Reborn As Papa Silva

Edited By: IWillFixHer

To the north of the Clover Kingdom, the setting sun cast a blood-red glow over a barren wasteland of rock and infertile soil which sat atop a labyrinthine network of mines. From these depths seeped a disturbing, reddish haze that hung over the desolate landscape, adding to the grim atmosphere.

Inside the mines, people of all ages and genders toiled relentlessly, scraping whatever scant resources remained from nearly depleted ore deposits, armed only with pickaxes and basic magic. Even children who should have been in nurseries and elderly folk who should have been on death's door were not spared. Though there were no chains or shackles, anyone who saw this scene could only think of slaves.

The way they worked themselves ragged—clothes torn, skin bruised, their frail and malnourished forms... what else could you call these people but "slaves?"

But the reality was even more twisted: these weren't slaves or prisoners; they were everyday citizens of the Diamond Kingdom. This harsh existence, of scraping the ground just to meet their daily quota for rations, for the right to rest by bonfires for warmth, was the norm here. If this was the fate of the average Diamond citizen, what kind of life awaited the kingdom's true slaves and criminals?

Several hooded figures in dark blue and black robes looked on indifferently, some savoring the envious glares the "slaves" directed at them. These were the Diamond Kingdom's Mage Warriors—the fortunate ones with a spark of magic aptitude, enjoying a life of relative dignity as "true citizens" of the Diamond Kingdom, able to live above ground.

In the Diamond Kingdom, only the main castle and its surrounding lands had access to the kingdom's rare fertile forests. Those who dwelled there were of royal blood, high-ranking military, people of influence or skill, or those with connections to those mentioned above. As Mage Warriors, these figures had the privilege to live in huts or set up tents on the outskirts of the forest, enjoying the open sky, fresh air, and occasionally even a taste of meat. Many others dreamed of joining their ranks, but for most, it was just a fantasy.

Children with a magical gift among the "lessers" were taken from their families, either to be trained as future Mage Warriors, or they were secretly handed over to Morris for his experiments. Parents clung to the hope that one day, their child might escape this life and bring them with them, but the truth was often much crueler.

The few who survive Morris's experiments emerged as something... else. Their emotions were twisted and tampered with, leaving them as either cold, unfeeling machines or perverse, dangerous people who reveled in pain of others Needless to say, they no longer cared for the family and friends they once had; whether their loved ones were dead or alive was of no consequence to them.

As for the standard Mage Warriors, their low rank kept them tethered to the mines. Though they stood a rung above the "slaves" underground, up top, they were treated as expendable grunts—fodder for the Diamond Kingdom's endless conflicts.

There was another reason most of the hopefuls present would never see daylight, a reason few had pieced together. Because Diamond was so starved for resources and couldn't afford to elevate many families to "true citizen" status, they primarily scouted for talent among orphans and loners with no visible connections. Only in rare cases did they seek out those with families—if the family was already part of the topside, if the Diamond Kingdom was desperately short on recruits, or if the individual showed such clear talent that they'd be an undeniable asset.

Families among the bottom feeders who showed potential were usually kept in check, subtly oppressed to prevent them from rising to a level where they could bring their loved ones out of the mines. If that didn't work, indoctrination often followed: brainwashing and corruption to make sure these recruits severed ties with their "lesser" relatives until they no longer cared for them. And, as for those with little talent but no family ties? They were used as cannon fodder, expendable assets likely to die before ever earning enough merit to lift a family out of poverty—or, a more recent practice shipped off to Morris as fresh experimental material.

It was incredibly rare for a family to truly escape from their life of mining and servitude. Diamond would sometimes allow a family or two each year to rise with a grand display of fanfare, but it was just a calculated move to inspire the miners and display the kingdom's so-called "boundless generosity." Diamond had never outright lied to its people; yes, it was possible to become a topsider. But what they didn't reveal was how easily they could make things harder for you, stacking the odds until your chances of elevation were one in a thousand.

It was cruel, it was manipulative, but it was their reality—the only option, really, for a kingdom constantly at war, scraping to expand its borders, desperate for the land and resources it needed to survive. The only logical choice, that is.

The Mage Warriors of the Diamond Kingdom served a range of roles. Some, like the Overseers in the mines, kept meticulous tabs on the miners, ensuring quotas were met with a bit of "encouragement." Others were dispatched on field missions, like those once they were put under General Yagos's command, while others stood guard over the kingdom itself, monitoring the castle walls, looking out for intruders, and tracking those who came and went from the fortress.

Several sentries were stationed along the castle walls, scanning all directions for any approaching figures or magical beasts. Suddenly, they snapped to attention, their eyes fixed on the main gate, where a smokey cart was barreling toward them at impressive speeds.

"General Yagos has already returned?" one guard murmured, stunned.

Early that morning, General Yagos had departed southward on a classified mission, taking a squad of ten with him. They'd all assumed it would be a long-term assignment, and the group's quick return was unexpected. The sentries exchanged knowing looks, then smiled. As expected of General Yagos—always efficient.

As the oldest active general and Mage Warrior in the Diamond Kingdom, Yagos had earned the admiration of the populace and even the king himself. Though he was considered one of the weaker among the eight Shining Generals, he had the trust of the Diamond Kingdom due to his wit, resourcefulness, and consistent merits and achievements.

As the cart drew closer, those camping along the road—those in tents and makeshift huts outside the castle walls—lined up to give Yagos and his squad a warm welcome. But, as the cart neared, their cheers faltered and died.

The sentries felt an uneasy shift among the crowd, the growing murmurs of shock too loud to ignore. Exchanging alarmed glances, they lowered the castle's drawbridge to let the cart in, closing it quickly before leaping down to investigate the commotion.

Approaching cautiously, their grimoires hovering before them, they soon took in the sight. The elite squad of eleven was gone, replaced by only two figures in the back of the cart—Adjutant General Lotus Whomalt and Lieutenant Fanzell Kruger. Both were battered and bloodied, their clothes torn, skin smeared with dried blood and fresh cuts. Their faces, normally calm, were marred with pain and exhaustion.

"General Lotus!" "Lieutenant Fanzell!" "Someone get a doctor!"

The sentries shouted in alarm, rushing to help the two down from the cart, both of which grimaced as they took the offered hands, struggling to stand. Mage Warriors, sentries, and onlookers alike felt waves of shock and creeping dread seeing Lotus and Fanzell in such a state. All eyes turned to a young man in a white, doctor-like coat, sweat beading on his forehead as he stepped forward to tend to the wounded pair. His grimoire floated before him, trembling slightly as he cast a spell, bathing Lotus and Fanzell in a green healing light.

A seasoned healer might have recognized that, beneath the blood and bruises, most of the injuries were surface-level. But the Diamond Kingdom had few such experts. Their top healers were reserved for the king, the royal family, the eight Shining Generals, and, of course, Morris Libardirt.

The young healer, barely more than a miner a week ago and who had only recently received his Grimoire and awakened to recovery spells, lacked any formal training. Unaware that his magic was working faster than expected for Lotus and Fanzell's supposed "dismembered" state, he focused intently, the green light brightening as he poured all he had into healing them.

After most of their wounds had closed, the Mage Warriors exchanged uncertain glances. Finally, one gathered the courage, grit his teeth, and spoke up.

"G-General Lotus, what happened? Why are you two like this, and... where's General Yagos and the others?!"

"Acck." Lotus hacked up a mouthful of blood, making everyone tense up—even the young doctor, who watched with worry. But Lotus waved them off weakly, coughing again as he caught his breath. "N-not now... w-we need to report... t-to His Majesty."

Fanzell nodded, just as weakly. The Mage Warriors and onlookers exchanged glances of admiration. They're so injured, yet they'd rather report immediately than rest and recover. This is what it means to be a Mage Warrior of the Diamond Kingdom, our pride!

One Mage Warrior couldn't hide his gratitude and stepped forward. "General, Lieutenant—let me help you. Lean on my shoulder, and I'll get you to the castle."

"Me too!"

"Step aside, I'm the strongest here—I can carry them both!"

Lotus and Fanzell exchanged a quick look of guilt, then waved them off. Lotus spoke after a moment, "That would be a breach of protocol—and an offense to His Majesty if we entered his palace like that. We're not so weak that we can't walk on our own."

Fanzell cleared his throat, lowering his head slightly. "Y-yeah."

Without waiting for any further objections, the two limped forward on their own. In their admiration, the Mage Warriors and bystanders didn't notice that, despite their supposed weakness, Lotus and Fanzell were moving with surprising speed.

The crowd silently parted, allowing them a clear path to the castle's entrance. Just as they reached the doors, a figure barreled into them from behind.

"Lotus!" "Fanzell!"

"Ooff!" Lotus and Fanzell grunted in (real) pain, falling face-first to the ground. But when they turned to see who had tackled them, their expressions softened with fondness.

Lotus looked up into the tear-streaked face of a young woman with a slight tan, honey-gold hair, and warm brown eyes. She wore a Renaissance-style dress, with a loose, off-shoulder white blouse, bell sleeves, and a black corset that highlighted an hourglass figure, flowing into a high-waisted green skirt that covered her legs.

"Lana…" Lotus felt a hitch in his breath as he saw the tears running down her cheeks.

"W-what happened to you?" Lana's voice was thick with sobs.

Lotus didn't answer right away, glancing around before gently wiping her tears with his fingers. Then, he pulled her into a hug. As she melted into his arms, he whispered something inaudible into her ear, and she stiffened, her gaze shifting over to the right, where Dominante and Fanzell were similarly embracing. When she noticed Fanzell blushing as he pulled away, Lana's eyes grew wide.

Fanzell composed himself, murmuring something to Dominante as well, causing her to pause and exchange a look with Lana. They nodded in silent understanding.

Standing together, the two women gave Fanzell and Lotus a final nod. Lana spoke softly, "We'll see you later. You two shouldn't keep His Majesty waiting."

None of the guards or bystanders watching saw anything unusual in this exchange. After all, it was only natural that the king would take first priority.

Fanzell and Lotus walked stiffly into the palace, a somber air around them as they stopped before the throne room doors, waiting for permission to enter. For five tense minutes, they stood in silence. Then, an eerie, playful voice echoed into the hall.

"You may enter!"

They exchanged grim looks. This is it.

As they entered, the sight of the diamond-encrusted throne room turned both their stomachs, as it always did. The entire hall was plated with gleaming diamonds, exuding a lavishness that felt like mockery.

The kingdom is struggling, yet the king lives so magnificently, Fanzell thought bitterly. Even the Clover Kingdom's throne room mustn't be this over-the-top.

Fanzell used to try justifying this—the king is the face of the nation, after all; even if the people must live modestly, the king should match the status of other monarchs to uphold the kingdom's dignity. But today, as he returned with treason on his mind, he no longer tried to deceive himself. This is disgraceful! He had to hold back a sneer.

A blood-red carpet led to the throne itself—a massive chair of gold studded with rubies, jades, emeralds, and sapphires. Atop the throne sat an old, frail, and withered figure. The king's sickly appearance made him look much older than his actual age. Though barely in his forties, he appeared closer to his sixties. His bald head glistened under the light, save for the golden crown set with an amethyst centerpiece. Each of his ten bony fingers bore a ring: citrine, peridot, garnet, aquamarine, opal, pearl, and more, each shining grotesquely against his emaciated skin. His gaze was dull and unfocused, a hint of drool slipping from his mouth.

Anyone with a scrap of sanity would question this man's fitness to rule. Edelstein F. Diamondhart, King of the Diamond Kingdom, was barely coherent, his body as decrepit as his leadership. But no one dared voice this, not even the Eight Shining Generals who were lined up to his left—though now only six remained, with Yagos dead and another having "disappeared" months ago, yet to be replaced. [1] [A]

The reason for their silence stood beside the king: a bespectacled young man in a crisp coat, the Leader of Magical Development and the king's advisor, Morris Libardirt.

Morris's mere presence was enough to keep dissent in check. Any who dared to question the king's state met an unpleasant end. Morris had silenced even one of their own Shining Generals. If he could deal with someone of that rank, what hope did they, or anyone else, have?

So they all stayed silent, swallowing the bitter taste of watching their kingdom's puppet king dance on Morris's strings.

Watching Morris's smug expression, Fanzell and Lotus clenched their fists subtly, they then stopped five meters from the throne and knelt in deference.

"We greet your Majesty!" they announced, heads bowed. The words made their stomachs churn. Both knew full well to whom they were truly bowing.

As if to prove this, Morris chuckled openly and, without waiting, spoke on Edelstein's behalf, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"The two of you are quite bold," he sneered, "coming before His Majesty in such a disgraceful state."

Lotus and Fanzell kept their heads lowered, refusing to rise to the bait. "We apologize for our insolence," they replied submissively. "But we have a report of utmost urgency."

Nearby, one of the Shining Generals—a burly, brown-eyed man with a prominent afro named Broccos—watched silently, giving a slight nod of approval. Although known for his impatience, Broccos wasn't foolish. He knew well the consequences of crossing Morris. As a protective leader, he had even instructed his own men to avoid attracting Morris's attention at all costs. Fanzell and Lotus weren't his subordinates, but he was relieved that they were wise enough to hold back and avoid a self-destructive outburst.

"Tsk." Morris clicked his tongue, clearly displeased that they hadn't taken his bait. He then shrugged dismissively. "Well, no matter. But you two do understand that you'll still be punished for your insubordination, don't you?"

"We understand," the two replied, keeping their heads lowered and offering no resistance.

Despite his blindness, they felt Morris's gaze on them, as though he could see their every thought. His voice grated on their nerves as he continued, "Now then, why don't you share what was so urgent it required His Majesty's attention? And where is General Yagos and the rest of your team, hmm?"

Lotus spoke, his head still bowed. "The mission was a trap. We were ambushed, and everyone else was wiped out. Only Fanzell and I survived."

They braced themselves for a reaction—some sign of shock or horror at the devastating news—but almost immediately, Morris replied, unfazed. "I see."

A chill ran down their spines as Fanzell, gritting his teeth, dared to speak up. "Forgive me, Advisor Libardirt, but you don't seem the least bit surprised."

"Hehehe," Morris chuckled, his tone dripping with amusement. "That's because I'm not."

Fanzell and Lotus tensed, their apprehension mounting as Morris's next words came: "No need to kneel any longer; the two of you may stand."

If anyone should dismiss us, it should be the King himself! they thought, seething inwardly. Still, they rose, only to be met with Morris's unwavering, unreadable smirk, his expression hidden beneath his reflective, single-lens glasses.

Without giving them a chance to ask, Morris folded his arms behind his back and began, "As of six hours ago, our spies confirmed Lux Kira was executed for treason, and Damnatio Kira has assumed leadership of House Kira. It's unsurprising they intercepted our plans."

Lotus felt his suspicions solidify. If I was 99% certain before, I'm now 100% sure. Green Owl is Damnatio Kira, and Master L is Conrad Leto. It all made sense; intelligence suggested tension between Lux and Damnatio, and if Blue Eagle's information held true, Damnatio had likely used the Secret Order to remove his father—not only for revenge, but also to thwart any threat to his leader's family and squad.

Fanzell, struggling to stay composed, clenched his fists and pressed further. "Advisor Libardirt, if you held such critical information, why didn't you relay it to General Yagos through the transponders?"

Morris's smile grew more sinister. "And why should I have?"

What? Lotus and Fanzell blinked in confusion as Morris elaborated, "It was a golden opportunity to weaken the Clover Kingdom's forces. Even if there was a chance it was a trap, we couldn't disregard the possibility that, despite Lux Kira's death, the plan hadn't been leaked. So it was only logical to send you forward uninformed; otherwise, you might have hesitated and turned back."

"But that nearly cost you eleven good men!" Fanzell shouted, fury burning in his voice, while Lotus grimaced, his expression darkening.

Morris momentarily flinched, surprised by Fanzell's boldness, but his smile quickly took on a dangerous edge as he wagged his finger. "Correction, Lieutenant Fanzell," he emphasized, stressing the gap between their ranks. "It could have cost us eleven expendables—no significant loss. And look, two of you even made it back, so no harm done."

Lotus and Fanzell trembled with rage, while heavy frowns appeared on the faces of the six observing Shining Generals, though none dared to speak.

Unfazed by the tension, Morris pressed on. "So, how many were waiting for you? Was it the entire White Serpent squad? Don't tell me you came back empty-handed; surely, you managed to eliminate at least one or two of them."

Lotus and Fanzell shook their heads, and Lotus spoke up. "We never even reached the dungeon. We were ambushed at Galen Heights by just three figures who completely overpowered us."

Morris paused, and the Shining Generals exchanged looks of disbelief. Yagos had led ten elite warriors—not mere fodder. Even in an ambush, they should have at least had a chance. But, hearing that a group only a third of their size had decimated them left the generals bewildered.

Whoever these three were, they had to have been in a league of their own.

"Who were they?" Morris demanded sharply, listing off notable names. "Lovilia? Julius? Ignatius? Kaiser? Conrad? Ellenor?" [2]

Lotus shook his head, and Morris's impatient glare urged him to continue. Internally, Lotus sighed, wondering at the Blue Eagle's intentions. Why would a Secret Order want its existence known? And yet, they had me adjust the story slightly…

"They called themselves the Secret Order," Lotus began. "They wore black suits that obscured their figures completely. The only detail I'm certain of is that two were men and one was a woman."

"How did you know?" Morris questioned, his tone detached.

"Even in disguise, they wore different masks that allowed a glimpse of their features, and they used code names that matched their masks," Lotus explained.

Morris's brows furrowed before a realization dawned on him. "Did they speak without emotion, and were their grimoires black and featureless?"

Lotus and Fanzell exchanged startled looks. "How did you know?"

Morris chuckled. "They likely used a Clover magic tool called the Haze Mask. Lux promised that if we succeeded, he would send one. It seems that will never happen." No matter, Morris thought smugly. I can create a better version myself. Who designs a disguising tool that reveals hints of one's identity? Ridiculous!

"So, what were their defining features?" Morris pressed on, a spark of interest in his eyes.

Recalling Blue Eagle's descriptions, Fanzell answered mechanically, "The man in the middle, their apparent leader, wore a mask with a black stitch across the top. He called himself 'Black King.' He used some strange magic that could alter his physique and body size. He was the one who defeated General Yagos." [3]

Lotus added darkly, "To his right was a man with a blue fly mask, who went by 'Blue Fly.' He could sprout bones from his body—he's the one who took out the others." [4]

Fanzell shuddered. "The last was a woman with a mask resembling bloody tentacles. She called herself 'Red Ram.' We managed to escape her, but not without wounds." [5]

The Shining Generals exchanged bewildered looks until Broccos finally spoke, crossing his arms. "Anyone here familiar with people matching those descriptions?"

The others shook their heads.

Broccos sighed in disappointment. They sound formidable. I'd have liked a match with one of them.

Morris, however, had a different reaction. Blood, bones, and body manipulation… a wicked grin formed on his lips as he thought, If I could capture all three, they'd make magnificent specimens. His gaze shifted to Fanzell and Lotus with disdain. These two incompetents couldn't even capture one! This is why Mage Warriors are worthless—only through my experiments, fusing magic with science, can Diamond produce warriors of true value.

The room buzzed with rising murmurs until Morris raised a hand, silencing them with a dismissive wave. "Enough." His voice cut through, pulling everyone's attention back to him.

"Lotus Wholmat and Fanzell Kruger, it's commendable that you survived to bring this information. However, deserting your battalion is a grave offense. Moreover, this is only your account—there's no proof what you've said is true."

Lotus and Fanzell exchanged narrowed glances at Morris before Lotus spoke, "We will accept whatever punishment you deem fit, Advisor."

Morris let out his trademark chilling laugh, then gestured to Edelstein who was seated beside him. "Such audacity! It is His Majesty's role to dispense reward and punishment. Now, Your Majesty, what shall be the fate of these sinners?"

Edelstein's gaze snapped from a dull fog to an unsettling intensity, and he pointed a trembling finger at Lotus and Fanzell. "Have these useless wastes sent to your lab, Morris! I want you to make something worthwhile out of them!"

Morris bowed in a mock show of respect as Edelstein's eyes glazed over once again. "Your wish is my command, Your Majesty."

Around the room, the Shining Generals lowered their heads in quiet frustration. Broccos finally stepped forward, standing between Lotus and Fanzell, who struggled to keep their emotions in check.

He leaned in close, murmuring softly, "If you don't resist, your women should be safe, for now."

Lotus and Fanzell shot Morris a look of pure disdain before exchanging resigned nods with Broccos.

The burly general gave them a respectful nod, clapping a supportive hand on each of their shoulders. "Come. I'll escort you down myself. No need for you to walk out in chains and shame under my watch."

He looked back over his shoulder, meeting Morris's gaze. "Is that acceptable, Advisor?"

Morris merely smirked and looked aside. From the throne, Edelstein weakly parted his lips, giving a hoarse reply. "V-Very well…"

Broccos gave a brief nod and led them out of the throne room, steering them through a discreet side door to avoid the prying eyes and muttered suspicions of the court. He walked them down a hidden stairwell that led to a sterile, futuristic lab space, and then to a row of cells ominously labeled "Materials Awaiting Experimentation."

Two silent mage warriors approached and methodically stripped Lotus and Fanzell of their grimoires and personal belongings, sparing only their clothing. Mana-binding chains were secured around their wrists, and they were locked in adjacent cells. The mage warriors bowed to Broccos before leaving. Broccos lingered for a moment, casting them a conflicted glance before he too, exited the way he'd come.

Now alone in the dim, dank cell block, the two sat in silence. The dungeon's grime, and a stench laced with blood and decay, bore down on them like a heavy weight.

"You alright, kid?" Lotus asked quietly, though his voice betrayed a tone of resignation.

"No. Not at all." Fanzell didn't care if anyone was listening. Facing what felt like a death sentence, he saw no reason to hide his thoughts anymore.

Lotus was of the same mind, and gently urged him to go on. "Why's that?"

Fanzell let out a hollow laugh. "Since I was a kid, I always knew what I wanted—to fight for the Diamond Kingdom, make it a place where our people could live with dignity and respect." He clenched his fists. "I expected obstacles, but I never thought… one failure would be the end of it all."

He stared at the cell floor, voice shaking. "Is this even the Diamond Kingdom I grew up loving? The Eight Shining Generals, my heroes, now cower before him—and it's my fault!"

"What do you mean?" Lotus pressed gently.

"Because I ignored him!" Fanzell's voice broke, and he felt tears of frustration trailing down his cheeks. "We grew up in the same quarters. Morris was taunted, spat on, left to fend for himself because of his disability, and I just… I just told myself my training was more important. I told myself that by becoming strong, I'd make the Kingdom better for people like him."

His voice was raw, bitter. "All it did was drive him over the edge. Look at him now, treating people like toys for his twisted experiments." Fanzell gestured weakly at the lab, where grim evidence of suffering—stains, blood-soaked floors, bodies yet to be disposed of—littered the place, making the air thick and foul.

"If just one person had shown him a shred of respect, maybe he wouldn't be… this!" Fanzell pounded the wall, fists blistering and bleeding as he let the rage pour out. "I hate it! I hate it! Damn it!"

Fanzell's fists thudded against the wall until the sting of his raw knuckles numbed. He stopped after a minute, his breathing heavy and ragged. Lotus's voice cut through the silence, soft but insistent. "I don't think that's all."

Fanzell took a shaky breath before replying, his voice strained. "It's not." He leaned back against the grimy wall, his body trembling with the weight of everything he was feeling. "What I hate most of all… is how everything went exactly the way he said it would. And now… it feels like there's no hope left for our home."

His eyes burned with an unspoken pain as he looked around the cell, at the suffocating walls that felt like they were closing in. "There's no such thing as the Diamond Kingdom anymore, it's all just one big testing ground, a playground for Morris Libardirt. That's all it's become."

Both Lotus and Fanzell were consumed by a deep sense of hopelessness. They'd come back to the Kingdom, each secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth saving, some sliver of hope that could redeem it. But their hopes had been shattered the moment they stepped into that throne room. What they had endured, what they had sacrificed, was met with nothing but punishment.

The Diamond Kingdom—if it had ever truly been their Kingdom—was gone. In its place, it was a place that had discarded them, deemed them expendable, and not a soul had stepped up to fight for them. Instead of receiving the chance they had hoped for, they had been tossed aside, as though their lives had never mattered.

"The Diamond Kingdom is dead," Fanzell muttered, his voice low and bitter. "So, we don't owe it anything anymore. We're not betraying it. It stabbed us in the back first."

—

The two Mage Warriors who took Lotus' and Fanzell's grimoire satchels walked into an archaic library, its towering shelves and dusty archives lending it the air of a forgotten vault. Carefully, they placed the grimoires on the shelves, and as each one settled into place, a rune glowed beneath it, encasing the grimoire in a strange white barrier.

One of them moved to toss the empty satchels and other belongings into a nearby trash bin, but the other stopped him.

"Wait." Lackey B placed a hand on Lackey A's arm, pulling the satchel away.

"What are you doing?" Lackey A asked, confused.

"What are you doing, is what I should be asking!" Lackey B replied sharply, making Lackey A flinch.

"Money's tight right now. We can sell these for coin, you idiot," Lackey B muttered, exasperation thick in his tone. Lackey A's expression turned sheepish.

"Oh." He scratched his cheek, glancing at the bag. "Should we start sifting through the loot right now?"

Lackey B felt a wave of exhaustion just dealing with him. "Are you out of your mind? We're on guard duty—and we still have to keep an eye on those kids. If Master Libardirt catches us slacking off, we'll be on the operating table next!"

Lackey A shivered as Lackey B moved past him, dropping both bags on a nearby table. "We'll come back and grab them later. No one else should be in here today."

Lackey A scratched his head, then nodded, following Lackey B out of the room.

Not long after they left, a leather drinking pouch slipped from Fanzell's bag and hovered briefly in the air. A stream of water trickled from its seams—but an impossible amount kept pouring out, far more than the small pouch should have held. The water pooled and twisted, forming a human silhouette that soon solidified into a familiar figure.

Blue Eagle surveyed the room silently, his gaze hardening as he tracked the direction the two lackeys had taken. Time to get to work. Blue Eagle turned back into water, slipping through the cracks in the door as he began to pursue Lackey A and B.

Omake: What if Sebastian Transmigrated At The Start of Canon Part 1

Noelle Silva panted heavily in the Silva training grounds, feeling a dull ache in her chest and a deeper ache in her heart. [B]

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

"Why can't I hit anything?!" she shouted, hurling another ball of water from her hand. But, instead of striking the practice dummy, it veered off course and smashed into an ornate pillar, leaving a fresh dent in the stone.

Normally, she would've shuddered, knowing Nozel would give her a harsh scolding for it, but today, Noelle didn't care. There was something much bigger weighing on her mind.

She, Noelle Silva, a royal of the Clover Kingdom, had just been told by her eldest brother that she was to be sent off to join the Black Bulls—the worst of the worst. The lowly, disorderly group that everyone mocked.

The thing she'd feared her whole life had finally come true. Her family was done with her. They'd abandoned her.

Now, her status as a failure was sealed. She would go down in the history books as the disgrace of House Silva, the first Silva who wouldn't join the Silver Eagles—not because she had other ambitions, not because she rejected the call of knighthood, but because her own family refused to take in a "failure" like her. And if what her brother had said was true, even the Black Bulls only accepted her as a favor to Nozel, who'd begged their foreign captain.

I hate it! Tears of frustration filled Noelle's eyes. I hate it! I hate everything! I hate how my family treats me! I hate how they all blame me for Mother's death! I hate how everyone calls me a failure! And most of all, I hate how I can't prove them wrong!

She'd thought everything would change when she got her grimoire, that she'd finally prove herself worthy. But even with her grimoire, she was still the helpless, useless Silva who couldn't control her magic if her life depended on it. And because of that, the abuse and mockery had only worsened.

She felt like she was done. Done with everything. She even felt like dying.

But then, Noelle trembled and pushed those thoughts away, letting out a bitter laugh as she looked up at the sky. "I also hate that I'm such a coward," she muttered, her voice hoarse.

As the sun set, Noelle sighed, remembering her brother's words. Big Brother Nozel told me someone from the Black Bulls would fetch me tonight. I should get changed and freshen up.

She hadn't been stripped of the Silva name just yet, so she still represented House Silva, and she would keep her family's honor—even if they'd already casted her aside.

But just as she made up her mind and spun around on her heels, Noelle froze, taking in the figure standing before her—a man she'd only ever seen during her mother's death anniversary processions.

He looked like an older version of her greatest tormentor, Solid Silva, sharing the same hair and eye color, yet he carried himself with the same stern dignity as her eldest brother, Nozel Silva. Deep lines marked his forehead, etched into a perpetual frown. He wore the traditional Silva attire, devoid of any eagle emblems, for he wasn't a Magic Knight, let alone a Silver Eagle.

A light, gruff beard shadowed his face, and though his hair revealed hints of gray, there was an odd handsomeness to him.

This was Noelle Silva's father, Sebastian Silva.

Noelle stiffened, forcing herself to stammer out a greeting. "G-Greetings, F-Father."

But Sebastian only looked past her with a cool, indifferent gaze, taking in the scene behind her. The training grounds were a mess. Except for the practice dummy, everything else was wrecked. Pillars cracked, the nearby garden destroyed, stone shards and greenery scattered everywhere.

Noelle's heart hammered in her chest. Her father was the one person she dreaded being caught by, even more so than Nozel. He'd barely spoken to her in her entire life, but their one exchange had haunted her. She'd been a little girl, wandering the Silva halls when she had run into him. After her status as a failed mage became public, he'd left her with only two cold, cutting sentences:

They called her the Steel Warrior Princess. I never thought the last thing she'd leave behind would be someone as useless as you.

Noelle had feared him ever since. While Solid and Nebra's cruelty was plain and Nozel's remarks were cold and detached, her father was an enigma, someone she couldn't read nor understand. She knew him only by reputation: a man who despised failure.

Rumors swirled about how ruthless he could be—about how one should beg for any mistakes to go unnoticed by him, as he had little tolerance for incompetence.

Noelle had convinced herself that the only reason she hadn't been cast out of House Silva was that, as his daughter, throwing her out would bring scandal and dishonor to their family name. But now, with her eldest brother finally casting her off to the Black Bulls, he probably doesn't need to hold back anymore!

Noelle trembled, bracing herself for some final words of disownment. But after several seconds of silence, nothing came. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes and glanced up, only to see her father standing there, scrutinizing her with a cold, unreadable expression as he scratched his chin, almost as if he were searching for something.

Her breath hitched as he reached into his grimoire satchel. Is he pulling out the family register? Is he going to make me erase my name?!

Noelle bit her lip, her heart pounding. But instead, he drew out a rectangular, sleek wooden box. She raised an eyebrow, watching as he unceremoniously dropped the box into her hands. She fumbled to catch it as he turned his back and began to walk away.

Confused, Noelle watched him pause, his back still facing her. For the first time today—and only the second time in her life—he spoke to her.

"The Black Bulls… they're not as bad as others may lead you to believe…"

Without another word, he continued down the path, disappearing into the estate's walls.

Noelle stood in stunned silence. She looked down at the box, then cautiously opened it, her eyes widening as she pulled out a slender, beautifully crafted wand. Intricate floral patterns adorned it, and an embedded plate bore her name. She turned it in her hands, reading the inscription: Noelle Silva.

"A wand?" She whispered, still confused. Then she noticed a slip of paper tucked inside the box. She placed the wand back and unfolded the note.

As her eyes scanned the message, she was forced to blink several times, thinking she was seeing things. She read it once, then again, and again. Her throat grew tight, her hands trembling as tears began to spill from her eyes—not from sorrow, but something far more complex.

She read the note one last time, whispering the words to herself:

I'm aware it's 3 months early, but happy birthday. —Your Father, Sebastian Silva.

Noelle's heart ached. She had never received a birthday present in her life. Every birthday she had spent hiding alone, avoiding her siblings who would only lash out at her after they paid their respects to their late mother.

After a moment, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks, carefully tucking the note back into the box as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever owned. She then slipped the box into her grimoire satchel, making sure it was hidden away. She didn't want Solid finding it and destroying it like he had done to her toys and stuffed animals in the past.

As Noelle walked through the estate, she felt a strange lightness. All of a sudden, leaving to join the Black Bulls didn't seem so frightening, because maybe—just maybe—she hadn't been abandoned. Not yet, anyway.

Author's Notes:

[1] Edelstein is roughly German for jewel, or gemstone

[2] Ellenor will be the name of the current Blue Rose Captain

[3] Dante. Lucifero is the King of Devils, Dante has a black mark at the top of his head, hence Black King

[4] Zenon. Beelzebub is the lord of flies in most works, Zenon's spatial magic is kind of Blue, hence Blue Fly

[5] Vanica. Megicula has ram horns. Vanica has blood magic, hence Red Ram

[6] About this Omake, this is special to me, because when I first wrote this story I was conflicted where to start, either far before canon, when Acier was on her deathbed or shortly before the start of canon when the story would start rolling.

I ultimately decided on the former, because I thought it would be too sad and a shame, if Noelle had to go through all of that, and Acier's and others fates couldn't change. I ultimately decided on writing the wish fulfillment fanfic you see today.

This omake is the start of the other option, and a gloss over, of how the other route could've gone. 

[7] As always feel free to join the Discord: //discord.com/invite/s3MME8X8ar

Editor Notes:

[A] Huh, sounds like a certain president I know before a robot took his place (that was a joke, that was a joke).

[B] Ngl, author prolly could just make a whole nother fanfic on this wink wink