Elara didn't move from the doorway.

"You weren't just there," she said. "You were in it."

Merlin let the door swing open and walked inside. His boots left faint dirt marks on the floorboards, and he didn't bother to take them off. "You've been spying on me now?"

"I don't have to." She followed him in. "You move different after a fight. Like your skin doesn't fit right anymore."

He tossed his coat over the back of the chair, not looking at her. "You're observant."

"That's not an answer."

'She's not going to let this drop.'

He went to the desk, poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher there, and drank most of it before setting it down. "Do you want me to lie and say I stayed home?"

Elara's jaw tightened. "I want you to tell me why you keep throwing yourself at things the rest of us can barely look at without losing sleep."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the sting of dried ichor under his nails. "Someone has to."

"That someone doesn't have to be you."

'Yes, it does.' He didn't say it out loud.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms again. "You think you're going to outrun whatever it is you're chasing?"

He met her eyes for the first time since he walked in. "No. I'm not chasing it."

Her gaze flicked over him like she was looking for something she didn't want to find. "Then what?"

"I'm making sure it doesn't catch anyone else first."

The silence stretched. Outside, somewhere down the street, a cart rolled by, the wheels crunching over uneven stone. Elara finally looked away.

"Next time you go," she said quietly, "tell me first. I don't like finding out from other people that you were in the middle of it again."

Merlin picked up his coat and hung it on the wall this time. "If I tell you, you'll want to come."

"Maybe I should."

He shook his head. "Not this one."

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't push further. Instead, she stepped toward the door. "Fine. Just don't make me hear about your funeral from someone else either."

The door clicked shut behind her.

Merlin stood in the empty room for a long moment. The hum of his system lingered at the edge of his thoughts.

[New Questline Update: Breach Activity Escalation]

[Main Objective: Prevent Quadrant Collapse]

[Time Limit: 71 Hours 14 Minutes]

'That's going to be a problem.'

He stripped off the rest of his gear, dropped into the chair, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

The fight replayed in his head, how fast the small one had been, the way the Tier Six's leg had almost pulled through the blink even when crippled.

If they were coming through faster, it meant the barrier was weakening. And if the barrier was weakening… someone was doing it on purpose.

He didn't sleep.

—

By morning, the streets smelled faintly of burnt stone and blood. The cleanup crews had done what they could, but the gouges in the paving and the blackened edges of the wall were harder to hide. People passed by without looking too closely. No one wanted to know.

Nathan was already waiting by the south wall when Merlin got there. He had two practice blades tucked under one arm and a grin that said he'd been up since before dawn.

"You look like you wrestled a fireplace," Nathan said.

"Just didn't sleep much."

"Then today's going to hurt." Nathan tossed him one of the blades. "I've been working on my footwork. You're not going to dance around me like last time."

Merlin caught the blade easily. "We'll see."

They started slow, Nathan circling, trying to keep his lead foot outside Merlin's. He was quicker than last week, his balance better, his steps sharper, but still just a fraction too predictable.

Merlin let him press the attack for a while, deflecting the swings without striking back, gauging the rhythm.

Nathan's breath was already coming harder after a few minutes. "What, you're not even going to try?"

"I'm trying," Merlin said, blocking another slash. "You're just not giving me much to work with."

Nathan scowled and lunged harder. Merlin sidestepped, tapped the flat of his blade against Nathan's ribs, and moved back before the counter could come.

"Again," Nathan said.

They went on like that until sweat was dripping down both their faces and Nathan's frustration was visible in every movement. Finally, he threw his blade to the ground.

"This is pointless," Nathan said. "You're not even breathing hard."

Merlin leaned on his weapon. "You're better than last time."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Because you're measuring yourself against me," Merlin said. "Start measuring against who you were last week. You'll see the difference."

Nathan kicked at a loose stone. "Easy for you to say when you're ten steps ahead already."

'If you knew how far ahead.'

Merlin just shrugged. "Everyone's ten steps behind someone."

Nathan looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he bent to pick up his blade again. "Fine. Again."

They trained until the sun was high enough to bake the dust into the cracks between the stones. When they finally stopped, Nathan's shirt was plastered to his back and Merlin still felt like he had fuel to burn.

Nathan dropped onto a low wall, wiping his face with his sleeve. "So. You going to tell me what's actually going on, or are you going to keep showing up looking like you fought a pack of wolves in the dark?"

Merlin took a long drink from his flask before answering. "You wouldn't believe me."

Nathan smirked. "Try me."

Merlin almost did. Almost. But the system's quiet hum in his head was a reminder. No one could know. Not yet.

"Another time," he said instead.

Nathan rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."

Merlin smiled faintly. "That's what they tell me."

They sat there in the heat a while longer before heading back toward the city. People passed them without much notice, just two men in training gear, no sign of the fight the night before.

But Merlin kept scanning the rooftops. And the alleys. And the distant edges of the wall.

[Threat Probability in Vicinity: 14% and Rising]

'So much for a quiet walk home.'

—

The next day.

The wooden swords clashed again, the impact sending a jolt up Merlin's arms. Nathan grunted, stumbling back two steps. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he was breathing hard.

He didn't even feel winded.

'It's not even close anymore…'

Nathan tried to come in from the side, swinging faster this time. He stepped forward, catching his blade with mine and twisting it out of his grip in one motion. The sword clattered onto the dirt.

"Damn it," Nathan muttered, hands on his knees, panting. "You're… way too fast."

"You're getting better," Merlin said casually, handing his sword back. "Just… not fast enough."

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. "You've changed, man. Before the Labyrinth, I could at least keep up with you."

'I'm not sure anyone can keep up with me now.'

[System Message: Combat Proficiency – 92% Sync With Rathan's Sword Techniques]

The message lingered for a second before fading from my vision.

Merlin raised his sword again. "One more round?"

Nathan groaned but picked up his stance anyway. "Fine… but if you break my ribs again, I'm blaming you when Elara yells at me."

This time, he wouldn't hold back on speed. Nathan's eyes widened, barely tracking his movements before his weapon was knocked from his hand again. He landed on the ground with a soft thud.

'Still too slow.'

He extended a hand to pull him up. "You need to stop telegraphing your moves. You drop your shoulder every time before you swing."

Nathan groaned, brushing the dirt off his shirt. "Yeah, yeah… you're turning into an instructor now."

'I'm turning into something else entirely.'

—

Nathan tossed the wooden sword back toward the rack. "I'm done for today. My arms feel like lead."

"You're just dehydrated," He said, tossing Merlin's beside his. "Drink more water."

"Sure," he said, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Or maybe you could just… train at half-speed like a normal person."

"I don't think I know what that is anymore."

'And I don't think I can afford to.'

We started walking back toward the gates. The dust stuck to my boots, clinging to the damp edges of his trousers.

Nathan talked about some rumor he'd heard at the market, something about a merchant swearing he saw shadows moving against the wall after dark, but he only caught pieces of it.

His eyes kept drifting upward.

Rooftops. Narrow ledges. Blind corners.

[Threat Probability in Vicinity: 18% and rising.]

'Not here… not now.'

"Are you even listening to me?" Nathan asked.

"Some of it."

"Which part?"

"The part where you kept talking."

He groaned, shoving my shoulder. "You're impossible."

"Good. Means I'm harder to kill."

By the time we reached the south gate, Nathan peeled off toward the barracks, muttering something about food and a nap. He stayed on the street a little longer, letting the crowd thin before he turned toward home.

Halfway there, he felt it.

Not danger exactly, just weight. The kind of stillness that meant someone was watching.

He didn't turn my head. Didn't slow down. Just kept walking.

[Passive Scan Activated – No hostile signatures detected.]

'That's almost worse.'

The sensation lingered all the way to my door.

When he stepped inside, the air was faintly warm. Too warm for how long the windows had been shut.

Someone had been here.