Isaac adjusted his glasses, voice sharp as ever.
"That's enough. You've seen your marks. Don't waste time complaining. Head to the next hall."
The students shuffled forward, still whispering among themselves. Some looked pleased, some annoyed, but no one dared argue. Merlin followed at the back, still carrying that grin of his like it was glued to his face. Sera walked ahead, arms folded, her steps steady.
The training hall they entered this time was wide and empty, the floor made of flat stone. It looked plain, but the cracks running across it made it feel like something heavy had once been forced against it. The walls were high and bare, not a single thing to distract your eyes.
Isaac's voice echoed.
"This test is simple. One on one, hand to hand. No weapons. No excuses. Use only what you have been taught."
That last part—what you have been taught—sat strange in Merlin's head. He didn't know why, but it sounded heavier than the rest.
The first fight started. Two students stepped up without hesitation, standing across from each other. They didn't raise fists or get into any stance Merlin had ever seen before. Instead, they lifted their hands, bending their fingers into odd shapes, almost like signs.
Merlin blinked. What are they doing?
The whistle blew. One of them moved his hand fast, cutting through the air. The other doubled forward, clutching his stomach like he'd been punched hard—but no hit landed. The crowd reacted like it was normal.
Merlin's eyes widened. What the hell was that?
The boy straightened and came back with his own strange hand movements. His opponent's legs buckled, almost sending him face-first into the floor. Merlin stared, not understanding how.
Match after match went the same. Fingers bent, palms twisted, wrists snapping into different shapes—and with every motion, something happened. Students got pushed back, tripped, or knocked over by things Merlin couldn't see.
Merlin's mouth felt dry. This isn't normal. What even is this? Am I the only one seeing this? He glanced around, but no one else looked confused. They watched calmly, some whispering about technique, others nodding like it was all routine.
Then Isaac's voice cut through the hall.
"Next—Sera and Merlin."
The hall went quiet for a moment. Then came the whispers. Some students laughed under their breath, others smirked openly. A few didn't even bother hiding their mocking looks. Merlin could feel every one of them, but he just stretched his shoulders and kept that grin on his face.
Sera was already at the center, red eyes locked on him. Her hair caught the light as she shifted, waiting. She didn't speak, didn't tease—just stood there like she knew how it was going to end.
Merlin stepped up to face her, his grin not moving even though his chest was heavy.
Isaac gave a sharp signal. "Begin."
The whistle blew.
Merlin rushed forward first, hands up like he had seen in movies, nothing like what the others had been doing. Sera didn't even flinch. She shifted her weight, caught his wrist, and with one smooth motion sent him flat on his back.
The class laughed. A couple clapped like it was already over.
Merlin rolled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "Not bad," he muttered, flashing his grin again. He rushed back in.
Sera's eyes narrowed, but her face stayed calm. This time she dodged, hooked his leg, and threw him down again.
Another laugh from the crowd. This time louder.
Merlin's body ached, but he pushed himself up again. He wasn't giving them the satisfaction. He lunged, swung, stumbled—Sera countered every move like she'd already seen it before he even made it. She never mocked, never teased, just kept ending it quickly.
It looked like she was toying with him, but she wasn't. She was just that far ahead.
Merlin slammed into the ground one more time, coughing. His body begged him to stay down, but he wiped his mouth and forced a grin. "Again."
"Merlin, it's done," Isaac called from the side, but Merlin shook his head, standing again on shaky legs.
The class laughed louder now, mocking him openly. Some whispered about how pathetic it was, others smirked like they'd been waiting to see him humiliated.
Sera caught his eyes for a second. There was no mockery in hers—only something sharp, unreadable. Then she knocked him down again, ending it for good.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling fast. His body was finished. His grin finally faded.
Isaac's voice cut through the noise.
"Enough. Next match."
The mocking whispers didn't stop as Merlin dragged himself up and limped back to the side. Still, he kept his head high, even though he felt the sting of every eye on him.
The fight ended. Sera stepped back without a word, while Merlin pushed himself up, sore all over but refusing to let it show. He clenched his fists once, then loosened them, forcing his shoulders straight as he walked back to the line.
The crowd didn't give him peace.
"Washed already."
"Top two? That's a joke."
"Guess the marks don't mean much after all."
The whispers weren't even whispers anymore. Some laughed, others shook their heads like they were disappointed in him personally.
Isaac's voice rose above them, calm but firm.
"Next pair."
Merlin stood still. He was supposed to walk back and watch, pretend like nothing just happened. But his feet didn't move. His chest tightened. His jaw clenched.
He glanced at Tony. The guy had that smirk on his face, the kind that said I knew you'd choke.
Merlin took a step forward.
"I want him."
The room went quiet for a second. Then the noise came back, twice as loud.
"What?"
"He's serious?"
"Doesn't he learn?"
Isaac's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak right away. He studied Merlin like he was weighing something.
Tony scoffed. "You just got wrecked, and you're asking for me? Don't embarrass yourself again."
Merlin's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not backing down."
He wasn't reckless this time. He wasn't smiling either. His eyes were steady, his stance grounded.
Isaac finally spoke. His tone was even, but there was something faint in it—something close to pleased.
"Very well. Merlin versus Tony. Step forward."
The students cheered, some laughing, others eager. Nobody expected anything but another humiliation.
But Merlin didn't hear them this time. All he heard was the pounding of his own heart.
Tony stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like he had been waiting for this all along. His grin was sharp, almost eager.
"Fine. Don't cry when it's over."
Merlin said nothing. He just lowered himself into stance, eyes fixed, body tight but not too tense. He couldn't afford to rush in the way he did with Sera. This was different.
"Begin," Isaac said.
The air between them tightened.
Tony moved first—fast, heavier than Sera. His steps dug into the stone, every strike like it wanted to crush Merlin flat. Merlin dodged, barely, the edge of a fist brushing his cheek as he swerved aside.
The crowd roared. Some shouted for Tony, others jeered Merlin, their voices pounding in his ears.
Merlin kept moving. He didn't strike often, only when there was space, and even then Tony blocked them easily. Still, he wasn't giving ground, and that alone made some of the whispers shift.
Hold out… just hold out…
But the fight stretched on, and Tony pressed harder. His rhythm grew sharper, every hit grazing closer, every dodge leaving Merlin's lungs tighter. The stone ground shook faintly under their feet.
"Time," Isaac finally called.
Neither of them stopped.
Merlin's teeth clenched, but he didn't break eye contact. Tony smirked, raising his hands again, ready to put this to an end. Isaac's voice didn't carry command this time—he didn't repeat himself.
The ground beneath them gave a sudden lurch.
At first it was small, like a tremor. The students leaned forward, murmuring. Then the plates shifted, tilting under their feet. Merlin jumped back instinctively, his body moving before his mind caught up.
Tony wasn't as lucky. His foot slid into a crack that hadn't been there a second ago. The stone clamped, twisted unnaturally as if something alive was gripping him.
His shout ripped across the hall. The sound of bone snapping echoed, sharp and sickening.
Merlin had moved to dodge, but his shoulder slammed into Tony's chest at the same moment. To everyone watching, it looked like Merlin had tackled him straight into the trap.
Silence fell, just for a breath. Then the noise hit all at once.
"He broke his leg!"
"Merlin did it—!"
"No way, did you see—"
Tony writhed on the floor, his leg bent wrong, his fists pounding the stone. The sight rooted Merlin to the spot, his breath gone. His chest tightened in a way he hadn't felt before—like it was his fault, even though he knew he hadn't touched that ground.
Isaac's voice cut through, firm but not shaken.
"Enough. Training is over. Return to your classes."
Students began filing out, the whispers sharp and mocking. Merlin felt their eyes on him, each one pinning the blame without saying the words out loud.
"Couldn't even fight fair."
"Knew he was trouble."
"Lucky hit. That's all it was."
Merlin stood frozen until the medics arrived, rushing Tony toward the infirmary. The crowd thinned. The noise faded.
Everyone left—except one.
The grey-haired boy lingered at the doorway, quiet. His eyes weren't mocking. They weren't accusing. They were heavy, concerned.
For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then the boy turned away and left, his silence louder than all the whispers.
And Merlin was left standing there, still hearing the snap of bone in his head.