Extra To Protagonist

They came.

Nathan from the left, Elara from the right.

Daggers and violet steel. Sparks and silver arcs.

Merlin blocked, parried, twisted. But for the first time, their rhythm wasn't chaotic, it was sharp, precise. Nathan's recklessness wasn't wild; it was bait. Every slash he made opened a path for Elara to strike sharper, faster.

Together, they drove him back.

The ground cracked beneath their feet. Lightning sparked wild. Sweat poured down their faces.

And still, they pressed.

–––

From above, Morgana's lips curved faintly. "…They're matching his tempo."

Vivienne's eyes widened. "For how long?"

"…Not long," Morgana whispered.

–––

Because Merlin changed.

He exhaled once. Golden light burned in his eyes.

And his speed doubled.

Nathan barely saw the blade coming. His daggers caught it at the last possible instant, the shockwave nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets. He screamed, sparks bursting as his knees hit the sand.

Elara leapt over him, blades striking down.

Merlin twisted. His sword met hers. Sparks flared.

For a heartbeat, the two locked. Eye to eye.

Her violet burned against his gold.

Her arms trembled, blood streaking down them. But her gaze never wavered.

Merlin's chest ached. "…Why keep pushing? You can't win."

Her voice came sharp, steady. "Because if we don't, you'll never stop holding back."

Merlin's eyes widened.

The clash broke.

Merlin spun, blade flashing, Nathan's daggers shattered in a shower of sparks. The boy cried out, collapsing to his knees, blood dripping from his arms.

Merlin's lightning surged, pressing him flat against the sand.

Only Elara remained standing.

Her violet blades glowed faint, her stance still perfect.

Nathan groaned, voice hoarse. "Don't… don't stop, Elara…"

She didn't answer. She only stepped forward.

–––

From the control room, silence fell heavy.

Sophia whispered, "…She'll die if she keeps this up."

Vivienne clenched her fists. "…She knows."

Reinhardt's gaze hardened. "And she doesn't care."

Morgana's smile deepened, razor-thin. "…Good."

–––

The desert held its breath.

Merlin and Elara stood alone now. Lightning against violet steel.

He raised his blade. She raised hers.

For the first time in the exam, Merlin spoke with weight.

"…Show me, Elara."

And she did.

Every dune lay carved by blades, scorched by lightning, cracked by stone. The air still shimmered with fading heat from Ethan's flames, and shards of ice from Seraphina glittered in the sand like broken glass.

But all of it had gone quiet now.

Nathan knelt in the sand, his daggers shattered, his chest heaving, his arms limp at his sides. Blood ran freely from his forearms where the lightning clash had broken him. He could barely breathe, but his eyes, his eyes stayed locked on the figures before him.

Merlin.

Elara.

They stood alone now.

Elara's silver hair clung to her damp skin, strands plastered across her cheek. Her violet eyes burned sharp, her blades steady despite the tremble in her arms. Her breath was ragged, but her stance was unbroken, the perfect anchor, a blade that refused to dull.

Merlin faced her, sword raised, lightning crawling in arcs across his shoulders. His golden eyes glowed faintly, not with fury but with a strange, steady weight. For the first time in the exam, he looked at an opponent not as a formality, but as someone to face properly.

"…You should be down," Merlin said quietly.

Elara's voice was cool, measured, though it wavered at the edges. "Then put me down."

Nathan groaned from the sand, coughing blood. "Elara… damn it, don't… don't kill yourself…"

She didn't answer. Her gaze never left Merlin.

–––

From the control hall, silence hung heavy.

On the vast projection, the two figures stood frozen in the desert ruins.

Vivienne's fingers dug into her sleeve. "…She shouldn't still be moving."

Sophia whispered, "Her body's breaking. I can see it in her stance. The muscle fibers are past their limit."

Reinhardt's eyes sharpened. "And yet her technique hasn't faltered once."

Morgana leaned forward, her crimson eyes narrowing as she watched Elara's blade shift ever so slightly, readying, precise. A faint curve tugged her lips. "…Interesting."

–––

Merlin lifted his blade higher, pointing it straight at her. His golden eyes narrowed. "…Then show me, Elara."

She moved first.

The sand exploded under her step, her spear-length blades slicing forward like silver lightning. She cut low, then high, then twisted into a stabbing thrust for his throat.

Merlin parried once, twice, thrice, sparks flaring each time their steel collided. Her speed was sharper than any strike that had come before, not just desperation, but refined precision.

'She's reading me,' Merlin realized, blocking another slash, deflecting her blade just a hair's breadth from his face. 'Every strike… every step… she's adjusting.'

Elara spun, her silver hair whipping around her, blades slashing in a perfect arc. Merlin leapt back, sand scattering beneath his boots.

He landed lightly, sword steady. "…You're not just enduring. You're… adapting."

Her violet eyes flicked. "And you're still holding back."

Merlin's chest tightened.

Nathan, watching from the ground, let out a hoarse laugh. "Heh… she's right… Merlin… stop treating her like a damn glass doll…"

Merlin's jaw clenched. For a moment, silence weighed heavy between them. Then his grip shifted.

And the air cracked.

Lightning surged, sharper, faster. His blade blurred forward.

Elara barely caught it, steel shrieking against steel as sparks flew between them. She staggered back, sand skidding beneath her boots, but her stance held.

Her teeth grit. "…Better."

The duel raged.

Merlin pressed harder, his blade striking with true weight now. Each slash carried enough force to shatter stone, each thrust quick enough to pierce water.

But Elara's blades… answered.

She flowed with precision, no wasted motion. Her violet steel flashed arcs across the desert, deflecting, twisting, turning each impossible blow aside at the last instant. Her body screamed with every movement, but her technique never faltered.

Steel rang. Sparks burst. Lightning carved the sand into glass.

–––

From above, Morgana's eyes gleamed. "Do you see it?"

Vivienne swallowed. "She's… keeping up?"

"No," Morgana murmured. "She's surviving."

Reinhardt's jaw tightened. "Surviving against Merlin is already more than anyone else there could manage."

–––

Merlin struck down with a thunderous blow.

Elara's knees buckled, but her blades crossed, catching it. Sparks showered her shoulders, cutting deep lines into her skin. She screamed, but she held.

Merlin's eyes widened. "…You—"

Her violet eyes snapped to his, fierce, unbroken. "Is that all you have?"

Lightning cracked across the sky. Merlin's chest tightened. For the first time, his lips curved, not in mockery, but in something dangerously close to respect.

"…No."

He pushed harder.

The storm raged.

Each strike sent shockwaves across the desert. Sandstorms burst with every clash.

Elara's body bent, broke, bled, but her eyes never dimmed. Every move she made was a statement: I will not yield.

Nathan screamed from the ground, his voice raw. "ELARA!"

But she didn't look. Didn't falter.

She stepped into Merlin's guard, blades flashing. One scraped across his cheek, drawing blood.

Merlin froze, golden eyes wide.

A single drop of blood slid down his jaw.

Elara's voice came, soft but sharp. "…Even gods bleed."

–––

In the control hall, silence.

Sophia's eyes brimmed. "…She cut him."

Vivienne's breath trembled. "She actually…"

Morgana's lips curved, crimson eyes alight. "…Good girl."

–––

But the cut was her last.

Her knees gave. Her arms trembled, blades clattering from her hands. Her chest heaved, her breath ragged, her body spent.

She collapsed to the sand.

Merlin's blade hovered above her throat, but never fell.

His golden eyes softened, blood trailing down his cheek. "…Enough."

He lowered his sword.

Elara lay there, unconscious but unbroken, her violet eyes finally closing.

The desert went still.

Merlin stood alone, his blade dripping blood, his chest heaving faintly.

Nathan stared, tears streaking down his dirtied face.

And in the control hall, the silence broke at last.

"…It's over," Reinhardt said quietly.

Vivienne exhaled shakily. "…They lasted."

Morgana leaned back, her smile thin but sharp. "…More than lasted. They proved themselves."

Her eyes slid to Merlin's glowing figure, the storm still sparking faintly around him.

'And yet,' she thought, crimson eyes narrowing, 'that wasn't even all of him.'

—

Merlin stood at the center of it all, blade still faintly glowing, shoulders rising and falling with the weight of the fight. At his feet, Elara lay collapsed, her violet blades scattered from her grasp, her silver hair spread like fallen moonlight against the sand.

She was alive, her chest rose, faint but steady. Yet her body was utterly spent, muscles trembling even in unconsciousness.

Merlin lowered his sword fully. His golden eyes lingered on her face, softened, then turned briefly toward Nathan.

The dagger-user struggled to sit up, sweat and blood streaking his face. He coughed once, wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, and laughed hoarsely.

"…You didn't… finish it."

Merlin's voice came quiet. "She already finished it."

Nathan blinked, chest heaving. "…Tch. You always talk… in riddles." But his eyes flicked to Elara, then back to Merlin, and for the first time since the exam began, there was no resentment in them. Just something closer to recognition.

A deep hum rolled through the air. The desert trembled.

The simulation cracked.

Golden light fractured the dunes, splitting the sky into broken shards. The false sun dimmed, the heat bled away, and in a rush of air the desert collapsed into nothingness.

The world blinked out.

Merlin gasped as his eyes opened. The weight of the pod's helmet lifted from his head, and sterile white light filled his vision. He drew in a sharp breath, the taste of the simulation's desert dust replaced by filtered air.

The glass casing of the pod hissed open. He pushed himself upright slowly, the weight of exhaustion still clinging to his body even though he knew it wasn't real. His hand instinctively brushed his cheek, the faint line where Elara's blade had drawn blood still lingered, a ghost of the cut.

To his right, Nathan dragged himself up from his own pod, sweat dripping down his jaw. Across the chamber, dozens of other first-years groaned, blinking against the return to reality.

But Merlin's gaze darted immediately to the pod beside his.

Elara.

Her glass had opened, but she hadn't moved. Her silver hair clung to her face, her chest rising faintly but her body limp against the pod's cushioning.

"Elara," Merlin muttered, stepping forward, his legs unsteady but resolute.

A pair of healers rushed past him, their uniforms sharp white with crimson insignias stitched at the collar. They lifted her carefully, channeling soft energy into her limbs as they checked her vitals.

"She's stable," one murmured. "Just exhaustion."

Merlin's shoulders eased slightly, though his hand twitched as though he wanted to stay near her, to anchor her himself.