Marvel's master of cosmic magic-Chapter 832

"Spatial Magic: Fallen Angel’s Gate."

A swirling doorway split open in the Black Bulls’ hall. Finral held his grimoire steady, maintaining the spell with practiced ease.

Rowan and Yami stepped through and emerged inside the massive arena where the Magic Knight entrance exam was held.

The stadium resembled a grand coliseum, only far larger. Tiered stands circled a wide testing ground below, already crowded with hopeful candidates.

Rowan glanced back at Finral as the portal closed.

His control had improved. Clean edges. Stable mana flow.

Over the past few days, Rowan had studied every member of the Black Bulls carefully—including Yami. It had not been difficult. A subtle nudge here. A suggestion there. A bit of careful conversation shaped by quiet influence. People tended to open up when they felt understood.

Finral Roulacase came from a prestigious noble family known for offensive spatial magic. He had once been heir to that house.

Until he wasn’t.

His refusal to embrace violence—and his non-combative teleportation magic—had branded him an embarrassment. The title of heir passed to his younger brother, now vice-captain of the Golden Dawn.

Yet Finral bore no bitterness. He was kind, easygoing, endlessly flirtatious. Brave in words, timid in action. Useful beyond measure.

Yami clapped Rowan on the shoulder.

"I’m hitting the restroom. Go find our seats."

He wandered off with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Gambling. Smoking. And, apparently, a digestive system that required constant attention.

Rowan had noticed.

Yami originated from the distant Land of the Sun, washed ashore in the Clover Kingdom as a child. Treated as an outsider. Beneath commoners in status. Until Julius Novachrono discovered him and brought him into the Magic Knights.

Now he was one of the kingdom’s strongest captains.

Dark Magic.

And something else.

Ki.

Rowan found that far more interesting than most things in this world. It wasn’t traditional magic. It was closer to refined life force—an externalized awareness born of physical mastery.

Currently, Yami used it for perception and anticipation.

Rowan suspected it could do far more.

A burst of laughter pulled him from his thoughts.

Finral had already grabbed the hand of a passing female examinee and begun charming her shamelessly.

Rowan left him to it.

The arena floor below was filling rapidly.

Hundreds of candidates had gathered.

There was no age limit. Anyone fifteen or older with a grimoire could attempt the exam. Some tried immediately upon receiving theirs. Others waited years, training in hopes of success.

Every year, only a handful were selected.

And most of them were nobles.

The exam itself was fair. The captains judged ability alone. But nobles had better education, stronger mana, superior resources.

Advantage wasn’t bias. It was infrastructure.

A sudden flutter interrupted the crowd.

Small brown birds swooped into the arena and began landing on the candidates.

Murmurs spread.

"Why are they landing on me?"

"Those are Mana-Seeking Birds," someone explained. "They’re drawn to low mana. The less you have, the more they gather."

It was an unspoken measuring stick.

Some candidates had one or two birds perched on their shoulders.

Others had five.

A few had nearly ten.

Five birds angled toward Rowan.

He released the faintest trace of draconic pressure.

The birds veered away instantly.

He preferred subtlety.

Then something caught his attention.

Across the arena stood a short boy with spiky ash-blond hair.

Birds swarmed him.

Not five.

Not ten.

At least thirty.

They covered his shoulders, head, arms.

Rowan narrowed his eyes and extended his senses.

Nothing.

The boy possessed no mana.

None at all.

And yet he stood there, shouting enthusiastically about becoming the Wizard King.

The conviction in his voice was fierce. Reckless. Familiar.

Like Natsu.

Rowan’s focus shifted deeper.

Not the boy.

The grimoire.

There it was.

A presence.

Faint, but distinct.

Demonic.

The grimoire housed something else. Something sealed.

So demons were not mere legend in this world.

Rowan considered it briefly.

Interesting.

But not urgent.

He had walked paths that birthed demons. He could become one if he wished. Compared to Ki, this was a lower priority.

Still, worth observation.

A thunderous boom echoed overhead as brilliant magical fireworks erupted across the sky.

The entrance exam had begun.

Rowan made his way up the stands and took his place beside Yami and Finral in the section reserved for the Black Bulls.

Below, the future of the kingdom prepared to test itself.

And Rowan prepared to watch.