Black Clover : Starting with Two Clovers

"Giggle~~ This really isn't like you… master."

On the way back to their base, the Sword Spirit separated from Ethan' body in a flash of crimson light, appearing at his side.

Her flirtatious tone made Ethan's face darken. "How long have we even known each other? And you think you know me already?"

"Well, sure—if we were normal humans, a few days wouldn't be enough. Like you humans say: 'You can know someone's face but not their heart.' But I'm no human. I'm a sword spirit, born of your royal bloodline. No one could be closer to you than me."

Shameless!

Face flushing slightly, Ethan turned his head to the side. This girl drove fast—he'd barely stepped into the metaphorical car, and she was already speeding down Mount Akina.

"Anyway~~ You're right. That wasn't like me..." Ethan smiled faintly, gazing at the sun as it dipped toward the horizon.

Asta might not be a blood brother, but they had fought and walked side by side for quite a while now. They'd come to the capital together. They were friends—plain and simple.

And when it came to friends, Ethan wasn't the type to abandon anyone.

In the past, if the Magic Parliament tried something like this? He would've raised a hand and crushed it on the spot.

"I've got to give Julius some face..." he muttered.

If the man were dead, that'd be another story. But he wasn't—he was alive and well.

Among all the figures in the Clover Kingdom, aside from Yami, Ethan most admired Julius Novachrono. A saint isn't something everyone can—or even wants—to be. But everyone respects one when they see it.

And Julius was that kind of man.

As Wizard King, he was the kingdom. Standing against the kingdom was like slapping Julius in the face.

Sure, Ethan could bulldoze through everything now if he wanted to, but...

"Well, I guess I owe him one," he said, glancing down at the miniature Time Grimoire in his hand. He let out a bitter laugh.

He never bowed to pressure—but kindness? That, he couldn't always resist.

Too soft. Way too soft.

Early the next morning, whispers buzzed like flies across every street and alley of the capital.

"Hey, did you hear? They're finally putting the real culprit on trial today!"

"Yeah, and rumor is... it's a member of the Magic Knights!"

"Magic Knight? Hah! More like a menace. If it weren't for him, my wife would still be alive...!"

Everyone remembered the chaos. The scars it left were still fresh.

Everyone had lost something—loved ones, homes, limbs.

And so, naturally, they needed a villain to blame.

"Hmph. Sheep..." Ethan muttered, shaking his head.

He wasn't about to explain anything to them. He headed straight for the Magic Parliament.

The truth was rarely known, even when it happened right in front of you.

And when the few led the many, even lies could become truth.

"Wow, quite the turnout," Ethan murmured as he walked into the grand chamber and casually found a seat.

All around him were nobility—dressed in lavish robes, noses lifted so high they looked blind.

Fairness? Balance? Not a single commoner in sight.

So much for justice.

"What's going on?! Why am I here?!"

Asta stood in the center of the courtroom, hands shackled, face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Next to him, Secre remained far more composed, her sharp eyes still brimming with defiance.

"That's him? That's the one they're putting on trial?"

"Noisy little brute. Typical of his kind..."

"Tch. Just being near him taints my dignity."

The ugliness of the system mirrored the ugliness of the people within it.

Clover Kingdom wasn't just feudal—it was archaic.

Commoners weren't exactly slaves, but in the eyes of the nobles and royals? They were pretty damn close.

"I, Damnatio Kira, Chairman of the Magic Parliament—declare this session open. We are here to judge the crimes of Asta, of the Black Bulls!"

As his cold voice echoed through the hall, a man stepped through the massive doorway.

Emotionless expression. Empty eyes.

"So Ethan was right," Secre muttered. "They're just going to dump everything on us."

Asta nodded solemnly. "Yeah... but I'm here to tell the truth, no matter what."

He raised his voice. "Everyone, please listen to me! I'm not a criminal! I've done nothing evil or inhumane. Everything that happened—it was because of the devils! But we defeated them! We fought to protect you!"

Asta explained everything, step by step.

But... the expressions around him didn't change.

Cold. Dismissive. Unmoved.

As if his words passed through them like wind through trees.

"Julius..." Ethan muttered from the gallery. "I don't even know what to say anymore."

All this time, Julius had poured his soul into reform and unity. And yet... the bias ran deep.

Too deep.

He even gave his life for this kingdom once. And this is what he got?

If Ethan were in his shoes, his liver would've burst from sheer rage.

"I'm not lying! Please, believe me!" Asta pleaded.

No one responded.

He stood alone, desperate and rejected.

Kira stepped forward, his enchanted Scales of Judgment gleaming faintly in hand.

"Don't waste your breath. This trial was never about truth. From the beginning, you had two options: either you—the devil—are punished, or the Magic Knights shoulder the blame. Two outcomes, one scapegoat."

He smirked coldly. "The scales have already spoken. You're simple. Honest. Easy to manipulate. That's why you're standing here now."

"Damn it..." Asta growled through clenched teeth, glaring at Kira.

Yes. He was simple. Honest. Easy to read.

But wasn't that what truth was for? To be revealed?

Pretending it didn't exist only made the consequences worse.

"Whether you admit it or not," Kira continued, "the facts remain. The people believe you are a devil, or at least complicit in unleashing one. And so, by law, you will be judged."

He turned toward the guards.

"Bring in the witness."

With that, two attendants led in a little girl—no more than eight or nine.

Tiny. Fragile. Her eyes filled with helplessness.

It hurt just to look at her.

But the people in the courtroom didn't even blink. Not a hint of sympathy.

They were too far gone—consumed by power, entitlement, and pride.

They weren't people anymore.

Just monsters wearing human skin—far worse than devils ever were.

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