Asta - The Silence of the Grimoire | G4L4T1CU5

Описание: Lore lyrics in songs with styles that reflect the characteristics of the character in question.

Lyrics:

In a world where the sky is painted with the glow of arcane light,
Where every soul carries a flicker, a spark to ignite the night,
There’s a boy standing in the shadows of the Hage village church,
With hands calloused by iron, and a heart left in the lurch.
No mana in his veins, no whisper of the elements in his palm,
Just the sound of his own shouting, breaking the morning calm.
They laughed at the dream, they mocked the spirit so loud,
But you can’t tether a storm that’s meant to rise above the cloud.

The ceremony came and went, the towers reached for the sun,
But for the boy with nothing, the battle had just begun.
Then the sky turned to ink, and the despair began to bloom,
Out of the dust and the silence, came the harbinger of doom.
A book bound in filth, tattered edges and a five-leaf seal,
Not fueled by the magic of old, but by the grit of the real.
Within the fifth leaf dwells a demon, a reflection of the cost,
The power of the voiceless, the king of the lonely and lost.

Oh, let the anti-magic flow like a river of obsidian tide,
With a rusted giant’s blade and nothing left to hide.
He’s the defect in the system, the glitch in the divine,
Crossing every boundary, breaking every sacred line.
From the Forsaken Realm to the throne of the Wizard King,
Listen to the melody that the magicless shall sing.
My magic is never giving up, the mantra of the brave,
Carving out a destiny from the cradle to the grave.

He wears the black bull on his chest, a squad of the misbegotten,
Fighting for a kingdom that had left them all forgotten.
Against the elves of vengeance and the devils in the dark,
Asta swings the Slayer, leaving an indelible mark.
He doesn’t need the mana to sense the ki within the air,
He doesn’t need the status to prove that he is there.
In the clash of the swords, in the heat of the demon’s grace,
He’s the orphan who looked the gods directly in the face.

So let the golden dawn fade into the shadow of the bull,
When the cup of the elite is empty, and the peasant’s heart is full.
Through the trials of the soul and the blood upon the sand,
The strongest magic of them all is the strength of a human hand.
Asta, the wielder of the void, the breaker of the chain,
Turning every drop of doubt into a harvest of the rain.
The journey isn't over till the final bell has rung,
The greatest story of Clover is the one that's yet unsung.