The morning sun barely kissed the horizon when Asta returned, a wide grin stretching across his face and a long branch slung over his shoulder.
Strung along the branch, like beads on a necklace, were fifteen fat carps, their silver scales shimmering in the light.
As he reached the church door, it creaked open, revealing a small boy who bore a striking resemblance in personality to a certain grumpy tactician—always frowning, always full of sarcasm. Holding a bowl and chopsticks, the kid squinted at Asta.
"Tch. You're late again, Asta. We were all waiting for you to eat. Brother Yuno caught a big carp this morning using magic. When are you going to stop embarrassing yourself and keep up with him?"
"Oh? So Yuno's getting serious now?" Asta raised an eyebrow, amused.
The boy huffed, unimpressed. "At least Brother Yuno doesn't show up empty-handed."
With a smirk, Asta shifted the branch forward. "You sure about that?"
The kid blinked, then his eyes popped. "Wait, is that…?"
"Yep," Asta said with pride. "Fish."
One by one, the carp revealed themselves as Asta walked past the kid and into the church.
"Two…"
"Three…"
"Seven…"
"Fifteen!?"
The boy's jaw nearly hit the floor. "How is this even possible…? You don't have magic!"
Asta simply smiled, the corners of his mouth tugged up in satisfaction as he walked away, leaving behind only the stunned look on the kid's face—and a trail of admiration.
He gave himself a perfect ten out of ten for that dramatic entrance.
Later that day…
"Father, has Asta been acting strange to you?" Sister Lily asked softly, glancing toward the window.
The old priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, this morning he told me he wants to build a bathhouse. Not just any bathhouse—a luxury one. And get this… one private tub for each child. Talk about delusions of grandeur!"
"What?!"
Sister Lily's cheeks flushed pink. A hot bath every day? She quickly shook her head. No, no. Get it together, Lily!
****
After lunch, Asta wasted no time. He selected a flat piece of land next to the church and got to work.
With an axe and other crude tools, he began carving complex joints into the processed wood—mortise and tenon joints of every kind: square pegs, round joints, dovetails, and tongue-and-groove designs.
He had learned them all through years of study and obsession, even if he'd never once put them into practice. He wanted this bathhouse to stand as a symbol of effort and dreams—especially for the kids who had none.
"You're crazy if you think you can build a bathhouse in a day!" Nash—the same boy who mocked him earlier—reappeared with a scowl.
"Still full of doubt, huh?" Asta sighed. "You never know what you can do unless you try, Nash."
"That's dumb. You don't have magic. You're a nobody. People like us should know our place."
Asta stopped chiseling and looked him dead in the eyes.
"What if I told you I could finish this entire bathhouse by tomorrow at dawn?"
Nash hesitated. "If you really do… I'll respect you like Brother Yuno. But if not, stop dreaming about becoming the Wizard King. You're just a magicless peasant!"
"It's a deal."
Sunlight caught in Asta's determined gaze, radiating the fire in his heart. He didn't flinch. He'd never flinched—not before nobles, not before enemies, not even before fate itself.
Whether it was Might Guy, Rock Lee… no—this was his own path. In a world where people without magic were seen as less than human, Asta would prove that effort could surpass talent.
He rolled out his blueprint sketch onto the ground. It was crudely drawn with charcoal and shaped by willpower. To complete the bathhouse, he calculated he needed over 3,500 precisely cut mortise and tenon joints—each different depending on function.
Even so, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the axe, and kept cutting.
"This isn't just carpentry. It's a promise."
"He's still working?" Sister Lily whispered later that evening, watching from the kitchen window.
"He refused dinner," said the nun beside her. "Said he needs to finish carving all the joints before dark."
"Three fish tonight, thanks to him…" she murmured. "But still, he'll collapse at this rate."
"Let him be," the godfather said solemnly. "That boy's heart is stronger than his body. You know how he is. Just like when he declared he'd become the Wizard King with no magic. He doesn't stop."
Yuno stood quietly nearby, arms folded as he watched Asta's figure move in the dusk light.
"He's serious," Yuno said under his breath. "But if he doesn't keep up, I'll leave him behind. A one-sided race isn't fun."
His grip tightened. As much as he tried to appear calm, Yuno's competitive fire burned just as brightly.
As night fell, Asta lit a lantern and continued to work, sweat dripping from his brow. His hands blistered, his body ached, but his soul blazed like an inferno.
Because someday, he wouldn't just build bathhouses.
He'd build a world where kids like Nash didn't grow up thinking they were worthless.
He'd build a future as the Wizard King.
****
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The echo of hammer strikes rang out into the cold Hage night. Outside the orphanage church, a massive fire blazed. Sparks flew into the sky as Asta, shirtless and dripping with sweat, toiled with relentless intensity.
He had drawn out blueprints in the dirt, sawed beams with a crude handmade saw, and now hammered support columns into place one by one. The moon hung high above, witnessing the impossible effort of a boy with no magic but unlimited determination.
Inside, Nash lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, unable to sleep. The rhythmic pounding outside wasn't the only thing keeping him awake—it was Asta's will.
Why does he keep trying?
Why doesn't he ever give up—even though he doesn't have a single drop of mana?
Nash clenched his fists under the blanket.
He had always mocked Asta, always rolled his eyes at his dream of becoming the Wizard King. And yet, deep inside, a part of him envied that boy. Envy for someone who had been laughed at all his life… and still kept fighting. Someone who had never once backed down—no matter how hopeless it seemed.
"Dreams," Nash thought bitterly. Are we even allowed to have them? Orphans like us?
He remembered the faces of noble children from town—how they looked at him like he was dirt. Their sneers, their pity. That's why he had learned to shut off hope… to pretend he didn't care. But tonight, Asta's hammer was cracking through that shell.
"Can someone like me really… believe again?"
****
Dawn.
The sun crested over the hills, and with it came the scent of morning dew—and sawdust.
Asta lay half-slumped in the grass, his lean, muscular torso glistening with sweat, a wild grin on his face and a blade of grass hanging from his mouth.
Before him stood a five-meter-tall bathhouse, sturdy and standing proud beside the church. Its structure was simple but solid. A central partition separated the male and female sections, built from thick timber. Inside, individual wooden bathtubs were arranged neatly, one for every orphan.
"This… this'll finally let Sister Lily soak properly after long days. She deserves it," Asta muttered, his voice raspy from a night without rest.
His stomach growled.
"Time to catch some breakfast!"