Given A New Life

Chapter 4

His posture stiffened, his head tilted upwards taking in his brother's features, his neck began to feel strained just by trying to reach his gaze to his face alone.

His sharp smile that glowed a creep of neon red, and his flowy but sharp untamed hair that resembled the black flames that settled beneath them. Appalled to such a large appearance, and the sudden hit of nostalgia, he barks in laughter

"AHAHAHAHAhaha! How did you do that?!"

"A cultivation trick. But don't get too excited, that trick is only a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity so save it in your head" he replied confidently crossing his arms and pointing the ends of his horns slightly upwards.

He raises a brow and tilts his head. What did he mean by cultivation? What does it have, to be able to give a grimoire the ability to travel miles across the air even without its wielder?

"But that doesn't make any sense! I mean, the distance between the ruins and the tower is way too-" Liebe shoves his hand in the air cutting him off,

"I think we should discuss this later, you have an audience probably pissing in their pants right now," he says with a slightly smug grin on his face.

"What?" but the moment he desired for answers, his sense of vision distorted as the skies of red and black were replaced with deep and dark color splotches of forest green and brown oak.

Yuno, brushing off the feeling of the slight knot that tied in his own throat called out his friend's name.

"Asta?"

He irks his head up to the sudden sound of his name, still feeling dazed and his vision blurry. He turned his head up seeing his grimoire floating in front of him, laced with its signature red and black aura, he lifted his hand and laid his eyes on it, his sword was still in his grip.

He reminisced about what Liebe said at the last second of their short meeting. The word 'audience' lingered at the tip of his mind, being the clueless dolt he was, he never understood what his brother meant.

But just as he was about to lift his head to acknowledge the others around him, he was stunned.

Everyone was either on one knee or both, their heads fixated on him, with hunched shoulders and widened eyes. Small gasps escaping their mouths. The pressure was gone but no one dared to stand up, it's like they were sealed to the ground. Thinking that if they were to create one wrong move, and they'd be dead.

"Wait, why are you all on your knees?" He stared at them slightly (by accident) pointed the sharpest edge of his sword at them.

they all stumbled back in response, their horrified stares laying on his large sword and his eerie-looking grimoire, they never even bother to look up to see the expression on his face.

He noticed their fear of his sword and stumbled back from them and returns it back inside into the context of his grimoire. He spreads his arms out trying to demonstrate that he wasn't harmful,

"Look! I'm not holding the sword now! So can you please tell me what's going on and why you all are on your knees?"

No one muttered a word. At least, non dared to. Rather than taking in his true intent onto them by looking at his sympathetic face, they took in what made him so dangerous.

His grimoire, his large sword, the blast and pressure. Their perception hadn't changed in the slightest even with him speaking so kindly to them.

"H-hold on don't be scared! It's a good thing I warned you about the blast-" a large echo of a cane hitting in contact to the ground interrupted him mid-sentence, he turns his head swiftly to the sudden noise