Merlin's pulse was steady now. Too steady. As if something in him had been waiting for this moment. That same strange aura from before—gold and alternating streaks of blue lightning—still shimmered faintly across his arm.

The mist-figure tilted its head at him.

"…Everhart…"

The voice was an echo of an echo, a whisper cracked down the middle.

Merlin spoke before anyone else could. "Why are you here?"

The fog-body stretched, shifting like it was amused—or angered; it was impossible to tell.

"…the aberration must be corrected…"

"Elara. Nathan. Stay close," Merlin said.

The figure's voice sharpened, too many notes layered into one sound.

"…you cannot remain in this world…"

A jolt ran through Merlin's spine.

He moved.

He didn't leap or dodge or react instinctively—he simply let the world slow around him. His core pulsed, and space bent, just slightly, like ripples spreading in a still pond. The shadows lunging toward him stalled mid-motion, their bodies lagging half a second behind reality.

Nathan stared. "What the—Merlin, what did you just—"

Merlin didn't answer. He stepped forward, raised a hand, and let a controlled pulse of lightning-infused air explode outward.

It wasn't a violent blast this time.

It wasn't panic.

It was precision.

The fog-creature fractured, its body splitting into ribbons of shadow that evaporated as soon as they torn away from the core shape. The entire battlefield shook, the illusion destabilizing, trees glitching, the ground flickering between forest, stone, and empty void.

Ethan braced himself. "The array's collapsing."

Sera nodded. "Someone's losing control of their override."

Merlin knew who.

And the figure, half-disintegrated, whispered one last line before dissolving completely:

"…we are not finished with you…"

Then the world shattered.

The forest blew apart like glass under a hammer, fragments of illusion bursting into white-blue light. Every student was thrown backward, tumbling onto the real arena floor as the simulation abruptly ended. A gale of dispelled mana rushed over them, cool and startlingly real.

Merlin's hands hit stone. He looked up just as the last of the fog peeled away, revealing the true arena again. The protective arrays on the walls were glowing red—error warnings flickering.

Instructor Hale stood with his arm raised mid-cast, sweat beading down his forehead. His normally calm expression was replaced with something sharp, angry, and shaken.

Kessler stood beside him, arms folded, eyes blazing.

Every instructor in the observation booth was on their feet.

And every single eye was on Merlin.

Kessler's voice carried through the arena like a low thunderclap.

"Everhart.

Stay exactly where you are."

Students tensed. Some took subtle steps closer to him. Elara moved first, putting herself between Merlin and the angry line of instructors. Nathan joined her immediately, sword still half-drawn.

Merlin didn't move.

His heart hammered, breath tight, skin still tingling with aftershocks of power.

He had felt the Cabal's intent.

He had felt the simulation distort around him.

He had felt that presence try to erase him.

But none of that terrified him as much as the expression on Instructor Kessler's face—because it wasn't suspicion.

It was recognition.

And something far more dangerous.

"We need to talk," Kessler said.

And the arena went silent.

No one moved at first—not the instructors, not the students, not even Merlin.

The tension coiled so tightly that even the arena's ambient mana felt like it was holding its breath. Kessler had taken a single step forward, but the weight of it landed like a hammer on the class. Instructor Hale stayed fixed at his side, jaw clenched, trying and failing to look composed.

Elara's hand tightened carefully around her spear, her body angled just enough to shield Merlin without making it obvious. Nathan lifted his blade an inch closer to guard position. Dorian drifted behind them, silent as smoke. Adrian planted his axe into the stone beside him as if daring anyone to approach.

"Whoa, whoa," Ethan said under his breath, "why do they look like Merlin just set the building on fire?"

"Because something did just explode," Sera murmured.

Liliana's eyes were flooded with worry. "Merlin… why are they staring at you like that?"

Merlin felt the heat of every gaze pressing down on him. He forced himself not to flinch, not to glance at his hand where the trace of earlier power still tingled across his nerves.

Not here.

Not in front of everyone.

Kessler's voice dropped to a low, cold register.

"Everhart. Step forward."

Merlin didn't move.

He didn't have the luxury of reacting blindly. He needed to know which way this was going—interrogation, accusation, or something far worse. And Kessler wasn't giving anything away in his expression.

Hale stepped forward, raising a hand.

"Kessler. With all due respect, this needs to be handled privately. Not in front of the entire—"

"No," Kessler cut in sharply. "It needs to be handled now. Every student here witnessed an attempted intrusion. They all felt the corruption in the array."

Hale hesitated.

Kessler continued, gaze never leaving Merlin.

"And they all saw who that intruding presence targeted."

A quiet ripple moved through the class.

Elara exhaled, barely a whisper.

"They're not blaming you… are they?"

"No." Nathan shook his head slowly. "They're… scared. Of something."

Dorian's eyes narrowed.

"They're scared of him."

A faint tremor rolled through the arena's crystal conduits—some resonance from Kessler's rising mana. Instructors gathered at the sides. Students whispered. Merlin's stomach tightened.

He couldn't afford this level of attention.

Not if the Cabal was accelerating their plans.

Not if the novel's events were shifting.

Not if Kessler—who shouldn't have been involved this early—was piecing together patterns.

Kessler stepped closer.

"The entity inside the simulation spoke your name, Everhart."

Merlin stayed silent.

"And it didn't speak to anyone else," Hale added.

Kessler's eyes were sharp, analyzing every twitch of Merlin's expression.

"Why?"

Merlin carefully kept his breathing slow, even. Neutral.

"I don't know."

A few of the students stiffened—not because they thought he was lying, but because of how flat the response was.

Elara glanced at him, troubled. She knew him well enough now to feel the shift. Nathan too. Liliana looked close to crying.

Kessler didn't blink.

"That… entity… called you 'aberration.' It said you 'cannot remain.' That is not the language of a random intruder."

Merlin forced his voice calm. "I'm as confused as you are."

Something flickered across Kessler's eyes. Not anger. Not suspicion.

Something closer to—

Recognition.

Memory.

Fear?