CHAPTER 172: OVERPOWERED

They walked back from the training field mostly in silence.

Nathan’s shirt was completely soaked through, and every step sounded like effort. Merlin could hear it in the drag of his boots through the grass. No swagger left. Just pure exhaustion.

"Remind me," Nathan muttered, "what psychopath trains like this for fun?"

’Apparently, me.’

Merlin offered a noncommittal grunt and let the breeze do most of the talking. His system pinged again, quiet, like a notification he didn’t need to check.

[Sync Surge Cooling]

[Body Strain: Mild Fatigue]

[Unlock Status: Passive Skill "Ghost Step" registered successfully]

The power had leveled out. For now.

His arms still felt like they had something coiled inside them, like a spring that hadn’t fully unwound. But the restraint was holding.

Barely.

Nathan stopped walking and tilted his head toward the sky. "It’s not even noon, and I feel like my spine’s been rearranged."

"You took more than ten hits," Merlin said. "Technically, that’s improvement."

"Don’t patronize me."

"I’m not. You didn’t puke this time."

Nathan shot him a sideways glare, then snorted. "You’re an ass."

Merlin didn’t disagree.

They cut through one of the side paths that led behind the housing rows near the campus. It was quieter here. Fewer students wandering around. Most people were still indoors this time of day, either passed out or pretending to study.

It gave Merlin space to think.

’System... show me remaining unlocks.’

[Accessing Rathan Memory Fragment: 38%]

[Next Unlock: "Mana Partitioning – Tier I" – 45% Sync Required]

[Passive Boost Influx Detected: Physique Adapting...]

[Warning: Increased combat use will accelerate fragment blending. Risk of Residual Echo begins at 55%]

’Residual Echo.’

He hated that phrase. It meant nothing on paper, but everything in the back of his mind. The more he merged with the skills, the more it became hard to tell where he ended and Rathan began.

Not just the muscle memory, he could handle that. It was the little things.

A thought that didn’t feel like his. A reflex he didn’t remember learning.

A kind of knowing that wasn’t earned.

"You spacing out?" Nathan asked, nudging him with an elbow.

Merlin blinked, shook his head. "No. Just thinking."

"You always do that now. Like, weirdly intense thinking. The kind where your eyes glaze over like you’re trying to figure out how to dismantle society or something."

Merlin gave him a look. "I’m not dismantling anything."

Nathan grinned. "Yet."

They reached the street corner near their apartment. The bakery across the way still had that faint smell of sweetbread and burnt sugar drifting out from under the half-open window. Nathan inhaled, eyes fluttering shut.

"Smells like carbs," he said softly. "Real, warm, coma-inducing carbs."

Merlin let himself smile, just a little. "You’re such a glutton."

"Says the guy who hasn’t eaten anything but tea and soup since he woke up."

’He’s not wrong.’

Merlin’s appetite hadn’t really come back. Not the way it should’ve. Food didn’t feel urgent anymore. Or even interesting. The system could probably explain it, but he hadn’t asked.

Too afraid of the answer.

The door to their apartment clicked as they stepped inside, the air cooler than outside. Elara’s shoes were gone from the rack. Probably off sulking about the last mission report or sneaking notes into the library again.

Merlin shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the back of the couch.

"You done for the day?" Nathan asked, already halfway to the fridge.

"Yeah," Merlin lied.

He wasn’t.

He had to run another internal sync later tonight. The pressure building near his core wasn’t dangerous yet, but he could feel it climbing.

Nathan flopped onto the couch, cracking his knuckles. "We should spar more often. I hate how good you are, but I also kinda love how much I’m improving."

"I told you. You’re not bad."

"You’re just better," Nathan said. Then squinted at him. "Way better. You sure you’re not training with someone secretly?"

Merlin didn’t answer right away.

He just looked down at his hands again. Pale skin, thin veins, the faint pulse of something deeper humming just under the surface.

"I guess I’ve just been playing catch-up," Merlin said quietly. "A lot of catch-up."

Nathan leaned back and sighed.

"Whatever. As long as you don’t leave me in the dust, I’m good."

Merlin didn’t say anything.

Because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t.

—

The practice dummy didn’t move.

It didn’t need to.

Merlin’s palm shot forward, the air around it cracking faintly as mana curled outward. A soft blue glow flashed against the wood, then crack, the upper half of the dummy split with a sharp diagonal line.

He exhaled.

’Still not fast enough.’

He rotated his wrist, shoulder rolling stiffly. There was sweat on the back of his neck, shirt clinging in places that made moving uncomfortable. His mana didn’t feel low, but the system’s bar flickered anyway.

[Mana Remaining: 71%]

[Progress Detected: Affinity Unlock – ???]

He frowned, stepping back.

"...Now what?"

There wasn’t a breeze tonight. No crowd noises either. Just the dry hum of mana lingering in the air like heat after a lightning strike. He glanced down at his hand. No sparks, no fire. Nothing looked different.

Then it pulsed.

A new color.

Not blue. Not red.

White.

[New Affinity Unlocked: Light]

[Caution: This Affinity Is Rare – Compatibility 67%]

’Light?’ He rubbed his fingers together.

There were no visible effects yet, but his body felt... tauter. Like there was a weight in his chest waiting to be drawn out, not heavy, just... present.

And then came the other notification.

[System Update – Passive Sync Detected]

[Memory Entanglement – Stage 2]

[Progress: 42%]

Merlin straightened.

’Wait—sync?’

He blinked, sweat forgotten.

’What the hell does memory entanglement mean?’

There was no response. No flashing explanation. Just that bar hovering near halfway. He opened his system window, flipping through the interface manually. Nothing new under skills. Nothing under party, not that he ever added anyone there.

Nathan’s name wasn’t listed anywhere.

Which made it worse.

’Is it because we were both marked during the Labyrinth?’ he thought, stepping back toward the weapon rack. ’Or is this another gift from the freak show of gods that keep playing charades with my life?’

He picked up a weighted staff. Not enchanted. Just standard, darkwood shaft, a little worn near the grip.

Spinning it once, he took his stance again.

’Fine. If my soul’s getting hijacked or whatever this is, I’m at least going to learn how to swing harder than before.’

He moved.

Left step. Strike. Rotate.

Right pivot. Deflect. Lunge.

The moves came faster now. Smoother. Less wasted energy.

Not because of the staff.

Because the memories were bleeding through again.

Rathan’s hands had done this a thousand times. No drills. No hesitation. Just raw, brutal precision. Merlin’s own motions were still catching up, but his instincts were adapting. His wrists burned, not from effort, but friction. Too much speed.

He missed a turn, almost lost his grip. Swore under his breath.

’Slow down.’

He stopped.

Lowered the staff.

Waited.

No visions. No time-slips. No voices in his ear. Just the usual low hum of the system.

But he could feel Nathan’s mana from earlier sparring still faint in the air, chaotic, hot, like someone swinging wildly and still landing hits.

The sync was real.

He’d seen glimpses of Nathan’s thoughts earlier that day. Not words. Just flashes. Uncertainty. Training frustration. A weird spike of competitive pride when Merlin knocked him flat.

’This is going to be a problem.’

Another gust of wind passed. Not natural. It curled too cleanly around him. He held his breath, focused, and traced it back—

No one there.

But the system flickered again.

[Affinity Integration Progress – 14%]

[Light Affinity stabilizing...]

He wiped his forearm across his brow. His arms ached. Legs heavier now.

But there was no way he was stopping.

Not when this wasn’t just training anymore.

Not when the system kept pushing him closer to something bigger. Stronger.

Something Rathan left behind.

He walked to the far edge of the courtyard, where shadows clung to the fencing like smoke. Raised the staff one more time.

Another round.

Another swing.

Because tomorrow would be too late to start again.

—

As he was training he spotted the same white haired man..

His face, as always, unreadable.

Merlin swallowed, just once. ’That aura... it’s coiled. Like a blade in a sheath that knows exactly how sharp it is.’

The man took one step forward.

Then another.

"Show me," he said, tone plain. Not a challenge. Not a threat. Just a simple, unavoidable sentence.

Merlin didn’t speak.

He nodded once, quietly stepping to the center of the field. He wasn’t sure if it was respect or instinct, but he found his stance settling perfectly, feet even, core tight, eyes straight.

Merlin took the first move.

He dashed in, full speed, nothing held back.

Palm strike straight to the center mass, his left foot pivoting for follow-up pressure.

The man didn’t even shift.

He lifted one finger.

Tapped.

Merlin’s entire body jerked sideways like someone yanked a string tied to his ribs. He stumbled twice, caught himself before falling, and blinked.

The white-haired man hadn’t moved.

Not really.

Just redirected.

’What the hell was that?’

"Again," the man said.

Merlin didn’t think.

He moved.

Faster this time.

A fake-step, drop-shoulder feint, and a twist-kick aimed for the ribs.

Blocked.

With two fingers.

Not grabbed. Not redirected.

Just blocked.

Like swatting a fly out of the air.

Merlin’s foot hit the ground again, breath catching in his chest. ’I didn’t even see the block. How—’

Before he could recover, the man stepped in.

Merlin raised his arms, bracing for impact.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, the man flicked his wrist.