Chapter Six: The End of a Harsh Course, the Beginning of an Even Harder One
Three men gathered around, discussing their duties and responsibilities.
One was an elderly man with glasses, wearing a neat, elegant suit. Another was a middle-aged man with large glasses and a black suit that made him look striking. The third was a bald man, unremarkable in appearance but charismatic.
These three were key members of Britain's secret organization, the King's Men.
The elder, Arthur, was the head of the organization. The middle-aged man, Harry, was the senior agent. And the bald man, Merlin, was the mastermind and intelligence officer.
Arthur looked at Merlin and asked,
"Merlin, is William ready for advanced training?"
Merlin glanced at Harry, then back at Arthur.
"In terms of theoretical knowledge, he's one of the best students I've ever had. But his physical readiness should be judged by Harry."
Harry, calm and steady, spoke up:
"Arthur, this boy's understanding is exceptional for his age. Whether it's martial arts or hand-to-hand combat, his reactions in critical situations—what he calls his death sense—are incredible. He is ready in every aspect."
Arthur paused, then nodded. The excitement and joy in his eyes were unmistakable.
"Prepare William. He will be the sharpest blade of the King's Men in the future."
He then looked at Merlin.
"Has his memory changed?"
Merlin shook his head.
"No. There's no change in his memory, and no sign of it returning. It's as if he's just a four-year-old child."
Arthur nodded happily.
"Good."
Harry frowned slightly but said nothing, and Merlin ignored it, passing on. For these three, the security of the country and the royal family mattered far more than one individual's memory—especially when that individual could be a tool in the hands of even higher authorities, just as they themselves were.
Merlin walked down the corridor and entered a gymnasium the size of a stadium. A tall, young boy with long, pale hair sprinted across the floor. Merlin stopped and glanced at the timer—William was on his final lap.
The boy pushed himself to his limit. Merlin grabbed the stopwatch:
"10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"
The timer read 5.50, marking his performance over ten kilometers. Merlin approached the exhausted, panting boy:
"William, you've made huge progress. That last ten seconds? You gave it everything you had."
William caught his breath, nodded slightly, and looked at Merlin expectantly. Merlin smiled:
"I have two pieces of news for you, William. One is good, the other even better. Which do you want to hear first?"
William smirked a little.
"Doesn't matter. Your news is never good anyway."
Merlin, unfazed, said with a calm smile:
"Well, the good news first: Your four-year training has ended, and you've excelled in it."
William laughed with relief, collapsing onto the floor and taking a deep breath.
"Finally… it's over… this torment is over."
He, William, had arrived here four years ago after losing his memory and had begun his training. Now, at sixteen, he was at an age where he wanted to experience life, spend time with friends, and satisfy his insatiable curiosity. But here, all the people around him were adults, and real peers were rare, only occasionally found online.
Merlin wouldn't let William get too comfortable or lazy. The better news hit like a missile, shattering his daydreams:
"In three days, you'll begin a new two-year advanced training program. By 2002, you'll be ready for missions. For now, enjoy your three-day break."
Without allowing a word of protest, Merlin turned and left. William lay there, mouth agape, cursing his harsh fate:
"Damn it…"
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