Extra To Protagonist

The wind pressed soft against his coat, long and silent like it didn't want to be noticed. The night wasn't cold, just still. A streetlamp blinked somewhere behind him, sputtering faint electrical protest before it steadied again.

He stood over the city, one boot resting on the edge of the rooftop. From here, the lights below looked like a half-functioning nerve system, twitching, dull, confused.

He'd waited long enough.

A small screen flickered to life in the air in front of him, framed in pale gold.

[Mae – Displacement Status: Stable]

[Dion – Displacement Status: Stable]

[Target Location: Origin World – Type D-874]

He didn't say anything. Just blinked slowly.

'Took longer than I thought to stabilize them.'

Mae's data flicked by. Emotional fragmentation, reality bleed, imprint instability. She'd been slipping for days, just well-contained enough no one noticed. Dion was cleaner, but not built to last in this branch of reality.

Neither of them belonged here.

They were never supposed to.

'They served their function.'

A clean gesture with two fingers.

The air beside him shimmered faintly.

Not like teleportation. Not flashy. Just… subtraction. As if someone had found their outlines and quietly erased them.

[Erasure Complete]

[Timeline Contamination: Nullified]

[Memory Distortion: None Detected]

'No echoes. Good.'

He watched the night for another few seconds. The streets didn't notice. The air didn't change. Not even the house they'd been staying in flickered.

It was like Mae and Dion had never been.

Which was the point.

'Too many variables already. I'm not letting this one spiral.'

He turned away from the edge.

Boots quiet on the gravel.

Behind his eyes, the system pinged again.

[Observation Tag: Merlin Everhart – Active]

[Status: Waking Threshold Approaching]

His jaw moved slightly. Not a smile. Something drier.

'Almost time.'

He didn't rush.

He never did.

The world kept turning. His steps never echoed.

And no one, not Nathan, not Elara, not even Merlin, would ever notice the missing pieces.

Not unless he let them.

Which he wouldn't.

—

Nathan's blade came at him in a wide arc. Solid form. Good weight behind it.

But slow.

Merlin leaned back half a step. Let it pass an inch from his chest, the breeze brushing his shirt. He didn't even raise his own weapon, just adjusted his footing.

"You're hesitating," he said.

Nathan scowled. "I'm not."

"You are."

Their boots scraped the dirt as they circled. Sun beat down hard on the academy's training field, the scent of sweat and dust mixing with the faint burn of magic in the air.

Students were somewhere behind them, shouting, laughing, maybe watching, but Merlin didn't turn to check.

Nathan lunged again. Faster this time.

Merlin caught the strike with the flat of his blade and twisted it aside like he was redirecting laundry.

Nathan stumbled a half-step before catching himself. "Okay," he muttered. "That was luck."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

'Right. Let's humor him.'

"I'll give you one more shot," Merlin said, planting his feet. "Try your best. No holding back."

Nathan squared up again, exhaled once. His eyes narrowed. Magic crackled along the edge of his sword, sharp and unstable.

'Finally.'

Merlin's grip tightened slightly. Not out of fear. Just preparation.

Nathan came in hard this time, one, two, three swings. A burst of wind magic around the fourth strike. It was clean. Well-timed. Enough force behind it to knock down a grown man.

Merlin tilted his body, ducked, and stepped inside the swing. One palm pressed lightly against Nathan's shoulder.

Then he pushed.

Nathan hit the dirt flat on his back with a thud.

"Ow," he grunted, staring up at the sky. "Okay. That wasn't luck."

Merlin stepped back, flicked his blade, and sheathed it. "You're fast. Strong. Smart."

Nathan sat up slowly. "But?"

"You're not panicking anymore. That's good. You're reading the fight." Merlin offered him a hand.

Nathan took it, grumbling. "And yet you didn't even try."

"I did," Merlin said, brushing dirt off his sleeves. "Just not hard."

Nathan squinted at him. "What the hell did you do while you were unconscious?"

Merlin shrugged, vague. "Trained."

'Suffered, died, came back carrying a dead man's legacy and a dozen years of pain. But sure. Let's call it training.'

[Notice: Skill Integration Progress – 18%]

[Current Combat Performance Output: 6.3% of Rathan's Peak]

[Next Threshold: 25% – Requires Physical Advancement]

'Great. So I'm not even halfway to being miserable yet.'

Nathan dusted himself off. "You ever think about signing up for the duels?"

"No."

"You'd win."

"I'd rather not get banned from competition for being 'suspiciously overqualified.'"

Nathan snorted. "Fair."

They started walking off the field together, side by side.

Merlin glanced over. Nathan still had a faint line of dirt on his cheek. His shirt was torn near the collarbone. But the guy kept his chin up. No real frustration in his voice. Just focus.

'He's improving fast.'

Merlin kept his face neutral. "You wanna grab food later before the crowd hits the mess?"

"Hell yes," Nathan said instantly. "My mana's fried. I think I pulled something trying to buff speed mid-lunge."

"You did. That was a dumb spell."

"I was improvising."

"You almost knocked your own arm out of its socket."

Nathan pointed at him. "Your encouragement is trash."

"I'm honest."

—

Nathan lunged again. Clean form. His blade drew a neat line through the air, aimed right for Merlin's ribs.

Merlin didn't even flinch.

He sidestepped the swing like it was a slow breeze. His boots scraped just enough to kick up dust but not enough to make noise. His own weapon, an ironwood staff borrowed from the rack, didn't move.

Nathan stumbled past him and turned with a quick pivot, breath hitching in his throat. "Alright, don't just dance around. Hit me."

Merlin exhaled slowly. 'He's fast. He's sharp. But he's playing checkers.'

He didn't say that out loud.

Instead, he tilted his head. "You sure?"

"Yes."

Merlin swung once, light, a diagonal across Nathan's chest.

It stopped a hair from his shirt. The air cracked from the pressure alone.

Nathan froze.

He stepped back, blinking. "…Alright. Damn. You weren't kidding."

"I didn't even hit you," Merlin said.

"I know. That's why it's terrifying."

'Twelve stars makes it feel unfair. Everything's slower now. Like gravity forgot to apply to me properly.'

Nathan dropped into a low stance, breath steadier now. "One more round."

"You'll just end up on the ground again."

Nathan grinned. "Probably. But if I don't, I get bragging rights for a week."

Merlin shrugged. "Deal."

They reset.

Nathan charged. This time he fainted left, then swept low, trying to catch Merlin's ankle.

Merlin didn't jump. He didn't even step back. He just twisted, barely, smoothly, and planted the tip of the staff right at the back of Nathan's knee.

Nathan collapsed onto one knee with a grunt.

Merlin stepped around him, dragging the staff along his shoulder. "You're too readable."

"You're too strong," Nathan muttered, spitting dust. "Since when were you this strong, man? I don't remember you being this ridiculous."

'I wasn't. Before Rathan. Before the system unlocked half this crap. I was barely above average.'

"Just been training more," Merlin lied.

Nathan rolled his eyes. "You say that like we didn't train together."

Merlin offered a hand. Nathan took it.

He pulled him up easily.

Nathan dusted off his shirt, breathing hard. "You've got that thing going on now. Like… people hit you and you don't even blink. Like your mana's wrapped around your skin."

Merlin didn't answer. He let the quiet fill the space for a second, then shrugged again. "Control's better. That's all."

'Twelve stars isn't just power. It's how the world bends around you. My mana's denser now. My reaction time's sharper. I can feel him start moving before he does.'

"Let's eat," Nathan said, tossing the sword down onto the bench. "My arms feel like jelly. You've got monster strength now, and I'm just here being decorative."

"Could be worse," Merlin said. "You could be dead."

Nathan blinked. "That escalated."

Merlin smirked. "Just saying. I've seen worse training injuries."

They walked toward the shade near the lockers. Nathan wiped sweat from his face and reached for a bottle of water.

"Hey," he said. "You ever feel weird about it?"

"About what?"

"Being… strong. This strong."

Merlin kept walking.

'Yeah. Every day. I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm a guy from another world using another man's name with a god watching me like a chess piece.'

"Not really," Merlin lied.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah. Me neither. Just feels crazy sometimes. Like we blinked, and now we're leagues above everyone."

They sat down on the bench, side by side. Nathan leaned back and stared at the sky, his chest still rising fast.

Merlin leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

[System Notification: Minor Skill Integration - "Spellroot Control (Lv1)"]

[Rathan Legacy Archive - 2.6% Unlocked]

He didn't react. Just blinked slow.

'Still coming in slow, huh. Good. Don't want the full download all at once.'

Nathan elbowed him lightly. "Bet I'm still the better cook though."

Merlin snorted. "I wouldn't count on that."

"Want to bet?"

"No. I like living."

Nathan laughed, head falling back. The sound echoed through the empty training field.

Merlin watched him.

'Twelve stars or not, he's still Nathan. That's the part I'm grateful for.'

And for a second, nothing pressed on him. No gods. No systems. No buried legacies screaming through his bones.

Just the sun. The breeze. A sparring partner too stubborn to stop.