Chapter 369: Black Clover II
Sixteen years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.
The quiet church of Hage Village had long since become a lively home, filled with laughter, shouting, and the endless competition of three boys who had grown side by side. Asta, loud and reckless, never gave up. Yuno, calm and gifted, always seemed untouchable. And Dave... Dave was something else entirely.
Now, hidden deep within the rocky clearing outside the village, the air shook with the sound of training.
"HYAAA!" Asta’s roar split the air as he kicked off the ground, his wooden sword cleaving arcs through space. Each swing carried raw power, whipping the wind into violent gusts. His body—honed by endless years without magic—was carved from grit and pain, overflowing with energy. Yet his swings weren’t just brute strength anymore. Shadows of something else coiled around them, threads of black mist licking at the edges of reality.
Anti-magic.
Even without a grimoire, Asta’s sheer rejection of mana had begun to manifest. Not refined like the Devil’s anti-magic, but something different—more like a sponge. His body absorbed stray mana, hardening muscle and bone, converting energy into raw strength. And when the day came that he would receive his grimoire... it would all finally take shape.
Dave stood a short distance away, arms folded, his eyes sharp with predator-like calm.
Unlike Asta, Dave’s path was different. From the very beginning, his soul carried something alien: Null Magic. Not magic in the traditional sense—it was the erasure of it. Where Asta’s anti-magic flared like a beast struggling against chains, Dave’s was sharp, honed, precise. Each swing of his blade didn’t just cut stone or steel—it cut mana itself, severing spells like threads beneath a sword’s edge.
Dave had trained both himself and Asta in the style of another world—what he called the "One Piece way." Null Armament and Null Senses for himself, Anti-Magic Armament and its variations for Asta. Together, they had practiced Haki, the Marine Six Styles, and swordsmanship to a level unthinkable for boys from a village with no magic.
On the side, Yuno was doing push-ups, his bare torso glistening with sweat. He had long since surpassed the frail look of his childhood. Lean muscle defined his frame, and his already striking features had only sharpened. Handsome wasn’t enough to describe him anymore—he looked regal, like someone already chosen.
As Asta swung again, Dave’s voice cut through the clearing. Calm, edged.
"That’s good, Asta. You’re close to reaching the level where your swings send flying slashes."
Asta froze mid-swing, sweat dripping down his chin, then gave a brief nod before gripping his sword tighter and resuming.
"Alright then..." Dave stepped forward, drawing his wooden training sword. His stance shifted, aura heavy. "Let’s spar."
"Hell yeah!" Asta roared, charging without hesitation.
The two clashed—wooden blades cracking against each other with the force of steel. Sparks flew from the sheer pressure. Though it was only training wood, Dave’s blade cut through the air so sharply that it split a nearby boulder clean in half, showing just how far above he was.
"Use your breathing!" Dave barked mid-clash.
Asta’s eyes lit up. He inhaled deeply, his body swelling with vigor. His movements steadied, his strikes gained weight. The wooden blade flared with black sparks as his voice rang out:
"Breath of the Dark Sun!"
It was his own creation—born from Dave’s teachings of breathing styles. A twisted variation of Sun Breathing, but fueled by anti-magic instead of fire. Each strike carried a corrosive pressure, tearing the very air apart.
On the side, Yuno looked at them and stood up. He exhaled, wind swirling around him as he spoke:
"Breath of the Wind."
His form was fluid, sharp, cutting with elegance where Asta charged with raw fury.
Dave’s blade moved with absolute precision, his aura flaring dark and suffocating.
"Breath of the Void."
His strikes were silent, but every swing erased sound, light, even mana in its path. A style of nothingness itself, perfected through years of grinding discipline.
The clearing shook with each clash—wood against wood, but sounding like steel upon steel. Asta’s dark-sun swings ripped the ground, Yuno’s wind-carved slashes cut trees cleanly, and Dave’s void strikes consumed everything they touched.
"Come on, Asta!" Dave shouted, their blades locked. "Your body can handle more than this. Stop holding back!"
Asta roared, pushing harder, the ground cracking beneath his feet as the mist of anti-magic wrapped fully around him. His eyes burned with fury, determination, and a strange... hunger.
Yuno, stepping into the circle now, pointed his hand, wind spiraling into blades.
"Don’t forget about me."
Dave smirked, swinging his blade free and planting his foot. "Perfect. All three of us then."
The air tensed, heavy with the pressure of three wills colliding. Dust lifted from the ground, trees bent from the weight of mana, and for a heartbeat the clearing was silent—waiting.
Then they moved.
Asta charged first, as always, shouting at the top of his lungs. "HRAAAAH!" His wooden blade tore through the air, wrapped in that corrosive black mist.
Yuno was silent. His body flowed like the wind itself, vanishing from where he stood and reappearing at Dave’s flank, sword angled to slice through. His strikes carried no wasted movement, sharp and efficient.
Dave stepped forward, calm and calculating. His voice cut through their noise.
"This is Battle Sense Training. Don’t hold back—adapt."
Their blades crashed together in a storm.
Asta swung wide and brutal, each strike meant to crush. Dave deflected with surgical precision, his movements small but devastating, his Void Breathing cutting the very force of Asta’s swings. From the side, Yuno slipped in, his Wind Breathing making his sword glide with uncanny sharpness, angles perfect, every blow striking like a gust carving stone.
"Too loud, Asta!" Dave snapped, parrying one of Yuno’s strikes at the same time. "You broadcast every move you make!"
"SHUT UP! LOUD IS POWERFUL!" Asta roared back, pressing forward with sheer force.
Dave smirked as he shoved him back, pivoting just in time to block Yuno’s silent blade. "And you, Yuno... too quiet. You rely too much on control. Predictable."
Yuno didn’t respond with words—just narrowed eyes, pushing harder. His strikes doubled in speed, wind sharpening his movements until he was nearly invisible.
Asta grinned wide despite the sweat dripping down his face. "Heh, predictable or not—I’ll still win!"
He leapt high, black energy flaring, slamming his blade downward like a falling star.
Dave twisted his stance, Null Magic flaring around him. His wooden sword glowed faintly—not with light, but with emptiness. He swung once, erasing the force of Asta’s blow entirely. The impact should’ve shattered the ground—but the energy simply vanished.
"Cheater!" Asta shouted, scrambling back.
*******
if you like my fanfic, and want to support me and read advance chaps, checkout my fanfic on Patreon :-
There are regular updates too.
***