Cold water rushed into his lungs as the violent current dragged him deeper into the river. The rain blurred the sky above, and distant voices echoed faintly through the storm. He tried to swim upward, but the river was stronger than his body.
His chest burned painfully as his lungs screamed for air. Every movement grew weaker as the current twisted him around like a leaf caught in a flood. The icy water pressed in from every direction.
He tried to breathe.
But the water filled his mouth.
Darkness slowly crept into his vision, and the last thing he remembered was the crushing pressure of the river pulling him under.
Then—
Asta suddenly sat up.
"Gah—!"
He gasped loudly, clutching his chest as he desperately pulled air into his lungs. His breathing came in sharp bursts as his body struggled to calm down.
For a moment he was certain he was still drowning.
But when his eyes slowly focused, something felt wrong.
Above him was a wooden ceiling.
The room was dim, illuminated by the soft light of early morning filtering through a small window. Several wooden beds were arranged around the room, and the quiet sound of sleeping children filled the air.
Asta froze.
The panic in his chest slowly faded, replaced by confusion.
"...What?"
His voice sounded soft.
Too soft.
He slowly raised his hands in front of his face.
Small hands.
Thin fingers.
Hands that clearly belonged to a child.
Asta stared at them for a long moment.
Then the memories came.
Not slowly.
Not gently.
They flooded his mind like a broken dam.
Another life.
Another world.
His name.
Kartik Varma.
He remembered growing up in a small village. He remembered fields stretching across the horizon, the smell of wet soil after rain, and the constant work of caring for animals and land. Later he had studied agriculture in the city, hoping to return home and help improve farming in his village.
His father had been a carpenter, and from a young age he had learned how to work with wood. Building animal shelters, repairing fences, and crafting simple tools had always been normal parts of life.
He had plans.
Plans to start a dairy business.
Plans to improve livestock breeding in the village.
Plans to build something meaningful.
And then the rain came.
The river had overflowed after days of storms. People were trapped in the current, struggling against the rising water. Without thinking too much, he had jumped into the river to help.
At first he managed to reach them.
But the current was stronger than he expected.
The river dragged him under.
Cold water.
Darkness.
And then… nothing.
Asta slowly lowered his hands.
"So… I died."
The words left his mouth quietly.
He looked around the room again.
Wooden beds.
Simple blankets.
Stone walls.
A church dormitory.
The realization slowly settled into his mind.
"...Hage Village."
The name came naturally to him.
Because he had seen this place before.
Not in real life.
But in a story.
Asta leaned back slightly on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"This can't be real…"
But every detail matched perfectly.
The church.
The village.
The children sleeping nearby.
And most importantly—
Him.
Asta.
A boy born without magic in a world where magic meant everything.
The main character of a story he once watched.
Black Clover.
Asta slowly turned his head toward another bed nearby.
A quiet boy slept there, his breathing calm and steady. Even while sleeping, the boy looked composed, almost too calm for a child.
Yuno.
Asta stared at him for a moment.
"So it's real…"
His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
Memories of the story surfaced clearly in his mind. The poor village, the church that raised them, the grimoire ceremony, the Magic Knights, and the battles that would come later.
Asta closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
If the timeline followed the original story, then everything had not started yet.
He looked down at his small hands again.
Five years old.
Maybe six at most.
That meant there were still many years before the grimoire ceremony.
Years before the real story began.
Asta quietly sat on the bed as the sunlight slowly brightened the room.
In his previous life, he had been an ordinary man. He worked with farms and animals, built things with his hands, and tried to help his village grow.
He had never been a fighter.
But this world was different.
Here, magic decided everything.
People judged strength through mana.
Nobles were born with overwhelming magic power. Commoners struggled with small amounts of mana. Those without power were usually ignored by society.
And Asta…
Asta had none.
Not a single drop of mana existed inside his body.
In a world filled with magic, that should have been the worst possible fate.
Yet Asta slowly smiled.
Because he remembered the story.
Even without magic, the original Asta had never given up. Through endless training and stubborn determination, he had pushed his body beyond what most people thought was possible.
And there was something else.
Something that made his existence truly unique in this world.
Anti-magic.
In a world where everything relied on mana, the ability to erase magic itself was incredibly powerful. Anti-magic could destroy spells, cut through mana, and threaten even the strongest magic users.
It was the perfect counter to a world built entirely on magic.
But that power would only appear much later.
Right now, he was just a small child in a quiet village.
A child with no magic.
A child with a body that needed to grow stronger.
Asta rested his arms on the window frame and looked outside.
The peaceful fields of Hage Village stretched across the landscape, calm and ordinary under the morning sunlight.
The original Asta had trained incredibly hard even before turning fifteen. Every day he pushed his body through endless exercises, refusing to give up despite the world telling him he was powerless.
Asta slowly nodded to himself.
He didn't plan to replace that effort.
He simply had the advantage of starting earlier.
With ten full years ahead of him, he could prepare his body, sharpen his instincts, and build a stronger foundation long before the grimoire ceremony arrived.
Asta stretched his small arms and cracked his neck slightly.
A determined grin appeared on his face.
"Alright."
He looked toward the bright sky outside the window.
"Let's get to work."