CHAPTER 326: SIMULATION (7)

But the quick flicker of his eyes told another story.

Merlin caught it.

Elara caught it.

Even Dorian caught it.

Kessler finally seemed to reach a decision.

"This stays between us. If other faculty learn about the resonance... reactions will be unpredictable."

That was putting it mildly.

Hale nodded. "We will run further diagnostic examinations on the array. And on the intruding mana. There’s no proof it targeted you beyond the words it spoke."

Merlin nodded, keeping his breaths measured.

"Then may I go?"

Kessler hesitated—not long, but long enough to make everyone tense again.

Finally, he exhaled sharply.

"...For today. Yes."

Relief washed through the group in a palpable wave.

Nathan clapped Merlin’s shoulder. "Let’s get out of here before they change their minds."

Elara hovered close. She didn’t touch Merlin again, but her presence was a silent constant at his side.

The group moved toward the exit as one.

But just before crossing the threshold, Merlin felt something.

A gaze.

He glanced back.

Kessler was still watching him.

Not suspicious.

Not hostile.

But troubled.

Deeply, profoundly troubled.

As if Merlin Everhart was no longer a student in his eyes—

but a variable that could alter the academy’s entire trajectory.

Merlin turned away before the weight of that stare could settle into his bones.

The doors closed behind them.

Liliana exhaled shakily. "That was awful..."

Adrian grinned. "Better than the scorpion desert."

Ethan groaned. "Barely."

Nathan stretched. "Okay, Merlin. Seriously—what aren’t you telling us?"

Elara’s eyes slid to Merlin, quieter but far sharper.

"Yes," she said softly. "We need to talk."

And with his entire group watching him—

waiting for answers he couldn’t give—

Merlin felt the walls closing in.

The Cabal.

The instructors.

The changes in the timeline.

His own power spiraling beyond what the novel ever allowed.

And now—

His friends.

His allies.

His only real supports in this world.

All expecting the truth.

A truth he could never tell them.

Not without destroying everything.

Merlin did not answer immediately.

He couldn’t.

The hallway outside the arena felt too narrow, the stone walls too close, the air too sharp against his skin. The others watched him with different kinds of concern—Nathan with open worry, Elara with edged protectiveness, Liliana with trembling fear for him rather than of him, Adrian with confused loyalty, Sera and Ethan with wary curiosity, and Dorian with a quiet, piercing attentiveness that saw too much but said too little.

They were waiting for him to speak, for him to offer clarity, reassurance, anything that could make sense of what had just happened.

Except Merlin didn’t have a lie neat enough, strong enough, believable enough to hold against all the angles they were watching him from.

"I’m not hiding something dangerous," he said finally, forcing the words out carefully, slowly, evenly. He didn’t raise his voice or break eye contact. "I’m not under the control of anything. Nothing is... possessing me, or corrupting me, or influencing me." He paused. "I’m still me."

Nathan exhaled in a rush, like that at least had been the biggest fear on his mind.

But Elara did not relax. She watched him like she was listening not to his words, but to his heartbeat.

"Then what happened in there?" she asked. Her voice wasn’t angry, but it carried weight—like she needed the truth so she could protect him properly. "Something stopped that corruption cold, and it wasn’t the instructors. It wasn’t any of us. It was you."

Merlin felt his stomach twist. He wished she wasn’t so perceptive. He wished she didn’t care so intensely. It made hiding things harder. It made lying feel worse.

"I didn’t do anything consciously," he said, which was technically true. "I felt mana moving wrong. I reacted. The array overreacted with me. That’s all."

Ethan crossed his arms with an unimpressed scoff that clearly said: that is not all, and you know it.

Sera frowned thoughtfully. "Merlin... your resonance didn’t behave like a simple reaction. It separated. It aligned itself across opposing affinities. That doesn’t happen unless something in your core is built to handle it." Then she added, almost gently, "And human cores aren’t built like that."

Adrian scratched the back of his head, lost but bothered. "I don’t get all the mana talk, but I do know one thing: you didn’t freak out. You didn’t snap. You didn’t even panic. Whatever happened, you handled it. That means you’re stable enough. And if Kessler thinks otherwise, he can choke."

Liliana nodded vigorously, her voice still shaky. "I trust you. All of us do. So it’s okay if you don’t tell us everything right away. Just... don’t push us away."

Dorian stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against a pillar, his eyes as sharp as the shadows he slipped between. "What you said in the forest," he murmured quietly, "about someone altering the simulation. How did you know? You sensed it before any of us."

Merlin forced himself not to stiffen. "I was paying attention. That’s all."

Dorian didn’t argue, but something in his expression said he didn’t believe that for a second.

Nathan finally broke the building tension with a frustrated sigh. "Look, I don’t want to interrogate him. He’s one of us. And we all almost died in there, so maybe we should focus on that instead of poking Merlin like he’s some kind of artifact."

The relief Merlin felt from that was immediate—but short-lived.

Because Nathan stepped in front of him, placed both hands on his shoulders, and looked him dead in the eye.

"Just... promise us something."

Merlin’s throat tightened involuntarily. "What?"

"That whatever’s happening to you—whatever you’re dealing with—you won’t try to face it alone."

Elara stepped beside Nathan, her expression soft but unwavering. "Yes. That." She lifted her spear slightly, not threateningly but in a gesture that felt like a vow. "We’re with you. In everything. But you have to let us be."

Merlin looked at all of them. Really looked.

At Nathan’s earnest resolve.

At Elara’s quiet, steady determination.

At Sera’s intelligence, Ethan’s pragmatism, Adrian’s loyalty, Liliana’s gentle courage, Dorian’s sharp intuition.

He saw the classmates he’d read about years ago in a story—

except here, now, they weren’t just characters.

They were people.

People who trusted him.

People he would ruin if he told them the truth.

People who would die if the timeline collapsed because he changed too much, too fast, too openly.

And yet—

He couldn’t push them away.

Not anymore.

Not after how they’d stood for him.

Not after how they’d looked at him.

Not after how Elara’s fingers had brushed his earlier, silently telling him she wasn’t going anywhere.

He swallowed.

The answer he gave them wasn’t complete, wasn’t honest, wasn’t perfect—

But it was the only one he could offer without damning everything.

"...I promise I won’t face it alone."