Extra To Protagonist

The transport was unmarked. Flat steel, open sides, no seating. They rode with knees locked and shoulders tight, surrounded by soldiers who never lowered their rifles.

The road was unpaved, ruts and cracks deep enough to shake teeth loose, and the sky hung too low, a thick gray like dust that hadn't finished falling.

They didn't speak.

The soldiers didn't either.

Nathan glanced at Merlin once but didn't ask. Didn't need to.

Merlin didn't answer.

He kept his eyes on the horizon.

Where the road ended, the outpost began, blunt walls carved from stacked metal and concrete, topped in sensor spines and coiled wire.

A checkpoint waited. Gates slid open without sound. Lights tracked their movement.

No names. No salutes.

Just containment.

The truck braked sharp. Doors opened. Orders barked.

Untranslated.

[Parsing… Translation Restored.]

"Out. Hands visible. No resistance."

Merlin stepped down first.

Mae hesitated. Dion didn't. Seraphina moved like her blade was still strapped, though it wasn't.

They were funneled fast.

Not interrogated.

Not welcomed.

Just processed.

A hallway of narrow steel. A holding cell, reinforced glass.

Two guards posted outside.

Inside was nothing.

No cot. No light fixture. Just them.

When the door sealed, it hissed like a threat.

Merlin didn't sit.

Nathan paced once, then stopped. "You understood them back there."

Merlin's answer came slow. "Enough."

Mae backed into the corner, arms tight around her ribs. "Why would they lock us up if they believed us?"

"They didn't," Seraphina said.

Merlin agreed. Silently.

And his system pulsed.

[You are considered compromised.]

[No identification recognized.]

[Local Authority: Titanos Military Command, 3rd Eastern Division.]

[Reclassification: External Entity - Observed.]

He exhaled once.

Then came the message that mattered.

[The Messenger remains watching.]

[The Silent Judge places a hand on your shoulder.]

[They approve of the silence.]

Merlin looked at the ceiling.

Not at the camera. Not at the guards.

At the system only he could see.

'They want to see how we act without a script.'

The door stayed shut.

—

The silence held a different kind of pressure now.

It wasn't the labyrinth's silence. Not a test. Not death around the corner.

Just a waiting room with guns behind the wall.

Merlin stood near the corner, hands loose at his sides, eyes locked on nothing. The others didn't speak.

They didn't need to. What had to be said had already been said, or hadn't, and maybe wouldn't.

Nathan's voice cut through it. Quiet. Curious.

"You're the only one who didn't look surprised when I rolled that die."

Merlin didn't turn.

Nathan took two slow steps toward him. Not aggressive. Not wary. Just measuring.

"And before that, you watched me the way people watch—" he hesitated, then said it "unfamiliar things they used to know."

Still no answer.

"So," Nathan went on, "what are you to me?"

Merlin's jaw moved once.

Not to speak.

To hold something in.

Nathan's tone didn't shift. "They all say we were close. That I should care. That something's wrong. But you haven't said it."

Merlin closed his eyes for a breath.

He remembered the gods' silence.

[The Dice Result Is Absolute.]

[The Messenger waits.]

Then another line, buried, from earlier, still ticking.

[Favor remains: Hermes.]

He'd banked it. Kept it sealed like a last breath underwater. Not for power. Not for safety.

He'd been saving it.

For something he thought he might regret more.

'Is this what it's for?'

He looked at Nathan then.

Really looked.

The same stance. Same stubborn jawline. Same weight behind the shoulders like he carried more than he admitted.

But no recognition.

None.

"I'm Merlin," he said finally. "We fought together. We nearly died in the same room. More than once."

Nathan's head tilted slightly. "I believe you. I just don't remember."

"You're not supposed to."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Merlin looked away again.

It did.

It bothered him more than it should.

But that wasn't the point.

"You're alive," he said. "That matters more."

Nathan studied him, like the answer didn't quite add up.

And Merlin thought again about the name.

Hermes.

The wish.

The promise.

He could use it now.

Could ask for the memory back.

Could force the thread to reweave.

But—

[Hermes waits patiently.]

[He has not heard your request.]

The cell stayed silent.

Merlin didn't speak.

Because the hardest choices weren't between right and wrong.

They were between what you wanted to undo, and what you needed to leave broken.

—

The silence didn't hold. Not really.

It cracked in glances, in fidgeting hands, in the way Mae picked at the loose strap on her sleeve like it might tell her the time.

Dion had long since slumped against the far wall, arms crossed, mouth shut.

Elara whispered something under her breath, too quiet to parse, but Seraphina heard it. She didn't respond.

Just blinked, once, slow and deliberate, then looked at the door again like she was willing it to open.

Nathan's eyes never left Merlin.

"I'm not the only one confused," he said, quieter now.

"I know," Merlin replied.

He didn't say more.

Because there wasn't anything to add that wouldn't shift something in the room he couldn't unshift.

Then the lock clanked.

A cold, mechanical sound.

Everyone looked up.

The door opened, not wide, just enough for two guards to enter, uniformed, armored, faceless behind their plating.

The taller one scanned the room once, slow. Then said something none of them understood. The words were clipped. Harsh. But deliberate.

Mae flinched.

Seraphina's hand moved to her side, instinct. No blade there.

The soldier pointed.

Right at Merlin.

Nathan straightened. "What are they saying?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Because he understood.

Not the words.

The intent.

One of the guards gestured again. Firmer this time.

And this time, Merlin stepped forward.

Elara stood. "Hold on—"

But the second she moved, the shorter guard brought their weapon up, not drawn, just raised.

Enough.

Merlin raised a hand. Not to fight. To quiet.

"I'll go," he said. No strain in his voice. "Just wait."

Dion muttered, "That's not comforting."

Seraphina took a half-step forward too. "If they touch you—"

"They won't," Merlin said.

He didn't sound sure.

He just sounded done.

And then the door closed behind him.

The sound of the lock returning was louder than the wind outside.

Mae sat back down.

No one else did.

—

The corridor wasn't long, but it was narrow, just wide enough for his shoulders, just tall enough that the guard ahead didn't have to duck.

The walls weren't stone. Not old, not magic. They were military metal. Welded, not conjured. And still, they felt less forgiving.

Merlin didn't ask where they were going. The guard didn't offer. There was no pretense of translation, no effort to bridge the language gap. Just direction. Momentum. Expectation.

The air smelled like rust and something chemical he couldn't place.

Two turns.

One reinforced door.

Then silence as the lead guard keyed in a sequence and stepped back.

It slid open.

The room wasn't large. Circular, maybe three meters across, with a single light source above a steel table bolted to the floor.

No runes. Just weight. And the sound of machines humming low and steady behind the walls.

One chair.

They didn't gesture.

But Merlin sat.

Not because they told him to.

Because it was the only thing in the room that wasn't meant to move.

The door closed behind him. The guards didn't follow.

Then came the second delay.

A minute? Maybe less. Hard to track. No clocks here.

Then another door opened.

A woman entered.

Older. Mid-forties, maybe. Pale uniform, black trim, two stripes on her shoulder. Not a soldier, not entirely. Not mage-class either. The kind of authority that didn't need an introduction to carry weight.

She sat across from him.

No greeting.

She pressed something at her collar. A small blue light blinked to life between them.

Her words came filtered. The accent fractured, but the translation worked.

"You're not from here."

Merlin didn't answer.

She didn't repeat it.

Just kept speaking. Clipped. Exact.

"You came through a Tier-Seven sealed emergence point. On restricted land. No identification. No emblem. No traceable command routing. You're armed."

Her eyes flicked down. His sword was gone. They'd taken it already.

"And you're quiet."

Still, he said nothing.

Her fingers moved again. Another button.

A symbol blinked on the table's surface, he didn't recognize the language, but he recognized the structure.

They were recording.

"I am Colonel Aras Talryn. I'm the highest-ranking officer in this district. You're under detention until you can be processed through foreign tactical ordinance review."

Another pause.

Then.

"Name."

He waited two full seconds before answering.

"Merlin."

"Just that?"

"It's the truth."

Her face didn't change.

But her tone did. Sharpened, just slightly.

"Your companions. Where are they from?"

He didn't glance away.

"Not from here."

"Where is 'here' to them?"

Silence.

Her fingers tapped twice.

"I can ask your friends directly."

"They won't understand you."

"We'll make them understand."

He leaned forward, slightly.

"Try."

The air in the room held still. Her gaze didn't flinch, but the tension shifted.

She pressed the last button.

The table went black.

She stood.

"You will be processed further. Until then—no communication."

Then she turned.

The door opened.

Merlin didn't move.

But the moment she left—

The system flickered to life again.

[The Smiling Witness is intrigued.]

[The Nameless Clockmaker has paused another second.]

[The First Lawkeeper writes to himself.]

[Observation maintained.]

Merlin sat back.