Extra To Protagonist

The elevator hummed in its descent, soft light washing over Merlin’s reflection in the glass panel. The city stretched endlessly beneath him, a constellation of artificial stars blinking through the night fog.

But his mind wasn’t on the skyline. It was on the single, vanishing message still burned into his memory.

You shouldn’t have touched the Lazarus core.

The words had disappeared from his phone seconds after appearing, no trace, no metadata, no number. Just gone, like a phantom whisper swallowed by the void.

Merlin tapped the screen again, scrolling through his recent logs. Nothing. Not even a record of the notification.

"...Ghost line," he muttered under his breath.

There were whispers of such things even in the novel, secure communication networks that operated through fragmented mana pulses, invisible to normal digital channels.

Used by mercenaries, black market traders, and the kind of people who moved in shadows between nations.

But in this world, those systems shouldn’t have been active yet.

The timeline’s diverging again, he realized. The Lazarus core must’ve triggered something earlier than it was supposed to.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

He stepped out, coat brushing against the marble floor, the quiet chill of the tower’s lobby greeting him. A few guards nodded his way; they recognized him from earlier. He offered a small nod back but didn’t stop.

Outside, the night air bit cold against his skin.

By the time he reached the street, the crowd had thinned to soft murmurs and fading lights. A drizzle misted down from the cloud-heavy sky, dimming the glow of the lamps along the boulevard.

Merlin turned his collar up, scanning for taxis, but his phone buzzed again before he could wave one down.

A new message.

Unknown:

"If you want to understand the core, come alone."

Coordinates followed.

A district name blinked beneath it: Old Deren Industrial Zone.

Merlin frowned. That area had been shut down years ago, condemned after a factory explosion. Even the main roads leading in were supposedly blocked by wards.

He checked the timestamp.

Sent less than a minute ago.

He looked up. The drizzle intensified, streaking silver in the streetlight.

"...If this kills me, I’m blaming the universe," he muttered.

The cab ride was long and quiet. The driver said nothing, content to let the radio murmur static.

Merlin leaned against the window, watching the city’s heart slowly dissolve into its darker edges, the glitter of skyscrapers giving way to crumbling concrete and abandoned warehouses.

When the cab finally stopped, the air had turned heavier, the fog swallowing sound itself.

"This is it?" the driver asked, glancing at the GPS uncertainly.

Merlin nodded. "Thanks. Keep the change."

He stepped out, shutting the door softly behind him. The taxi’s taillights bled red through the mist before vanishing entirely, leaving him alone with the ruinous silence of the district.

Rows of old buildings stood like sleeping giants, metal scaffolds rusted and bent, windows shattered into spiderwebs. Somewhere far off, a loose sheet of iron clattered in the wind.

Merlin walked forward, his steps echoing faintly against the wet ground.

He reached into his coat, fingers brushing the inside pocket, his blade wasn’t there, of course. Weapons weren’t exactly legal to carry here. But his affinities were.

A soft hum of mana shimmered under his skin. He didn’t draw it out yet, but it was there, ready.

At the coordinates, a warehouse loomed ahead. Its doors hung half-broken, one side leaning inward like a wounded beast.

He pushed it open slowly.

The smell hit first: dust, oil, and the faint metallic tang of mana residue. The air was thick, still.

And then a voice.

Read full story at 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒•𝙣𝙚𝙩

"You came."

Merlin froze.

The figure stepped out from the shadows between the rusted cranes.

A man, tall, lean, wrapped in a black coat that looked too clean for the surroundings. His hair was ash-gray, his eyes unreadable, glowing faintly with artificial luminescence, a synthetic implant.

Merlin recognized the design instantly. That kind of tech didn’t exist publicly yet.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, his voice steady.

The man smiled faintly. "Someone who prefers to remain alive."

"Not an answer."

"I’m not in the business of offering those for free."

Merlin took a slow step forward. "You sent the message about the core."

The man’s expression shifted just slightly, approval, maybe. "You’re sharper than I thought. Most wouldn’t show up. Especially not someone your age."

"I’m not most."

The man chuckled softly. "No. You’re the one who touched the core and didn’t get erased."

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. "...Erased?"

The man tilted his head. "You really don’t know, do you?"

"Enlighten me."

The man turned, walking deeper into the warehouse. "Follow."

Merlin hesitated for a heartbeat before doing so. The air grew colder the farther they went, until they reached a hollow where the roof had collapsed inward, exposing the stars.

The man stopped before an old terminal, its surface flickering with weak mana light. He tapped a few commands, and a holographic projection sprang to life above the rusted machine.

A sphere, almost identical to the Lazarus core — floated in the projection, humming with faint energy.

"This," the man said quietly, "is one of six."

Merlin stared. "Six cores?"

"Yes. Each one discovered in a different region, each one with the same properties. Energy that doesn’t trace to any known affinity or elemental source. The energy reads as negative. It erases. It consumes."

Merlin felt a chill crawl up his spine. "And Invoke has one of them."

The man nodded. "We called them Lazarus because every time someone tried to destroy one, the data revived somewhere else."

"Self-replicating?"

"In a sense. But it’s not technology. It’s... alive."

Merlin’s pulse slowed. His system remained quiet, almost too quiet.

The man turned toward him. "You touched it. It responded to you."

Merlin didn’t move. "So?"

"So," the man said, "either you’re its target... or its key."

For a long moment, only the rain filled the silence, dripping through the broken ceiling.

Merlin stared at the hologram again, his mind racing.