Extra To Protagonist-Chapter 163: Returned
Merlin blinked once.
"...You’re real now?"
[This form is for transitional feedback only. Do not become attached.]
’Noted.’
He folded his arms. Mostly out of habit. The white didn’t shift, didn’t move, but the system’s presence made the space feel smaller.
[Integration Process: 23% Complete.]
[Bearer Classification: In Progress.]
"You mean the memory," Merlin said. "Rathan."
[Confirmed.]
A pause.
[You have accessed an unclassified sealed soul construct. Full integration exceeds the limitations of your current vessel.]
"Translation?"
[You’ll break.]
’Ah. Cool. Great.’
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"So what now? I’m just stuck with pieces?"
[Partial unsealing protocols will activate over time. The system will optimize memory-to-skill translation and gradually synchronize inherited parameters.]
"You mean... skills?"
[Yes.]
"Powers?"
[Yes.]
"Knowledge?"
[Yes. In limited bursts. To prevent cognitive bleed.]
He stared at the thing.
"So basically, I got a downloaded war criminal in my head and you’re worried I’ll fry if you open the file too fast."
[Analogy accepted.]
Merlin squinted. "Don’t say it like that."
[Noted.]
Another beat passed.
Then—
[Real-world status: Confirmed. Subject’s physical form was extracted and stabilized by an external anomaly.]
Merlin’s brows drew together.
"Anomaly?"
[Designation unknown. Subject: Male. Hair: White. Status: Undefined.]
Merlin’s pulse kicked.
’The guy from the toilet..’
"He’s the one who pulled me out?"
[Confirmed.]
"And the others? Elara, Nathan, Dion—"
[They remain in proximity. Current location: Eastern residential sector. Off-grid.]
’So they’re alive.’
He sat down. The floor didn’t resist. It just... adapted. Let him rest like it had been waiting for him to stop.
"So what is this place?" he muttered. "My mind?"
[Yes. And no.]
Merlin sighed.
"Thanks for clearing that up."
The system didn’t reply.
He stared down at his hands.
They were his again. Not Rathan’s. No chains. No blood. No weight of a thousand ghosts in his lungs.
But the memories were still there.
The torture.
The screams.
The gods.
The betrayal.
And the rage. The kind of rage that didn’t end when the pain stopped. The kind that learned how to grow in silence.
’That wasn’t a memory. That was a life. And I lived it like it was mine.’
His thumb rubbed against the side of his hand.
"And you’re saying that’s inside me now."
[Yes.]
"Do I have a choice?"
[No.]
He barked out a laugh.
It was dry. Hollow.
"Well, that tracks."
A new shimmer appeared beside the system. A single window of light.
Inside: shapes. Words. Numbers.
[Unlocked Skill Set: Incomplete.]
—[Passive Resonance – Awakened]
—[Mana Vein Expansion – In Progress]
—[Combat Memory Sync – Locked]
—[Transference Core – Pending]
—[Mark of the Ninth – Dormant]
Merlin read the list three times.
"You’re going to need to explain every single one of those."
[Eventually.]
"...Cool."
He leaned back.
The white shifted under him like a cushion. He stared up at the nothing.
’They think I’m dead. Or comatose. Or worse.’
He thought of Elara’s voice. Nathan’s boots thumping nearby. Dion’s too-loud breathing when he was anxious.
He thought of that white-haired man’s eyes. How calm they’d been. How used to death he looked.
’You knew I’d survive.’
Merlin exhaled.
Not relief.
Just habit.
"I want to wake up," he said.
The system’s light pulsed.
[Return Protocol: Ready.]
[Note: Transition may be disorienting. Physical body is under supervised care.]
[Advisory: Do not engage in high-stress combat within the first 24 hours.]
"Why? What happens if I do?"
[System reboot may cause cranial implosion.]
"...Seriously?"
[Unconfirmed. But possible.]
He groaned. "You know, you used to be more polite."
[Incorrect.]
And then the light shifted again.
Folded inward.
And the white space blinked—
Out.
Merlin’s breath returned like a slap to the lungs.
—
The street smelled like fish and old oil.
Nathan hated both.
He kept his hood low, hands shoved in the pockets of a coat that was too warm for the weather but made him feel less exposed.
Elara walked ahead, shoulders stiff. Dion trailed behind, kicking rocks like a bored teenager, and Mae was poking at fruit she wasn’t planning to buy.
"Do we even know what he liked?" Mae asked, holding up something that looked like a misshapen mango.
Elara didn’t turn. "He eats everything."
"That’s not helpful," Mae muttered, sniffing it. "This thing smells like feet."
"It smells like it’s ripe," Dion said, grabbing one from the same pile. "Or rotting. Same thing, right?"
Nathan didn’t answer. He was scanning the rooftops, watching for movement that wasn’t there. His eyes kept drifting to the alleyways between buildings. Too many places to get caught. Too many spots someone could be watching from.
Even if no one was.
’You’re jumpy. Again.’
He knew why.
They were out in public. Which meant they were vulnerable. Which meant if someone recognized them, or worse, if someone recognized Merlin and decided to finish what the labyrinth started, they’d be screwed.
No backup.
No safe zone.
Just a city and whatever face it decided to wear today.
He grabbed a bag of dried meat and tossed it into the basket Mae carried.
"That’s the last one," he said.
"Gee, thanks for the warning," she said, adjusting the weight. "Maybe next time help carry it?"
"I’m on lookout."
"You’re paranoid."
"I’m not wrong."
They crossed the square near the tram station. It was busier here, stalls lined the walls, selling everything from used boots to weird charms made of thread and bone.
A few sellers shouted in broken common. Elara didn’t pause. She kept walking like she couldn’t hear them.
Nathan stayed on her left, close enough to bump shoulders.
"Where’s the white-haired guy?" he asked.
Dion glanced around. "Gone when I woke up. Left a note that said, and I quote, ’Don’t touch my knives.’"
"Creepy."
"Kind of hot, though."
Nathan didn’t dignify that with a response.
It had been three weeks since Merlin collapsed. Three weeks of silence, barely-there breathing, and the occasional flicker of movement behind his eyelids.
No medical tech could figure it out. No mage dared to try. Not even the old man, they still didn’t know his name, had said anything useful.
"He’s thinking," the guy had said once, drinking tea in the corner like he lived there. "Thinking takes time."
Dion had wanted to punch him.
Mae almost did.
Now they were on food duty.
Trying not to think too hard about the quiet room upstairs or the still figure on the bed.
They turned the corner into the residential block. It was cleaner here. Quieter. Rows of old apartments stacked like worn books, each with a balcony, each faded to the same dull beige-gray.
Nathan felt the tension climb as they walked.
’Something’s different.’
He looked up.
Third floor. Their unit.
The sliding door to the balcony was open.
And someone was standing there.
His heart skipped.
Not just from shock.
From the shape.
Tall.
Lean.
Hand braced on the railing.
Hair tousled from sleep or wind, he couldn’t tell.
But he’d know that slouched posture anywhere.
"That’s—" Dion’s voice caught. "Wait, is that—"
Elara stopped cold.
Mae dropped the bag.
Nathan’s mouth was dry before he even spoke.
"Merlin."
The figure on the balcony didn’t move at first.
Then, slowly, like someone rolling their neck after hours of being still, the head turned toward them.
And even from the street, Nathan saw the eyes.
Clear.
Focused.
Alive.
Merlin raised one hand.
Not a wave.
Just... acknowledgment.
He was back.
And everything had just changed again.
— 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎
Waking up didn’t happen all at once.
It started with breath. Not sharp. Not choking. Just there.
Then pressure. The weight of sheets. The sun somewhere behind closed curtains. His head felt light and full at the same time, like something had been poured in and left to settle unevenly.
’So I’m alive. Or I’m dreaming I’m alive. Again.’
Merlin blinked against the light leaking through the edges of the curtain. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar.
Pale gray, cracked in one corner. The walls didn’t hum with magic. There was no rune pulse. No clinic lights. No sound except the faint rattle of a cheap fan spinning too slowly in the corner.
His hands twitched against the blanket.
No pain. No chains. No ice in his lungs.
He pushed himself up, slowly, muscles creaking like they hadn’t been used in weeks. Because they hadn’t. He was still wearing the same black undershirt from before, loose now. Thinner.
’Okay. So either they took care of me or dumped me somewhere clean and boring to die.’
He swung his legs off the side of the bed. Floor was cold. Familiar. The kind of cheap tile that apartments always had when the landlord didn’t expect you to stay long.
He stood.
His knees almost gave out.
Steadying himself on the wall, Merlin shuffled toward the sliding door cracked open a few feet. A breeze drifted in. Warm. With the smell of exhaust and too many food stalls packed into one district.
And something else.
Voices.
He stepped out onto the balcony.
And stopped.
Three figures were standing on the sidewalk across the street.
Mae was holding a bag she’d definitely overloaded. Dion was bent over, talking fast. Elara stood stiff, unmoving, staring directly at him.
For a second, Merlin didn’t move either.
Then he raised his hand.
Not high. Just enough to say: yes, it’s me. I’m not a ghost. Not this time.
Dion flailed. Mae dropped the bag. Elara didn’t react, not right away.
’They’re gonna kill me for making them wait.’
He rubbed his eyes.
Everything felt weirdly sharp. He could hear a vendor four blocks down arguing with someone about pricing. He could smell the garlic oil from a noodle cart nowhere in sight. His skin prickled under the morning sun like it didn’t quite belong to him yet.
’Rathan’s gift. Or curse. Maybe both.’
He let out a breath and leaned on the railing, watching them start to run toward the building. Dion already yelling something. Mae tripping over the dropped fruit. Elara pushing past both of them like she didn’t care if she knocked them down.
’Home, huh?’
It felt wrong calling it that.
But it felt something.
And right now?
That was enough.
