CHAPTER 263: BACK TO GEAR (3)

She stared at him, unamused. Then, after a pause: "Seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds."

"...You actually timed it?"

She didn’t answer, just turned, walking ahead toward the main building. "Come on."

He caught up, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. "You really missed me that much?"

"No," she said smoothly, but there was the faintest curve at the corner of her lips.

"Liar."

"Delusional."

He chuckled under his breath.

The courtyard was buzzing, students greeting each other, comparing grades, arguing about training exercises. A few heads turned toward Merlin as they passed. He ignored the whispers. He was used to them by now.

"...They’re still staring," Elara murmured.

"They’ll get bored eventually."

"Or they’ll challenge you."

He shrugged. "Then they’ll regret it."

Her lips twitched. "You haven’t changed."

"Neither have you."

"Wrong," she said quietly, eyes forward. "I have. You just don’t notice it yet."

He glanced at her, curious, but she didn’t elaborate.

They walked together across the courtyard, the light filtering through tall crystalline windows and the faint hum of magic fields filling the air. Every step felt like a memory reborn, and a reminder that even here, peace was temporary.

When they reached the dormitory gates, the noise thinned. Fewer students here, just the steady clatter of luggage, greetings, the occasional laugh.

Elara stopped, turning toward him.

"So this is where we split," she said softly.

"You’re not staying in the same wing this year?"

"I am. But... I should unpack first."

He nodded. "Fair enough."

For a second, neither moved.

Then she looked at him, just a fraction longer than she meant to. Her voice softened. "It’s good you’re back, Merlin."

He hesitated. "...Yeah. It is."

A faint smile touched her lips. "Don’t make me regret missing your company."

"I’ll do my best not to."

She gave him one last glance, that mixture of confidence and quiet warmth that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking, and walked off toward her dorm entrance.

Merlin watched her go for a moment, then turned toward his own hall.

His dorm room was exactly as he’d left it months ago.

Simple. Sparse. Dust on the desk. The faint smell of old parchment and the faint hum of mana lines embedded in the walls.

He dropped his bag by the bed, opened the window, and let the air flow in.

The mountain breeze carried the scent of pine and rain, and somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of students sparring already.

He took a slow breath. Then another.

The weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy here.

He pulled his uniform jacket off, sat down on the edge of the bed, and let himself lean back, eyes half-closed.

There was a knock at the door.

"...Come in," he called.

The door creaked open, and Nathan peeked in, hair slightly messier than before, grin exactly the same.

"Yo! You actually made it back before dinner!"

Merlin opened one eye. "Barely."

Nathan stepped inside, tossing his bag onto Merlin’s chair. "You wouldn’t believe the chaos already. Two duels before noon, one kid accidentally froze his luggage, and someone flooded the hall."

"So... normal?"

"Completely." Nathan grinned wider. "Welcome home, man."

Merlin let out a small breath of laughter. "Feels like it."

Elara’s timing messages, Victoria’s breakfast bag, Nathan’s grin, the pieces of this world he’d once read about now surrounded him like they belonged to him.

And maybe, finally, they did.

That night, as the dorm quieted and the sky outside burned gold over the horizon, Merlin sat by the open window, notebook in hand.

He wasn’t writing spells or calculations, just notes. Thoughts.

Names of people he trusted.

Names of people who might become threats.

And one single question at the bottom of the page:

"What happens next?"

The wind stirred the paper.

He smiled faintly to himself. "Guess I’ll find out."

Morning light slanted through the dorm window, thin and clean, dust motes drifting lazily in the beam.

Merlin sat on the edge of his bed, buttoning the last clasp of his academy jacket. The soft hum of distant chatter filled the hall outside, laughter, footsteps, the occasional shout about being late.

He’d forgotten how alive the dorms felt at this hour. How the walls practically pulsed with energy.

Nathan’s voice echoed from the hallway. "Merlin! You up or decomposing again?"

Merlin grabbed his bag and opened the door. "I’ve been up."

"Uh-huh." Nathan leaned against the doorframe, hair still damp from a rushed shower, tie barely hanging on. "You look like you’ve been up since dawn. Meditation again?"

"Something like that."

Nathan gave him a look, the kind that said he wasn’t buying it but wasn’t going to press. "C’mon. They’re assigning dorm partners for the new first-years at the courtyard. We’re supposed to help."

"Since when?"

"Since Elara volunteered us. Said you’d ’benefit from social exposure.’"

Merlin blinked. "She actually said that?"

Nathan grinned. "Word for word. Except she sounded like she was pretending not to care."

Merlin sighed quietly. "Of course."

They headed down the stairwell, the air growing warmer with the smell of breakfast from the cafeteria below. The din of dozens of voices swelled, new students finding their way, old ones reuniting, the steady rhythm of a new term beginning.

The courtyard looked different in the morning.

The banners had been replaced, bearing this year’s crest and motto: "Ad Astra — To the Stars."

And beneath them, hundreds of first-years stood in clusters, eyes wide, luggage at their feet.

A professor at the front, a tall man in gray robes, called names off a glowing roster. Beside him, Elara was already standing with arms crossed, overseeing the chaos with quiet precision.

When she saw Merlin and Nathan approach, she lifted a brow. "You’re late."

"We’re exactly on time," Merlin said.

"You’re exactly two minutes late."

Nathan pointed between them. "I’m gonna go on record saying I love how you two measure seconds now."

Elara ignored him, gesturing toward a small group of wide-eyed first-years near the edge of the crowd. "You two can start there."

Merlin followed her gaze. Four of them stood together, awkward, uncertain, trying to look composed and failing in different ways.

He approached, Nathan trailing behind.

The first-year in front, a boy with short black hair and faint silver around the irises, straightened immediately. "Sir!"

Merlin blinked. "...’Sir’?"