Yami sat in the main room of the Black Bulls’ hideout, boots propped up, cigarette in hand. It wasn’t often he just waited, and the squad had noticed. Something was up.

The reason? Julius Novachrono had personally recommended a new recruit. And when the Wizard King handpicked someone, Yami had to see what the fuss was about. His squad was full of rejects, outcasts, and lunatics—so what made you special?

Across the room, Magna flipped his lighter open and shut. “Tch. If the Wizard King picked ‘em, they better be tough.” Luck grinned, practically vibrating. “I hope they fight me first!”

Noelle scoffed. “Julius might’ve chosen them, but that doesn’t mean they belong here.”

Vanessa swirled her wine. “They’ll either fit in or crash and burn.” Finral sighed, already tired. “Just don’t let them be another Asta…”

Asta beamed. “If the Wizard King picked them, they have to be amazing!” Nero let out an unimpressed grunt from his head.

Nacht stood in the shadows, arms crossed. “If they’re weak, they’re useless. If they’re reckless, they’re dead.” His devils murmured in agreement.

Gauche barely looked up, uninterested unless the recruit somehow involved Marie. Zora smirked. “Hah. Another idiot to babysit.”

Meanwhile, Charmy munched on food. “I just hope they can cook.” Grey fidgeted, shifting forms, while Gordon mumbled something about friendship.

The room buzzed with curiosity, but Yami exhaled a puff of smoke, cracking his neck as he eyed the entrance.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s see what kinda headache the Wizard King just dumped on me.”