Chapter 259: First Day (2)
She turned to leave, the folds of her cloak catching the wind.
Just before she reached the stairs, she added, "Vivienne will test your limits again soon. I advised her not to. She didn’t listen."
Then she was gone.
Merlin stayed there a while, the wind brushing through his hair, the sun glinting off the metal of his cufflinks, the only trace of his time in the world beyond these walls.
When he finally descended, Elara was waiting near the base of the stairway, arms folded. "What did she want?"
"Advice," he said simply.
"Good or bad?"
"I’ll let you know."
She gave him a long look, one corner of her mouth curving faintly. "You really are terrible at answering questions."
"I learned from the best."
She rolled her eyes. "Flattery doesn’t work on me."
"It’s not flattery if it’s true."
For the first time that morning, her composure cracked, a faint flush touching her ears before she turned sharply away. "Come on," she said, voice clipped. "We’re late for class."
Merlin followed, unable to stop the small smile forming at the corner of his lips.
The day unfolded in the quiet rhythm of normalcy, lectures, demonstrations, the hum of magic circles glowing faintly under glass floors. But as Merlin walked those familiar halls again, part of him still stood on that rooftop, the rain still falling, the city still humming below.
He was here.
He was back.
But the world outside hadn’t vanished, it was waiting. Watching.
And as the academy bell rang one last time that afternoon, Merlin looked out the window at the horizon and thought,
’How long until peace ends again?’
The sun was dipping low when the day finally started to settle.
Warm light spilled through the academy’s courtyard windows, painting long amber lines across the stone path.
Students had begun to disperse after their afternoon classes, some rushing to the cafeteria, others laughing on the lawns, testing out small bursts of magic that glimmered in the fading glow.
Merlin lingered behind, standing near one of the training platforms overlooking the west gardens.
His coat hung loosely over his shoulders, and his hair caught the wind, pale strands shifting with every breath of air. The quiet suited him. After a day surrounded by voices and movement, silence was a relief.
He stretched his arm lightly. His body had nearly recovered now, no longer sluggish, no longer weak. His mana flowed smoothly again, balanced and calm.
’It feels... real this time,’ he thought. ’No system warnings. No illusions. Just me.’
He exhaled slowly and turned toward the fountain, intending to head back to the dorms, when the sound of laughter cut across the courtyard. Not the friendly kind.
"Hey, hey—hold on! Is that really him?"
Three students stood near the training platforms. Their uniforms marked them as third-years, the white and gold trims gleaming slightly in the light. Older, taller, clearly used to the space they occupied.
The one in front had sharp brown eyes and short-cropped hair, his confidence bleeding into the air around him.
The second leaned casually against a stone pillar, spinning a mana-charged dagger between his fingers. The third, a girl with silver streaks in her hair, wore a smirk that could cut.
"Wow," the leader said, stepping closer. "So the rumors were true. You’re the one who caused a whole department re-evaluation last term, huh?"
Merlin looked at them once, expression unreadable. "...I guess that’s one way to describe it."
The guy’s grin widened. "You guess? Come on, Everhart, you can do better than that." He jabbed a thumb toward himself. "Name’s Roland. Third-year. Fire Affinity."
Merlin didn’t move. "Congratulations."
Roland laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "You’ve got a mouth, huh? I can see why people say you’re cocky. Second-year, what, already thinking you’re the academy’s little prodigy?"
The girl chimed in, her voice light but laced with amusement. "Don’t be mean, Roland. He did apparently beat the entire first-year roster. That’s impressive... for a beginner."
The boy with the dagger chuckled, flipping the weapon once before catching it. "Or maybe he just got lucky. Kids like him always burn out fast. Too much hype, not enough bite."
Merlin’s gaze shifted between them, golden irises steady. He wasn’t angry. Not yet. Just... watching.
"Are you done?" he asked finally.
Roland’s grin faltered slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You approached me. You said what you wanted to say. Are you done?"
The courtyard seemed to go still. The laughter from distant groups faded into background hum.
The silver-haired girl tilted her head, mock-offended. "Wow. He’s got attitude. You think you’re better than upper-years now?"
Merlin’s tone stayed calm. "I think wasting energy on pointless conversations is stupid. If you’re here for something else, say it. If not, I’ll be going."
He turned, but Roland stepped forward, blocking his path. The movement wasn’t violent, not yet, but it was deliberate. "You think just because you’re some anomaly, you can talk down to people who’ve been here longer?"
Merlin’s eyes flicked to him, calm and sharp as a blade. "...Time doesn’t always equal skill."
Roland’s grin twisted. "Is that so? Then how about we test that theory?"
The boy spun his hand, and a burst of fire flared from his palm, harmlessly at first, just hovering like a miniature sun. His friends stepped aside, anticipation in their eyes.
Merlin didn’t move.
Roland raised his brow. "Come on, prodigy. You scared? Just a light spar. Unless you’re only strong when no one else fights back."
There it was, the goad. The kind of bait designed to make a younger student react, to see if they’d lose composure.
But Merlin simply exhaled. "You really want to spar? Then use a request form. You know the rules."
Roland scoffed. "Rules are for people who need them."
The air grew hotter. Flames gathered around his hand, coiling tighter, brighter. "I just want to see if the so-called ’golden boy’ can handle a little heat."
Merlin glanced at him, eyes faintly glimmering. "Then I hope you like disappointment."
The next moment, Roland moved, a quick, confident dash forward, flame arcing through the air. But before it could reach him, the wind shifted. A small burst of pressure, invisible but sharp, dispersed the fire before it could form. The backlash sent a faint gust across the courtyard, scattering leaves.
Roland froze mid-step, his mana sputtering. His eyes widened. "What—"
Merlin’s gaze hadn’t changed. "Wind affinity," he said quietly. "It reacts faster than your reflexes."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. The tension held, then the girl stepped forward, hand raised slightly. "Roland, stop."
He didn’t. His pride flared, his jaw tightening. "You think that was luck?"
Merlin’s tone sharpened. "I think it’s over."
He started walking again, and this time, no one stopped him. Roland’s flame flickered out. His friends exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and annoyance, but none spoke. The moment passed as quickly as it came.
Merlin left the courtyard without looking back.