The meeting concluded with mutual agreements. Royal officials, Magic Knight captains, and elven representatives formally declared the beginning of a coexistence pact. Patrol routes would be adjusted, border temples shared for mana communion, and specific zones opened for elves to settle peacefully.
Even Mereoleona—though she scoffed at the mention of "peace treaties"—grudgingly agreed to allow elves into the Crimson Lion's training grounds, saying, "If they're gonna stay, they better earn it with sweat."
Rhya only laughed in response.
Later—when the sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the sky in molten gold and deep violet—Dave stood alone on a high balcony of the Royal Castle. The wind brushed past him, carrying scents of incense, magic, and distant festival drums from the city below, where people were already lighting lanterns in celebration.
He leaned on the railing, watching the sunset with a faint smirk.
"…Weirdly enough… it was fun," he murmured to himself. "This world had good fights."
A soft chime echoed in his ears.
[System Notice: Alt Asta Template — 100% Synchronization Complete]
Status: Template fully integrated. Alternate identity no longer required to maintain presence in this world.
Return Protocol Available.
Dave rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck slightly.
"So… it's time, huh?"
He pulled up the translucent panel only he could see. The [Return] command pulsed gently in the corner of the interface.
He glanced once more at the kingdom—at Yami arguing with Fuegoleon down in the courtyard, at Mereoleona already dragging a group of elves for "light warm-up sparring," and at Asta laughing uncontrollably while being chased by Noelle for something stupid he must have said.
"…Yeah. You guys will be fine."
He pressed his thumb against the glowing icon.
A silent pulse of energy rippled around him.
[Executing Return Protocol—Marvel Dimension Anchor Detected...]
[Transfer Beginning.]
His body dissolved into shimmering particles, vanishing completely from the balcony—like a breath of wind lost in twilight.
And somewhere far beyond Clover Kingdom, beyond the stars of this world—
—the Marvel Universe stirred in response.
Dave was coming back.
****
Dave materialized back in his room in Unity Tower, the familiar hum of advanced tech and arc reactors filling the air. He stretched, still half-drowsy from the dimensional shift, and stepped out into the lounge area.
The place was bustling.
Holographic displays flickered. Shuri was calibrating something on a floating console. Natasha and Steve were discussing combat formations. Tony was pacing around with a cup of coffee, eyes locked on a massive central screen.
Dave blinked. "…What happened?"
Tony glanced at him mid-stride. "Look who finally decided to respawn. Back from whatever fantasy realm you wandered off to?"
Dave just nodded once.
Tony pointed at the screen with his mug. "Good. You're just in time. Phase one of the Ten Rings Trial is about to begin. Global broadcast. Every major power is watching."
Dave moved to the couch and dropped onto it casually. Shuri swiped her hands, and multiple feeds projected into the air—live footage from different countries, all showing massive rings engraved into the ground like summoning circles, each glowing with ancient alien script.
"The trials will be held simultaneously across multiple regions," Steve said, arms folded.
"Only those recognized by the rings can enter…" Natasha added, eyes sharp.
"And we," Tony declared with dramatic flair, a grin spreading across his face, "are going to binge-watch it like it's the Super Bowl, the Olympics, and a shounen tournament arc combined."
He spoke like he was about to witness history… not just spectate a trial.
Dave rolled his shoulders and sank deeper into the couch. "Fine by me. I want to see what everyone's cooked up for the Ten Rings trials anyway."
"Actually," Dave added, tilting his head, "how does it even work?"
Shuri snapped her fingers, bringing up a rotating 3D projection of the rings and a glowing digital world map overlay.
"We—meaning me, Tony, and Dr. Banner—worked together with Aizen to integrate his Reality Reversal Illusions into a tech-based projection field," she explained with visible pride. "We merged his illusionary magic with our neural-link AR tech. The result—"
Bruce continued, pushing his glasses up, "—a completely self-contained virtual dimension, synchronized with physical reality through the ring anchors. Once the rings activate, participants will be immersed instantly."
As if in response to their explanation, the giant rings on-screen flared to life—each one pulsing with a mixture of alien energy and arcane ripple, like magic and circuitry speaking the same language.
Then—
FLASH.
Across every live feed, the world flickered—like reality itself had glitched.
Citizens, soldiers, warriors, heroes… anyone standing near a ring site began to disappear into shafts of light, their physical forms phasing into the virtual realm Shuri mentioned.
Shuri pointed at the screen, practically glowing with excitement.
"And there it is. Instant transfer. Welcome to Ring Realm #01: Trial of Entry."
Tony clasped his hands behind his head, smug.
"Ladies and gentlemen… the games have begun."
[TEN RINGS TRIAL — ENTRY PHASE ACTIVE]
Participants Detected: 381,942
The moment the prompt appeared, the feed shifted.
The Earth faded from every screen.
In its place unfolded a colossal desert of silver sand, stretching endlessly under a sky with three suns, each glowing a different hue—blue, red, and white. The horizon shimmered like living glass. Towers made of floating stone rings drifted in the air like fragmented halos.
The voice that spoke next did not belong to any human.
[Welcome, Seekers.]
[You stand in the First Ring Realm – "The Gate of Worthiness."]
[Only those who withstand this trial shall move forward. All others… will be removed.]
Natasha narrowed her eyes. "…Removed?"
Aizen's voice drifted faintly in the room, calm and impossibly elegant.
"Removed doesn't mean killed. In this phase, it means ejected from eligibility. They'll simply wake up back at their ring site. But humiliation… is unavoidable."
Tony smirked. "Oh, I like psychological damage more than physical. Efficient."
On-screen, the participants moved with purpose, their expressions calm, controlled, and focused. Every man and woman standing before the glowing rings had trained for this moment—their bodies honed, their minds sharp, anticipating the trials ahead. There was no panic. No awe. Only readiness. Each knew that every step could decide success or failure.
The desert stretched before them—endless silver sand shimmering under three suns—but the challenge was clear. The goal: cross it. The path was not simple. Shadows of monstrous constructs lurked, crafted by the trial itself, programmed to test skill, strategy, and adaptability.
*******
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