Black Clover : Starting with Two Clovers

The crimson glow faded away completely.

And with it, the Sovereign Sword vanished too—

Or more accurately, someone now stood where the blade had once hovered.

A young woman, maybe 18 or 19 years old, dressed in a flowing red dress that looked like it belonged on a royal stage. Her hair was done up in an elegant, slightly old-fashioned bun, and a shimmering golden-silver pin was tucked at an angle above her temple.

Etched in the center of her forehead was a small flame-like sigil—one that Ethan recognized immediately.

It was identical to the flame engraving that had always glowed from the hilt of the Sovereign Sword.

Before he could even speak, the girl bowed slightly and introduced herself:

"Master, it's an honor to meet you. I am the spirit of the Sovereign Sword."

"Uh…"

Ethan blinked slowly, caught completely off guard.

Around him, the others weren't doing much better.

Most of them were just staring blankly, unsure of what to make of this sudden, dramatic entrance.

Of course they were confused.

In a world like this, concepts like "sword spirits" weren't exactly common knowledge.

To them, she was just some mysterious girl who popped into existence from thin air—

And from her formal tone, her strange hairstyle, and her elegant old-world dress, it felt like she had walked straight out of a historical novel.

Ethan studied her more carefully now.

Even though the look was unusual… it fit.

And considering how no one in the Clover Kingdom dressed like this, her presence alone felt like a confirmation.

She was definitely not from around here.

And yeah—she was really pretty, too.

BOOM!

Before Ethan could ask her anything more, the ground shook hard beneath them.

The Shadow King's palace, already cracked and broken from the battle, began to collapse in earnest.

One of the remaining walls came crashing down behind them.

"We can finish introductions later! This place is coming down!"

Yami's voice snapped everyone back into motion.

The girl gave Ethan a quick nod—then in a flash of red light, she returned to her sword form, glowing and sharp.

The Sovereign Sword shot forward, carving a glowing path through falling stone and rubble like it was paper.

"Let's go! She's clearing the way!"

Ethan sprinted after her, and the rest of the squad followed close behind.

They had all seen how powerful that sword was. If it could lead them out, there was no better option.

Clover Kingdom – Royal Capital

Beneath the stars, a dozen shadowy figures emerged from the darkened air, one after another.

Behind them, the Shadow Palace—already fading—began to ripple like a mirage.

A final aftershock rolled through the night, and the ghostly structure disappeared completely,

as if it had never existed at all.

"Phew… it's over…"

Everyone let out a deep, relieved breath.

The war.

The Elven Resurrection.

The demon's rampage...

All of it was finally over.

Nozel Silva—nobleman and squad captain—was the first to speak up.

"The demon is gone. But this isn't the time to relax. Captains, rally your squads. We've got wounded to care for—and the capital needs to be rebuilt. Let's move."

The others nodded without complaint.

Sure, the battle was done… but the scars it left behind weren't going to heal themselves.

Streets had turned to rubble.

Soldiers were broken.

Families were mourning.

It was victory… but just barely.

"Oh, and each squad—leave a third of your fighters at the borders. We can't afford to let our guard down now."

Nozel's sentence trailed off, but the others got the point.

They all knew how the world worked.

The Clover Kingdom wasn't the only player on the map.

Their neighbors had been watching the entire time—waiting for weakness.

And now that Clover's power had been drained by war?

Predators would come.

That was how things worked in a world built on power:

Survival of the fittest.

"I'm heading out," Ethan said, turning away. "My squad's under Yami's command for now. I'll leave the rest to you guys."

No one objected.

He'd already done more than enough.

More battles than he could count. More near-death experiences than anyone should survive.

If anyone had earned a break, it was him.

He ducked out quietly, and before long, found a broken-down shack on the edge of town.

He didn't care how dusty it was. He just needed to sleep.

He tossed the Sovereign Sword beside the bed and flopped down onto the creaky old frame, ignoring the layer of dust.

Sleep hit him like a truck.

He didn't know how long he slept—only that when he cracked one eye open, the sunlight was painfully bright.

"Ugh…"

He sat up slowly, reaching to the side—

And stopped.

The sword was gone.

"Huh? Where…?"

Before he could get out of bed, a voice chimed in from the doorway:

"Good morning, Master! You're awake. Here, try this—it's chicken soup. I made it just for you."

Wait—what?

Ethan blinked again.

The red-dressed girl from earlier was standing there, smiling sweetly, holding a steaming bowl in both hands.

She looked like something out of a 1950s sitcom: cheerful, pretty, way too domestic for a battle-hardened warrior.

"Oh right… she's the sword spirit…"

Ethan rubbed his forehead, trying to shake the grogginess from his brain.

The last few hours felt like a dream.

But… chicken soup?

Since when was that a thing on this continent?

"Uh… thanks…" he mumbled, taking the bowl.

He glanced inside—

And immediately regretted it.

The soup was black.

Not dark brown, not cloudy—straight-up black.

Chicken was supposed to be pale. Soup was supposed to be clear.

This looked like someone boiled shoe polish and called it a meal.

"What… is this?"

"Don't worry!" she beamed. "I slow-cooked it all morning just for you!"

Her eyes sparkled with pride, and for some reason, that made it worse.

Ethan felt like he was being guilt-tripped by a puppy.

He looked back at the soup.

He didn't know what was in it, but it definitely wasn't just chicken.

Still…

This was his mess. He had to commit.

He braced himself, took a deep breath—

And chugged the whole thing.

Bottoms up.

His divine bloodline should protect him from poisoning… probably.

When he finally put the bowl down, she leaned in eagerly:

"Well? How was it?"

Ethan forced a smile.

"Uh… not bad. Really."

His stomach, however, had other opinions.

Within seconds it started bubbling like someone threw fireworks into a washing machine.

And just as he clutched his gut—

"Great!" she chirped, holding up another bowl.

"Then have a second helping!"

"Wait… another one?!"

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