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12.63% Reborn As Papa Silva / Chapter 12: Changing Fate (1)

Chapter 12: Changing Fate (1)

Dorothy blinked, her gaze sharpening from its usual dreamy, unfocused state. Sebastian's form of address lingered in the air between them, his words catching her off guard—not in the way one might expect, but in a curious, engaging way. Her uniquely colored eyes, those striking lavender irises with their aqua-blue pupils, locked onto him. What had he just called her? Her gaze, still slightly distant like she was hovering between worlds, narrowed in interest.

Instead of recoiling or reacting defensively, a broad, playful smile spread across her lips. She leaned closer to Sebastian, her posture relaxed, exuding the kind of confidence one only gains through a lifetime of strange encounters.

"You know me, old man?" Dorothy's voice carried an almost mischievous lilt, though her question wasn't really a question. It was more a statement as if she were testing him, pushing the boundary to see how he'd respond.

Sebastian felt a twitch of irritation under his skin at the title. Old man? He wasn't that old. His eyebrows twitched, a reflex he barely managed to suppress. Still, he forced himself to remain calm, a trait he had perfected over the past few days. He nodded stiffly, his face unreadable despite the jab.

Dorothy's curiosity bubbled to the surface, her smile never wavering. "So," she pressed, tilting her head slightly, "how exactly do you know me?"

Before Sebastian could reply, his eyes drifted toward the Grimoire Tower. Children, young and wide-eyed, hurried out of the ancient building. Some of their faces were alight with joy, others marred with disappointment, their tiny hands clutching books of power they were likely too young to fully comprehend. It's about to get busy around here, Sebastian thought, realizing they'd need a quieter spot to talk.

"We should move somewhere more private," he suggested, his voice low but firm, eyes scanning the shifting crowd around them.

Dorothy's eyes glinted with amusement. She didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable with the idea, nodding happily in agreement. Without missing a beat, she jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her elbow and cracked a grin. "Don't try anything, okay? I'm just a kid after all. Besides," her grin widened, "I don't have a thing for old men."

Sebastian stiffened at her crude humor, his exasperation bubbling over. He sighed, long and drawn out, before turning toward her with a cold remark. "I'm a married man, Dorothy. And even if I were looking for something new, I certainly wouldn't settle for a kid."

Dorothy burst into laughter, completely unfazed by his sharp words. "You're pretty funny, old man."

Sebastian rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath as they started to walk. The path led through the edge of the forest, where the trees created a natural canopy of shade and the air was thick with the earthy smell of damp wood. Dorothy followed a few paces behind, humming softly, the picture of carefree joy.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at her, sighing inwardly. Too careless, he thought, shaking his head. "You shouldn't trust strangers so easily," he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

Dorothy only smiled wider, her tune light and airy, as if the concept of danger barely registered to her. The girl exuded a confidence that made Sebastian pause for a moment. Maybe not reckless, he considered, narrowing his eyes in thought. Confident. She's sure that if I did try anything, she could handle it.

As they walked deeper into the forest, Sebastian couldn't help but think of her strange magic. Dream magic was a power few fully understood, and Dorothy, with her drifting manner and otherworldly gaze, seemed perfectly suited for it. It's overpowered, he thought grimly. Strange too. Tabata never really explored her character enough. Even if she's only just gotten her grimoire, I doubt she has Glamour World yet. His eyes narrowed as he mulled over the possibilities. But she probably has a few spells already, ones that could make things… difficult if I tried something.

His thoughts wandered as they trekked along the forest path, leaves rustling overhead in the gentle breeze. Sebastian had a hard time imagining someone becoming a captain with just one overpowered spell. No, she has more than that. She has to. You don't rise to captain without having some tricks up your sleeves.

The forest began to thin out, the trees becoming sparser until they emerged into a rough clearing. Ahead of them, a remote hill stretched up gently, its peak offering a quiet vantage point that overlooked Hage in the distance. The view was peaceful, the faint rustle of the leaves and the distant chirping of birds creating a soothing atmosphere.

Sebastian paused for a moment, taking it all in. The light breeze brushed against his face, and for a second, he allowed himself to enjoy the serenity of the place. Dorothy, for once, remained quiet behind him, though her usual light-hearted energy hadn't faded.

That brief moment of peace was broken when Dorothy, in her usual manner, disrupted the silence.

Dorothy's gaze, though light and whimsical as always, held a hint of determination as she asked once more, her voice a touch more pointed, "What do you know about me?"

Sebastian met her eyes, his own expression unreadable but calm. "I know you're a witch from the Witch's Forest," he began, "one with dream magic, who somehow escaped to the Clover Kingdom."

For a brief moment, Dorothy blinked, her chipper expression faltering just slightly as the weight of his words sank in. But just as quickly, her smile returned, bright and carefree as always. "Oh? So, you do know something," she said lightly, as if it were the most casual revelation in the world. "But you didn't bring me all the way out here just to tell me things I already know. You had something you wanted to ask me, right?"

Sebastian nodded, ready to speak, but before he could utter a word, Dorothy wagged her finger in front of his face, cutting him off mid-breath. Her teasing smile never wavered.

"Before you ask anything, isn't it polite to introduce yourself first?" she said, the playfulness in her tone unmistakable.

Sebastian's mouth clamped shut as he realized she was right. He had been so focused on their conversation, he'd completely bypassed the most basic courtesy. With a soft sigh, he reached up and lowered the hood that had shadowed his features. His silver hair, slicked back neatly, caught the fading sunlight as his face came fully into view.

Dorothy blinked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she simply shrugged and said, "Huh. Nice hair, I guess."

Sebastian felt a moment of awkwardness settle between them. Nice hair? That's all she had to say? He realized quickly that she might not know what silver hair symbolized here in the Clover Kingdom—likely because she had just arrived, and the intricacies of noble appearances hadn't yet made their way into her mind.

Clearing his throat to regain his composure, Sebastian gave a formal nod. "My name is Sebastian Silva," he said, his voice firm but not without a trace of humility. "Patriarch of the royal family House Silva of the Clover Kingdom."

This time, Dorothy's eyes widened in genuine surprise. For the first time, her playful, breezy demeanor cracked, and her childish shock spilled out. "You're royalty?" she blurted, clearly trying to process the information. Awkwardly, she started to move toward him, as if to bow or offer some form of reverence, but Sebastian quickly raised a hand, stopping her mid-action.

"Please," he said, his voice carrying a note of self-deprecation. "No need for that." His lips curled into a soft chuckle, though the sound lacked any real joy. "I'm from a far-removed branch of the family. I married into the main line, so in truth, I'm royal in name only." He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "I probably don't carry a single drop of royal blood in my veins."

Dorothy paused, watching him, and for once, her usual teasing smile seemed absent. She opened her mouth, but Sebastian wasn't done.

"My mana reserves," he added, almost mockingly, "are about as impressive as an average noble's. I'm considered the shame of House Silva, probably its weakest patriarch in history."

Dorothy blinked, clearly unsure how to react. Her lavender irises darted from side to side as if searching for the right response. Then, in an uncharacteristically awkward motion, she cleared her throat and stepped forward. She patted his shoulder in an attempt at consolation, though she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him properly.

Sebastian stared down at her, feeling a strange mix of emotions as he watched this little girl, barely reaching his chest, attempting to comfort him in their first meeting. Her small hand awkwardly patted his shoulder, as if she wasn't entirely sure how to offer sympathy. The whole scene felt absurd. Yet, somehow, the absurdity made it endearing.

He let out a soft, dry chuckle. "You're… an odd one, Dorothy," he murmured, shaking his head slightly.

Dorothy grinned up at him, her playful nature resurfacing. "Takes one to know one, old man," she replied cheerfully, dropping back down onto her heels with a satisfied look.

Sebastian sighed. This girl…

The air between them shifted as Sebastian decided to change the course of their conversation. His gaze lingered on Dorothy's carefree expression, and with a measured tone, he spoke. "I'd like to invite you to join the Silver Eagles."

Dorothy blinked at him, her amusement clearly piqued. The thought of her—a free-spirited witch from the forest—joining the ranks of the Clover Kingdom's Magic Knights seemed to catch her off guard. She tilted her head, lavender eyes twinkling mischievously as she asked, "Why would you think I'd want to be a magic knight in the first place?"

Sebastian held her gaze, pausing for a moment before he answered. His voice, usually calculated and reserved, took on a new weight. "Honestly," he began, "I was probably going to lie to you. Manipulate you, even." His admission came easily, but there was a rawness to it, a sincerity that hadn't been present before. "But recently, I've come to admire someone. They've shown me that path—the one I was about to take—wasn't the right one."

Dorothy's smile widened, though there was curiosity behind it. She leaned forward just slightly. "Only a bit more forthright?" she teased, though there was genuine interest in her voice.

Sebastian nodded, his expression growing serious. He locked eyes with her, searching her face as if gauging her reaction before he spoke. "Like your mother, I can see the future. Somewhat."

Dorothy's playful expression faltered. Her smile faded as her brow furrowed, and for the first time, she averted her gaze, looking down at the ground. She muttered, her voice quieter now, "Didn't expect that."

Sebastian observed her reaction, noting the shift in her demeanor. She wasn't pleased—if anything, the revelation had triggered something deeper. He could feel the discomfort radiating from her. So, this is a sore subject, he thought. "You don't seem happy to hear that," he said gently, though his words hung heavily in the air.

Dorothy sighed, her eyes drifting upwards to the open sky. The playful energy she usually exuded seemed to dissipate as she spoke, her voice soft but tinged with something bittersweet. "If you know my mother, and you can see the future… then you should know I'm not exactly fond of soothsayers."

Sebastian nodded, understanding the layers of pain beneath her words. He didn't push her or ask for more than she was willing to give. "I haven't divined the image myself," he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "But I can imagine the weight of it, and the pain it's caused you."

Dorothy let out a soft sigh, one that seemed far too heavy for someone her age. It was the kind of sigh that spoke of weariness—of carrying burdens that didn't belong to a child. She chuckled then, but the sound was hollow, lacking the carefree lightness that usually accompanied her laughter.

There was a silence between them, not uncomfortable, but reflective, as if both were carefully navigating a conversation that had stumbled into uncharted emotional territory. For a brief moment, Dorothy let her guard down, showing a side of herself that was rarely seen.

Dorothy's voice trembled slightly, though she tried to keep her tone steady as she spoke. "I hate oracles. Prophecies." She took a slow breath before continuing, the weight of her words heavy with resentment. "They're what turned my mother into the vain, hollow person she is today."

Sebastian remained silent, listening closely as Dorothy continued. Her normally bright eyes were shadowed, reflecting a deeper pain than her usual carefree attitude ever hinted at. "The Witch Queen," she began, her voice softening, "used to be different. The elder witches told me stories when I was a child—about how she was loving, protective of all of us. A guardian of the Witch's Forest, full of compassion."

Dorothy paused, blinking against the memories of stories she had long stopped believing in. "But now," she sighed, "she's changed. That ability to pry into the future has hollowed her out. She's not even a person anymore, just… cold-hearted logic, always calculating, always reasoning." Her lips twisted into something that might have been a smile, though it held no joy. "She lost the one thing that makes us human. Her sight blinded her to reality, made her think that everything—every choice, every decision—has to be calculated, weighed by cause and effect."

Her voice lowered, and her words became darker as she spoke of her sister, the one she had never met. "She even locked away one of my little sisters in a birdcage," Dorothy said bitterly, "just so she could awaken some kind of fate magic. So she could become the next queen."

Dorothy let out a hollow laugh, though it was clear there was no humor behind it. "I don't know if I should be jealous that one of my siblings got so much of her undivided attention, or thankful that I didn't catch her eye like that."

She laughed again, but this time it was bitter, almost defeated. "After I awakened my magic, the Witch Queen took an interest in me. Dream magic, after all, is unheard of—even in the Witch Forest, where people have the strangest magic attributes because of the exposure to the grand magic zone." Dorothy's voice became softer, more reflective. "But that interest didn't last long. After some prophecy about that sister, I wasn't her favorite anymore."

Sebastian's brow furrowed as he listened, piecing together the fragments of Dorothy's painful past. "Vanessa Enoteca," he said quietly.

Dorothy nodded grimly, confirming his guess. "Yeah, that's her." Her voice was distant now, like she was speaking more to herself than to him. "Vanessa may have been the only one physically trapped in a cage, but it felt like we were all living a life designed by the Witch Queen. Puppets, all of us, moving to her strings."

She paused, her fists clenching at her sides. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to leave. I had to risk everything to escape."

Then, in a sudden burst of frustration, she let out a sharp laugh, running her hand through her hair as she turned to Sebastian. "Do you know what the most frustrating thing is?"

Sebastian's voice was soft, almost tender. "What?" he asked, sensing the emotion behind her question.

A few tears pricked at Dorothy's eyes as she fought to keep her voice steady. "The security golems that guard the Witch Forest—they didn't even react to me. Not when I tried to sneak away. They didn't care that I was leaving." Her voice cracked, and she blinked hard, trying to stop the tears from falling. "That was when I realized… even my choice to escape, even that was orchestrated and foreseen by her. She didn't care if I stayed or left. I wasn't her masterpiece anymore, so what did it matter?"

This time, she couldn't stop the tears. They spilled over, quietly tracing her cheeks as the bitterness and anger she had held in for so long finally surfaced. The pain of knowing her mother's indifference—of realizing that her rebellion, her desperate need to break free, had been just another part of the Witch Queen's design—cut deeper than any wound.

Sebastian sighed softly, his expression somber. Without a word, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bundle of napkins. He handed them to her, his gesture gentle, knowing words wouldn't be enough right now.

Dorothy took them quietly, dabbing at her eyes, her earlier bravado gone. She wiped away the tears, but her hands trembled slightly, her emotions still raw and exposed. For once, there were no jokes, no teasing remarks—just a vulnerable girl, trying to hold herself together in the face of a lifetime of pain.

Sebastian watched Dorothy closely as she dabbed at her tears, and inwardly, he couldn't help but lament. This… this was nothing like the Dorothy Unsworth he was familiar with from stories, from the anime. That Dorothy was always joyful, or sleepy—a carefree spirit, radiating a light-hearted innocence. But the girl standing before him now, with trembling hands and red-rimmed eyes, carried a weight that no child should ever have to bear.

She gave him a weak smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You're here for Glamour World, aren't you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden mention of the spell. He hadn't expected her to bring it up so directly, especially after all she had just shared. He nodded somberly, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

Instead of explaining, Dorothy tilted her head slightly, her expression distant. "Does this have anything to do with She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named?" she asked.

The moment the words left her lips, Sebastian stiffened. His entire body tensed, his breath hitching for a second. How could she possibly know? He took a step forward, careful to keep his tone gentle. "How… how do you know about that?" he asked, his voice low but tinged with concern. He didn't want to frighten her, not after everything she had just opened up about.

Dorothy gave him a weak, almost resigned smile. "Thanks to my beloved mother," she said, her voice laced with a bitter irony. She didn't need to elaborate for Sebastian to understand—her mother, the Witch Queen, had foreseen it, as she had foreseen everything else in Dorothy's life.

Dorothy's expression darkened as she continued, recounting a prophecy her mother had given her when she first awakened her magic. "She told me that one day I'd be able to visualize a dream into reality," Dorothy explained, her tone detached, as if she were repeating something she had heard a thousand times. "That I'd be able to imagine a world—my own world—where I'd reign supreme."

At first, Dorothy had dismissed it, chalking it up to another one of her mother's cold predictions. But as the years went by, and she found herself growing sleepier by the day, she realized the truth. "I started to doze off all the time," she said softly, "and I'd daydream. In those dreams, I began building that world, piece by piece, bit by bit. I didn't even realize it at first." Her voice faltered, and she let out a shaky breath. "Still… I held onto the hope that maybe this time, just once, she was wrong."

Sebastian's heart ached as he listened to her. The pain in her voice was palpable, the frustration of a child whose entire life had been written for her. Dorothy's shoulders slumped as she reached into her cloak and pulled out her grimoire. She held it awkwardly in her hand, almost like it was something she couldn't bring herself to fully accept. "I never opened it," she confessed, staring at the pink cover. "I was too scared to see what was inside."

She didn't need to open it, though. The moment she touched it, their souls had bonded. Her grimoire had floated in front of her, flipping through its pages on its own until it stopped at one that made her heart sink. "It showed me the world I'd been dreaming about," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Glamour World."

The name itself tasted bitter on her tongue. She looked at Sebastian, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. "She predicted the name perfectly, of course," she added with a hollow laugh, "because that's what she does. She always knows."

Sebastian could feel the weight of her words pressing down on him. He didn't know how to respond—not at first. What could he say to a girl whose entire life had been mapped out, predicted, and orchestrated by someone else? A girl who had been read like a book, her every future achievement already written in stone? He could only imagine how suffocating that must have been for someone so young, someone who should be able to make her own choices, walk her own path.

Gently, Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a brief moment of comfort. He hesitated for a second, not wanting to press her further, but he needed to know. "Dorothy," he began softly, "how did you know about the devil?"

Dorothy's gaze dropped to the ground, her eyes still rimmed with tears. Her hands trembled slightly as she answered, her voice barely audible. "Before I left the forest… my mother left me with one final fortune." She swallowed hard, trying to hold herself together. "She said I'd have some… connection to that devil. That someday, someone would come looking for me, asking for my help to oppose She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named."

As she spoke, her tears began to flow again, but this time, they weren't out of anger or frustration. They were tears of helplessness, of knowing that her fate had been sealed before she even had the chance to decide for herself. Sebastian sighed softly, his heart heavy with sympathy. Without a word, he reached into his satchel and pulled out another napkin.

Dorothy took it, her hand brushing his as she softly dabbed at her eyes. The silence between them was thick with unspoken understanding—a shared sense of sorrow, of helplessness in the face of a future that had already been decided.

Sebastian stood still, his expression indifferent, but inside, a storm of emotions brewed. His calm exterior belied the turmoil within. The Witch Queen foresaw me, he thought, the realization settling like a stone in his gut. It wasn't just her, though. This world was filled with individuals who could peer into the future. The Witch Queen. Dryad. Lucius. Even Julius, to a lesser extent. And then, there was Ryuya Ryudo—literally omniscient.

How had he not realized this sooner? How could I have been so foolish? He cursed himself inwardly, his chest tightening with each thought. All this time, he had moved through the world as if he were some protagonist in a novel—transmigrated into the body of a nobody, destined for greatness. But now, a chilling thought crept into his mind. What if all of these people—these prophets—had already seen his arrival? What if his existence, his journey, wasn't a twist of fate but something long foretold?

His skin prickled with cold sweat. Lucius… The name echoed in his mind. If the Witch Queen had foreseen him, then Lucius, with his grand foresight, must have too. Lucius already knows. The thought sent a wave of cold fear through his body, making his pulse quicken.

But if Lucius knew, then why had he been allowed to undo so much of Vanica's and Megicula's work? Why has he been able to save Acier Silva—a pivotal moment that could alter the course of the future? Unless… unless Acier's existence didn't matter in the grand scheme of Lucius' plans. Maybe she wasn't a key figure, or perhaps her presence didn't really change the timeline in a significant way. Or—Sebastian's stomach twisted at the thought—maybe Lucius truly doesn't know.

Or worse—maybe I'm being led into a trap.

Sebastian's mind raced, his thoughts spiraling deeper and deeper into the unknown. But then, in the midst of his panic, he caught himself. He shook his head slightly, clearing the fog of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. It changes nothing. So what if Lucius knew? It didn't alter his mission. He still needed to save Acier, regardless of who was watching or plotting behind the scenes. He couldn't afford to let these thoughts paralyze him, to make him second-guess every step he took. If he allowed fear to rule him, he would spend his life superstitious and on guard, too afraid to act.

And by the time he gathered the courage to do something, it might already be too late.

No. He had to continue doing what he was doing. Carefully, cautiously, but he couldn't stop. He had to stay the course, just as he always had. After all, the only one who certainly knows of my existence is Ryuya Ryudo, the holder of the Tengentsu. Lucius, for all his foresight, wasn't truly all-seeing. He had already proven that when he failed to account for Asta's existence—an anomaly that had altered the timeline in unexpected ways. Asta's existence had made Noelle, Yuno, Mereoleona, and so many others stronger, and changed their paths. And yet, Lucius hadn't seen it coming.

If Asta's presence was an unknown variable, a flaw, a bug, an error, then maybe—just maybe—Sebastian could be one too. The Witch Queen had foretold someone would seek Dorothy's help, but that didn't mean she had divined his identity. There was still some hope that he remained a shadow in their visions.

A voice suddenly snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Hey, are you alright?" Dorothy asked, her tone concerned, her lavender and aqua eyes focused on him.

Sebastian blinked, shaken from his internal debate. He took a steadying breath, calming the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He nodded slowly, trying to ease the tension in his body. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice steadier than he felt. "I'm fine."

Sebastian stood silently for a moment, his eyes steady as he finally spoke, "You're right. I need your help to block that devil's detection... so I can cure and uncurse my wife and son."

Dorothy's gaze softened, and she gave him a small nod. "I see," she replied, her tone thoughtful. But then, with a curious tilt of her head, she added, "But if all you need is my help, you could've just asked for that. Why do you want me to join your squad?"

Sebastian paused, his mouth slightly open, words slow to form as he gathered his thoughts. "Because... your dream magic has the potential to be the strongest," he said, his voice steady. "And you... you're someone destined for great things. I want someone strong like you around, not just for this little battle, but to share in my family's burden."

Dorothy blinked, letting his words sink in. For a moment, her usually lively expression faded into something more contemplative. "You saw that in my future?" she asked quietly, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Sebastian nodded. He wasn't lying; he had seen it. He just hadn't seen the whole picture.

Dorothy let out a soft chuckle, though there was a weight behind it. "So, because you came to recruit me yourself... it means in the timeline you saw, I never joined the Silver Eagles, right? That's why you're trying to change fate?"

Sebastian dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her observation. He wasn't about to deny it.

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity growing. "What kind of person was I, then? In that timeline?"

Sebastian shifted his weight. "I don't know what squad you initially joined," he admitted, his voice a bit quieter now, "but I do know you worked hard. You climbed the ranks, earned enough merits, and grew stronger until you started your own squad. You became a captain."

A smile touched Dorothy's lips, her eyes twinkling with something warmer, more personal. "And what was the name of that squad?" she asked, her tone light but genuine.

"The Coral Peacocks," Sebastian said without hesitation.

Dorothy smiled wider, clearly pleased with the name. "Sounds fitting," she said with a chuckle. "The color choice does seem like me."

She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What sort of people were in my squad? Anyone I know?"

Sebastian furrowed his brow, trying to pull those vague memories from the deepest recesses of his mind. "I don't remember everything clearly," he said slowly, "but I do recall your Vice Captain. It was my nephew—Kirsch."

Dorothy chuckled again, this time with a playful glint in her eye. "Kirsch, huh? Seems like we've got some kind of spiritual connection," she joked.

Sebastian shook his head lightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the tension. "No connection," he said with a light sigh. "I have no relation to my sister-in-law or her children, beyond being her sister's husband. My connection to them is through my wife... and nothing more."

Dorothy paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. Inwardly, she felt an odd sense of relief. He's not trying to manipulate me, she thought, grateful that he wasn't shameless enough to use familial ties to sway her.

Dorothy's expression softened as she stared off into the distance, her voice quiet when she spoke again. "Recently," she began, "I've been feeling more and more concerned about that sister of mine... the one I've never met. I keep thinking that one day, when I'm strong enough, I'll go back to the Witch Forest, bust her out of that cage, grab her hand, and drag her out of that bleak place so she can taste freedom too."

Her words were laced with determination, but as she finished, a sense of vulnerability crept into her tone. She turned her lavender gaze back toward Sebastian, her eyes filled with hope. "Did I succeed in doing that... in the future you saw?"

Sebastian hesitated, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know if you ever did," he replied, his voice tinged with regret. "It's possible that by the time you were strong enough, it was already too late, or maybe... you simply forgot."

A pit of dread formed in Dorothy's stomach, her lips parting slightly as her breath caught. Her hopeful expression crumbled, replaced by a wave of anxiety. She looked up at Sebastian, silently questioning, silently hoping.

Realizing his mistake, Sebastian quickly clarified, "No, no—it wasn't that. I should have explained better. Someone else beat you to it. Vanessa was freed before you could act."

Dorothy exhaled a deep sigh of relief, her body visibly relaxing. "Who?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"A foreigner to the Clover Kingdom, just like you," Sebastian explained. "Though he came from a much farther place. In the future, he'll be a fellow captain and colleague of yours. He'll have his own squad, and Vanessa... she joined it."

A fond smile crept across Dorothy's face, thinking of Vanessa finding her freedom. But then, just as quickly, that smile faded, replaced by a wave of disgust and disappointment directed inward. She had been relieved, but part of her felt she had failed. Why wasn't it me? she thought bitterly. Even after knowing the truth...

Sebastian, picking up on her shift in demeanor, offered some reassurance. "The Dorothy I knew from that timeline... she wasn't exactly you," he said softly. "She was sleepy and chipper, sure, but that was it. She didn't carry the same trauma or emotional weight that you do. Maybe I just didn't see enough of her to realize it... or maybe, you really were different."

Dorothy remained quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Eventually, she admitted, "That's definitely a possibility."

Sebastian's thoughts wandered for a moment as he looked at the young witch standing before him. This world's version of Dorothy is nothing like the one I remember from Black Clover, he thought, feeling the weight of his realization. These characters—they're real now. They have complex, deeper stories, and many of them carry pain and trauma that the main story never even hinted at. Like Dorothy... I never knew any of this about her.

Dorothy, sensing his introspection, gazed up at him. "I guess we're all more complicated than the surface shows," she said softly, her voice carrying a depth that spoke to both their shared understanding.

Dorothy's smile lingered, but a hint of curiosity laced her expression. "So... how did it all go for me?" she asked, her tone soft but eager for an answer. "How did I end up in that timeline?"

Sebastian glanced at her, thinking over the events he had glimpsed. "The kingdom was threatened many times," he began, his voice measured. "There were battles, wars, and conflicts that pushed everyone to their limits. You, along with the captains and the other Magic Knights, worked together to overcome those threats. But it wasn't just about fighting; it was about the bonds you built along the way."

He paused, recalling one particularly vivid moment. "In the final grand conflict I foresaw, the Witch Queen—your mother—had changed. After being bested by Vanessa, who had mastered the threads of fate, she was no longer the cold, calculating woman you remember. She was... different. She had grown, softened in a way, after realizing Vanessa's strength and what it meant to her."

Dorothy's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Vanessa. "What happened to her?"

"She was injured—seriously. In that battle, the Witch Queen used her vitality and life force to heal many of the wounded from Vanessa's squad. It was a sacrifice, an act of redemption. When the battle ended, she asked Vanessa to succeed her as the Witch Queen."

Dorothy's entire body stiffened at that, her smile fading slightly. "And did she?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No. You intervened. You stepped forward, saying that you'd had your fun... and that you would be the Witch Queen instead."

Dorothy blinked, a strange expression crossing her face. For a long moment, she was silent, processing the weight of what Sebastian had told her. Then, with a wry smile, she chuckled softly, but there was no real humor in it. "I guess I had more guilt toward Vanessa than I realized," she muttered, her voice low and pensive. "If I was willing to take over the position of the woman I hated most..."

Her smile faded into something more introspective, almost bitter, as she thought out loud. "I can see why I did it. I'm not proud of it, but... it makes sense." She let out a small, resigned laugh. "Even if it wasn't the ideal situation... I guess it was an acceptable outcome."

Sebastian observed her quietly, recognizing the emotional complexity beneath her words. Dorothy wasn't simply disappointed in herself for taking on the role of Witch Queen; she was grappling with the notion of accepting a fate that tied her to the very person she had spent her life resenting.

The realization that, despite her own trauma, she had stepped into a role meant to redeem her mother in some way—it wasn't just a sense of duty. It was an acknowledgment that life is rarely black and white, and sometimes the paths we take, even ones we despise, serve a greater purpose.

Sebastian could see that in her eyes—the quiet understanding that she had made peace with that reality, no matter how complicated it might be.

Dorothy sighed softly, her lavender eyes looking far away, as if she was seeing that future for herself. "I guess... that's what fate is, huh?"

Dorothy's gaze remained fixed on Sebastian, her eyes sharp and full of curiosity. "So, after everything you've said, why should I change my fate?" she asked, her voice steady. "Why should I abandon the path I've already committed to and join the Silver Eagles? It may not be perfect, but it's the life I've chosen."

Sebastian let out a deep sigh, his expression heavy with thought. "Originally," he admitted, "I was going to lie to you. I was going to trick you into believing I could help you escape your fate—convince you that you could choose your own destiny, free from your mother's control."

Dorothy's eyes narrowed slightly. "I sense a 'but' coming," she said, her tone wary.

He nodded. "But now... I think I want to give you something more."

Dorothy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

Sebastian sighed again, searching for the right words. "If it were just about wealth, fame, or status—House Silva could provide you with that a hundred times over. We have more money, influence, and connections than you could ever need. But something tells me you didn't risk your life escaping the Witch Forest and crossing a Grand Magic Zone just to sell yourself for something so shallow."

Dorothy gave a small nod, her expression softening as she listened. "You're right," she whispered, urging him to continue.

"What I sense from you," Sebastian continued, his voice growing more intense, "isn't a desire for power or riches. What I feel is a yearning. A yearning for your sister, a longing for a caring mother, for a peaceful home, for love... for warmth. You want real, deep connections—family, friends, allies you can trust, people who will stand by your side. A reason not to lose yourself in your dreams. You don't want to remain the isolated, independent figure you've had to become."

Dorothy's breath hitched, her eyes wide as his words struck a chord deep inside her. She remained silent, her heart racing, waiting for him to finish.

Sebastian thought back to two days earlier, when he had crumpled a pile of marriage offers aimed at his eldest son. They weren't about love—they were bids for status, wealth, and lineage. He had felt disgusted by them then, but now, an idea bloomed in his mind—an idea that made him smile. Something bold, something audacious.

He looked down at Dorothy, his smile widening as he realized what he was about to say. "Dorothy," he asked, his voice low but clear, "do you want to be a princess?"

The reaction was immediate. Dorothy's eyes widened like saucers, her mouth parting in shock. For the first time in their conversation, he could tell he had truly caught her off guard.


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
hmak27230 hmak27230

Nozel, your dad just sold you off

Chapter 13: Changing Fate (2)

The orange and reddish paint, that tinted the skies, was replaced by a dark blue, as the sun that shone over Hage, dipped below the horizon. A gentle breeze, graced the forsaken realm, offering a strange sense of comfort, for this remote area. Allowing the villagers, to blissfully enter their dreams, uncaring or worried about the predators and critters that stocked their village from the distance.

Along a winding cobblestone path, Sebastian and Dorothy cloaked in their contrasting wear, walked silently, side-by-side, footsteps in sync, as they made their way back to the Grimoire Tower. Regardless of the darkness that engulfed their surroundings, they were able to make out the silhouette of the looming ancient structure from afar, its shadow a beacon, to guide them to it.

Breaking the silence; Dorothy, with her eyes, which seemed to reflect the dying daylight, adding to their transcendent form, flashed Sebastian a teasing smirk, bending her back forward, and turning her head, diagonally upwards, attracting his attention. 

As he looked, down to her in silent questioning, she let out an inquisitively playful laugh. "Why are we coming back here? Neither of us lacks a grimoire," the young lady, couldn't hide her curiosity.

Without giving Sebastian time to answer, she stood upright and nudged his ribs lightly with her elbow. "What are you after Father?" She enunciated that title, with a mock undertone, of reverence, and filial piety.

Furrowing his brows, Sebastian, couldn't help but let out a deep sigh, gaze still locked on her, he satisfied her snoopiness. Somewhat.

"There's something I want to check", he began, voice calm and indifferent as always, before it took a sharp turn for a try at dry humor. "Daughter", he responded to her address, with an unfamiliar one of his own. The edge in his tone was more comedic than offended.

Dorothy giggled softly, her laughter genuine, utterly unbothered, and unphased by the response. She skipped a few steps ahead of Sebastian, the hem of her vibrant pink cloak fluttering in the breeze. Humming a soft tune under her breath, her melody matched the light chirps of the birds and faint twitches of the crickets still awake.

As they neared closer to the tower, her steps and palpable excitement, visibly slowed, and she gave a hesitant glance back to Sebastian over her shoulder, her expression marred with uncertainty.

"Do you think…" she started with her voice soft, barely a whisper, "Do you think Nozel and your family will accept me." The silence that followed was deafening, even the forest and nightlife, seemed to die down.

The question caused Sebastian to falter in his stride, for the faintest of moments, but falter, nonetheless. Studying Dorothy quietly, as she fidgeted under his gaze, hesitant to meet his eyes, he cleared his throat. He could've decided to soften his words and offer her a comforting lie, but he already vowed not to deceive her, so he opted for honesty. The cold-hearted truth.

Stopping his movement and waiting for her to look up at him, he opened his mouth, as she fully focused on him. "It might be uncomfortable at first", he weighed each word carefully before slowly moving on, "but I'm positive they'll come around."

As hope began to dance in Dorothy's eyes, he continued, "My wife Acier, and my youngest Noelle, I'm sure will be very receptive of you…", he paused with his gaze drifting upwards at the starry sky, before looking at her once more. "However, my eldest daughter Nebra…and second son Solid, might outright reject you. What those two fear most in life is change, don't be surprised if it takes years before they warm up to you."

Dorothy, stiffened at that, the tension in her body was clear, with the slight tremble of her legs, and clenching and unclenching of her hands that dangled at her sides. Her previous light-heartedness faded away, like a mask being removed, as she returned to that fragile lonely girl, who was searching for her place in the world. Sebastian studied the tightening of her jaw and watched her inhale a dry lump in her throat, as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Sebastian sighed once more, softer this time, frustrated that he had to be blunt, but aware that a lie here could cause so much more pain. Because that would give her expectations, and nothing is more painful than dashed and failed expectations. Steeling his resolve, he placed a hand on her shoulder, stilling her trembling figure like an anchor, and continued.

"As for Nozel…" He began to trail off, hesitant to voice these words that could further break her, as he narrowed his eyes lost in thought. "I don't really understand my son." Sebastian conceded and spoke, but it seemed more like to himself than, Dorothy. "There is so much about him, that is unreadable, as I'm rarely in a position to see his aloofness crack. That is a privilege, he reserves solely for his mother."

Sighing in frustration, Sebastian cracked his knuckles one by one, trying to keep calm and measured. "Nozel is far too mature, and professional for his age. Far too pragmatic. I'm quite positive he's not looking for a romantic relationship right now." Or possibly even ever, his father didn't exactly make the idea of fatherhood, tempting, he probably fears becoming me, with a passion.

A mix of bitter pride and disappointment seeped into Sebastian's tone, as he let out a wry chuckle. "That boy reminds me too much of myself, the man I don't want to be ever again, in so many ways. He probably recognizes that himself, which is why he despises me more than anyone. His cold-hearted logic, assessments, and reasoning, weighing all of his choices carefully in advance like an investor, looking for the pros and cons, before deciding whether it's worth acting."

Sebastian let out a deeper sigh, one of resignation, before meeting Dorothy's hopeful gaze once again. He ignored the light in her eyes, bit his lip, and finished his point. "He'll probably marry you, Dorothy. No, he'll definitely do so. But not out of love, longing, or desire, just because there are few better choices than you, to sire children with, and continue on the Silva bloodline. It'll be a loveless marriage…where he probably won't feel anything special for you, what you desire for a while."

Dorothy didn't respond right away. She didn't have to, the way her eyes dulled, and the light reflecting in them, exiled to the void, was answer enough. Her jolly visage was uncharacteristically blank. She forced out a small awkward (and oh so ugly) smile, wearing her mask once more like this revelation didn't bother her in the slightest. But Sebastian Silva was not one to miss the regret that briefly flickered in her lavender pearls, that should be so full of life.

Sebastian Silva can't give Dorothy Unsworth unreal expectations. But he can give her hope, that has truth to it. Stepping closer to the frozen girl, Sebastian's voice softened further. Gone was his blunt indifference, his tone gentler, more compassionate, and reassuring.

"That being said, I might be biased. I've been absent in my children's lives for far too long to be a good judge of their character. I'm only speaking to you, based on future visions, and daily reports on their actions I would receive from my butler, so I could monitor them, and assess their worth to me, House Silva, and the Kingdom."

"What I'm confident about, is that there are few people in this world that cherish their family and loved ones more than Nozel Silva. It's just about him recognizing you as family. When that happens, you'll find yourself with a better partner, than you can ever dream of. You won't hear it in his words, but if you give him a chance, and watch him closely, you'll see it in his actions."

Dorothy looked back up to him, light flickering in her eyes on and off, as Sebastian placed his other hand over her other shoulder. "But even if Nozel, my wife, my entire family, rejects you, refuses to acknowledge you, to accept you…it won't matter because I will. You'll always have a home, a place to belong in Castle Silva, even if you break your engagement with Nozel and go your separate ways, because from now on you are my daughter. And nothing will change that."

There was a moment of heavy silence, and this time the light flickering in her eyes, stayed. Dorothy's forced smile, peeled away, as it became something genuine, so broad it could light up a room. Her eyes softened and then, in a sudden burst of energy, she twisted out of his grasp, before slapping him hard on his back, the sound echoing the quiet forest, startling many critters awake.

Not paying any heed to Sebastian's winded expression, who hurriedly rubbed his back in pain. Dorothy shouted, "Old man!" Her voice refilled with warmth as she broke back into another playful skip, darting ahead of him. "Hurry up! The tower's not going to wait for you!"

But it will though!

Sebastian wanted to curse, but couldn't bring himself to, watching her twirl and frolic through the forest, like it was a common garden, edging infinitely closer to the Tower as her infectious laughter filled the air.

For a brief moment, Sebastian merely watched the girl, his stern visage, replaced by a soft tender smile. "Foolish girl", he muttered softly under his breath, but there was no real heat in his words, only an ever-growing affection.

Exhaling a breath of relief, and shaking himself out of his warm reverie, Sebastian lengthened his stride, his boots clicking rhythmically on the cobblestone, until he was walking side-by-side with his daughter once more.

As he caught up to her, he looked at her subtly for a moment, before remembering something. Reaching into his satchel bag, he pulled out an extra magic transponder, that he was originally planning on gifting her immediately, but forgot, as their conversation took a much more solemn and unexpected turn.

The transponder was a new model, much sleeker, a more expensive, than the ones that usually grace the market. It almost looked modern in its pitch-black design, adorned with silver lining, and intricate magic runes. Almost. The magic gem, on its head, sprouted like a microphone. Resulting in the craftsman's detailed design efforts being obsolete. The gem stood out like a sore thumb, and despite it undoubtedly being the most expensive part of the device, it was also the source of ire on the device.

Ignoring those thoughts, Sebastian wordlessly held the device out in front of her. Dorothy was no stranger to devices like these, as the Witch Forest was home to many strange contraptions, as many witches would isolate themselves in workshops to invent things, that could distract them from living in an open-air prison. 

She let out a low whistle of appreciation, before shooting Sebastian a sly look. "Well, well, well…", she mused her voice tinged with mischief, "you weren't kidding about being rich."

That's royalty for you.

There was a teasing glint in her eyes, which earned her a sideways glance from Sebastian. "Don't be too impressed," his dry voice drawled out, into her ears. "This is the bare minimum for a member of House Silva. Every servant, maid, butler, guard, chef, you name it, is equipped with one as well."

The Silva's are filthy rich after all. More wealth than they could spend in a few generations, so why not just invest a bit more, to make themselves look cool?

Dorothy raised a brow at that because, despite her very recent arrival to the Clover Kingdom, she was quite confident that this transponder wasn't some common toy. Even by noble standards.

Uncaring for her thoughts, Sebastian explained, with his voice soft, but concrete. "This one," he pointed to the transponder, she twirled in her hand, "is linked directly to my own. So, if you need anything, you can contact me immediately. No excuses, alright?"

A warm smile tugged at Dorothy's lips. "Alright", she nodded, before carefully storing the transponder into her cloak, nestled tightly beside her grimoire. There was a certain warm feeling in the gift, although it was mundane and practical, and not some grandiose gesture, she would cherish it because it was the first thing she'd ever been given from outside her homeland. And from her new father, no less.

Watching her tuck her transponder into her cloak, her clothes already starting to bulk, Sebastian began to ponder for a moment, before nodding to himself, coming to terms with a decision.

"When we get home," he caught her attention once more with his calm but firm voice. "I will be adding you to the family registry." He paused and considered his next words. "So, I can give you your first allowance."

Dorothy blinked at that before reiterating, "Allowance?" She repeated back to him, as her questioning look, faded into a quirky smile, dancing on her lips.

Sebastian nodded, adopting a matter-of-factly persona. "As a member of House Silva and daughter of the family head, it's only natural for you to receive a monthly stipend. A sizeable amount at that. Feel free to use it to buy yourself a satchel to hold your belongings, and anything else that catches your eye. If you run out, just come to me again, House Silva lacks few things, and money is not one of them."

Dorothy felt an inexplicable, feeling in her chest. Not only brought about by him casually addressing her as his daughter, already dedicating a portion of House Silva's wealth to her, or promising to make their relationship official and add her to the family tree.

No more than that, it was four words, that flowed naturally from his mouth. When we get home.

Home. She Dorothy Unsworth, has a home. One that isn't that damned cage.

Looking up at her guardian, Dorothy flashed him a truly genuine and unguarded smile. Her figure was illuminated under the full moon's reflection. "Thank you," two simple words that were voiced with barely a whisper, but they got the message, and all that was left unsaid, across.

Sebastian didn't voice a response, the flicker in his eyes, was enough to represent his acknowledgment. He looked upwards and stopped as the cobblestone path finally ended, and they arrived at their destination.

Just like always, the Tower stood, tall and loomed over all life, in the heart of the forest, a large clearing was dedicated to the structure. Sebastian sighed in relief, seeing no lights or lamps crackle in the windows. The place was thankfully deserted now, compared to how lively it had been just a few hours ago.

Even Drouot seemed to have left for home, which made Sebastian grateful, because the worst possible outcome, would be if the old wizard had lived here. Sebastian came to Hage, not just for Dorothy but to visit this grimoire tower, for a very specific reason. He wouldn't dare to enter the one, in the royal capital, as it's always guarded and under scrutiny, so his actions would undoubtedly raise suspicions.

But here in Hage where the presence of Magic Knights is nonexistent, he could be a bit bolder. Of course, I'd be more ideal if people like Conrad and Julius didn't give him a jump scare and pop out in front of him, in places like this.

Turing to his daughter Sebastian spoke softly. "Dorothy", he began his voice low, "You're the only one I've ever told of my prophetic powers."

The petit girl, blinked in surprise, her eyes widening, once she fully processed the words. "Really?" She asked incredulously, "No one else, not even your family?"

Sebastian nodded slowly and spoke with a complicated voice. "Not even them. And by the way, your mother broke you, hopefully not ever them."

Dorothy's breath hitched, as she felt like she was about to relive all that bottled-up trauma once more. The idea of one's future is set in stone, written out like a story, and no matter what they do or the choices they make, they will always end up at the same end. She hates fate. She knows what it's like to be driven to despair, thinking of it, desperately trying to escape it, only for it to chase you down. Although she can't speak for everyone, she can understand many will be better off not ever having their future foretold, because when it's unpleasant, and they fail to change it, they'll come out of it far worse.

Dorothy Unsworth can't speak for everyone, but she's certain she doesn't want his- no their family to experience that pain as well.

Looking upwards to Sebastian, Dorothy gave him a solemn nod, before raising her right hand up to him, She curled her fingers into a ball, into a fist, and outstretched her pinky finger. She waited for him to respond, with a playful glint in her eyes.

Sebastian blinked, at the gesture, not able to hide his bewilderment. His brows furrowed slightly, suspicious, but not positive if she was doing what he thought she was doing.

"It's called a pinky promise," Dorothy said with a small, mischievous smile. "It's a vow that I'll keep this secret between the two of us forever."

For a moment, Sebastian was speechless. He was not the least bit surprised to see such a childlike gesture from someone like Dorothy, but rather because that something so familiar existed here. A pinky promise? He never expected to have a trip down memory lane in another world. It's weird how nostalgic a simple, shake can make someone.

Then again, he mused, if this world has fist bumps and high fives, why not pinky promises?

A chuckle escaped his lips, and he reached out, wrapping his pinky around hers in a gentle, almost reverent motion. "It's a promise, daughter," he said, his voice softer than usual, but no less firm.

Dorothy giggled, her earlier seriousness melting away as she squeezed his pinky with hers. "Yes, father," she replied, her voice light but filled with affection.

A simple vow, that broke the last big barrier, between the two. They were now partners in crime you could say, and they'd only get closer from here on out.

Releasing the hold, Sebastian stared down the twin wooden doors, marking the tower's entrance. "Dorothy", he softly broke the quiet, "I'm a prophet so there will come many times in life when you'll see me do things that don't make a shred of sense. Like sneaking into a Grimoire Tower after dark, despite already having a grimoire of my own."

He locked her gaze with his own and continued. "At times like these, I just need you to trust me…and give me a little space."

Dorothy stared at him for a beat, taking a little while to understand his point. She gave him a soft smile and shrugged her shoulders, utterly laid back. "No problem, I'll wait for you out here."

Sebastian gave her a light nod, internally relieved by her quick wit and sensitivity. "Thank you", he voiced his earnest gratitude as he pushed the twin doors open, the worn hinges squeaked in soft protest.

Before he stepped inside, he paused and popped his head back out the door. "If anything happens," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "contact me immediately."

Dorothy gave him a quick nod, her smile never fading. "I will," she promised.

Sebastian hesitated for a moment longer. "And be wary of people... animals... magical beasts," he added, the caution in his voice almost parental.

Dorothy let out a small, amused laugh, raising an eyebrow. "I will," she said again, the same playful lilt to her voice.

He nodded, his eyes scanning her for any signs of concern before he disappeared back behind the door. But just as it began to close, it creaked open again, and Sebastian's head popped back out. "And don't fall asleep."

This time, Dorothy sighed, more exasperated than before. "I know, Father," she said, drawing out the words in a tone that was equal parts fond and annoyed as if she had heard this lecture a thousand times.

Sebastian gave a satisfied nod and finally shut the doors behind him, the echo of their closing reverberating down the dark, empty hall that awaited him inside.

Walking through the pitch-black hallway, Sebastian was frustrated, by his blindness. "Stupid old fart, couldn't you leave some lamps on", Sebastian cursed Drouot under his breath. He had to watch his step, as the floor wasn't leveled and had many holes, that could trip him up or cause him to stumble.

Sebastian Silva, for the first time in his life, regretted that he was not a fire mage. If there were reporters in this world, the media, and House Vermillion, would surely have a field day.

Closely losing his patience, Sebastian's eyes lit up, in realization. His grimoire flew out of his satchel and radiated its bluish magical hue, illuminating the hallway, like a lantern. It's brilliant, almost blinding glow, caused insects and rodents to scurry away into the holes in the brick wall.

Clever Grimoire. Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle to himself in satisfaction, as he slowly followed it, as he made his way out of the hall, before arriving at the main room.

His grimoire floated inside, revealing the room, where the grimoire acceptance ceremony is held. A circular room, with shelves, upon shelves, holding countless grimoires, laying silently, like ordinary books, awaiting their rightful owner.

Unlike his grimoire, Sebastian stopped short of the entrance, hesitant to take the final step and enter the room. It wasn't fear or a strange mix of anticipation and excitement that held him back, but rather just a flurry of thoughts.

He reflected on the body, he transmigrated into, and how he assumed the identity of Sebastian Silva. How did I even end up here? Was a question, that he often thought about in his free time, but wasn't really the main cause of his concern, because he doubted, he would get an answer anytime soon.

No, what he was more concerned about was, what happened to the previous Sebastian Silva. The original, the real one. He had been pulled into a strange world, into a body of some noncanonical character, and effectively usurped his identity, with no resistance as far as he could recall, no rejection whatsoever, with none the wiser.

He was no stranger to the idea of multiple souls inhabiting a single body. It was a theme that Black Clover had frequented many times. There were plenty of examples- be it William and Patri sharing a single vessel, Julius and Lucius, Yuno and Litch's son, not to mention the hundreds of Clover Kingdom citizens that had reincarnated as elves, during the whole Eye of the Midnight Sun fiasco. Two souls, one body.

But his situation felt different than the others, forget about communication, he couldn't even sense another presence, another consciousness inside this body. There was no internal dialogue, struggle, or battle for who would control this body. He was sure he was alone; this body was his now.

Sebastian furrowed his brow, struggling to piece together the puzzle of his situation. If I'm not like William or Patri, then... maybe I'm more like Yuno and Licht's son. He remembered how Yuno carried the soul of Licht's child within him—a bond not of possession, but of fusion. Two halves of the same being, yet still individuals in their own right. A fusion, he mused, not possession.

He let out a heavy sigh, trying to apply that idea to himself. I've fused with the original Sebastian Silva. That much he was certain of. He had absorbed everything—Sebastian's skills, his memories, his emotions, and all the finely tuned details of his past life. The way his body reacted to magic; the instincts embedded in muscle memory—it all belonged to the Sebastian of this world. But even with all of that, Sebastian knew he wasn't him. He was still himself, with his own set of emotions, his own goals, his own principles. Different from the man whose body he now inhabited.

It's like I'm 30 percent Sebastian and 70 percent me, he thought, trying to make sense of the merging identities. It felt like a new version of himself had emerged, a fusion of both, but with his consciousness in the driver's seat. It was his soul in control now, not the original Sebastian's.

But the questions only deepened. If magic and mana are tied to the soul, what does that mean for me? He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting some revelation to spring forth. Do I have my own magical attribute? My own power? His mind raced through possibilities. If the original Sebastian possessed magic, that power should now belong to him as well. But what about his soul, the one from a world without mana? Did that make him powerless here?

Am I like Asta and Liebe? The thought nagged at him. Is my soul empty of mana because of where I come from?

He frowned, frustration gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. It has to be the former, he hoped. In a world like this, being anything less than extraordinary wasn't just a disadvantage—it was a death sentence. The idea of being just a noble with wealth and status but no real power chilled him to the core. Sure, there were stories of people growing strong despite not having magical talent. Magna, for one, had clawed his way up with barely any mana, turning himself into a force to be reckoned with as a Magic Knight. And Rock Lee, from another world entirely, had done the same despite being unable to use ninjutsu.

But Sebastian wasn't sure he had even half their determination or drive. Could he really make a name for himself without some kind of magical cheat to lean on? He doubted it. I need something, he thought, the weight of it sinking in. An edge. Because in a world steeped in magic, being ordinary wasn't just a curse—it could be fatal.

He stared into the room ahead, feeling the pressure of the moment mounting. He had run through all the possibilities, and weighed every scenario in his mind. There was only one way to find out if he was special or not.

He'd thought about it long enough.

So, Sebastian took that final step and entered the room. The books all remained silent, but he didn't expect a reaction right away. He slowly studied the ancient books, as he stopped in the center of the room. This was the moment for him to finally receive some clue as to what kind of state he was in. He can theorize all he wants, but at the end of the day, he needs evidence to come to a concrete answer.

When in doubt find out.

All the grimoires sat silently on their shelves, looking no more remarkable than ordinary library books, powerless until they connected with someone worthy. Let's hope I'm one of them, Sebastian thought.

With a deep breath, he stretched out his arms, palms open, heart hammering in his chest with an uneasy mix of anticipation and dread. This is it. Come on... just one grimoire, any reaction.

He waited.

Seconds crawled by, turning into a minute. Then two. The room remained eerily still, the grimoires unresponsive, showing no sign of recognizing him. His hands began to feel heavy, but he kept them raised, straining for something—anything—to happen. His breath came shallow as the silence stretched on, thick and oppressive. No glowing light, no mystical tome floating off the shelves to meet him.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally let his arms fall, his shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment. He exhaled sharply, the sound echoing in the empty hall. Of course. No magical gift, no special grimoire, no cheat code to give him an edge.

His gaze drifted up to the high ceiling, as if the answers to his frustration might be hidden there. "Figures..." he muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. The disappointment twisted in his gut, threatening to pull him into the same self-pity he'd always tried to avoid. He had come all this way, hoping this world would give him something to set him apart—something to make him special.

But just like before, the universe seemed content to let him be ordinary.

Sebastian slapped both his cheeks, the sharp sting snapping him out of his downward spiral. He wasn't going to let a little disappointment break him. Not here, not now. In this world where magic ruled everything, there were still plenty of ways to get stronger. He squared his shoulders, forcing himself to remember what he already knew. There's Ki, Zetten, trap magic, mana method... so many paths to power. He didn't need a second grimoire like Yuno or demonic powers like Asta to make a name for himself. His starting point was already leagues ahead of someone like Magna Swing—and Magna had fought and beaten Dante, a host of one of the strongest devils, purely through grit and determination.

If Magna can do that, then there's no reason I can't, Sebastian thought, the sting of his own slap already fading. If someone like Magna could claw his way up from the bottom of the ranks, then surely he—someone with status, resources, and at least a decent amount of talent—could do the same. No, better. He wasn't just aiming for strength; he had no intention of being ordinary anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved his frustration aside. Maybe the lack of a reaction from the grimoires wasn't because he was unworthy. Yuno hadn't gotten his second grimoire until he'd fought to the brink of death, until his soul had resonated with Licht's son in the Spade Kingdom library. Maybe that's what Sebastian needed too—his own moment of desperation, a life-or-death struggle to awaken his magic. It was far too early to give up now.

He exhaled, turning to leave, his earlier disappointment giving way to a quiet but firm determination. This isn't the end, he told himself, feeling a new sense of resolve build in his chest. It's just the beginning. He was going to spend every free minute he had training, using the old facility at the Silva estate that had been left to gather dust. The original Sebastian hadn't bothered with it, like most nobles and royals, relying on their natural talent and vast mana pools. But that wasn't his path. He would push himself until his muscles burned and his mana ran dry. If he had to collapse from exhaustion or throw up in the process, so be it. He wasn't going to let himself become a burden in this world of magic.

If I can't at least become as strong as the Wizard King, Sebastian thought grimly, I'll be a disgrace to every transmigrator ever.

As Sebastian walked through the dark hallway, the soft blue glow from his grimoire casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls, something unexpected happened. The grimoire, which had been quietly floating beside him, suddenly burst into life. The pages flew open with a surge of energy, the sound of paper flipping echoing loudly in the silence. He froze in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. The once blank pages of the grimoire were now filling themselves with ink, line after line of script appearing as if by some invisible hand.

"What the hell...?" he whispered, barely audible, his voice swallowed by the empty hall.

His mana spiked. It was sudden—rushing through him like wildfire. What had once been the average reserves of a noble were now rising at an alarming rate, surging just below the level of royal power. His breath caught in his throat. This wasn't a gradual increase—it was like something had been unlocked, a floodgate opened inside him, letting all that energy pour through at once.

For a few seconds, Sebastian just stood there, stunned and rooted to the spot. Slowly, his trembling fingers reached for the pages of the grimoire, flipping through them. The air around him crackled with energy, the faint hum of power buzzing beneath his fingertips. Line after line of new spells filled the pages—attack spells, dozens of them, each one radiating raw, unrefined power. He blinked, his mind racing as he took in what he was seeing.

These weren't the neat, refined spells that the original Sebastian had possessed. No, these were gritty, brutal, and violent. They felt visceral, almost predatory in their design, so out of place in the grimoire of a nobleman who had been known for support magic. The original Sebastian's spells had always been composed—healing spells, defensive barriers, carefully measured utilities. There had only been a couple of attack spells, and even those had been restrained, used more for self-defense than anything else.

But these new spells? They screamed of someone else. Someone ruthless. Someone from a different life.

Sebastian's heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the incantations. There was no elegance here, no careful craftsmanship. These were weapons—spells forged with the intent to destroy, to overpower. They were efficient, yes, but merciless. He could feel it in every word etched into the pages.

These spells were his.

Not the original Sebastian's, not some relic of noble upbringing, but his own—crafted from the essence of the life he'd lived before. The power behind them wasn't rooted in centuries of tradition or polished aristocracy. No, it was raw, modern, and perfectly in tune with the mindset of someone who had been thrust into this world from another.

And for the first time, Sebastian didn't feel like an intruder in this body. The grimoire had finally acknowledged him—not as a replacement, but as its true master.

A smile crept onto the corners of Sebastian's mouth as a theory began to crystallize in his mind. So that's it... The original Sebastian had been a support mage, a master of healing, barriers, and sealing spells, with only a handful of basic attack spells to his name. But he, the one now inhabiting this body, was an attack mage at heart. He had fused with Sebastian Silva, and now his own magic was starting to emerge—his grimoire responding to him as a distinct soul, unshackled from the past.

As he flipped through the pages, each spell seemed to affirm his hypothesis. The attack spells weren't just random additions; they reflected his modern sensibilities, his mindset. It all makes sense now. The reason no grimoire had chosen him earlier wasn't a lack of magic; it was because his magical attribute was already tethered to this body. His soul must have been drawn to water magic, explaining why he had ended up in the body of a water mage in the first place.

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, a wave of satisfaction and relief washing over him. He was now a perfectly balanced mage—armed with a diverse arsenal of support, defensive, and offensive spells. This new development, this awakening of his true power, likely stemmed from his realization of his own identity. Despite fusing with Sebastian Silva, he remained independent. That self-awareness had triggered his soul to awaken fully, granting him access to his own mana reserves.

"This... is probably the best outcome," he murmured, a smile spreading across his face. It wasn't some overpowered cheat like a second grimoire, but it was precisely what he needed. And it wouldn't draw attention, either, since everyone knew Sebastian had a few attack spells—even if he rarely used them. Support mages, like Mimosa, often kept offensive spells in their arsenal, even if they weren't their main focus. These gritty, brutal spells would seem like something the original Sebastian had chosen to overlook, perhaps out of pride or because they didn't fit his noble image.

Sebastian smirked, finding it perfectly aligned with his character—the noble politician who refused to dirty his hands with crude, violent magic. As for the surge in his mana, no one would notice unless he gave them a reason to. Only those with extraordinary sensitivity, like Julius or Conrad, or overly perceptive individuals like Mereoleona, would be able to sense the change. Even then, they'd need to be actively looking for it. He felt confident he could maintain the facade for a while, especially considering how nonchalant the original Sebastian had been about training.

In the world of Black Clover, dramatically increasing mana reserves through natural means was nearly impossible. However, it was entirely normal for individuals to unlock hidden potential and tap into dormant parts of their mana. The real Sebastian—a man who had never truly trained—would possess untapped reserves that could easily be explained if questioned. He could simply claim he had been training—and that wouldn't be a lie.

Feeling a sense of calm wash over him, Sebastian smiled to himself. This will work, he thought, the weight of his newfound power settling comfortably on his shoulders. He would fly under the radar, grow stronger, and bide his time until he was ready to unveil the full extent of his abilities. By the time anyone noticed, he would have laid a solid foundation, training relentlessly in the facility back at the Silva estate.

He closed his grimoire, the blue light dimming as he tucked it back into the folds of his cloak. With a satisfied smile, he turned and headed toward the exit, the soft echo of his footsteps fading as he left the Grimoire Tower behind.

Sebastian quietly eased open the heavy doors, careful to prevent them from creaking too loudly as they swung shut behind him. The cool night air wrapped around him as he stepped outside, and his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim starlight filtering through the forest trees. He let out a deep sigh, his gaze drifting to where Dorothy leaned against the stone wall of the tower.

There she was, sound asleep, her head tilted to the side, blowing bubbles through her nose with each breath. Her pink curls danced gently in the breeze, and her face radiated a peacefulness that suggested she hadn't a care in the world. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and her legs were tucked beneath her in an awkward position. It was both endearing and exasperating to see her so relaxed, especially after everything they had just discussed.

Sebastian felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. "This girl..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he approached her. Gently, he reached out and tapped her shoulder.

Dorothy didn't stir; there was no reaction from her except for a light snore. But like clockwork, she stood up on unsteady legs and began to follow him, her movements eerily automatic in a strange, sleepwalking daze. Her eyes remained closed as she mumbled incoherently, her feet shuffling along behind him.

Sebastian rubbed his forehead in exasperation as they trudged through the forest. He had grown accustomed to Dorothy's bizarre sleep habits, but that didn't make them any less problematic. Her narcolepsy and parasomnia were serious issues—issues that, if left unchecked, could one day cost her life. He often wondered how she managed to survive the countless battles she had faced, especially with her knack for dozing off at the worst possible moments.

It was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that she hadn't fallen asleep during a critical fight against someone powerful enough to end her life. His mind flickered back to the future—how Dorothy had squared off against threats like Morris, Lucifero, and Damnatio. Any one of those encounters could have gone horribly wrong if she had nodded off at just the wrong moment. The chilling thought of her drifting into slumber mid-battle, only to wake up dead, sent a shiver down his spine.

How has she survived this long? he wondered grimly. Dorothy was undeniably powerful, but her body's tendency to succumb to sleep whenever it felt like it was a glaring vulnerability. Sure, she could fight while asleep, but what if she faced an enemy who could exploit that weakness? What if, in the future, she collapsed in front of someone too strong for her to handle in that state? There wouldn't be time to react. She'd die, and it would be for the stupidest reason imaginable.

Sebastian clenched his jaw at the thought. Losing Dorothy was a fate he couldn't even begin to contemplate. She had only recently become a part of his life, yet she had quickly grown precious to him—his daughter in all but blood. The very idea of attending her funeral, of having to bury her because she dozed off at the worst moment, filled him with a cold, sinking dread.

No. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find a way to help her, to protect her from this condition. Whether through magic or medicine, he needed to devise a solution. Perhaps when they returned to the Silva estate, he could collaborate with some of the best healers or researchers to find a remedy. Dorothy might have survived until now, but if they were to face the battles that lay ahead, they couldn't afford to take any chances.

He glanced back at her, still sleepwalking behind him, her head bobbing slightly as she stumbled along. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She really was something else.

"Come on, Dorothy," he murmured under his breath. "Let's get you home before you fall asleep standing up."

With that, they continued their quiet trek through the forest, the soft rustle of leaves the only sound accompanying them on their way back.

Omake:

"Father, do you think Nozel, will love me?" Dorothy asked

Sebastian clasped her shoulders, "Daughter there's something you should know about Silvas!"

"W-what is it?" Dorothy gulped meeting his dead serious eyes

"They're all tsundere's!"

"Tsundere?" Dorothy was confused

Sebastian breathed softly. "I mean, don't be surprised if Nozel ignores you, or treats you coldly, deep down he'll really like you, but is just too embarrassed to show it."

"That's...really weird. And lame" Dorothy couldn't help but say

Sebastian nodded, softly. Noelle is the best example. Solid was too shy to apologize, and Nozel didn't know how to talk to Noelle after the curse was lifted. I guess the most normal one is actually Nebra, though I just might not know her enough.

Sebastian paused deep in thought. If this runs in the family line, is Acier one too?

Authors Note:

Okay, why did this chapter take so damn long?

That is because Inkstone (Webnovel) recently published a notice, that they would be taking down AI works that violated these three fields:

1. Using AI to plagiarize other works

2. Using AI to translate and publish work that isn't yours

3. Using AI to generate ideas for you, write the work itself entirely, adding extra details and wordiness to your work, and you take credit for it.

Although I haven't violated any of those I'm not willing to take the chance. So congratulations guys I wasted so many tiring hours of my day, to edit this work entirely by myself, save for the very end as he exited the tower and thinks of Dorothy, as I couldn't feel my wrist anymore, and got sick of looking at my screen.

I know you guys who've been complaining about AI, are smug right now because that means from now on there will be no more AI, other than to fix grammar. Or if I'm just having a very bad day, and no longer care if Webnovel axe's this story.

As for Ch 1 - 12 if I ever have the energy perhaps I'll go back and rewrite them, but keep your fingers crossed as I doubt I'll ever do something like that.

If besides all this Webnovel, still takes this work down, just know you can still read this story on Fanfiction and archiveofourown. 

As for this Hage arc, because of this change, there will be one more chapter, as there's one more plot point and character I want to explore in the next chapter. You guess who?

Now for the bad news. When I say bad, I mean for you, and not for me. Because of all this, I doubt I'll be able to keep a daily update streak anymore. So get ready for fewer updates in a week and lower-quality chapters.

Hip Hip Hooray. 


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