Prompt: Asta is a flaw, an existence that only exists in one timeline and one timeline only. So what would a world without Asta be like? Noelle is forced to find out, and maybe finally come to terms with how irreplaceable the magicless boy is in her heart.
—
The battle was over. The war had been won. Again.
Noelle stood amidst the wreckage of what had once been the battlefield, of what had once been their kingdom.
So much was lost in this massacre, lives, futures, hopes, so much that the victory almost felt hollow, pressing down on her shoulders like Lucifero's gravity.
Around her, the last remnants of Lucius's twisted paradise crumbled, golden palaces dissolving into dust, purified magic unraveling into nothingness. The sky—once painted with an eerie glow—had returned to its natural, endless blue. Cheers rang in the distance, the voices of survivors celebrating their triumph.
Yet Noelle could not bring herself to join them.
Her gaze remained locked on the figure standing a few feet away. Asta, the boy who had defied fate itself, the one Lucius had condemned as the flaw of the world. He was laughing—of course he was. Grinning through exhaustion, greeting their allies as if he and Yuno hadn't just spent the last hours clawing their way to victory against the most terrifying opponent they had ever faced.
Noelle was ecstatic that he was safe and alive, not only having returned from wherever Lucius sent him but this final battle as well.
Yet, Noelle Silva didn't smile. The words Lucius had spoken before his demise as well as last week continued to echo in her mind like a curse.
"I have foreseen and predicted all that had and will be, all excluding you. You who go against the natural law against this world, you who should not be, in any time, or any future, are a mistake. You are the one and only flaw of this world and should be erased."
She clenched her fists.
She knew Asta would brush it off, that he'd scoff at Lucius's words without a second thought, and he had. But Noelle could not. The implications ran too deep, sent her mind spiraling into places she didn't want to go. If Lucius was telling the truth, if Asta was truly unique to only this timeline, not that she had time to breathe, it got her thinking, then what would the world look like without him?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Asta had shaped so many lives. Hers. Yuno's. The Black Bulls. Every Magic Knight who had fought beside him. Could they have become the people they were now if he had never existed? Could she have?
A hand landed on her shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts. She turned, meeting Mimosa's gentle yellow eyes.
"Noelle… are you alright?"
She had not realized she was trembling. Forcing a breath, she gave a sharp nod. "Of course I am. We won, didn't we?"
Mimosa hesitated, but she smiled. "Yes. We did."
Noelle expected her cousin and friend to leave it at that, to return to the others. But instead, Mimosa's expression grew distant.
"I confessed to Asta," she admitted quietly.
The words struck like a bolt of lightning.
Noelle's breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before hammering wildly against her ribs. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, to push down the sudden, irrational wave of panic rising in her chest.
The fear, the anxiety, as well as the livid frustration, anger, and feelings of betrayal that threatened to erupt all at once were swiftly forced down.
"Oh," she managed, her voice tight. "And?"
Mimosa let out a small laugh, trying to act unbothered, but Noelle could feel the heartache and bitterness in her tone. "He rejected me."
Noelle's world tilted.
He… rejected her?
The shock must have shown on her face, because Mimosa let out a choked sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I think… I always knew he would," she admitted. "He was kind about it, of course. He said he was grateful, that he cared about me deeply—but not in that way."
Noelle swallowed. Asta had rejected Mimosa.
For years, she had convinced herself that if Asta had feelings for anyone, it would either be that girl from that tavern in Nairn or Mimosa. That sweet, kind, openly affectionate girl—the one who healed his wounds, who blushed and stammered around him without hesitation. And yet, even she had not been enough to sway his heart.
So what hope did Noelle have?
The realization settled over her like lead, cold and suffocating. She had always been too much of a coward to say it out loud, to admit how she felt. And now… she never would.
Because if he had turned down Mimosa, then there was no chance for her.
The weeks passed. Life moved forward. The kingdom rebuilt itself.
Noelle buried her feelings, forced them into the deepest corners of her heart where they could no longer torment her.
She trained. She patrolled. She completed missions.
She smiled when necessary. She scolded Asta as she always did, pretending that nothing had changed.
Pretending that she wasn't slowly suffocating.
Then came the dungeon mission.
It had been routine, an assignment simple enough that she had gone alone. Deep in the forsaken ruins of an ancient kingdom, a newly discovered dungeon had been identified for exploration. Noelle had volunteered—if only to escape the Black Bulls for a while.
She hadn't expected to find the artifact.
It sat atop a pedestal in the heart of the dungeon, floating just inches above the stone. A perfect sphere, almost globe-like, smooth and shimmering with an eerie silver light, as if the fabric of the universe itself had been condensed into a single, fragile form.
The moment she saw it, something deep in her gut twisted.
This isn't normal magic.
Cautiously, she stepped forward. The air around the artifact pulsed, waves of energy rolling off it in steady, rhythmic beats—like the heartbeat of something alive.
She should have turned back. She should have left, reported it to the captains, let someone else investigate.
But she didn't.
Her hand moved on instinct, reaching out, fingers brushing against the smooth surface—
And the world shattered.
A force unlike anything she had ever felt exploded through her body, magic twisting violently around her, dragging her down, down, down—
Light and darkness clashed. Colors bled into one another, warping and distorting, twisting into something incomprehensible. Her screams were lost in the storm, swallowed by the void as she was wrenched from reality itself.
Pain. Noise. Silence.
And then—
Nothing.
When Noelle's eyes snapped open, she found herself lying on damp cobblestone, gasping for breath. The sky above was dark, heavy with storm clouds, and the air smelled of rain.
Groaning, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her entire body trembling from the aftershock of whatever had just happened. She looked around, her heart pounding.
A city.
Where…?
A gust of wind blew past, and in the distance, she caught sight of a massive structure, its towering spires unmistakable.
The Clover Kingdom's capital.
But something was wrong.
She could feel it in the air, in the unfamiliar hum of mana surrounding her. It felt… off.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, gripping her grimoire tightly. She needed to find someone, to figure out where she was, what had happened.
And then, she saw them.
Two Magic Knights passing by, their uniforms sharp and well-kept. Their conversation was casual, unremarkable—until one of them uttered a single, offhand comment that sent a chill down Noelle's spine.
"Yuno from the Golden Dawn? Oh, yeah. That peasant kid who got a four-leaf. Real shame. Could've been great if he had the drive for it."
Noelle froze.
Her blood turned to ice.
Yuno. No ambition.
Her heart pounded as realization slammed into her like a tidal wave, robbing her of breath.
This wasn't just the past.
This was a world where Asta had never existed.
—
Noelle's pulse pounded in her ears as she stood frozen in the city street, the words of the passing Magic Knights echoing in her mind.
"Could've been great if he had the drive for it."
No. That didn't make sense. Yuno was driven. His goal was absolute—to become Wizard King. It had been his dream since childhood, as immovable as the stars themselves. There was no world where Yuno wouldn't reach for the highest peak.
Unless something was missing.
Her breath hitched.
Unless someone was missing.
The realization sent her legs moving before she could think. She tore through the streets, ignoring the confused looks from pedestrians, the startled shouts of merchants as she shoved past their carts. She didn't care. She needed answers.
The Magic Knights' headquarters loomed ahead, its massive gates standing tall and formidable. She forced herself to stop, to steady her breathing before approaching the guards.
"I need to see Yuno of the Golden Dawn," she demanded.
The knights exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed.
"You got an appointment?" one of them drawled.
Noelle clenched her fists. "No. But it's urgent."
The guard snorted. "Tch. Another noble trying to cozy up to the four-leaf? Give it a rest, lady. He's not interested in the fame. Just does his job and collects his paycheck like the rest of us."
She felt the blood drain from her face.
"Just does his job and collects his paycheck."
This wasn't right. This wasn't Yuno.
Before she could press further, the gates creaked open, and Noelle's breath caught as a familiar figure stepped through.
He looked the same. Golden eyes, dark tousled hair, the unmistakable green cloak of the Golden Dawn draped over his shoulders. But there was something missing.
His presence lacked any meaning. His steps, once full of purpose, now seemed… indifferent. Ant not in his usual stoic or impassive sort of way. He seemed… empty? Lifeless maybe? His sharp gaze, once brimming with silent determination, now held only dull apathy.
She had seen Yuno look exhausted before. She had seen him injured, drained after battle, even frustrated when things didn't go as planned.
But she had never seen him be so unremarkable.
Yuno barely spared her a glance as he passed, his expression unreadable.
"Yuno!"
The name left her lips before she could stop it.
He paused. Slowly, he turned, his gaze flicking over her without a hint of recognition.
"…Do I know you?"
Her stomach twisted.
It took every ounce of willpower to keep her expression neutral. "It's me. Noelle."
Something flickered across his face—brief, unreadable. Then, nothing.
"Silva, right? From House Eagle?" His tone was polite but distant, as if discussing an acquaintance he barely remembered. "Didn't expect a noble to seek me out. What do you want?"
Noelle's throat tightened.
This wasn't the Yuno she knew.
The Yuno she knew would have recognized her instantly, would have at least offered his usual stoic nod, some indication that he cared.
But this Yuno didn't care.
"Without Asta… Yuno never had a rival. Never had a reason to push himself beyond his limits."
A sick feeling settled in her gut.
How much had changed?
She forced a breath. "I need to go."
Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode away. She didn't look back, didn't let herself dwell on the hollow indifference in his gaze.
She had to see the Black Bulls.
She had to know how far the damage had spread.
—
The hideout loomed in the distance, the massive skull of the demon unchanged, its eerie silhouette cutting against the cloudy sky. But as Noelle stepped through the entrance, the difference was immediate.
It was quiet.
Not the comforting, rare kind of quiet that came when the Bulls were resting after a long mission.
No—this was the silence of a house without life.
The interior was in shambles, cluttered with empty bottles, broken furniture, and a lingering stench of alcohol and neglect. Dishes were piled high in the kitchen, months—if not years—worth of grime coating the floors.
It looked less like a home and more like a ruin.
Then she heard the voices.
Languid, unbothered, and utterly indifferent.
The Black Bulls were gathered in the common area, some slouched in chairs, others sprawled on the couches. The energy—the chaotic, overwhelming force that had once defined them—was gone.
Finral sat off to the side, a drink in hand, his usual flirtatious charm dulled into something halfhearted. Vanessa lay draped over the couch, bottle dangling from her fingers, staring blankly at the ceiling. Luck leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but there was no manic gleam in his eyes—only a quiet, simmering restlessness, like a blade that had never been sharpened.
Gauche didn't even look up from his mirror.
Magna and Zora were nowhere to be seen.
"Who the hell are you?"
Noelle turned at the gruff voice.
Yami Sukehiro.
His presence was still formidable, but his eyes—once sharp and instinctive—were dulled, like a man who had long stopped trying.
She swallowed. "It's Noelle Silva. I was… recently reassigned here."
Yami grunted. "Huh. Guess the nobles are getting desperate. Whatever." He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Just don't break anything. Or do. Not my problem."
Noelle's chest ached.
This isn't how it's supposed to be.
She turned back to the squad, taking them in. These people—her family—had been transformed into strangers.
No Asta meant no one had ever challenged them to improve. No one had believed in Finral when he doubted himself. No one had pushed Vanessa to take control of her magic. No one had reached out to Luck, to help him channel his destructive urges into something meaningful.
No one had been there to accept Noelle for who she was.
She had never felt more alone.
—
That night, she stood outside, staring at the distant stars.
Her hands trembled.
This world was broken.
She had known Asta was important. She had known he had changed lives.
But she had never realized how much.
Her heart clenched, an ache settling deep in her chest.
She had thought she could endure never confessing. Had thought she could live her life at his side, content with their friendship, never speaking her feelings aloud.
But standing here, in this world without him—
She understood now.
He wasn't just her friend. He wasn't just some rival, some foolhardy boy who made her heart race.
Asta was the reason she had become who she was.
And she refused to let this world remain broken.
She would not stand by and watch the people she loved wither into ghosts of themselves.
She would do what Asta had done.
She would fix this world.
Even if she had to become him herself.
—
Noelle stood atop a crumbling stone pillar, surveying the battlefield below. Smoke curled through the air, thick with the scent of scorched earth and magic residue. The remains of a powerful beast—some mutated dungeon guardian—lay in a smoldering heap, its dark, twisted form slowly disintegrating into nothing.
The mercenaries who had fought alongside her were still catching their breath, some clutching wounds, others staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"We… we actually won," one of them murmured, voice tinged with something between exhaustion and reverence.
Another exhaled a shaky laugh. "No kidding. I thought we were dead for sure."
Then, all at once, their gazes shifted toward her.
The whispers began.
"Incredible."
"She took it down practically by herself."
"She's the real deal—way stronger than the rumors say."
"Maybe she'll be Wizard King one day."
Noelle's fingers curled into fists.
It should have felt good. This was everything she had ever wanted—to be strong, to be recognized, to have her abilities acknowledged instead of doubted.
But as she stood there, bathed in the glow of victory, she felt nothing.
No cheers of triumph. No adrenaline-fueled exhilaration. No warm, beaming grin looking up at her with boundless pride, shouting, "Noelle, you were amazing!"
No Asta.
And because of that, it all felt… hollow.
—
She had spent months shaping this world in his absence.
Forcing Yuno to push himself, to see beyond the simple obligation of a paycheck. Confronting Finral about his cowardice, Vanessa about her apathy, Luck about his recklessness.
It hadn't been easy.
They had resisted.
At first, they had scoffed at her—Finral laughed off her attempts to make him train, Vanessa waved a lazy hand and dismissed her as a bothersome noble girl. Luck had actually tried to attack her the first time she called him out on his bloodlust, his usual manic grin curling at the edges of something more dangerous.
But she had persisted.
What would Asta do?
He wouldn't give up. He would keep pushing, keep believing in them, even when they didn't believe in themselves.
So she fought. Argued. Challenged them over and over, refusing to back down, refusing to let them rot in their self-imposed stagnation.
And slowly, slowly, things began to change.
Finral, for the first time, began practicing his spatial magic with serious intent. Vanessa cut back on drinking, her spells growing sharper, her movements more precise. Luck—after losing to Noelle in a brutal one-on-one spar—started training with her, eyes glinting with something more focused, more purposeful than before.
She got Gauche to open up, and stop thinking Marie was the only thing that matters.
Grey slowly grew more confident, and less shy.
Charmy was still Charmy, Noelle didn't interfere with her.
Gordon and Henry didn't need much of a push.
It was quite a hassle to get Magna and especially Zora to come back to base and act like squad members.
Nacht? Noelle didn't even want to talk about the torture that was his can of worms.
Atleast Nero was a bit more understanding and welcoming for change. It was a sad day in hell when one of their most anti-social members was the most progressive of the bunch.
Even Yuno had begun to shift.
The moment she had accused him of wasting his four-leaf, of being nothing but a shadow of the man he could have been, he had given her a look so sharp, so furious, that for the first time in this world, she had seen something flicker in his eyes—something that almost resembled the Yuno she had once known.
But none of it felt real.
None of it felt right.
Because it wasn't Asta who had inspired them. It was her.
And no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't him.
—
The first time she dreamed of him, it was like a knife to the chest.
She had been standing in the Black Bulls' hideout, the air thick with the smell of home-cooked meals and burning wood. The squad was loud, chaotic, alive—just as they should have been.
Then she turned, and there he was.
Asta.
Smiling at her like he always had, eyes bright with excitement, that reckless, boundless energy radiating from him like warmth from the sun.
"Noelle! Let's train together!"
Her throat closed up.
She tried to speak, to answer, but no words came out.
Because something was wrong.
His figure was flickering at the edges, like an old painting losing color. His face blurred, as if she was looking at him through water.
She reached for him.
Her hand passed straight through.
The dream shattered like glass.
She woke up gasping, heart slamming against her ribs, a cold sweat drenching her skin.
It didn't matter how many lives she changed. How many people she inspired.
The more she tried to take his place, the more he faded.
And she was terrified.
Because a part of her was starting to forget what he sounded like.
—
"Oi, Noelle."
Yami's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to see him leaning against the doorway of the Bulls' common area, cigarette dangling from his lips.
She straightened. "Captain."
His dark eyes flicked over her, unreadable as always. "You keepin' yourself together?"
Noelle frowned. "Of course."
"Hm." He exhaled a stream of smoke. "You're doin' a hell of a job with the squad. Even that idiot Finral's showing some backbone these days."
She said nothing.
Yami studied her for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "Y'know, you remind me of someone."
Noelle's breath hitched.
She already knew the answer before he even said it.
"That reckless, loud brat… what was his name again?"
Her stomach twisted as she stiffened in shock.
She forced her expression into something neutral. "I wouldn't know."
"Hah. That so?" Yami gave her a knowing look but didn't press. "Anyway, don't go gettin' yourself killed. Would be a pain in the ass to replace you."
With that, he turned and walked off, leaving her standing alone in the dimly lit hallway.
Her fingers clenched around the fabric of her sleeve.
Yami had noticed.
Even in this world where Asta had never existed, his presence had left a mark.
Just not any presence she could touch or talk to.
A legacy that lingered like a ghost, woven into the hearts of the people he had changed—even if they didn't remember him.
And she was failing to carry it.
Noelle closed her eyes, exhaling a slow, shaking breath.
She had thought she could be like him. That she could replace him.
But she was tired.
So, so tired.
And she knew—no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many victories she won—
She could never be Asta.
And she didn't want to be.
She just wanted him.
Even if he never loved her back. Even if he saw her as nothing more than a friend, a rival, a comrade—she didn't care.
She just wanted him there.
Because without him, the world wasn't just broken.
It was empty.
In this world, she received a heartfelt apology from her siblings—yet it did little to warm her heart or soothe her spirit.
In this world, she more than lived up to her mother's legacy; she made even Lady Mereoleona proud—yet it brought her no joy.
In this world, she finally stood on the frontlines, facing true threats like Zagred and Lucifero… yet it all felt meaningless.
Because she had always dreamed of these moments—but she dreamed of sharing them with him.
With him cheering her on.
With him fighting beside her, shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-back, their trust unwavering.
Noelle Silva had become the idol and hope of this world.
But her idol, her hope, was nowhere to be found.
And without him, everything turned to ash.
Noelle Silva was nearing her breaking point.
—
The sky above the ruined capital twisted like a living thing—swirling clouds, shifting colors, a bleeding wound in reality itself. The air was thick with magic, heavy with the lingering echoes of destruction. Noelle stood amidst the wreckage, her breath ragged, her body screaming in protest. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, warm and sticky as it ran down her cheek.
Yuno lay belly fist off to the corner, bleeding out, eyes losing color and light very quickly.
Across from her, Lucius Zogratis remained unnervingly composed.
He had barely changed. Even in this timeline, he carried the same air of calculated arrogance, the same chilling, absolute certainty in his vision. His white robes were immaculate despite the battle, his golden eyes sharp with amusement.
"You truly are impressive," he mused, his voice smooth, almost pleased. "Even in a world without Asta, you managed to defy fate itself."
Noelle pupils dilated, "h-how do you k-know?"
The self proclaimed messiah and savior merely smiled eerily and enigmatically, "How indeed?"
Noelle's grip on her wand tightened. Her mana pulsed, magic thrumming through her veins, demanding to be unleashed.
She had forced herself to this point. Through years of struggle, through battles that should have broken her. She had clawed her way here—through sheer will, through desperation, through the unbearable weight of Asta's absence.
And yet, standing before Lucius now, she felt it more than ever.
The gap.
Even after everything, she still wasn't him.
Lucius tilted his head. "But no matter how much you struggle, you are simply—" His gaze bore into hers. "Not enough."
Noelle moved before he could finish.
A surge of water erupted beneath her, propelling her forward. Dragon armor shimmered around her, reforged and perfected through relentless battles, honed sharper than ever before. Her spear materialized, its edges singing with raw magical power.
She aimed straight for his heart.
But Lucius did not move.
A flick of his wrist.
Time stopped.
Her breath hitched. The world froze around her, the colors dimming, her movements ceasing mid-strike. Her body was locked in place, muscles stiff and unresponsive, as though she had been trapped in amber.
Lucius sighed. "Predictable."
Noelle's mind raced. No. No, I can't—
He stepped closer, unhurried, as if merely observing a minor inconvenience. "You are remarkable, Noelle Silva. I have watched many variations of this world, but you are an anomaly. A unique case. Your defiance is… admirable."
His fingers brushed the air, and the frozen reality shattered.
Pain erupted in her side as an invisible force struck her, sending her crashing through the ruins of a shattered cathedral. The impact stole her breath, her ribs screaming in agony as she tumbled through debris, dust filling her lungs.
She forced herself to her knees, coughing, willing herself to stand.
Lucius floated above the ruins, untouched, unshaken.
"You fought well," he conceded. "But you were never meant to carry his burden. This world is simply correcting itself."
Noelle gritted her teeth. "Shut up."
Lucius merely smiled, and the world darkened.
Time magic coiled around him, vast and overwhelming, a divine force that swallowed the battlefield. The very air seemed to crack under the weight of his power.
And in that moment, Noelle knew.
She had won every battle before this. She had rewritten fate, reshaped lives, altered the course of history itself.
But she would not win here.
Lucius extended a hand. "Return to where you belong."
A massive glyph spread beneath her. The air distorted, reality shifting as the spell took hold.
Noelle screamed, pushing back, pouring every ounce of her magic into resistance—but it was useless.
Lucius's golden eyes gleamed with something almost like mercy.
"Asta's world was an aberration," he murmured. "This one will be better without him."
Light exploded around her.
Her vision blurred.
Her body fell.
—
When she awoke, she was gasping for air.
The world was dark. Silent. Cold.
Noelle scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew this place. The dungeon. The artifact. The very moment she had left.
It had all happened in an instant.
Nearly four years.
Four years.
And now she was back.
Her knees nearly buckled. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for her chest, as if trying to grasp something that wasn't there.
Lucius's words echoed in her mind.
"Return to where you belong."
Her breath hitched.
Asta.
Her head snapped up, panic seizing her. I have to go. I have to see him—
Magic surged beneath her feet before she could finish the thought. In an instant, she was gone, streaking through the sky like a comet, faster than she had ever flown before.
The world blurred past her. Cities, forests, mountains—nothing mattered.
She just needed to see him.
The Black Bulls' base came into view. The sight nearly crushed her.
She could see the lights inside. The familiar crooked shape of the fortress. The glow of torches.
It was real. It was real.
She landed so hard that the ground beneath her cracked. Someone shouted her name, startled by her sudden arrival. She barely heard them.
Her legs moved before her mind could catch up. Through the doors, past the common room, ignoring the voices calling after her.
Every step felt unreal.
She rounded the last corner, reached his door, and pounded against it with all her strength.
A few agonizing seconds passed.
Then—
The handle turned. The door creaked open.
And there he was.
Asta.
His hair was still wild. His eyes still shone with the same unshakable warmth, the same light that had been missing from her world for so long.
His voice, slightly groggy with sleep, was exactly as she remembered.
"Noelle?"
Her breath caught.
Her vision blurred.
He's real.
The face that had been fading from her memories, the voice that had become a distant echo—he was here.
A sob clawed its way up her throat.
Four years. Four years without him.
She stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. Her heart was hammering, her entire body shaking from the sheer weight of it all.
Asta frowned. "Hey, are you okay—?"
She didn't let him finish.
She sucked in a trembling breath, forced herself to speak before she could lose her nerve.
"I love you."
The words broke from her lips, raw and desperate, tumbling free before she could stop them.
"I love you," she repeated, her voice cracking, her chest tightening with overwhelming emotion. "Even if you reject me, even if you don't feel the same—I just… I needed you to know."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Asta's eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly, as if trying to form words, but nothing came.
For the first time in his life, Asta was speechless.
Noelle let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes even as more tears spilled over.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid.
No more regrets.
—
The silence between them stretched impossibly long.
Noelle could hear her own heartbeat, pounding so loudly it nearly drowned out every other sound. Asta stood in front of her, unmoving, his expression frozen in something between shock and disbelief.
She had just said it.
No hesitation. No careful, strategic avoidance. No running away.
I love you.
The words still hung in the air, heavy, irreversible.
Noelle could feel her body trembling, exhaustion crashing over her now that the weight of four years had finally been released.
Asta still hadn't said anything.
Her stomach twisted painfully. She had prepared for this. She had told herself she didn't care about his answer, that she just needed him to know. That no matter what happened, she wouldn't regret it.
But standing here, looking into his wide, green, stunned eyes, she realized she did care.
She cared more than she had ever wanted to admit.
If he rejected her now—if he told her he didn't see her that way—she would accept it. She would force herself to smile, to push forward as she always had. But deep down, she knew it would break something inside her.
Still, she had said it.
And there was no taking it back.
Asta blinked. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, as if struggling to form words. His brows furrowed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"Noelle," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She stiffened, waiting, bracing.
"I—" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, looking completely lost.
Asta. Lost for words.
Noelle let out a breathless, almost hysterical laugh. She had fought the king of devils, a false god, contracted to another, rewritten fate, and torn through space-time itself. But somehow, this—waiting for Asta to process her feelings—felt like the longest battle of her life.
The tension in her chest was unbearable.
She needed to do something—anything—before she lost her nerve.
Noelle swallowed hard. "You don't have to say anything," she forced out. "I— I know I just dropped this on you, and I don't expect you to—"
"Noelle."
His voice was different this time. Firmer. Steadier.
She snapped her mouth shut, heart hammering.
Asta was still staring at her, but something in his eyes had changed.
Something softened.
"I just… I need a second," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "You kinda just—boom—said it out of nowhere." He let out a small, nervous laugh. "I mean, I always knew you cared, but—"
Noelle groaned, her face burning. "Don't say it like that, you idiot!"
Asta's grin flickered into existence—brief, almost unsure, but real. "Sorry, sorry! It's just—" He took a deep breath, then stepped closer.
Noelle didn't move. She couldn't.
He was right in front of her now, close enough that she could see every little detail—every faint scar on his face, every tiny shift in his expression. His warmth radiated against her skin, solid and real and undeniably Asta.
Her chest ached.
She had missed him so much.
Asta's voice softened. "Noelle… you've been crying."
Her breath hitched. She hadn't even realized.
He lifted a hand, hesitating for only a moment before wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
The touch was so gentle that something in her cracked wide open.
She squeezed her eyes shut. "You try being stuck in a world without yourself and see if you don't cry, idiot," she muttered, voice trembling.
Asta stilled.
And then, to her horror, he actually looked like he was considering it.
"Wait, what?" His expression turned serious. "What do you mean a world without me?"
Noelle stiffened. Shit.
She hadn't meant to say that part out loud.
She took an instinctive step back, but Asta caught her wrist, holding her in place. Not tight, not forceful—just there.
Noelle swallowed hard.
She had thought that if she confessed, it would be over. That she wouldn't have to explain everything, wouldn't have to revisit the past four years.
But the way Asta was looking at her now—concerned, focused—told her that wasn't going to happen.
And somehow, that made her want to cry even more.
She took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I—" Her voice cracked. She clenched her fists. "I wasn't here, Asta. I— I was somewhere else. Somewhen else. For four years."
His brows furrowed. "Wait… Noelle, what are you—?"
"Asta," she cut in, voice sharp, desperate. "You weren't there."
The words felt raw coming out. The memory of that empty world still clung to her, suffocating.
"I searched everywhere. But you— you didn't exist."
Asta's grip on her wrist tightened slightly. He didn't speak, just listened.
So she told him.
Not everything. Not yet.
But enough.
Enough for him to understand that she had been gone, that she had lived a life without him, that it had been unbearable.
She didn't say how many times she had looked for him.
How many nights she had dreamed of hearing his voice, only to wake up and find herself alone.
How many times she had replayed every moment she had spent with him, afraid that she would forget the way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he existed.
By the time she finished, she was shaking.
Asta hadn't let go of her wrist.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.
"You really went through all that?"
Noelle exhaled shakily. "Yeah."
Asta was silent for a long moment.
Then, suddenly, he laughed.
Noelle stiffened, her face heating up. "What the hell are you laughing at!?"
Asta shook his head, his grin widening. "No, sorry, I just—" His gaze met hers, warm and so full of life that her breath caught. "I always knew you were amazing, Noelle. But damn… you just saved an entire world and confessed your love to me all in one night?"
Her face burned. "Shut up! I-I failed in the end anyway!"
Asta only laughed harder.
And then, before she could think, before she could stop herself—she reached forward and shoved him.
Or tried to.
Instead of stumbling back, Asta caught her hands—both of them—his grip firm, steady, real.
Noelle froze.
Asta grinned. "You know… you could've just told me you loved me before going on a whole interdimensional adventure."
Her heart stopped.
The teasing was still there. The familiar, infuriating Asta energy. But beneath it—beneath the playful words—was something else.
Something real.
Something that made her chest feel tight, her hands tremble in his.
Slowly, hesitantly, Asta lifted one hand to cup her cheek.
"Noelle," he murmured.
She barely managed to breathe.
"I don't know everything you went through," he said, voice quiet. "But I do know one thing."
He smiled—soft, genuine.
"You're back."
And then he placed a soft, warm kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes burned.
And for the first time in years, she felt like she was home.
Actually home.