Strange use of Magic (Black Clover AU) Chapter 134: Strange Fury

[Third Person's PoV] 


Everyone turned to Stephen, their expressions frozen in disbelief, eyes wide as if they had witnessed the impossible.


He had just sucker punched the Queen of the Witches’ Forest.


The Queen slumped back against her throne, head tilted unnaturally as blood trickled from her face, staining the emerald fabric of her dress in a dark crimson trail.


“Wha–” Noelle stammered, her voice cracking before she burst out, “What is wrong with you?! Are you insane?!”


Stephen gave a dismissive scoff as he tucked the Eye of Agamotto into his shirt, his gaze sharp and unrepentant. “She shouldn’t have touched what didn’t belong to her. Consent exists for a reason—ever heard of personal space?”


“But… that wasn’t just anyone you decked,” Wanda spoke up cautiously, stepping forward with visible hesitation. “That was the Queen.”


Stephen blinked at her, tilting his head slightly like he genuinely didn’t understand the problem. “And? Since when have I ever cared about status?”


Noelle’s brow twitched. Of course. If there was one thing Stephen consistently proved, it was that titles, thrones, or authority meant nothing to him.


“Stephen…” a quiet voice called.


Everyone turned toward Vanessa, her face hidden beneath the wide brim of her witch’s hat, casting her features in shadow.


That’s when it hit them.


He didn’t just punch the ruler of the Witches’ Forest…

He punched Vanessa’s mother.


Tension thickened like a thundercloud. No one moved, unsure how Vanessa would react.


Then she looked up.


A bright grin split her face as she gave Stephen a thumbs up, eyes curving into cheerful crescents. “Great job!”


“Eh?!” Asta exclaimed, nearly tripping over himself. That was not the reaction anyone expected.


Everyone else was just as baffled, staring at Vanessa like she’d just spoken in tongues.


But before any of them could ask questions, something strange happened.


The blood on the Queen’s dress, the floor, even Stephen’s knuckles—lifted into the air, drawn by an unseen force. It hovered for a moment, then flowed back into the Queen’s wound like time was reversing. The injury sealed itself with a soft, glowing pulse of magic.


She was healing.


Grimoires were drawn in an instant. Everyone instinctively took defensive stances, prepared for a counterattack.


The Queen remained seated, cradling her head with one hand. Slowly, she lifted her gaze—her eyes sharp, burning, filled with unspoken fury.


“I will admit,” she said coolly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “I acted impulsively… unbecoming of a Queen.”


The words were civil. Her glare was anything but.


“However, don’t mistake my admission for forgiveness. You trespassed into my kingdom. My throne room. Uninvited. I have every right to retaliate.”


Stephen crossed his arms, expression unimpressed. “And you invaded my personal space. Touch me again, and I won’t stop at one punch.”


“Stephen, please,” Noelle begged, her voice taut with urgency.


“We didn’t come here to start a fight,” Wanda added, stepping between them. “Did you forget why we’re here in the first place?”


She looked at Stephen with a pleading gaze, hoping he’d understand the consequences of picking a battle in the heart of a sovereign ruler’s domain.


“Right,” Vanessa sighed. “We came to warn you. A great danger is about to befall the Witches’ Forest.” Her voice was firm, serious, as she took a step closer to the throne.


The Witch Queen looked down at her with a disdainful expression. “I am aware. But that raises a few questions. First, how did you come to know of this? And second—why should this matter concern you? You abandoned your kingdom and your duty, all for the sake of a man. What happens to this kingdom is no longer your concern.”


Everyone was initially taken aback—not by the Queen’s venomous tone, but by the revelation that she was already aware of the impending attack. Still, that thought quickly faded when Vanessa’s voice rose with fury.


“My duties?! You say I abandoned my duties?!” she shouted. “What duty was that, huh?! Because as far as I knew, my only ‘duty’ was to be locked inside a goddamn birdcage for who knows how long! Is that the grand responsibility you’re talking about?!”


The room went silent.


They had never heard Vanessa snap like this. Her clenched fists trembled at her sides, and her entire body shook with raw emotion. Rage, pain, years of being silenced—they all erupted in one furious outburst.


And no one could blame her. If what she said was true, then her anger was more than justified.


“What do you mean by that?” Asta asked with a scowl, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. He turned toward the Witch Queen, eyes narrowed. “Locked in a birdcage? What the hell does that mean?”


Vanessa lowered her gaze, wrapping her arms around herself as she bit her lower lip. Just then, a hand gently came to rest on her head, pushing her hat slightly down over her eyes.


She looked up—and there was Stephen, standing beside her in silent support. His presence alone brought a small, involuntary smile to her lips.


“Oh, please,” the Witch Queen scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t act like you were some tortured soul. You speak as if I caged you for cruelty’s sake. It was for your benefit, you ungrateful little girl. You had a rare gift—talent unlike any other. That isolation was to hone your power, to keep you focused, away from distractions that could have led you astray.”


Her gaze hardened. “And yet that vile man took you away. Since then, you’ve barely grown. You’ve stagnated—an imperfect failure of what you were meant to become.”


Vanessa hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Stephen, unsure of what he’d think after hearing all of that—after learning how she’d spent most of her childhood.


But then her heart sank.


Stephen’s face was emotionless. His usually vibrant blue eyes looked dull, dimmed by something heavy. His expression was so still it was unsettling.


“Honestly…” he muttered. “I say we let this bitch burn.”


The room froze.


All eyes turned to him, startled—not just by the words, but by the coldness in his voice. It was devoid of empathy, completely stripped of the warmth they had come to associate with him.


Stephen didn’t just hate cruelty—he despised it when it came from parents who inflicted trauma and then dismissed it under the guise of "It's for your own good."


He had lived through that lie before—in another life. He knew its sting all too well.


It was why he had cut ties with his own parents the moment he turned eighteen and had moved out.


And now, hearing those same words from the Witch Queen—he felt that old, buried hatred flare to life once more.


Vanessa heard a faint popping sound and looked down.


Stephen’s fist was clenched so tightly, his knuckles had gone white. The popping had come from the strain in his hand.


To her, his emotions were clear as day.


He was enraged.


Not for himself—but for her. He was angry on her behalf, filled with a cold, quiet fury that threatened to break loose.


Vanessa blinked in surprise as because to her Stephen was angry for her sake, he was enraged on her behalf. Vanessa had no reason to suspect otherwise, and she felt touched, causing her smile and her cheeks to redden ever so faintly.