Asta's Adventure

David couldn't believe his eyes. From the very beginning, he had felt that something was wrong. When Asta started stepping on the magical traps, getting injured again and again, David had already thought that he was a goner. However, contrary to all expectations, Asta somehow managed to overcome the obstacles. Of course, it wasn't easy for him—he was severely injured.

Sekre, in turn, was deeply worried. Seeing Asta hit the traps over and over, she couldn't hide her fear. Even though he managed to cope, each of his steps was accompanied by pain and blood, which made her heart tighten.

At that moment, David made a decision. He decided to use his strongest healing spell, despite the fact that it would drain nearly half of his magical energy. Approaching Asta, he firmly opened his grimoire and focused on the spell.

— "Restoration Magic!" he shouted.

A bright green light poured from Asta's body. Before everyone's eyes, his wounds began to heal at an incredible speed.

Asta looked at David in surprise, then smiled broadly.

— Wow, thanks, David! This spell feels way better than before.

After a few minutes of healing, Asta, feeling a surge of strength, cheerfully headed toward the next gates.

The third gates were different from the previous ones. They were adorned with gold, and complex images and patterns were visible on their surface. After a quick inspection, Asta, along with David and Sekre, entered the next room.

It was completely different from the previous ones. The room was engulfed in total darkness—not a single flicker of light.

— "Creepy," whispered David, squinting into the thick darkness.

Asta, however, remained silent. He gripped his sword tighter and walked confidently forward, ignoring the fear in the air.

Asta stepped into the utter darkness. The gloom completely swallowed him, hiding everything around. For the first few moments, nothing happened, but suddenly, he felt a powerful blow to his stomach. The hit was so strong that it knocked him back, and he barely managed to stay on his feet.

— "What the...?" Asta growled, rubbing the bruised spot.

But he wasn't allowed to rest. Another crushing blow struck his side, knocking the air out of him again. This continued for some time: an invisible opponent dealt blow after blow, and Asta barely had time to dodge or endure them. Gradually, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and a silhouette appeared before him.

It was a knight. His body, covered in massive golden armor, moved smoothly, but somehow unnaturally, as if he were a puppet.

Asta gritted his teeth and drew his sword. He lunged at the knight, but every strike was either easily blocked by the knight's shield or evaded, with the knight moving faster than expected. Each time, the knight counterattacked, forcing Asta to retreat again and again.

The metal groaned and cracked. With another powerful blow, Asta's sword shattered into pieces.

At that moment, a voice came from the knight. It was cold and contemptuous, as if emanating from the very depths of the room:

— "Surrender. You are nothing. Without magic, without power. You are trash that should never have hoped for victory. Look at yourself. You've already lost your only weapon. You are nothing. Accept it."

The words cut through Asta's mind like blades, bringing up the most painful memories: mockery, disregard, and humiliation.

But instead of breaking, Asta clenched his fists tighter. His body trembled not from fear, but from rage and unyielding determination.

— "Trash, you say?!" he shouted.

With incredible speed, he charged forward. The opponent didn't have time to react: Asta struck him with his fist right in the chest. The golden armor cracked, and the knight was sent flying back with a deafening crash, embedding into the wall.

Asta panted heavily, but his voice was firm.

— "You're wrong if you think I'll surrender! You can take my sword, you can say whatever you want. But there's one thing you can never take from me!"

He lifted his gaze, full of resolve, and shouted:

— "My magic is never giving up!"

The knight quickly recovered from the blow, his golden armor covered in cracks, but he didn't fall. Instead of continuing the fight, he silently observed Asta. Then, with unexpected speed, the knight disappeared back into the shadows.

Suddenly, his voice echoed through the air again—this time it sounded even more threatening than before.

— "If you don't break, if you don't surrender, you may pass the trial. But don't think that defeating me is your goal. This trial is not about strength, but about the strength of spirit!" the voice rang out from the darkness.

Asta clenched his fists, his heart pounding harder, but a feeling of determination arose within him that he had never felt before. But almost immediately, as he accepted the challenge, cuts began to appear on his body.

He couldn't understand where the strikes were coming from. It seemed that the darkness around him had come alive, and the attacks were almost imperceptible—only thin, nearly invisible slashes on his skin. Every second became more painful, and Asta felt his strength draining. But despite the pain, he didn't stop, gripping his fists even tighter.

This continued until he began to notice the slightest movements around him. At one point, his eyes caught one of the attacking swords. He charged forward, accepting the strike. The golden knight's sword pierced his chest, and pain surged through Asta with terrifying force.

But instead of falling, Asta, gritting his teeth, only tightened his fists. His body shook with pain, but he didn't retreat. This was the moment, he put every last ounce of strength into his fist and, with a shout, struck the knight's helmet with all his might.