CHAPTER 176: LEFT HAND

Nathan gave him a sideways glance. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Just focus. The power’s there."

Nathan held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded.

A small silence passed between them.

Sweat dripped from Merlin’s chin. The air was hot, buzzing faintly with the aftershock of mana use. Some birds chirped in the background like they hadn’t just watched two teenagers try to kill each other.

[Warning: Physical Output Capped to Protect Vessel Integrity]

[Rathan’s Combat Memories: Lock Status – 74% Sealed]

[Estimated Unlock Progression: Based on System Tolerance Growth]

’Seventy-four percent still sealed. And I already feel like I could crush a boulder bare-handed. How much stronger was Rathan?’

He didn’t let it show.

Nathan stretched his shoulders. "Alright. Five-minute break, then we go again."

"You’re serious?" Merlin asked.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah. I’m gonna land at least one hit on you today."

Merlin smirked slightly. "Sure. Aim for the neck."

Nathan snorted. "Screw you."

They sat near the training post. Merlin leaned back on his palms, looking up at the sky. It was clear today. The clouds lazy. The breeze mild.

’Feels... normal.’

Nathan dropped down next to him.

"I don’t get it," Nathan said after a bit.

"Get what?"

"You. You went into that place. You died, Merlin. Don’t try to say you didn’t. You were gone. And now you’re back, stronger than ever, and acting like nothing happened."

Merlin looked straight ahead.

He didn’t answer right away.

’Because if I tell you what happened, you’ll never sleep again.’

"It’s complicated," he finally said.

Nathan leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "You don’t trust me."

"It’s not that."

"Yeah?"

"I trust you more than anyone," Merlin said honestly. "But there are things I’m still figuring out. Stuff I can’t explain yet. If I could... I would."

Nathan nodded slowly.

Then he said, "Okay."

Merlin blinked.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. You’re clearly dealing with something. And if you say you’ll tell me when you’re ready, I believe you."

That simple.

No suspicion. No grilling.

Just trust.

Merlin felt his chest tighten just a little.

’How do I keep lying to him?’

Nathan stood again, stretching. "Alright. Let’s see if I can get a scratch on you this time."

"You won’t."

"I’ll settle for ruffling your hair."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

They moved back to the center of the yard.

Back into their stances.

And as the sun climbed over the training ground, the sparring resumed.

Because for now, this was enough.

And Merlin could pretend, for a little longer, that things were simple.

—

Nathan’s foot scuffed against the dirt as he adjusted his stance again. Merlin mirrored it, lazy on the outside, but watching everything. His breathing was calm now, almost too calm.

Nathan didn’t charge in this time. He waited. Shifted left, then right, testing.

Merlin’s left eye twitched.

’He’s trying not to be predictable. Good.’

A flicker of movement, Nathan burst forward, body low, trying to catch Merlin off-guard with a faint to the left and a twist of his right elbow.

Merlin parried it with two fingers.

Nathan grunted, stumbled back, but didn’t fall. He pivoted with decent form and came around again, faster this time, trying to land a knee.

Merlin stepped in. Too close for Nathan to read it in time.

Palm to sternum.

Not hard. Just placed.

But Nathan still went flying.

Not far, just a couple feet onto his back, but the hit knocked the wind out of him.

"Damn it," Nathan coughed, lying there. "Okay. That was worse than the last one."

Merlin dropped his stance, walking over. He offered a hand.

"You’re rushing the second step. It makes your center too high."

"Yeah, no shit. My center’s in the sky right now."

Nathan took the hand, groaning as Merlin helped him up.

They sat again, this time against the fence.

The breeze had picked up. Still warm. But it made the sweat feel like it had purpose.

Nathan pulled at a bit of grass, flicked it at Merlin’s boot.

Merlin didn’t react.

[Physical Output Stable – Current Mana Sync: 32%]

[System Suggestion: Engage in Controlled External Combat to Enhance Adaptation Curve]

’Not yet. We’re not ready for public displays.’

"You’re quiet again," Nathan muttered.

Merlin glanced at him.

"You thinking about it? What happened back there?"

Merlin hesitated. Then nodded once.

"I mean, if you’re waiting for the right moment to trauma-dump, don’t. Just let it rot inside like the rest of us."

Merlin cracked a smile. "Noted."

Nathan tilted his head, side-eyeing him. "You’ve changed. You know that, right?"

"Everyone changes."

"No, I mean—" Nathan paused. "It’s like something’s behind your eyes now. Something... heavy."

Merlin looked away.

’You have no idea.’

"I’m still me," he said quietly.

Nathan shrugged. "Sure. Just upgraded. Like when the cafeteria started using actual seasoning."

Merlin snorted.

Nathan grinned, leaned his head back again, eyes closed. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Merlin echoed.

"Yeah. You’re stronger. Smarter. Weirder. You’ve clearly got some plan cooking in that oversized brain."

’You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

"I’m just trying to keep us alive," Merlin said finally.

"That a goal or a job description?"

"Both."

Nathan nodded. "Alright."

They sat like that a while longer. Not talking. Just breathing.

At some point, the sky had started turning a little orange.

Nathan stood first, brushing dirt off his pants. "Alright. Dinner?"

Merlin pushed himself up slower.

"Yeah. Let’s go."

They started walking back toward the house.

Halfway there, Nathan said, "You know, when you vanished, we all thought you were gone for good."

"I know."

"And when you came back... I think I believed in god again for like four seconds."

Merlin didn’t reply.

Because part of him wanted to believe it too.

That someone had sent him back on purpose. For a reason.

But he knew better.

This wasn’t grace.

It was debt.

A long, bloodsoaked ledger that hadn’t stopped collecting interest.

He shoved the thought down and matched Nathan’s pace.

Simple moments. Simple words.

For now.

—

The academy’s spires cut the night sky like teeth. Thin clouds drifted over the upper towers, low and wet with rain that never quite reached the ground.

He stood there, as he often did. Uninvited. Unannounced.

His coat didn’t rustle. His hair didn’t move. Even the rain avoided him.

Below, through the arched windows of the central observatory, Morgana stood at her desk, leaned forward slightly, hands braced on old polished wood. Her heels were off. She only wore them in public.

He watched for another second. Then stepped down.

Not off the roof, into it. Gravity obeyed. Stone didn’t. The floor folded inward like a tired memory, and he passed through.

The room didn’t jolt when he appeared. Only the lights flickered, like they were deciding whether or not to protest.

She turned. Slowly. Calm, but guarded.

Her eyes took him in, white hair, black gloves, clean lines, no insignia. No aura. Not a single trace of magic pressure.

Just a man.

Which made her nervous.

"...You’re not on the appointment list," she said finally, straightening.

She had a voice that could bend people backward with a single word when she wanted to. She didn’t use that tone now. Just steady, like someone testing a lock she didn’t remember ever installing.

"I don’t do appointments," he said. Not rude. Not bored. Just fact.

Her brow twitched. "So you’re a trespasser."

"No," he replied. "Just early."

Morgana’s hand slid slightly across the desk. Not reaching for anything. Just anchoring herself.

She was already cycling through guesses in her head. Guildmaster? No. No crest. No mana pressure. Not a spy. Too clean. Not a noble. They didn’t know how to wear silence like a second skin.

"You’re not supposed to be here," she said.

"You’re not supposed to notice," he replied.

That got her to blink.

He glanced at her paperwork. A handful of pending scout reports, five signed acceptance sheets, and one she hadn’t signed yet.

Merlin Everhart.

She followed his gaze and spoke before he could.

"He’s back. That’s what you want to talk about?"

"No," the man said, casually. "I already knew."

"Then why are you here?"

"To remind you," he said, looking up at her, "what you are."

Something in her shoulder clicked. Not bone. Just tension snapping a little too fast.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I don’t know who you think you’re talking to—"

"You haven’t used your left hand in three years."

That stopped her.

He kept going. "Your magic circuits are choked at the wrist. You never fixed it. You just adjusted. Switched to right-dominant staff forms."

Her lips parted.

Not from shock.

From something closer to memory.

"You were stronger than everyone here," he continued. "You still are. But you stopped testing it. Even when they challenged you."

Morgana’s face had lost a bit of color.

Not much.

Just enough.

"You know me."

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

"And I don’t know you."

"Correct."

"That’s not a comfort."

"Not meant to be."

Morgana stepped out from behind her desk, slowly, carefully.

Not threatened.

Just calculating.

"I don’t like games," she said.

"I know."

"I don’t trust people without names."

"I know that too."

She stopped just short of him.

The air still hadn’t changed. No temperature shift. No sound. But her pulse was up.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"I’m not here to threaten you."

"Then what?"

"I’m here to make sure you’re still sharp when it starts."

"When what starts?"

He didn’t answer. Not directly.

"Keep watching Merlin Everhart. Don’t get too close. Don’t get too far. Let him reach the gates on his own."

She narrowed her eyes. "What gates?"

He finally blinked.

And in that one blink, he was gone.

No sound. No light. No crackle.

Just absence.

Morgana stood there for another thirty seconds, not moving.

Then she looked at her left hand.

Flexed it.

And for the first time in three years, she thought about drawing with it.