One word.
Megicula.
The name landed in the silent hall like a drop of poison in a glass of water. For Noelle Silva, it was a thunderclap.
The half-eaten food on her plate became a blur. The faces of her squadmates faded. All she could hear was the name of the devil responsible for her mother's death, the source of the curse that had defined her entire family's tragic history.
Her mana, which had been calm, erupted. A violent, swirling aura of silver mist enveloped her, cold and furious. "I'm going."
It wasn't a request. It was a statement of absolute, unbreakable fact.
Fuegoleon's face hardened. "The devil of curse-warding magic. A supreme-rank threat. My Crimson Lions will mobilize."
"As will the Silver Eagles," Nozel added, his personal contempt for Yami's squad completely eclipsed by the gravity of the threat. His own family was tied to this curse. This was his burden as much as Noelle's.
One by one, the captains stood, a silent wave of grim resolve. Their previous humiliation was forgotten. This was why they existed. To face the impossible.
"All of you, stand down," Julius commanded, his voice sharp as steel. The captains froze.
"A full-scale captain deployment will leave the Clover Kingdom vulnerable," the Wizard King stated, his eyes scanning the room, his mind a whirlwind of strategy. "This is not a battle of armies. It's an assassination. We need a small, specialized team. One that can cut through the heart of the problem."
His gaze settled, with pinpoint accuracy, on the Black Bulls' corner.
He looked at Asta. "The boy's Anti-Magic is our single greatest weapon against curses."
He looked at Noelle, whose aura still blazed. "And those with a personal stake in the matter fight the hardest."
Then his eyes fell on Yami. "They will need a leash."
Yami snorted, but he didn't argue. He knew the logic was sound. He looked at Asta, then at Noelle. Their fight was his fight. "Fine. My squad will take the job."
Julius's gaze finally, inevitably, landed on Saitama, who had just finished his steak and was now curiously poking at a flan.
"And him," the Wizard King said, his voice dropping slightly. "A creature like Megicula operates on principles of magic so ancient and absolute, it bends reality. We need… a counter-principle."
He wasn't ordering Yami to bring Saitama. He was stating a tactical necessity. The ultimate wild card against the ultimate curse.
Saitama looked up from his flan. "Who's that? Meg… Megu-whatsit?"
"A high-ranking devil," Genos supplied instantly, his processors having already accessed the kingdom's threat archives via Marx's public data network. "Specializes in debilitating curses that subvert natural law and biological processes. Estimated threat level: cataclysmic. Mission profile aligns with testing my new core against high-density magical corruption." He turned to Saitama. "I recommend our immediate participation, Sensei."
"Okay," Saitama said with a shrug. "If you guys are going, I guess I'll go too."
It was settled.
A team was formed, forged in the fires of a royal spar and a sudden declaration of war. Asta, the anti-magic heart. Noelle, the vengeful spear. Yami, the hardened leader. Genos, the magitech analyst.
And Saitama, the catastrophe in a hero suit.
"Finral!" Yami barked.
"Y-yes, Captain!"
"Get us to the Heart Kingdom border. Now."
Finral, pale but determined, opened his grimoire. "Right away!" A swirling vortex of spatial magic tore open the air in the center of the grand hall.
The team gathered. Asta, his hand on his sword hilt. Noelle, her jaw set. Yami, his katana slung over his shoulder. Genos, his core glowing a calm, analytical blue. And Saitama, who looked around for a napkin.
"Wait!" Fuegoleon called out. He strode over, not to Yami, but to Asta. "Boy. I have seen what your Anti-Magic can do. But I have also seen what he can do." He nodded toward Saitama. "Do not fail the kingdom." It was a plea, disguised as a command.
Asta nodded, his face grim. "I won't."
They stepped through the portal.
They emerged not into a grand throne room or a bustling city, but into a field of dying flowers.
The Heart Kingdom was known for its breathtaking natural beauty, a place where mana flowed so freely it suffused every plant, river, and stone. But here, on the edge of the crisis zone, something was deeply wrong.
The air wasn't empty; it was sick. The rich, vibrant mana of the region felt sluggish, curdled, like soured milk. A beautiful, crystalline river nearby flowed not with clear water, but with a murky, black sludge. A creeping rot was spreading from a central point on the horizon, turning the lush green landscape a bruised, dying gray.
"What is this?" Noelle whispered, horrified.
"Curse-warding magic," Yami grunted, his hand already on his katana. His ki could feel it—a slow, creeping decay that wasn't just killing the land, but unmaking the life force within it. "It's not destroying the mana. It's making it sick."
Asta drew his Demon-Slayer Sword. The moment the black metal was exposed to the air, it began to vibrate, letting out a low, guttural hum.
He looked at the blade, his eyes wide.
"My swords… they're humming. They can feel it all around us. The whole kingdom is one giant curse."