—
Noelle sat on her bedroom floor that night.
Staring at her hands.
So many lifetimes. So many possibilities.
She'd been a Queen in one. A traitor in another. A soldier. A monster. A runaway.
But this…
This was the one that hurt the most.
Because she never even tried.
Without Asta's voice. Without his stubborn praise. Without his blinding, impossible faith—
—she gave up before she began.
She was a shadow.
A memory.
A ghost.
She curled in on herself.
And she cried.
—
A whisper slithered in her ear.
Lucius, again.
Watching.
Always watching.
"See how peaceful it is?" he murmured. "No battles. No chaos. No wild card to upset the order."
Noelle didn't answer.
"Isn't this what the noble world wanted for you?" he asked. "Safety. Silence. Containment."
She looked up, face soaked, eyes dull.
"You call this peace?" she rasped.
Lucius knelt beside her.
"Better than being broken," he said.
She stared at him.
Then, quietly—smiling through tears—she said:
"I am broken."
And the world shattered again.
—
It started the same way.
Cold air.
The scent of saltwater.
Noelle blinked.
She wasn't in the Silva estate this time.
She stood on the cliffs above Sosshi Village.
The sea raged below, churning hard against the rocks. Wind tore at her cloak.
She was older.
Her body was stronger.
Black Bull robe on her back.
Grimoire at her side.
This timeline… I made it onto a squad.
But something felt off.
Her heart was already racing, like she knew something was wrong.
Where's Asta?
She scanned the field.
Magna stood ahead, fists lit with fire.
Luck was crouched low, lightning buzzing through his arms.
Vanessa flicked her wrist, threads trailing from her fingers.
Noelle stood behind them, hands trembling, spell ready.
The villagers were still being evacuated.
The Eye of the Midnight Sun was still approaching.
And she remembered this day.
This fight.
The first time they truly stood together.
The first time she protected someone.
The first time Asta—
He's not here.
The realization slammed into her like a brick.
Her breath caught.
Asta wasn't with them.
But Luck and Vanessa were this time.
They were on a different mission—or maybe they didn't exist at all.
The spell she knew—Sea Dragon's Lair—she hadn't mastered it.
Her mana was twitchy. Erratic. Barely under control.
She could feel it roiling inside her like a storm with no eye.
"Oi! Noelle!" Magna shouted. "You good back there?"
She nodded stiffly.
He gave a thumbs-up. "Just do what you can. We'll handle the rest."
The enemy stepped out of the trees.
Heath.
Same smile. Same frost-covered hands.
He opened his grimoire.
The battle exploded.
—
It was chaos.
Lightning and flame slammed into ice.
Vanessa's threads yanked people out of danger.
Noelle stood behind, waiting for an opening.
Waiting to protect.
Waiting for the moment.
Her heart pounded.
She tried to form a spell.
Water coiled.
Good.
She breathed in.
Steady—
And then a villager screamed.
A child had wandered back into the open field.
She didn't think.
Noelle surged forward.
A dome of water exploded around her.
Unrefined. Messy.
But it worked.
The child hit the ground just outside the blast zone.
Safe.
But the water didn't stop.
It surged out of control.
Like a dam burst.
Like everything inside her came loose.
"No—no, stop—!"
She couldn't reel it back.
Couldn't feel her magic anymore.
It was just water.
Crushing. Collapsing. Drowning.
It hit Magna first.
He turned in surprise.
Didn't even scream.
The blast took him straight off his feet—straight into Heath's spell.
He never had a chance.
The ice pierced through his chest.
Vanessa shrieked.
Luck went still.
Noelle froze.
Her magic finally died down.
Silence.
The field was wrecked.
So were they.
Magna's body lay still, steam rising from his wounds.
His grimoire fluttered beside him in the dirt, pages soaked.
Noelle stumbled forward.
"Magna…?"
No answer.
She dropped to her knees.
Hands shaking.
Blood on her sleeves.
Her spell hadn't saved him.
It killed him.
—
The debrief was cold.
Unfeeling.
Yami wasn't there.
Finral had gone to get backup.
The squad was fractured.
The townspeople were quiet. Afraid.
Vanessa didn't speak to her.
Luck wouldn't look at her.
I didn't mean to… I didn't—
She tried to explain.
No one listened.
Back at base, she waited for someone to ask if she was okay.
No one did.
—
Then the summons came.
House Silva refused to take her back.
"She's disgraced herself," Nebra said.
"She's a threat," Nozel stated.
The Magic Parliament reviewed the mission report.
Accidental death.
Uncontrolled mana.
Liability.
Her name was quietly removed from the official Black Bull roster.
No ceremony.
No speech.
No goodbye.
Just a folded robe, placed on her bed.
A sealed letter of exile.
—
She wandered the capital for a while.
Slept in alleys.
Ate scraps.
Sometimes saw people whispering about her.
The one who got a fellow Knight killed.
The cursed girl.
The mistake.
She tried to leave the Clover Kingdom.
Tried to cross the border.
Got caught.
Thrown into a holding cell.
No one visited.
Not a single person.
Not even Nozel.
Not even Yami.
—
Eventually, they let her go.
No criminal record.
No charges.
Just quiet exile.
A paper that said she was never to be admitted into any squad again.
She signed it with shaking hands.
And walked away.
—
She lived in the mountains after that.
Alone.
Found an abandoned hut.
Started growing herbs. Catching rainwater.
Talking to herself.
There were no mirrors.
No robes.
No spells.
Just silence.
—
She forgot what her voice sounded like.
Stopped keeping time.
Some days she practiced spells again.
Just to feel something.
Just to pretend she still could.
But the water never shaped right.
The mana never held.
And her hands—
—always shook.
—
Lucius appeared again.
White robes pristine.
Same smug calm.
He stepped through the door like it belonged to him.
"Look at you," he said. "Finally at peace."
She didn't look at him.
Just stared at the kettle boiling over.
He sat across from her.
"Tell me… do you miss him?"
Her throat tightened.
She said nothing.
Lucius smiled.
"Asta would've stood in front of you that day."
"He would've encouraged you. Caught your spell. Protected Magna."
"But he wasn't there."
"And so, you destroyed everything."
Her shoulders shook.
He reached over.
Tilted her chin up.
"Do you see now?" he whispered. "He only delayed your collapse. He didn't fix it. He made it worse."
She stared at him, dead-eyed.
Then whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear:
"Get out."
Lucius blinked.
Her hand rose.
Mana surged—wild and cracked and trembling.
But it answered.
Just barely.
Water gathered in the air.
Not stable. Not lethal.
Just enough to matter.
"I said—get out."
The illusion broke.
The hut melted.
The trees burned.
And the world collapsed again.
—
She didn't recognize the room.
White walls. Gold trim. Velvet curtains.
Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, but it felt cold.
Too clean.
Too still.
Noelle sat at the edge of a bed she didn't remember lying on.
Her reflection stared back from a full-length mirror.
A white gown.
Lace gloves.
Her silver hair done up in a braided twist, pinned with pearls.
A tiara sat on her head.
Not a royal one.
Not for a queen.
A bride.
Noelle blinked.
Then blinked again.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Lady Noelle," said a maid. "It's time."
—
She didn't move.
The room spun.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
This isn't real.
But it felt real.
Her hands were trembling.
She could hear music playing faintly down the corridor—elegant, ceremonial, slow.
The kind nobles used when sealing deals that had nothing to do with love.
A voice called from deeper in the palace.
"Announcing the wedding of Lord Coltis de Granter and Lady Noelle Silva—"
She flinched.
Coltis.
She didn't know him.
Had never met him in her real life.
But in this one, she knew everything.
He was a lesser noble.
A vassal of House Silva.
Rich.
Powerful.
And looking for a Silva bride to raise his status.
Her siblings had offered her like a coin across a table.
Because she wasn't useful.
Because her magic was unstable.
Because without Asta—
I never got stronger.
She wasn't in the Black Bulls.
Wasn't a knight at all.
Just a pawn to be married off.
A problem to be handed away.
—
The ceremony went forward.
She was walked down the aisle by a butler.
Not Nozel.
Not even a distant cousin.
Just a servant doing his duty.
The guests didn't cheer.
They watched like they were studying a painting.
Judging.
Evaluating.
She stood beside her groom.
He didn't even look at her.
Eyes straight ahead.
His breath smelled like wine.
—
When the priest asked if she accepted him, she didn't answer.
A pause stretched.
Someone coughed.
Coltis glanced sideways.
Squeezed her hand.
Hard.
"Smile," he hissed. "You belong to me now."
The illusion cracked.
Not the spell—her composure.
Her lip trembled.
She looked at the ring.
Looked at the aisle.
At the door.
Nobody from the Black Bulls was there.
No Magna.
No Vanessa.
Not even Charmy.
There was no one waiting to object.
No one barging in to save her.
No one shouting "Noelle!" like they used to.
Because Asta didn't exist.
So she was alone.
Utterly.
—
She ran.
She didn't wait for the vows.
Didn't wait for the guards.
She lifted her gown and ran.
Out of the hall.
Down the steps.
Through the garden.
People shouted behind her.
But she didn't stop.
Didn't slow down.
Even when her shoes broke.
Even when the gravel tore her feet.
Even when her veil blew off.
She kept running.
Into the woods.
Into the dark.
Into the wild.
—
It took them hours to stop searching.
She curled under a tree by a riverbank, dress ruined, hair matted, chest heaving.
When the sun rose, she didn't go back.
She drank from the river.
Tore the sleeves off her dress.
Found a village two days later and stole a cloak from a laundry line.
—
Time passed.
Seasons turned.
She stopped being Lady Noelle.
No one knew her name anymore.
She took odd jobs.
Waitressed at inns.
Cleaned kitchens.
Always left before people asked too many questions.
Always wore a hood.
Never used magic.
Her grimoire sat untouched in the bottom of her satchel.
Still glowing faintly.
Still waiting.
She never opened it.
—
One night, she heard a bard playing in a tavern.
A song about the Wizard King.
And the Hero from Hage.
She froze.
Hage.
She remembered the name like a lightning strike.
The memory hurt.
Not because it was clear.
But because it wasn't.
A blank space in her life that felt like it was supposed to be full.
Someone should've been there.
Someone should've saved her.
Someone would have.
—
Lucius visited her in a dream that night.
He wore the same white robes.
Same gentle smile.
He looked around her tiny inn room like he was observing livestock.
"Are you happier now?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
"You escaped your cage," he continued. "You fled your chains. And yet…"
He stepped closer.
"You're still small."
"You're still alone."
She turned her back.
Pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
"Leave me alone," she whispered.
He crouched beside the bed.
"Why?"
His voice was like silk.
"You've finally become what the world always wanted from you. Quiet. Powerless. Forgotten."
She said nothing.
He leaned in.
"Without him… you became nothing."
Her throat tightened.
She closed her eyes.
Lucius stood, satisfied.
The illusion started to fade.
The room crumbled.
The walls cracked.
But just before it all vanished—
—she whispered one name.
"Asta…"
—
And then she fell again.
Through air.
Through time.
Through memory.
Her soul splintering with every life.
Every heartbreak.
Every missing piece.
—
The screams were distant.
She barely heard them anymore.
They echoed off castle walls. Reverberated down marbled halls. Faded like wind through stained glass.
Noelle stood alone on the throne.
The air smelled like ash and perfume.
Beneath her boot, the blood hadn't dried yet.
—
The throne room used to be her father's.
Then Nozel's.
Then Lucius's, briefly—before she ended him.
Now it was hers.
Wizard Queen Noelle Silva.
She'd carved the title into history with ice and steel.
They called her The Silver Empress.
They dared not call her anything else.
—
She ruled with elegance and terror.
Kept her court immaculate, silent, and afraid.
Every noble in the Clover Kingdom bowed lower than they ever had to Augustus or Julius.
Because she didn't tolerate failure.
Didn't accept disrespect.
Didn't forgive.
—
Today, it was a noblewoman from House Roselei who dared to whisper that the Queen's policies were cruel.
Noelle's response was quiet.
Cold.
Final.
Sea Dragon's Roar.
Right there in the courtroom.
No trial.
No warning.
The walls were still dripping.
—
People said she was born like this.
That she'd always been strong, proud, merciless.
But it was a lie.
She knew it was a lie.
She wasn't born cruel.
She was made.
—
In this world, she grew strong without Asta.
Without the Black Bulls.
Without friends.
No one told her it was okay to make mistakes.
No one laughed when she messed up.
No one cheered when she got better.
There were no second chances.
So she gave herself none.
—
At first, it was just survival.
Controlling her magic.
Training in secret.
Hiding her grief behind perfection.
But once she reached the top, there was nothing.
No joy.
No peace.
Just power and silence.
—
She sat in the throne every day and watched the sun rise behind glass towers.
A palace full of people.
And not one of them saw her.
—
Sometimes she wondered why she still remembered the name Asta.
He didn't exist.
Not in this world.
Not in any record.
But his name haunted her.
An echo.
A ghost.
She could never quite recall the face.
But she remembered a feeling.
Warmth.
Chaos.
Someone shouting her name like it mattered.
—
One night, she stood on the palace balcony.
The city stretched before her like a map.
Fires burned in the poor districts.
Someone was crying in the distance.
She tightened her grip on the railing.
Is this what I wanted?
Wasn't this the goal?
To be strong?
To make her family proud.
To make the kingdom fear her.
To never be humiliated again.
To never feel weak again.
But now…
Now she felt nothing at all.
—
Noelle returned to the throne.
She dismissed the guards.
Sat in the cold silence.
She wanted someone to argue with.
To challenge her.
To tell her she was being stupid.
To tell her "You're amazing, Noelle!"
But no one did.
They were all dead.
Or too afraid.
Or never existed in the first place.
—
Lucius appeared again.
Of course he did.
Wearing white.
Smiling.
Like always.
He clapped slowly as he walked toward her throne.
"Well done," he said.
"You reached your full potential."
"You're the strongest woman alive."
She stared at him blankly.
"Why does it feel like I lost?"
Lucius tilted his head.
"Because you did."
"You lost yourself."
She frowned.
"Was that the plan?" she asked.
"To turn me into this?"
"No," he said. "You did that all on your own."
"Without him."
Without Asta.
—
The name hit like a hammer.
She stood from her throne, fists trembling.
"I don't need anyone," she snapped.
Her voice cracked.
Lucius stepped closer.
"You don't even believe that."
"You remember him, don't you?"
She turned away.
He kept speaking.
"You remember how he made you feel."
"Like you were more than your family."
"Like you were more than your magic."
"Like you were enough."
She gritted her teeth.
"I forgot him."
"No," Lucius whispered.
"You buried him."
"And that's okay. That flaw—that disgusting thing—should be buried and forgotten. Forever."
"He only ever held you back—"
She whirled and summoned a spell—
But the magic fizzled.
Her grimoire lay shut beside the throne.
Dusty.
Unopened.
Unused.
—
And then the vision changed.
The throne room cracked.
The walls shattered like mirrors.
Glass fell from the sky like rain.
The false world was breaking apart.
Lucius stepped back into the darkness.
But his voice remained.
"You got everything you thought you wanted."
"Power. Control. Respect."
"But none of it mattered without him."
"Come to my world—a world without Asta. A world where you matter. Where you're whole. Where your mother, your father, your siblings... all of them are with you again. Everything you've ever lost."
"A world where you'll want for nothing, so long as you follow me. Come to my world, Noelle Silva."
—
Noelle dropped to her knees.
The empty room collapsed around her.
The crown slid from her head.
The robe slipped off her shoulders.
Everything turned to dust.
She whispered into the void.
"Asta…"
Repeating the name, that was leaving her thoughts like a final anchor to keep her same.
A name that had nearly lost the face to match it to.
—
And then—
—she fell again.
Downward.
Weightless.
Screaming.
Sobbing.
Grasping for something.
Anything.
—
But there was no hand to catch her.
Not yet.
Only more lives waiting below.
More pain.
More versions of herself.
Each more broken than the last.
—
It was endless.
A parade of lives, blinking past her eyes like pages in a cursed book she couldn't stop reading.
Each one worse than the last.
Each one a world without him.
—
In one life, she drowned.
Not in water—but in pressure.
The Silva family made her train until her hands bled, until her lungs collapsed, until her heart stopped mid-spell in a palace courtyard.
Nozel didn't cry.
No one did.
—
In another, Nozel didn't pull favors for her, and she never made it past the Magic Knight exam.
Her water magic lashed out wildly, injuring a noble's son.
She was arrested on the spot.
Locked away.
Forgotten.
A cell became her whole world.
She spoke to the rats.
Grew pale.
Then quiet.
Then nothing.
—
In one version, she ran away.
Stole commoner clothes. Cut her hair with a dagger.
Lived in the outskirts of Hage, watching kids from the shadows.
Her hands never stopped shaking.
Even when she wasn't casting.
Even when she was just holding a cup.
—
In another, she became a nun.
Silent. Distant. A ghost among the living.
She never smiled.
The other sisters whispered that she saw spirits.
That she spoke to someone in her sleep.
Asta, she mumbled one night, curled in her cot.
The name meant nothing to them.
But she said it like a prayer.
—
There was one life where she joined the Diamond Kingdom.
Not by choice.
She was kidnapped during a diplomatic trip.
Experimented on.
Her mana became unstable, volatile—more curse than gift.
They forced her into battle cages.
Told her to kill or be killed.
She didn't speak for years.
Not even when she escaped.
—
In another world, she was Queen again.
But not of Clover.
Of Spade.
Her eyes were hollow.
Her crown was ice.
She stood beside a puppet king and whispered orders no one dared question.
At night, she wandered the empty palace halls, tracing her fingers along frost-covered walls.
She felt nothing.
She was nothing.
—
In one life, she became a mercenary.
Took jobs no noble would touch.
Learned to kill with silence.
They called her Ghost of the Lake.
She never gave her name.
Never stayed in one town.
But one time, in a smoky tavern, a drunk man yelled "For Asta!" during a card game.
She froze.
Her drink slipped from her hand.
And for some reason, she cried for an hour in the rain outside.
—
In one version, she met Yami.
But not as a captain.
As a bartender.
She served drinks in a crumbling border town.
He gave her a job. A place to stay.
She never told him her name.
Only that she liked the quiet.
Sometimes he'd say she reminded him of someone he used to know.
She never asked who.
—
In another life—
She never had magic.
Mana-less.
A disgrace to House Silva.
Thrown out as a child.
Raised by a farmer who thought she was cursed.
She worked the fields.
Scrubbed floors.
Ate bread crusts for dinner.
And every night, she stared up at the stars.
Wondering why her chest ached when the wind said Asta.
—
Some lives were short.
Some lasted decades.
Some were peaceful.
Most weren't.
But all of them shared the same hollow center—
No Asta.
No spark.
No one who saw her.
—
She saw a version where she became a librarian.
Another where she died in childbirth.
Another where she led a rebellion and was executed as a traitor.
Another where she lived in a cottage with three cats, and forgot how to speak altogether.
—-
Time warped.
She couldn't tell how many she'd lived through anymore.
Hundreds?
Thousands?
Each a thread.
Each a cut.
Each one draining her.
Until she stopped fighting.
Until she just… let them pass.
One after another.
A slideshow of tragedies.
And still, deep down—she felt him.
Asta.
Not in the lives.
But in the space between them.
A pull.
A warmth.
A truth.
—
Noelle finally whispered—
"Where are you?"
"Please…"
The next life flickered to light.
And then—
Everything went white.
—
Time shattered.
The spell cracked.
The visions ended.
Reality snapped back.
But Noelle didn't.
Not yet.
She was still falling.
Still drowning in a thousand empty versions of herself.
Until someone reached for her.
Until someone caught her.
—
She woke up screaming.
But no sound left her throat.
Her body jolted like she'd been struck by lightning, magic flaring instinctively, out of control.
She hit the ground.
Hard.
Stone. Dust. Heat. Blood in the air.
The battlefield.
The real one.
The spell was gone.
The world was back.
But her mind wasn't.
—
She curled into herself.
Trembling.
Gasping.
Eyes wide but unseeing.
She couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
"Not again."
"Not again—"
A sob tore through her.
Then another.
Then another.
Her arms hugged her middle, like she could keep herself from splitting in half.
But the lives wouldn't stop echoing.
The silence.
The screams.
The cold.
The crown.
The cage.
The crown again.
Her hands gripped her hair.
She wanted to tear it out.
—
"Noelle!!"
That voice—
Real.
Alive.
Her head snapped up.
Asta stood only feet away.
Bruised. Burnt. Bleeding.
Alive.
Staring at her like she was the only thing in the world.
Her vision blurred instantly.
She launched herself at him.
Didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
Just ran.
—
She slammed into him with everything she had.
Tackled him to the ground.
Her arms wrapped around his chest like she never wanted to let go.
She buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed.
Not cried.
Sobbed.
Like a child.
Like a ghost.
Like a woman who had just lived and died a thousand times.
—
Asta didn't say anything.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't ask.
He just held her.
Tight.
One hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist.
Her body shook against his.
She couldn't stop.
Tears soaked his shirt.
Her hands clutched his cloak.
She couldn't get close enough.
She didn't care who saw.
Didn't care what anyone thought.
Let them stare.
Let them whisper.
She needed him.
—
And Asta understood.
He didn't need the full story.
He didn't need to ask what she saw.
He felt it.
The way her magic trembled.
The way she clung to him like she'd lost him over and over again.
Like he was her anchor.
Like he was her everything.
—
Eventually, she collapsed against him.
Breathing shallow.
Eyes swollen.
Exhausted beyond anything she'd ever felt.
Her voice cracked out one word:
"You…"
She couldn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Asta nodded.
"I'm here."
That was all she needed.
—
He stood.
Lifted her like she weighed nothing.
Princess carry.
Just like that time in Raque.
Her arms didn't leave his neck.
Her head never left his chest.
—
People watched.
Knights, captains, nobles.
Yuno. Mimosa. Nozel.
Even Lucius's broken body behind them.
But Asta didn't stop.
Didn't explain.
Didn't look back.
He just walked.
—
Back to the Black Bull base.
Half of it was still smoldering and repairing itself.
Didn't matter.
He kicked the door open.
Walked through the halls like they weren't half-destroyed.
Found her room.
Laid her gently on the bed.
She didn't let go.
Not yet.
—
So he climbed in beside her.
Pulled the blanket over both of them.
She pressed her forehead to his chest, still trembling.
Eyes red. Lips parted. Breath uneven.
Her fingers were still clutching his shirt.
Like if she let go, he'd disappear.
—
Asta stayed.
Didn't move.
Didn't sleep.
Just held her.
Listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall.
The wind outside.
Her breathing.
Her heartbeat.
Her pain.
—
He thought to himself:
"She's never been like this before…"
"Whatever she saw… it broke her."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"But I'm here now. I won't let her be alone."
—
And as the hours passed—
Her breathing slowed.
Her grip loosened.
Her body finally relaxed.
She fell asleep.
Face tucked against his chest.
Silent tears still on her cheeks.
But peaceful.
Finally.
—
Asta stared up at the ceiling.
Mind quiet.
Heart heavy.
But full.
He knew now.
Knew everything.
Her pain.
Her strength.
Her feelings.
And maybe…
Maybe his too.
—
The next morning was quiet.
The war was over.
Lucius was gone.
The kingdom was rebuilding.
And inside the still half-broken Black Bull base…
Noelle hadn't let go.
Her arms were still around him.
Her head still rested on his chest.
The sun was barely peeking through the cracked window, casting soft light across her silver hair.
Asta blinked slowly.
He hadn't slept.
Didn't want to.
Every time she shifted, every time she let out a soft breath, his heart squeezed.
Like it was reminding him she was here.
Alive.
And not alone.
—
Noelle stirred.
Fingers twitching.
Then her eyes opened.
Slow.
Heavy.
She blinked up at him.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
He gave a small smile.
The kind that didn't need words.
She didn't smile back.
Not right away.
But her eyes softened.
Just a little.
And that was more than enough.
—
Her voice, when it came, was hoarse. Barely there.
"I lived so many lives without you…"
He nodded.
"I know."
Her fingers clutched his shirt again.
"I hated all of them."
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he sat up slowly, pulling her with him.
His hands cupped her face.
Gentle.
Sure.
Real.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue.
Wanted to push him away like she always did.
But she didn't.
This time, she leaned forward.
Just enough to rest her forehead against his.
Their noses touched.
Their eyes closed.
No kiss.
Not yet.
But everything was there.
All of it.
—
And in the stillness, Noelle whispered—
"I don't care how long it takes."
"I'm going to tell you how I feel."
Asta smiled again.
"Good."
His thumb brushed a tear off her cheek.
"Because I already know."
And for once, she didn't blush.
Didn't scoff.
Didn't punch him in the face and call him an idiot.
She just nodded.
"Then wait for me."
"Always," he said.
—
Outside, the world moved on.
Birds chirped.
The sun climbed higher.
Life began again.
But inside that room—
Time slowed.
Two hearts beat in sync.
And in a life where Asta did exist…
Noelle was finally free to love.