CHAPTER 175: LAST FEW DAYS

The next morning came with no ceremony. No bright light filtering dramatically through the windows. Just a muted gray hanging over the apartment like the sun hadn’t committed to the day yet.

Merlin rolled out of bed and immediately regretted it. Every joint felt like it had been filed down with a brick.

’Why does everything in this world hurt like it means it?’

He shuffled to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his reflection. His hair was a mess, stuck out in the back like it’d made its own architectural decision overnight.

"Cool," he muttered, dragging fingers through it.

The system didn’t ping. The white-haired man didn’t appear in the mirror. No prophetic warnings. Just him and a toothbrush and the slow tick of the wall clock that might’ve been broken.

He found Nathan already dressed in the kitchen, nursing a cup of something dark and vile.

"Did you make coffee or engine oil?" Merlin asked, grabbing a piece of toast that hadn’t been offered but was clearly meant for him.

Nathan sipped with a straight face. "Both."

Merlin chewed silently for a minute, then swallowed.

"We should train today," he said.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Now that you’ve remembered how to eat and sleep?"

"Yeah."

There was a beat of silence before Nathan stood, setting the mug down with a soft click.

"Lead the way, champion."

—

The field had been built for combat training but was clearly underfunded. The grass didn’t grow evenly, and one of the dummies looked like it’d been stabbed out of pity.

Merlin rolled his shoulders. "Try not to hold back too much."

Nathan cracked his neck. "Don’t cry when I win."

"Keep dreaming."

They didn’t need an audience or a referee. They just moved to opposite ends of the worn-out field and waited.

Nathan struck first, fast, a blur of motion that covered the space between them in a heartbeat.

Merlin ducked low, twisted his weight, and countered with a sharp upward strike that forced Nathan to jump back.

’His footwork’s better than last time.’

Nathan didn’t pause. He pushed forward again, landing a strike to Merlin’s ribs.

Merlin grunted, staggered slightly, and retaliated with a burst of raw mana through his palm.

Nathan skidded to the side, barely avoiding it.

"You almost cooked my eyebrows off."

"Still cute," Merlin shot back, wind gathering around his legs.

He surged forward, two quick steps and then vanished, reappearing behind Nathan with a faint shimmer.

Nathan twisted just in time to block a spinning kick with both arms.

The impact knocked him back a few feet, but he didn’t fall.

Merlin didn’t stop. He pressed in, short, fast strikes, feints, and bursts of mana meant to overwhelm, not kill.

Nathan parried, dodged, countered,but the pace was too much.

Within thirty seconds, he was flat on his back, blinking up at the clouds.

"Alright," Nathan said, chest rising fast. "You win."

Merlin held out a hand.

Nathan grabbed it and hauled himself up.

"Seriously, man," he muttered. "You’ve gotten scary good."

Merlin didn’t say anything.

’This isn’t even close to where I need to be.’

They walked off the field together, both breathing heavier than they let on.

Nathan clapped him on the back. "Next time I’m bringing a sword."

"I’ll still win."

"Arrogant."

"Confident."

Nathan shook his head. "You’ve changed."

Merlin didn’t answer.

Because he had.

And he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing anymore.

—

They circled each other again.

Nathan had grabbed a pair of training batons from the rack at the edge of the field. Merlin didn’t bother. His hands were already more than enough.

"You ready for round two?" Nathan asked, twirling the baton with that lopsided grin he always wore before he lost.

Merlin rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles.

"Your funeral."

Nathan lunged again, aiming low this time, probably hoping to catch him off balance. Merlin side-stepped with minimal effort, letting the baton whistle through air inches from his leg. He brought his knee up, clipped Nathan in the ribs, and watched him stumble back with a grunt.

’Same angle as last time. You telegraph too much when you shift your weight like that.’

He didn’t say it out loud. No point. Nathan wasn’t listening for critique, he was here to keep up, to fight, to not fall too far behind.

Nathan came in again. Faster this time. One strike, two, three. All blocked. Merlin didn’t even move his feet for the first two.

He ducked the third, swiped a leg out, and dropped Nathan again.

Flat on his back.

"Damn it," Nathan muttered.

Merlin reached down, pulled him up again.

Nathan coughed. "Okay. You’re... actually terrifying now."

Merlin just shrugged.

’This is still just muscle memory. Barely scratching the surface.’

[Notice: Physical performance operating at 27% synchronization with inherited skillset. Unlocking threshold delayed until host body fully adapts.]

’Figures.’

The fight kept going. Not really a spar anymore. Just Merlin slowly letting Nathan try everything and countering each move with more ease than the last.

And Merlin wasn’t even drawing from mana heavily yet. He didn’t need to.

The difference in ability had become a canyon. It wasn’t just talent. It was weight. Pressure. History. Merlin carried a thousand lifetimes of Rathan’s skill like a coat that didn’t quite fit, but still wrapped him in something untouchable.

Nathan finally dropped both batons and collapsed onto the grass, panting.

"I’m gonna start pretending you’re cheating," he wheezed.

Merlin dropped down beside him, arms draped over his knees.

"You’re not wrong."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, but Merlin just looked straight ahead, lips pulled into a crooked half-smile.

’There’s no reason to explain. Even if I did... it wouldn’t help him.’

[System Update: Physical combat rating increased. Partial unlock of martial subskills now available.]

[Current Sync – Rathan Archive: 32%]

He kept his face still.

Just a flicker of a heartbeat longer.

Then he stood up again, brushing grass off his pants.

"I’ll grab water."

Nathan waved a hand from the ground. "I’ll stay here. Maybe forever."

Merlin headed back toward the equipment station. The sun had finally pushed through the gray above, and it made everything feel too bright for how exhausted he suddenly felt.

’Why does it feel like I’m just climbing a bigger wall every time I get stronger?’

The system didn’t answer.

It never did when he asked that.

—

Merlin’s foot connected with Nathan’s side and sent him sprawling back onto the dirt.

Again.

Nathan let out a grunt as he hit the ground, rolling once and popping back to his feet. His shirt was already soaked with sweat, his breathing sharp and uneven. A long cut traced down his forearm, not deep, but enough to sting.

Merlin stayed where he was, arms loose at his sides.

"You’re holding your core too tight again," he said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "You keep trying to muscle through the magic like it’s going to bow to you just because you shout."

Nathan spat to the side and wiped his mouth. "That’s rich coming from the guy who can apparently bend air with a thought."

Merlin didn’t smile.

’It’s not even a fair fight anymore. I’m too fast. Too strong. I’m pulling punches, and he still can’t keep up.’

He shifted his stance slightly as Nathan circled around, trying to find a better angle. The kid had always been smart, quick on his feet. Just not fast enough.

Not anymore.

[Current Advantage Ratio: 5.4x – Physical | 7.9x – Magical]

[Skill Synchronization: 67%]

The system popped up quietly in the corner of his vision. He blinked it away.

Nathan lunged forward again, sword angled low. Merlin let him get close, on purpose, before side-stepping, grabbing Nathan’s wrist, and twisting just enough to force the blade loose.

The metal clattered against the floor.

Nathan swore under his breath.

"Again?" Merlin asked.

Nathan pushed his hair back, glaring. "You sure you’re not cheating somehow?"

"I train more than you," Merlin said.

"Like hell you do. I sleep next to you. You haven’t trained once."

Merlin shrugged. "Then maybe I’m just better."

Nathan rolled his eyes and bent down to grab his blade again. "You’re getting cocky."

’No. Just tired of pretending I’m not this far ahead.’

Merlin backed up a few paces, planting his feet and raising both hands.

Nathan charged again, this time faster. His aura flared. Not much, but enough to force Merlin to actually pay attention.

’Finally.’

Nathan swung hard.

Merlin blocked with one hand and palmed Nathan in the chest with the other, knocking the wind out of him.

He staggered back, wheezing. "Okay... okay, yeah. That one hurt."

Merlin lowered his hands. "You’re still pushing too much energy into the swing. That’s what gives it away. You need to flow it through your whole arm evenly."

Nathan coughed once and leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Says the guy who moves like he’s got cheat codes."

’Technically I do. But sure.’

Merlin walked over, offering a hand. Nathan took it.

"I’m serious," Merlin said. "You’ve got power, Nat. You’re just wasting half of it trying to impress ghosts."