CHAPTER 333: LURKING

Morgana’s presence pressed against the edges of Merlin’s awareness like a cold fingertip drawing a line down his spine—not painful, not hostile, but unmistakably intentional. She wasn’t observing the class anymore. She was observing him. Only him.

But she wasn’t approaching.

She was waiting.

For what, Merlin wasn’t sure, but the timing made his pulse tighten.

Rowan dismissed the lecture eventually, closing his notes with a decisive snap and muttering something about "practical demonstrations tomorrow." Students packed up, voices rising again as the spell of focus broke. Chairs scraped against stone. The room buzzed with that chaotic rush of people trying to leave first.

Merlin stayed seated just a heartbeat longer than the rest.

Not by choice.

Morgana’s mana signature remained in the room even as students hurried out, faint as a breath against glass, but he could feel her attention settling, focusing, narrowing.

He stood slowly, gathering his things.

Elara stood with him immediately, close enough that their arms brushed. She didn’t speak, but her eyes were already scanning the room with the same vigilance as Dorian.

Nathan planted himself on Merlin’s other side, expression full of suspicion. "You’re sensing something. Spill."

Ethan stopped in the aisle. "If it’s a murderous spirit haunting the classroom, I’m dropping out."

Adrian clapped Merlin’s shoulder. "If it’s murderous, we’ll kill it. If it’s haunting, Ethan can punch it."

"That’s not how ghosts work," Liliana whispered anxiously.

Dorian appeared beside them like he’d materialized from the floor. "Let Merlin speak before you all jump to idiotic conclusions."

Merlin exhaled slowly. "She’s here."

The group froze.

Elara’s fingers tightened on her books. "Morgana."

Merlin nodded once. "She’s masking her presence, but not hiding it from me. She wants me to know she’s watching."

Nathan frowned. "So she’s playing some kind of... what, power game?"

"No," Merlin said quietly. "If she wanted a confrontation now, she’d appear. This is different."

Dorian’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Intentional observation without engagement. She’s evaluating your current strength."

Adrian muttered, "Great. Headmistress Demon-Sorceress is doing performance reviews."

Ethan groaned. "Why can’t villains just send letters like normal people?"

Merlin didn’t answer.

Because Morgana was not a villain—not yet.

In the original story, she became the central antagonist only after her mask cracked and her centuries-old obsessions resurfaced. But right now... she played the role of Headmistress flawlessly. Too flawlessly.

And she remembered him.

Not just Merlin Everhart.

Merlin.

The real one.

The one whose past was folded into myths and fractured histories.

Her knowing smile during the entrance ceremony.

Her comments about destiny.

Her eyes following him like she was looking at a ghost.

She knew him.

And she wanted him to know she knew.

As the group reached the lecture hall doors, the faint pressure of her mana finally faded—sliding away like a drawn curtain being quietly let fall.

The tension drained from Merlin’s shoulders just enough for him to breathe again.

Elara didn’t wait.

She caught his wrist lightly, stopping him in the doorway while their friends walked ahead a few steps. Her voice was low, gentle, but firm.

"Merlin... talk to me."

He hesitated.

Just long enough for her to add, quieter:

"I’m not asking for everything. Just don’t shut me out."

Her sincerity was soft and fierce in the same breath. A shield made of warmth, not stone. Merlin swallowed, shifting a little closer so their conversation stayed private.

"She’s watching because she’s interested in my growth," he said carefully. "Not in a normal way. In a... historical way."

Elara blinked. "Historical?"

"She’s old. Older than the academy. Older than almost everything recorded." He paused. "And she knows something about me. Something no one else should."

Elara processed that slowly. No panic. No fear. Just deeper focus. "Is she a threat?"

"Not directly," Merlin said. "But she’s unpredictable."

"Then I’m staying close," she said simply. "As close as I need to be."

He didn’t argue.

He couldn’t.

Nathan reappeared, arms crossed. "If the Headmistress is sniffing around Merlin like a suspicious cat, we’re doubling training after dinner."

Adrian grinned. "Tripling."

Ethan groaned, "Please no."

Liliana nodded. "We have to counter strong enemies with strong teamwork! That’s what Professor Elwin said!"

Dorian walked past them toward the stairwell. "Stop shouting your strategy in the hall like children."

But he still slowed down, waiting for them to follow.

Because they were a group.

Because they didn’t run when things got dangerous.

Because Merlin wasn’t facing this alone.

Merlin took one final glance back at the empty lecture hall.

Morgana’s presence was gone.

But the air still felt cold.

She’d reveal her intentions soon.

She always did.

But whatever game she was starting...

Merlin wasn’t the same powerless pawn she once saw.

He turned back toward his friends.

"Let’s go," he said. "We should plan for what’s coming."

Elara fell into step beside him.

Nathan matched his pace.

Dorian trailed like a shadow.

The others closed in, forming an unspoken protective ring.

Merlin felt it in his chest.

A quiet, steady certainty.

Whatever Morgana wanted—

whatever the Cabal was planning—

whatever the shifting timeline intended—

He had people.

The hallway outside the lecture hall gradually filled with the usual noise of students switching classes, but the group moved as a single, cohesive unit—tight formation, unspoken alertness, every one of them watching their surroundings without needing to be told.

Merlin didn’t miss it.

They weren’t doing this just because Morgana had watched him.

They were doing it because they had decided—quietly, unanimously—that anything messing with one of them had to go through all seven.

Nathan fell into step at Merlin’s right, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense in a way that didn’t match his casual posture. Elara stayed at Merlin’s left, fingers grazing his sleeve from time to time as if double-checking he was still physically there. Dorian had already slipped into his habitual "shadow guard" pacing, walking slightly behind but angled so he had line of sight on everything around them.

Adrian and Ethan took point at the front without even discussing it, one looking like he expected a fight and the other like he expected to be annoyed by it. Liliana hurried in the middle, eyes darting, water orbs ready to form at the slightest hint of danger.

Their formation wasn’t deliberate.

It was instinct.

They’d grown into it.

Merlin felt a tight warmth coil in his chest—equal parts gratitude and guilt. He hadn’t wanted to drag anyone into the shifting timeline, into threats that weren’t supposed to appear yet, into watching eyes far older and far hungrier than the academy realized.

But they came anyway.

They always would, because in this world—this rewritten version of the novel—they weren’t background characters destined to follow Nathan.

They were Merlin’s people now, too.

They reached the central stairwell, and students naturally parted around them—not because of intimidation, but because the eight of them moved like a unit that didn’t break for anyone.

Nathan glanced at Merlin as they started up the stairs. "So, are we pretending everything is normal for the rest of the day, or are we doing the smart thing and actually making a plan?"

Ethan muttered, "Define smart."

"Not dying," Nathan said.

"Great," Ethan said flatly. "So we’re doing the bare minimum."

Adrian snorted. "Shut up and keep moving."

Elara spoke quietly, her voice much softer than theirs but twice as grounding. "We should go somewhere private. Not the dorms—too many ears."

"There’s an unused training courtyard behind the west hall," Liliana offered. "Hardly anyone goes there unless they get lost."

Dorian nodded once. "Acceptable."

They turned down a side corridor, away from the crowd. The noise of the academy dimmed behind them, replaced by the softer hum of distant mana arrays and the muffled echo of footsteps.

Only when they reached the courtyard—an open stone space bordered by ivy-covered walls—did Merlin finally let himself pause.

The moment he did, the others formed a semicircle in front of him, each waiting with varying levels of patience.

Nathan crossed his arms. "Alright. Out with it. Morgana doesn’t watch random students. You don’t get tense for no reason. What’s the connection?"

Merlin leaned against the old stone bench, breathing out slowly. "I told Elara part of it. She’s interested in me—not as a student, but as something older. Something she remembers."

Liliana blinked. "Remembers? But you’re—well—you’re you."

Ethan squinted. "Please don’t tell me you’re a reincarnated demigod or something. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that plot twist today."

Adrian elbowed him. "Let him speak."

Merlin chose his words carefully. "I’m not a demigod. But Morgana... she’s lived long enough to know things most people only see in ancient archives. I think she recognizes something about me—my mana pattern, my affinity structure, something that shouldn’t exist anymore."

Dorian’s gaze sharpened. "She thinks you’re a relic."

Merlin nodded.

"Or worse," he said, "she thinks I’m connected to something she’s been searching for."

Elara stepped closer, her expression tightening with concern and determination. "Then we protect you. That’s all there is to it."

Nathan pointed at Merlin. "And you don’t deal with her alone. Not this time."

Adrian cracked his knuckles. "If she tries something, we’ll handle it."

Ethan sighed dramatically. "We’re going to get expelled fighting the Headmistress. Calling it now."

Liliana shook her head fiercely. "No one is fighting anyone. We’re supporting Merlin, that’s all."

Dorian’s voice was cool as shadow. "Support includes eliminating threats before they escalate."

Merlin stared at them all, one by one, stunned by how unwavering they were.

They didn’t hesitate.

They didn’t falter.

They didn’t treat him like someone fragile or someone suspicious.

They just accepted the danger and shifted formations around him without complaint.

He let out a slow breath.

"...Thank you," he said quietly.

Elara stepped close enough that their shoulders touched, her mana brushing his like a warm breeze. "You’re not alone, Merlin. Not anymore."

Nathan grinned. "Now. Next question. How long do you think before Morgana sends someone to ’casually check on your progress’?"

Merlin gave a humorless laugh. "Probably soon."

Dorian tilted his head. "Someone is approaching."