Not drifting—suspended. Like something was holding him here. Not cruel. Not kind. Just… absolute.
Time didn't pass. Or if it did, it passed in spirals. Sometimes he heard things. Sometimes he remembered voices.
"You're not supposed to be here, you know."
"Something hungrier."
He didn't know how long he stayed there.
Minutes. Hours. Years. All of it. None of it.
He tried to move. Nothing answered. No muscles. No limbs. Just a sense of self caught in a web of void.
The question echoed. It didn't come back.
Even the voices were gone now.
He'd died before, technically. Back on Earth. If that can be counted as a death. Who knows.
Not dramatically. Not painfully. Just—blink. Over.
Because he hadn't died.
He knew that instinctively. Like some part of him still recognized the edge between this and true oblivion. This wasn't death.
A breath before the sentence finishes.
A ripple through the void. Small. Distant. Like a string tugged across a canyon. But it was there.
Weak. Ragged. Half-broken.
But it hadn't abandoned him.
He followed it—no body, no eyes, just will. Pushing through the dark like a swimmer clawing through oil.
And something gave way.
Not loudly. Just… a shift.
His first breath came back like it had been stored in someone else's lungs. His ribs stung. His skin burned. His body screamed—but it was there.
He choked once. Coughed twice. His eyes opened.
The ceiling was white.
He turned his head slightly.
The sheets were too clean. The light was too soft. Everything smelled faintly of sterile magic and alchemy herbs.
He recognized the mana threads woven into the beds—healing circuits, mana stabilization, emergency bind-runes.
They'd used all of them on him.
His left arm was bound. His ribs were braced. His chest ached like something had caved it in.
His voice came out in a rasp.
'So why doesn't it feel like it?'
The white ceiling stared back at him.
Still. Cold. Perfectly smooth.
His body ached like something had peeled it apart and stitched it back wrong. Not all at once—but in layers.
The bruises were deeper than skin. The kind that didn't show but lived somewhere beneath the soul.
White light flickered faintly across his vision.
A familiar interface, warped at the edges like a cracked mirror, hovered before his eyes.
But it was different this time.
Lines of text stuttered before resolving into something legible.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Mana Circuits: Partially Disrupted
Soul Integrity: Compromised
Status: Critical Recovery Mode Engaged
Merlin's breath caught.
[WARNING: Affinity Access Temporarily Sealed]
[Wind — Inaccessible]
[Lightning — Inaccessible]
[Water — Inaccessible]
[Space — Inaccessible]
[Time — Inaccessible]
[WARNING: All Combat Skills Suspended]
[Mana Regulation: Severely Limited]
His fingers twitched.
It felt like touching an empty socket—like the connection was there, but nothing flowed.
"…No," he whispered, voice barely audible.
He tried again. Just a trickle of lightning. Just one spark.
He reached deeper, tried pulling from his core—only to feel a stabbing jolt tear through his spine like static overload.
[WARNING: Further Attempts May Result in Irreversible Damage]
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He gritted his teeth.
'I was fine. I was FINE. I walked. I fought. I survived.'
The memory clawed back.
Subject 0. Her smile. Her teeth. Her fingers curled around his throat. That last whisper against his neck before the world went black.
'You're not made for this…'
His hands curled into the bedsheets.
"…She did something to me."
The words weren't just theory anymore. He'd read about it—fringe texts, banned rituals, ancient demonic arts. Injuries so deep they bypassed the physical and tore into the very structure of who you were.
Merlin lay still for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he pulled his arm free from the binding.
Every movement hurt—but the pain felt distant. Secondary.
His body shook. Cold sweat clung to his back.
'Thirteen percent core stability…'
Not even a single defensive thread of mana to shape around his skin.
"No better than a civilian," he muttered.
The words tasted like rust.
He let himself lean back again.
Head against the pillow.
[System Recovery Estimated: Unknown]
[Condition: Unstable]
[Recommended: Absolute Rest]
"…Yeah. Like that's ever worked out for me."
But deep down, a quiet knot of fear twisted in his chest.
Not even from the loss of power.
But from what came next.
'If I can't use my powers… I can't protect them.'
Elara. Nathan. The others. The entire world.
He hadn't just fought for survival.
He fought to change things.
To reshape a story that had always been too cruel.
He couldn't even light a candle with his mana.
His hand twitched against the blanket.
But his eyes didn't close.
Because even powerless—
The infirmary doors weren't locked.
Which meant Elara didn't need to kick them open.
The sound echoed like a war drum through the pristine white hall.
Nathan was two steps behind her, holding a half-crushed paper cup of some weird academy vending machine tea he never got to drink. The scent of artificial lemon and regret followed him in.
Behind them, Adrian and Liliana trailed, less dramatic but no less determined.
The healer on duty blinked up from their desk, startled. "Excuse me—!"
"Later," Elara said, not even slowing.
Nathan gave the healer an apologetic two-finger wave. "She's emotional. Let her have this."
They rounded the corner and—
Merlin sat upright on the cot, one arm resting across his lap. His posture was stiff, more statue than human, but his eyes were open—sharp gold cutting through the dim light like twin blades.
"…Merlin?" Liliana whispered, stepping forward.
He didn't respond. Not at first. Just watched them like he wasn't sure they were real.
Nathan felt his breath catch for a second.
Then he grinned. "Holy shit. You look like hell."
Merlin blinked. "Thanks."
No hesitation. No words.
She walked straight across the room, leaned down, and slapped him across the chest.
But it wasn't gentle, either.
"You idiot," she said, voice steady, quiet, and furious. "You absolute, reckless, self-sacrificing idiot."
Merlin didn't flinch. "I know."
"That's not an excuse."
"I didn't say it was."
Liliana moved to the other side of the bed, fingers curled into her sleeves. "You just vanished. You jumped into a rift."
Adrian crossed his arms from the doorway. "We thought you were dead."
Merlin looked at them.
"…Sorry," he said finally.
No explanation. No heroic justification.
Just two syllables, raw and dry like a splinter.
Nathan flopped onto the nearest stool and spun it around to sit backward. "So. On a scale of one to completely doomed, how bad is it?"
Merlin's gaze shifted. "You don't want the answer."
"Wrong," Nathan said. "I want all the answers. Preferably with dramatic lighting and ominous music in the background."
Adrian grinned. "I can hum menacingly."
"I'm serious," Nathan said, voice softening. "We were ready to go looking for you. Actually—we did go looking. Found the rift again."
Merlin's eyes twitched—barely—but it was there. "You what?"
'I don't even remember anything that happened after I passed out…'
"Long story. Vivienne's not mad. Morgana might be. But Seraphina probably scared the headmaster into letting us off with a warning."
"We weren't going to leave you behind," Elara said.
Merlin didn't answer.
The system messages still hovered in the corner of his vision.
[WARNING: Soul State Critically Unstable]
Nathan must've noticed the shift because he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're not okay."
Merlin looked at him. "No."
Merlin hesitated. Then nodded.
"That's enough for now," Nathan said.
Adrian finally clapped his hands. "Alright. Let's not crowd him. Guy looks like he fought a war with his face."
"I won the war," Merlin said flatly.
The air in the room thinned just enough to feel real again.
"Can I stay?" Nathan asked, quieter now.
Merlin blinked. "Why?"
Nathan shrugged. "Because you're my friend, dumbass."
Merlin leaned back against the pillow. His ribs screamed, his head spun, and the system whispered warnings behind his eyes like a heartbeat too close.