Lyricus strolled back home, guided by the gentle glow of Melodia, his loyal companion. The eerie night, alive with shadows, failed to deter the young blue-haired man.
As he approached the church, the lively banter and laughter emanating from within greeted Lyricus's return. The door, worn with time, creaked as he pushed past, revealing the warm embrace of the familiar space.
"I'm home," he announced upon entering.
"Ly, welcome home," Sister Lily greeted with a warm smile. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of affection and concern, scanned Lyricus, ensuring his well-being after his nightly sojourn.
"Oy, Ly Bastard! You've gone to the demon skull without telling me!" Asta's sulking voice echoed through the room. The grey-haired youth, with his boundless energy and untamed spirit, had a knack for voicing his grievances.
"You've trained hard enough; this should be your rest day. Tomorrow, we'll get our Grimoires," Lyricus said gently, his serene smile a testament to his calming presence. His words carried a reassurance that resonated with the younger siblings.
"Hmph, but you trained by yourself! You should also be resting!" Asta protested, his competitive spirit undeterred by the logic of rest and recovery.
"I didn't train; I connected and played music to understand nature better," Lyricus explained gently to his younger brother. The words conveyed a sense of harmony not just in magic but in the connection with the natural world—a philosophy that Lyricus embraced.
Lyricus held the title of the oldest orphan at the orphanage, a responsibility he shouldered with a blend of wisdom and compassion. The trio—Lyricus, Asta, and Yuno—decided to host a competition to determine the oldest.
Flashback: Ten years ago:
Three 5-year-olds engaged in spirited banter, symbolizing both disagreement and a strong bond. The room echoed with the symphony of their laughter and playful arguments.
"Of course, I am the eldest!" the grey-haired child shouted, his voice a mix of pride and youthful exuberance.
"With your height? Please," the black-haired child retorted, his calm demeanor contrasting with Asta's spirited protests.
"What's wrong with my height?!" Asta shouted, a testament to his indomitable spirit and determination.
"There's nothing wrong with your height, Asta; we're still growing," the blue-haired child comforted. "Why don't we decide through a competition?"
"What competition?" Asta asked, his curiosity piqued and his competitive nature immediately intrigued.
"Being the oldest is an honor and a responsibility. The eldest should be strong and responsible to protect the younger siblings more securely," Lyricus explained. His words reflected a maturity beyond his years, a glimpse of the leader he was destined to become.
"I agree; it should be someone who can protect the younger siblings," Yuno added, his wisdom mirroring Lyricus's sentiments.
"Okay! Let's fight!" Asta declared, brandishing his wooden sword—a cherished gift from Lyricus, a symbol of camaraderie and support.
Yuno summoned a gust of wind, bending it to his will. The air danced around him, a testament to his mastery over the elemental forces.
Lyricus took out his wooden harp, a creation born of shared efforts to complement Asta's wooden sword. The instruments symbolized their individual strengths, woven together in harmony.
Lyricus's magic, Vibration Magic, allowed him to feel and control vibrations. It enabled him to deal damage to opponents with his harp, turning a seemingly ordinary instrument into a powerful tool.
"Orraaaa!" Asta shouted, charging forward with his wooden sword, his enthusiasm undiminished by the potential challenge ahead.
'Wind Magic: Zephyr Waltz,' Yuno evaded with graceful ease, utilizing his Wind Magic to manoeuver and counter Asta's attack. The intricate dance of wind and blade unfolded in the small courtyard.
Lyricus seized the opportune moment to play his harp, weaving magic into music with every stroke.
'Vibration Magic: Sonic Resonance,' Lyricus attached vibrations to the soundwaves produced by the harp, creating a melody that transcended the boundaries of mere auditory sensation.
Asta and Yuno, attuned to Lyricus's magic, swiftly dodged the harmonious assault. However, Lyricus's attack missed, leaving only a scar on the ground—a testament to the force he could command.
Undeterred, Yuno and Asta exchanged a knowing glance, acknowledging the need for synchronized action. Together, they launched a coordinated assault on Lyricus, recognizing his versatility as their greatest challenge.
Asta wielded his wooden sword with determined fervor, while Yuno provided strategic support from behind. The synergy between the trio, a product of years spent growing and learning together, unfolded in the courtyard.
'Wind Magic: Tempest Crescendo,' Yuno's Wind Magic countered Lyricus's Vibration Magic, the clash of forces creating an ethereal symphony. Wind met vibration in a dance that resonated with the essence of their magical prowess.
The skirmish continued for a few minutes, each participant showcasing their unique abilities and the bond that united them. Yet, amidst the clash of elements, the ground beneath Yuno and Asta suddenly exploded, catching them off guard.
Lyricus had utilized his magic to send vibrations into the earth, rendering it susceptible to his control. The unexpected upheaval disrupted the rhythm of the fight, causing Yuno and Asta to stumble.
Seizing the opportunity, Lyricus unfurled the full potential of his magic. Stringing the harp with precision, he sent a wave of soundwaves containing vibrations hurtling toward the momentarily vulnerable duo.
"Ahhh!" Asta and Yuno shouted, colliding with the powerful soundwave. The impact, both physical and resonant, marked the culmination of the friendly competition.
Approaching them with a calm demeanor, Lyricus extended his hands. "It seems that I will be the oldest," he declared, the twinkle in his eyes revealing a playful satisfaction.
"Hmph!" Asta pouted, his competitive spirit momentarily subdued, while Yuno smiled in acknowledgment of Lyricus's victory.
Back to the present:
Father Orslo arrived home, witnessing the children bickering. The flickering candlelight in the church created a warm ambiance, casting dancing shadows on the walls—a backdrop to the familial bond shared by the orphans.
He smiled and entered the church, a haven of safety away from the uncertainties of the night outside. The centuries-old stones of the sacred space bore witness to the passage of time and the echoes of countless stories, a silent testament to the enduring harmony found within its walls.
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