The morning light did not arrive with the sharp, rhythmic clarity Lencar was used to. Instead, it filtered through the small, high window of his bedroom in a soft, mocking haze of gold. He didn't wake up at 04:00. He woke up when the sun was already high enough to warm the wooden floorboards, his body pinned to the mattress by a weight that had nothing to do with siphoned mana.
He tried to shift his weight, and a jagged, white-hot lance of pain shot from his ribs to his skull. His right arm, encased in Marta's thick bandages and a crude wooden splint, felt like a heavy, throbbing anchor.
He lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in fifteen years, the "Protocol" felt distant. The "Phases" felt like a script written by a stranger. The silence of the house was punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic thud of Rion's axe outside and the clatter of Marta's pots in the kitchen.
They were being quiet for him. They were protecting his rest.
Lencar closed his eyes, and the conversation from the previous night replayed in the theater of his mind. Safe and sound. You don't need to try so hard. It doesn't matter if you don't become a knight.
In his previous life as Kenji Tanaka, a statement like that would have been a dream. To be told that his value wasn't tied to his output, his grades, or his salary—it was the one thing he had never heard. But here, in this body, with a blank grimoire hidden under his pillow, those words felt like a magnetic pull toward a life he hadn't planned for.
A life of quiet safety. A life of being a "data point" that stayed exactly where it was.
"Is that what I want?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
He began to think. Not like a machine, but like a man whose survival depended on the right choice. He needed to decide if the next step of the plan—joining a Magic Knight Squad—was a necessity or a catastrophic error.
He began to mentalize a list. He didn't see it as a spreadsheet this time; he saw it as a crossroads.
The List: The Architecture of a Life
The Advantages: Why Join a Squad?
Accelerated Growth: The siphoning he did in Hage was small-scale. In a squad, he would be surrounded by elite mages every day. The "data" he could harvest from a senior member or a Captain would be equivalent to years of solo training.
Practical Battle Experience: Hage was a vacuum. A real battlefield offered variables that couldn't be simulated—fear, fatigue, complex terrain, and enemies who didn't fight with "peasant-tier" spells.
Reliable Guidance: Despite his modern knowledge, he was still learning the "logic" of this world's mana. A Captain like Yami Sukehiro or Fuegoleon Vermillion could offer insights into "surpassing limits" that no amount of analysis could replicate.
The Disadvantages: The Cost of Exposure
The Nature of the Grimoire: His magic was, by definition, parasitic. It was "Replica Magic" at best and "Siphoning Heresy" at worst. In a squad, mages lived, ate, and trained together. The chances of his blank book being discovered were nearly 100% over a long-term deployment.
The Eye of Julius Novachrono: This was the variable that made Lencar's blood turn to ice. Because of his meta-knowledge, he knew that the Wizard King was not just a benevolent leader. He was the vessel for Lucius Zogratis—the ultimate antagonist. If Lencar caught Julius's eye, he wouldn't just be a "interesting commoner." He would be a threat to Lucius's grand design for a "perfect world."
Institutional Execution: The Clover Kingdom was built on a foundation of noble supremacy. A commoner with the ability to "steal" or "copy" the cherished spells of the Great Houses was an existential threat to the nobility. If discovered, he wouldn't be recruited; he would be erased.
Lencar stared at the dust motes dancing in the sunlight.
The analysis was clear. The risks were not just high; they were terminal. Joining a squad was like trying to hide a fire in a wooden house. Eventually, the smoke would be seen, and the house would burn down with him inside.
"The parents are right," he realized, a strange mix of relief and frustration washing over him. "If I join a squad, the probability of my death or discovery within the first year is over 70%. If I stay here, if I live the life they want for me... that number drops to near zero."
For a moment, he let the idea sit. He imagined a life in Hage. He could use his knowledge to optimize the crops. He could protect the village from the occasional stray beast. He could watch Asta and Yuno's legends grow from the sidelines, a ghost of a memory in their story.
But then, another variable surfaced.
The Ticket.
He reached under his bed and pulled out the travel pass. It was crumpled, the golden seal slightly tarnished by the sweat of the fight.
"I can't just stay," he whispered. "If the kid who was second to the four-leaf-user and beat the anti-magic-user suddenly disappears into a farmhouse, it draws more attention. Lord Fungen is already annoyed. If I 'waste' the recommendation he was forced to give, he'll send investigators. Or worse, he'll take his anger out on my parents."
The realization hit him with the force of Asta's sword. By winning the tournament, he had already stepped out of the shadows. He had made himself a known quantity. To retreat now would be seen as an act of defiance or a sign of a "dangerous secret."
He couldn't join a squad, but he couldn't simply quit.
"I need a third way," Lencar said, sitting up despite the protest from his ribs.
He needed to go to the Capital. He needed to use the "ticket" to satisfy the legal requirements of the Magistrate. He had to show up to the Entrance Exam. But he didn't have to pass. Or rather, he didn't have to be selected.
He needed to fail the exam in a way that looked perfectly natural. He needed to be seen as a "one-hit wonder"—a boy who had pushed himself too hard in the qualifiers and had "burnt out" his mana or suffered a permanent injury.
Plan B: Strategic Obscurity.
He would go to the Royal Capital. He would stand before the Captains. And he would perform just poorly enough to be ignored. He would return to Hage with his "head held low," a "failure" in the eyes of the kingdom. The Magistrate would be satisfied that the "peasant anomaly" had corrected itself. Julius would look past him as a non-factor.
And in the shadows of Hage, Lencar would continue his work—slowly, privately, and without the prying eyes of the Magic Knights.