Extra To Protagonist

The pillar pulsed once, softly. Not with light, but with certainty. Merlin knew the trial wasn't done.

The room didn't relax. The walls didn't move further. They just… waited.

The eighth riddle arrived without fanfare.

This one wasn't poetic. It was surgical.

"You're told two friends will die. You may save one. The other will not remember you. Which do you choose?"

Merlin's breath caught, but not from indecision.

It was the framing.

It didn't ask who. It didn't care about names. It wanted a pattern.

He felt the eyes again. Not the group's. Not Nathan's.

The gods.

'They're not testing intellect anymore. They're dissecting preference. Loyalty. Attachment.'

The others still didn't hear it. They just watched him.

And for a moment, he felt the weight of their silence like it was made of knives.

He answered quietly.

"The one who remembers."

[Correct.]

The walls didn't move.

But something else shifted.

Flint's arms crossed tighter.

Seraphina's gaze lowered. Her jaw tightened.

Mae's breath hitched, just once.

They didn't know the question, but they felt the echo.

Nathan stayed completely still.

The ninth riddle followed immediately.

This one came with pressure, not from the system, but from behind Merlin's eyes. A crawling weight. A presence behind thought.

"A lie can save a life. A truth can end one. Which do you speak?"

He didn't hesitate.

"The one that buys time."

[Correct.]

The ceiling stopped vibrating. For now.

Merlin stepped back once. Not from exhaustion. From calculation.

Nathan was watching again. Still unreadable.

Merlin didn't ask what he was thinking. That would've been pointless.

The pillar changed tone.

Not voice. Not delivery.

Just intent.

The tenth riddle was a whisper through the system, not aloud, but direct to his feed.

And it wasn't framed like the others.

[OPTIONAL RIDDLE: ADVANCED ACCESS UNLOCK.]

[Proceeding will isolate one member.]

[Success grants bypass.]

Merlin's screen pulsed with a simple line:

[Choose one to face the question.]

He didn't move.

Didn't blink.

But his gaze drifted to each of them. Flint. Mae. Seraphina. Nathan.

And it settled.

Flint.

Not because he was strongest.

But because he was the one who didn't flinch when thrown into fire. The one who fought mirrors by breaking them, not studying them.

The system blinked.

[Subject: Flint Cain.]

[Isolated Path Engaged.]

The floor cracked beneath Flint's feet, not an abyss, not a drop. Just a slide.

A slow-moving platform that shifted under him until he was behind the pillar. Out of view. But not gone.

Mae jumped. "Flint—?"

Merlin raised a hand. "He's not in danger. Yet."

Nathan didn't speak.

The pillar hummed again.

Then—

[Final Riddle Initiating.]

No one else could hear it.

Only Flint now.

Merlin couldn't see him.

Couldn't intervene.

The others backed away slightly, crowding together unconsciously.

Seraphina muttered, "Why him?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Because if he said it, it would mean he doubted someone.

And that, right now, was the most dangerous thing he could admit.

The pillar stilled.

No sound.

No light.

Just waiting.

—

The silence dragged longer than any of them expected. Not a pause for breath, not tension before a blow.

Just absence, of Flint, of sound, of signal. It was the kind of silence designed to make people question whether anything was happening at all.

Then the system chimed.

But only Merlin saw it.

[Subject: Flint Cain.]

[Query Failed.]

[Override: Impossible.]

Merlin's stomach went cold. He didn't move. Didn't blink. But his pulse hitched.

He waited for the next line, already knowing what it meant before it arrived.

[Participant Rejected.]

[Trial Continuity Maintained.]

[No Retrieval Permitted.]

There was no scream. No impact. No visual cue. Just the implication. Flint hadn't answered wrong. He hadn't died. He had been… rejected.

Swallowed.

The pillar didn't announce it. The system didn't mark him deceased. He was just removed. Like an equation simplified off the page.

Mae stepped forward. "Where is he?"

Merlin didn't look at her. He couldn't.

Seraphina's voice was quiet, sharp. "That was the end of his path, wasn't it?"

Nathan didn't speak.

The system chimed again, publicly this time.

[Trial Segment Complete.]

[Participants: Reduced.]

[Door Unsealed.]

The wall behind the pillar opened.

A new hallway, narrow and dark, waited ahead.

Merlin turned from the pillar at last. His eyes met each of theirs, Mae's panic, Seraphina's anger, Dion's disbelief. Nathan… still unreadable. All of them.

"I chose him," Merlin said, voice low. "I believed he'd pass."

"And if he had?" Seraphina asked. Her voice was like a knife held steady but not yet used.

"He'd have spared us the next room," Merlin replied. "That was the cost."

Mae's voice cracked. "So we just keep walking like nothing happened?"

"No," Merlin said, finally facing her. "We keep walking because he didn't get the chance."

There was no agreement. No unity. Just motion.

One by one, they followed him through the door.

Behind them, the chamber sealed.

And Flint's name never appeared again.

—

The corridor led nowhere.

Then the stone flexed—quietly, inward—like something breathing beneath the walls.

Merlin stepped first.

He didn't pause.

Didn't look back.

He knew Nathan would follow.

Mae came next, slower. Not from doubt. Just weariness that had soaked through her bones and pooled in her chest.

Seraphina walked like a blade still drawn.

She never put it away anymore.

—

The final room didn't open.

It just was.

Circular. Clean. Deceptively quiet.

No glyphs. No puzzles. No enemies.

Just one thing at its center: a black table.

Square edges. Glass top. A single object resting atop it.

A silver die.

Six faces.

No markings.

Merlin's system pinged.

[FINAL TRIAL INITIATED.]

[Task: Cast the Die.]

[Rules: One player only. Result is binding.]

[Additional Condition: Do not explain the to others.]

Nathan's system lit up too.

He didn't say anything.

But Merlin saw the shift in his breathing.

He got the same message.

Mae tilted her head. "What… is that?"

Seraphina frowned. "We're supposed to roll that?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Nathan stepped closer, gaze locked on the table. The die didn't glow. Didn't pulse. Just… waited.

[Six Outcomes. Three Rewards. Three Prices.]

[Only the caster is bound.]

Nathan whispered, "This is a gamble."

Merlin nodded.

No one else heard it.

Mae stepped forward. "Do we pick someone? What if it's a trap?"

Seraphina didn't move. "It is a trap. Everything's a trap."

The system pinged again.

[DO NOT DISCUSS.]

Merlin exhaled.

Slow.

Nathan looked at him.

Their eyes met.

And without a word—

Nathan stepped forward and reached for the die.

—

Nathan's fingers hovered over the die, steady but not calm. Not hesitation, just calculation stretched thin across the surface of instinct. The rest of the group didn't speak. Not from obedience, but tension. Every unspoken second fed the pressure in the room.

Merlin watched him move, jaw tight. His system hadn't blinked again, but he didn't need the warning repeated. The silence wasn't theirs. It was enforced.

'He's not hesitating. He's deciding how much of this is his choice.'

Nathan's hand closed around the die.

The table didn't respond. No noise. No glow. Just the unshaped weight of consequence waiting to fall.

Merlin took one step forward. Not stopping him. Shadowing him. Close enough to be clear.

"No," he said flat. Quiet.

Nathan didn't look back. "It has to be one of us."

"That doesn't make it you."

"I already reached for it."

Merlin's voice sharpened. "Then un-reach."

But Nathan's fingers were already unclenching.

The die tumbled from his hand.

One bounce.

Two.

It spun, fast, deliberate, and settled.

Blank side up.

The system pulsed, silent and private.

[CAST COMPLETE.]

[Result: Sixth Face – Null Value.]

[Penalty: Memory Loss.]

[Scope: One Relationship.]

Merlin didn't speak.

Nathan blinked twice, not from the message, but the effect.

His breath stilled.

His gaze shifted.

He looked at Mae. Seraphina. Dion.

Then at Merlin.

And paused.

Merlin's chest tightened, not from pain, but recognition.

He'd seen that pause before.

It meant subtraction.

Nathan looked confused for the first time in hours.

"…What did we just do?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Because the gods were watching.

Because the die had landed.

Because it worked.

And because Nathan no longer remembered who Merlin was.

—

Mae was the first to notice.

She looked at Nathan. Then at Merlin. Then back again. Her mouth opened like she was about to speak, but no sound came. Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was solving something under her breath.

Seraphina didn't look confused. She looked sharp. Like she'd just seen a sleight of hand trick and couldn't spot where the card had vanished. Her fingers twitched once, like she wanted a weapon but knew better.

Nathan turned, facing the group now. His stance had changed, subtly. He stood like a guest. Like someone invited in. Not like someone who'd bled with them for weeks.

He tilted his head slightly toward Mae. "We've met, right?"

Mae flinched.

He glanced at Seraphina. "And you. I remember you. The stances you use. You don't waste energy."

She didn't nod. Just studied him like he was a wound trying to speak.

Then he looked at Merlin.

Blank.

No recognition. No flicker.

Just a polite nothing.

Merlin didn't look away.

Didn't speak either.

He knew the rules.

Dion, finally catching the mood, stepped forward. "What the hell was that?"

Merlin said nothing.

Nathan did.

"I rolled it. That's what the trial wanted. One player, one die. I don't remember what the message said, but…" He glanced at the group. "I don't think it was free."

Seraphina's voice was low, clipped. "You don't remember what?"

Nathan blinked. "The cost."

Mae's hand touched her chest. "You don't know any of us?"

"No. I know you," Nathan said, calm but careful. "I remember faces. Names. Fighting the shadows. The skeletons. Everything."

His eyes landed on Merlin.

"Except him."

No one spoke.

The silence wrapped around Merlin like ice under skin.

'Of course it picked that.'

Nathan turned slightly. "We were close, weren't we?"

Merlin held his gaze. Just long enough.

Then nodded once.

Not too slow. Not too fast.

Just enough.

"Yes."