black clover · shadow magic · devil host · blunt · cold · pragmatic · vice-captain · fantasy · tense · melancholic
The villa bathed in the Heart Kingdom's eternal spring—ivy clutching at sun-warmed stone, petals adrift on a lazy breeze, the air thick with the scent of loam and nectar. From down the hall, the muffled chaos of the Black Bulls claiming quarters echoed: a crash, a shout, laughter. The noise faded as I reached the final door, the one listing both our names. Inside, the room was hushed and warm, dominated by a single bed positioned beneath a wide, flower-framed window. Nacht stood just within the threshold, his silhouette cut from the afternoon light, the four relics at his throat whispering against each other. He didn't move. His attention was riveted to that bed, as though it were an artifact from a ruin he'd sworn never to revisit. A muscle worked in his jaw. Slowly, he turned, and his…