CHAPTER 277: NEW PROFESSORS (5)

Morgana regarded him for a long moment.

Most students would have stumbled beneath her gaze. Merlin didn’t. He never did. That composure was part of what unsettled her.

Finally, she said, "You’ve had no symptoms since the test? No instability?"

"None. My mana flow is steady."

"Show me."

Merlin raised his hand. Mana bloomed at his fingertips, a swirl of color that shifted seamlessly between forms. Blue light for water, gold for lightning, white for wind, and faint silver threads that bent the air around his palm.

Perfectly in sync.

No trembling, no backlash.

Morgana studied it. The power was immense, yes, but what struck her wasn’t the strength, it was the precision. Every layer moved in rhythm with his breathing, as if the elements themselves were listening to him.

"You’ve improved since the last evaluation," she said.

"I’ve been practicing."

A faint glint touched her eyes. "Practicing control?"

"Practicing silence."

She arched a brow. "Silence?"

"The space between affinities," Merlin said. "That moment when everything wants to pull apart. If you listen close enough, you can find balance there."

For a long heartbeat, Morgana said nothing. Then, softly, she smiled. Not the usual cold, formal curve of lips she gave to the faculty, but something smaller. Quieter. Almost... respectful.

"You speak like someone who’s seen more than a classroom should offer."

He didn’t answer.

’If only you knew.’

Morgana turned, pacing slowly toward her desk. "You know I’ve kept your profile sealed. Your records. Your test data. I’ve done so to protect you, not because I mistrust you."

Merlin said nothing, waiting.

"But yesterday’s readings," she continued, "drew attention beyond this academy. The Ministry’s Mana Regulation Division requested the raw data this morning."

Merlin’s eyes flickered. "And you refused."

"Of course." Morgana looked over her shoulder at him. "You’re my student. Until you choose otherwise, this academy answers for you, not the Ministry."

The quiet that followed was thick, something unspoken resting in the air between them.

Finally, Merlin asked, "How long until they start sending inspectors?"

"Not long," she said. "They’ll come under the guise of auditing research procedures, but what they want is you. Or rather, what you represent."

Merlin nodded once, as if he’d already expected it.

"I’ll keep my head low," he said.

"Do," Morgana replied, her tone firm but not harsh. "But remember, hiding too well invites suspicion. Sometimes visibility is the best disguise."

He gave a faint smirk. "You sound like you’ve done this before."

Her golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. "I’ve had a few lifetimes to learn the dance."

She waved her hand, and the air shimmered, a projection forming above her desk. The data from the Convergence Dome, simplified into a pattern of colors.

In its center pulsed a dim white core, that same hidden resonance.

Morgana watched it for a moment, then said, "This distortion... it didn’t appear in any of Nathaniel’s readings. Only yours."

Merlin’s gaze lingered on it. "Then it’s something inside me."

"Do you know what?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

Morgana studied him. "When you do, tell me."

"I will," he said.

She nodded, though something in her expression said she didn’t quite believe him.

Then, softly: "You’re dismissed, Merlin. And... be careful."

He inclined his head, turning to leave. But just as he reached the door, Morgana’s voice stopped him.

"Merlin."

He glanced back.

Her tone softened, the iron stripped away. "You carry things too easily. Don’t forget to live while you’re busy surviving."

For a moment, Merlin said nothing. Then, almost quietly: "...I’ll try."

And then he was gone, the door whispering shut behind him.

Morgana stood there for a while after. Her gaze fixed on the projection, that small white core, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

Eventually, she whispered to herself, "Try, but don’t fail."

Outside, clouds rolled across the sky, faint thunder rumbling in the distance, a low, restrained growl of power.

And somewhere deep in the academy’s wards, the faint white pulse of that hidden resonance shimmered again, unseen, unheard, but alive.

The training field was drenched in silver rain.

Thin streams ran along the stone paths, puddles forming beneath the old sparring posts, the air heavy with the clean scent of wet earth and steel.

Merlin stood in the center of the field, hair darkened by water, eyes half-closed as droplets traced down his jaw. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, just a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, bandages coiled loosely around his forearms.

It felt good. Real. Quiet.

He hadn’t had a moment like this in months.

’Too long,’ he thought, flexing his fingers. The air responded to him now like a heartbeat, the threads of his affinities humming faintly just beneath the surface. Lightning whispered at his fingertips, water gathered against his skin, wind stirred lightly around his shoulders. Space itself felt like it leaned closer, waiting.

The sound of boots splashing against the puddles drew his attention.

Nathaniel Varen approached from across the field, dripping wet but smiling, that same boyish grin that never really changed, even after everything. His black hair clung to his face, his eyes dark blue, sharp but kind.

"Told you I’d make it before you started without me," Nathan said.

Merlin smirked. "Barely."

"Please, I’m the one who suggested this spar. You’re lucky I didn’t oversleep."

They stood a few paces apart now, the rain between them falling in slow, silver threads. Around the perimeter, a handful of students had gathered, word of a duel between Everhart and Varen spread faster than lightning.

Even Elara had shown up, standing at the far archway beneath a conjured canopy of earth to keep the rain off her. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes stayed fixed on Merlin.

Nathan drew his daggers, the twin blades humming faintly with mana, one crackling with lightning, the other shimmering with water.

"First to yield?" he asked.

"Or until you can’t stand," Merlin replied lightly.

Nathan grinned. "I’ll try not to die then."

Merlin lifted his hand. "You won’t."

Lightning cracked between them.

The world exploded into motion.

Nathan vanished in a blur of blue and black, reappearing at Merlin’s flank with a sharp slash, fast, precise, refined. The blade sang against the air. Merlin moved just enough, a shift of weight, a whisper of wind, and the dagger cut nothing but rain.

Nathan didn’t pause. He twisted, bringing his other blade around in a sweeping arc, water laced with lightning. Merlin caught it on his forearm, the bandages shimmering faintly as his own mana surged.

The impact sent a shockwave through the puddles, scattering droplets like glass.

Nathan leapt back, breathing steady, eyes gleaming. "You didn’t even use an affinity for that, did you?"

Merlin tilted his head. "Would it help if I did?"

"Oh, absolutely not."

Nathan charged again.