MERLIN: The Great Paladin Who Sought the Glory of the Kwasar
The First Lesson
The Last Day of Universal Year I
This chapter folds the Merlin-origin you supplied—Liberta, Aurelion Gate, the Dawn Oath, Harrowfen, Imperium, Elyndor Vael and Merlin’s dangerous hunger for the Glory of the Kwasar—into the current Tzion, EvoSapiens and Sumaya canon.
The final Universal Day of Universal Year I of Tzion had begun long before any human being alive on Earth had been born.
It would continue long after them.
Such was the absurdity of the Universal Calendar.
On the scale by which the Astrals measured the life of a Universe, the hours, days and years experienced by ordinary Sapiens were almost microscopic subdivisions. Civilisations could rise, destroy themselves and become archaeology without advancing the Universal Calendar by anything a mortal observer could comfortably perceive.
And so, while Tzion stood upon the final Universal Day of its first Universal Year, Earth continued to count mornings.
Teenagers still overslept.
Teachers still complained.
Music still mattered.
People still fell in love with the wrong person, said stupid things to their friends, worried about examinations and wondered whether anybody else had any idea what they were doing.
And six teenagers inside District 199 had spent most of the previous night wondering whether four figures from Arthurian mythology had just informed them that their entire understanding of reality was wrong.
They had.
Unfortunately, the end-of-course party was that evening.
And The Entourage were the headline act.
I
THE LAST NORMAL NIGHT
Cass had been staring at the same pair of drumsticks for nearly three minutes.
Max noticed.
“You realise they are not going to explain themselves.”
Cass looked at him.
“What?”
“The drumsticks.”
Cass threw one at him.
Max caught it.
They were inside the music studio that had belonged to them for so many years that nobody really called it a studio anymore.
It was simply the room.
The place where Tom had once learned to stop treating music as mathematics.
Where Cass had discovered that hitting things rhythmically was considered art instead of behavioural concern.
Where Max had first sung without immediately denying that he had done so.
Where Vega had brought a bass guitar into an argument and somehow won.
Where Cala had turned synthesised sound into atmosphere.
Where Kira had made a violin produce something so catastrophic that all five of the others had demanded she stop, only to become genuinely good at it several years later.
The room looked as it always did before a performance.
Terrible.
Cables crossed the floor.
A half-open case blocked the entrance.
Three discarded jackets occupied a chair designed for one person.
Kira's shoes were beneath the piano for reasons nobody understood.
Two drinks stood dangerously close to equipment worth more than most families outside Arkadia earned in a decade.
Tom was checking the performance sequence.
Again.
Vega was restringing her bass.
Again.
Cala was testing the transitions between patches.
Again.
Max was not doing anything visibly useful.
As usual.
Cass pointed the remaining drumstick towards Tom.
“Tell me you have been thinking about yesterday.”
Tom did not look up.
“I have been thinking about almost nothing else.”
“Good.”
“That does not mean I want to discuss it nine minutes before soundcheck.”
Cass stared.
“Merlin.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur.”
“Yes.”
“Lancelot.”
“Yes.”
“Morgana.”
“Yes.”
“Actual Merlin.”
Tom finally looked at him.
“I was present.”
“And Fernand believes them.”
“Yes.”
“And Reis believes them.”
“Yes.”
Cass leaned backwards.
“That is the part I hate most.”
Max laughed.
Vega looked over from the far side of the room.
“Why?”
“Because Reis does not believe anything he has not personally strangled with paperwork.”
“That is surprisingly accurate,” Cala said.
Kira was sitting on the floor painting one fingernail a colour that had clearly not been approved as part of that evening's performance styling.
She blew on it.
“I think Fernand looked scared.”
That quietened them.
Max stopped smiling.
Kira continued.
“Not scared of them.”
Tom understood.
“Scared of what they told him.”
“Yes.”
Cass rotated the stick between his fingers.
“They barely told us anything.”
“Earth isn't alone,” Cala said.
“We knew mathematically that alien life was probable,” Tom replied.
Vega gave him a look.
“That is not remotely the same thing as King Arthur turning up in Antonio Reis's office.”
“Correct.”
“And saying we're going to train with him.”
“Also correct.”
Max sat backwards on a chair.
“I still think Lancelot likes me.”
“He has known you for twenty minutes,” Vega said.
“Some connections are immediate.”
“He probably thinks you are irritating.”
“Again. Connection.”
Cass looked towards the ceiling.
“What if they are insane?”
Tom shook his head.
“Four coordinated delusional individuals do not bypass Arkadia security, demonstrate impossible physical capabilities in front of the High Warden and convince Fernand Claes to participate in a secret training program.”
“Five,” Max said.
Tom frowned.
“What?”
“Antonio is clearly part of the madness now.”
Vega put the bass down.
“Can we not do this tonight?”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued.
“We have spent our entire lives having people tell us we are different, important, dangerous, promising, unprecedented, the future, an experiment, a miracle or a problem.”
She looked towards Tom, Cass and Max.
“Especially you three.”
Then Cala and Kira.
“And apparently now four immortal medieval weirdos have arrived to tell us the same thing with better hair.”
Max smiled.
“Merlin's beard is excellent.”
Vega ignored him.
“I want one night where none of that matters.”
Silence.
Then she picked up her bass.
“Tonight we play.”
Cass nodded.
“Tonight we play.”
Kira lifted her violin.
“Tonight we play.”
Cala smiled.
Tom closed the performance schedule.
Max stood.
“All right.”
He picked up his guitar.
“Then let us be irresponsibly talented.”
The End-of-Course Festival
Arkadia knew how to construct spectacle.
The city had been born from catastrophe, but its people had eventually discovered that survival without celebration was simply a more organised form of misery.
Every educational cycle ended with a festival across the interconnected academy districts.
Food.
Music.
Athletic exhibitions.
Public projects.
Light installations.
Games suspended above the ocean.
Awards that students pretended not to care about until they won them.
The central event took place inside a transformed section of the Meridian Arena, the same monumental structure in which the Convergence Karate Championship had once taken place.
The fighting surfaces were gone.
In their place stood stages, elevated walkways and enormous transparent screens projecting images across the waters between Districts 199 and 200.
Students from every classification mixed beneath them.
Oasis.
Sapiens Altus.
Ordinary Sapiens.
The distinctions never disappeared completely.
But for a few hours they became quieter.
And that mattered.
Not every Altus was Jason Veyne.
Not every student from District 200 despised the Oasis.
Many had spent years studying beside them.
Fighting beside them.
Competing against them.
Falling in love with them.
Losing to them.
Winning against them.
Growing up beside people their parents had once described as biological categories.
Real life had a persistent habit of making prejudice inconvenient.
Kira spent almost twenty minutes speaking to an Altus girl she had defeated years earlier during the karate championship.
Nara Quell was older now, calmer, and still capable of making almost any conversation sound competitive.
“You got lucky.”
Kira stared.
“That tournament was years ago.”
“Luck has no expiration date.”
“You kicked me in the shoulder hard enough that I couldn't sleep on my right side.”
“You still won.”
“Exactly.”
Nara considered that.
“I dislike you.”
Kira hugged her.
Nara endured it with the expression of someone suffering an administrative penalty.
Nearby, Cala was speaking with Elior, the Oasis fighter who had once defeated her by a single point.
He had become one of District 199's most respected technical athletes.
“You are still too patient,” he told her.
“And you still mistake aggression for urgency.”
“It worked.”
“Once.”
“It only needed to.”
Cala smiled.
They touched fists.
Tom found himself surrounded by three younger Oasis students asking questions about a Mentis project he had completed several years earlier.
He tried to answer one.
Then another.
Then all three at once.
Max watched from a distance.
“He is enjoying that.”
Vega followed his gaze.
“He will deny it.”
“He enjoys being useful.”
“Everyone enjoys being useful.”
“No. Tom needs it.”
Vega looked at Max.
He smiled.
“You see equations. I see people.”
“You see things that get you punched.”
“Also true.”
Cass appeared holding enough food for several families.
“Have you two considered helping?”
Max looked at the plates.
“With what?”
“Preventing me from dropping civilization's last decent fried food onto the floor.”
Vega took one.
Cass looked offended.
“That was mine.”
“You asked for help.”
“Not that kind.”
For a while they were simply young.
No destiny.
No Goddark.
No Kwasars.
No mysterious Magisters.
Just six friends moving through a crowd filled with other young people who had known them for most of their lives.
They laughed with classmates.
Signed shirts.
Took photographs.
Listened to performers from other districts.
Cass was dragged into an improvised percussion competition and lost because he attempted something unnecessarily complicated.
He demanded a rematch.
Tom refused to participate in a group dance until Cala informed him that nobody had asked.
Max disappeared for eleven minutes and returned with three different people claiming he had promised to see them later.
Vega stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Networking.”
“That is not networking.”
“It could become networking.”
Kira nearly choked on her drink.
And throughout it all, Fernand watched them from a distance.
Not constantly.
He had spent years making certain they did not feel constantly watched.
But enough.
He had seen them as infants.
Children.
Adolescents.
He had watched them become The Entourage accidentally, in defiance of almost every developmental prediction the Oasis Program had produced.
Now he knew something he had never known before.
The origin of the Oasis existed beyond Earth.
The three hundred children he had spent decades protecting were not accidents.
They were not the product of some hidden laboratory.
Not even humanity's own mutation.
There was intention behind them.
Goddark.
A word he still struggled to accept.
An Architect.
A being who had apparently shaped life across scales Fernand could barely imagine.
And somewhere in that impossible hierarchy, something had noticed these six.
Fernand looked towards them.
Cass was trying to convince Tom that a dessert counted as nutritionally balanced because it contained fruit.
Max was encouraging him.
Vega was threatening to leave.
Kira had stolen the fruit.
Cala was laughing.
Fernand felt an unexpected tightness in his chest.
“What are you doing?”
Antonio Reis stood beside him.
Fernand did not turn.
“Watching them.”
“They are performing in twenty-three minutes.”
“I know.”
“You look worried.”
“I am.”
Antonio watched the six.
“About tomorrow?”
“About everything after tomorrow.”
Reis said nothing.
Fernand finally looked at him.
“You agreed very quickly.”
“No, I did not.”
“You agreed.”
“Yes.”
“You are concealing first contact with an extraterrestrial civilization from Supra.”
Antonio's gaze remained on the teenagers.
“I am concealing six children from becoming a supranational weapons program.”
Fernand studied him.
Antonio noticed.
“Do not look so surprised.”
“I have spent years accusing you of treating them like strategic resources.”
“And sometimes you were correct.”
Fernand said nothing.
Antonio continued.
“But resources can be protected from people who want to use them.”
“They are not resources.”
“No.”
Reis looked towards him.
“They are people.”
It was perhaps the simplest sentence Fernand had ever heard him say.
And one of the most important.
The Entourage
When the lights went down, the entire arena changed.
A roar rose from District 199.
Then from sections of District 200.
The six stood in darkness behind the stage.
No instructors.
No Fernand.
No Reis.
No program.
Just them.
Tom flexed his fingers once.
Cass rolled his shoulders.
Max checked his guitar.
Vega adjusted the strap of her bass.
Cala closed her eyes.
Kira held the violin against her chest.
Cass extended one fist.
The others joined it.
Six.
As always.
Tom spoke first.
“No errors.”
Vega looked at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“Now I hope you make one.”
“I don't intend to.”
“That is why you need to.”
Max smiled.
“This is the emotional support I value.”
Cala looked at all of them.
“Just listen.”
Cass nodded.
“To what?”
“To one another.”
The stage lights ignited.
And The Entourage walked out.
The noise was enormous.
Their name filled the screens behind them.
THE ENTOURAGE
They opened with one of their oldest compositions.
No official title had survived from childhood.
Among themselves they called it Found.
Tom began alone.
A simple piano sequence.
Not technically extraordinary.
Emotionally precise.
Then Cass entered.
A heartbeat beneath it.
Vega's bass transformed that pulse into momentum.
Max added guitar.
Cala widened the space around them with a slow layer of synthesis.
And Kira entered last.
Violin first.
Voice second.
The audience quietened.
That was always what surprised people.
The Entourage could be loud.
Very loud.
But their greatest strength was not volume.
It was the sensation that six different people were producing one emotional idea.
Tom built structure.
Cass made it move.
Vega gave it resistance.
Max made the music reach outward.
Cala held the spaces none of the others noticed.
Kira made it human.
The first song ended.
The arena erupted.
They did not stop.
The second piece was faster.
Cass almost lost the tempo deliberately just to irritate Tom.
Tom corrected without looking at him.
Vega caught the change.
Max followed.
Cala changed the sequence completely.
Kira laughed into the microphone.
The audience heard it.
They loved it.
By the third song, everyone in the arena was standing.
Oasis students.
Ordinary Sapiens.
Altus.
People who had spent years being told that one group represented natural humanity, another engineered humanity and another whatever came next.
For four minutes none of it mattered.
There were only lights.
Music.
Six teenagers playing as if the world outside the arena had never collapsed.
Their final song was called:
BLUE.
It had grown from a private word.
A signal used when anger became dangerous.
When Cass needed to stop.
When one of them needed to remember that self-control was a choice.
Over the years, the word had become something else.
A joke.
A promise.
A song.
Blue was the ocean around Arkadia.
Blue was the training light.
Blue was the colour they used when one of them needed the others.
The song began almost silently.
Then grew.
By the final movement, thousands of people were singing a melody that had once existed only between six children trying not to fall apart.
When the final note ended, the applause did not begin immediately.
There was one second of complete silence.
The best second.
The one they always remembered.
Then the arena exploded.
Cass stood.
Max raised his guitar.
Kira grabbed Vega around the shoulders.
Vega pretended to dislike it.
Cala laughed.
Tom looked at the audience.
And smiled.
Properly.
Max pointed.
“There!”
Tom immediately stopped.
“Too late. I saw it.”
The six bowed.
Together.
The New Elite
The trouble began forty-seven minutes later.
Naturally.
The performance area had become a social hall.
Music played from another stage.
Students moved between tables.
Most of The Entourage's equipment had already been secured.
Cass had managed to acquire a plate of food almost identical to the one he had eaten before performing.
Kira was speaking to two younger Oasis students.
Cala had disappeared briefly with friends from the academic wing.
Tom was discussing a piece of equipment with a sound engineer.
Max was surrounded by people.
Vega stood near the outer balcony enjoying the first moment of quiet she had experienced all night.
Then a familiar voice spoke behind her.
“Still collecting applause from people who don't know what they're looking at?”
Vega closed her eyes.
Jason Veyne.
She turned.
Jason had changed since the karate championship.
Taller.
Broader.
More controlled.
He had lost some of the childish arrogance.
Unfortunately, he had retained enough.
Rafe Calder and Silas Morn stood nearby.
Not quite behind him anymore.
They were adults now—or close enough to insist they were.
But old social structures survived.
District 200 still called families like theirs the New Elite.
The term had started as political branding.
Students often used it less kindly.
Vega looked at Jason.
“Hello.”
He smiled.
“That is all?”
“What would you prefer?”
“I expected something about my right shoulder.”
Vega almost smiled.
“So you remember.”
“I remember losing.”
“That is healthier than pretending it didn't happen.”
Jason looked towards the crowd.
“You people are very popular tonight.”
“You people?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Explain it.”
Jason looked towards Tom, Cass and Max.
“The Oasis.”
Then towards her.
“And their entourage.”
Vega's expression changed.
“You still haven't learned what the name means.”
“I know exactly what it means.”
“No.”
“You follow them.”
“Wrong.”
Jason smiled.
“Three ordinary girls attached themselves to three biological prodigies and suddenly everyone forgot which half of the group actually matters.”
Vega stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
Jason did.
Slowly.
“You. Do. Not. Matter.”
A voice interrupted.
“She matters to me.”
Kira had arrived.
Cass behind her.
Max a few steps further away.
Jason looked at them.
“Here they come.”
Cass put his plate down.
That was not a good sign.
Vega noticed.
“Cass.”
“I am fine.”
Jason looked at him.
“You always say that just before someone has to tell you to breathe.”
Cass's face changed.
Max moved closer.
“Jason.”
“What?”
“Tonight was going well.”
“It still is.”
“For you, perhaps.”
Jason looked towards the Oasis students gathered around the hall.
“You know what I find interesting?”
Nobody answered.
He continued anyway.
“We were promised a future.”
“The Altus.”
“Designed to carry humanity beyond disease, weakness and biological chance.”
Cass rolled his eyes.
Jason ignored him.
“Then three hundred babies appear from nowhere, and suddenly everything our parents built becomes second place.”
Vega understood.
There it was.
Not hatred.
Not entirely.
Fear.
Jason had grown up believing his existence was the culmination of human progress.
Then the Oasis arrived.
Something nobody had designed.
Something better at almost every measurable task.
Jason looked at Tom, who had now joined them.
“You never asked what that does to us.”
Tom answered calmly.
“It does not change your value.”
Jason laughed.
“Easy for you to say.”
“No.”
Tom stepped closer.
“It is mathematically obvious.”
Silas shook his head.
“Of course he makes it mathematics.”
Tom ignored him.
“If someone else's ability reduces your perception of your own worth, the problem is not their ability.”
Jason stared.
“You always did know exactly how to sound superior without technically saying anything superior.”
Tom's jaw tightened.
Max stepped between them slightly.
“Enough.”
Rafe looked at him.
“The peacemaker.”
“No.”
Max's voice was unusually cold.
“The person giving you an opportunity to end this before we all become very embarrassed tomorrow.”
Jason smiled.
“Afraid of your new teachers?”
That silenced them.
Tom's eyes sharpened.
Cass stopped moving.
Vega looked directly at Jason.
“What did you say?”
Jason saw the reaction.
He enjoyed it.
“Rumours travel.”
“There are no rumours,” Tom said.
“There are always rumours.”
Jason leaned towards him.
“Four strangers get special access to District 199. Reis clears a private training facility. Fernand cancels half your schedules.”
He smiled.
“Whatever you are doing, it is not subtle.”
Max looked around.
Too many people listening.
“Jason. Stop.”
“Or?”
There it was.
That stupid word.
The word that had caused half their problems since childhood.
Or what?
Cass answered before anyone could stop him.
“Or I make you stop.”
Vega turned.
“Cass.”
Jason's expression changed.
Not fear.
Satisfaction.
“Still the same.”
Cass stepped forward.
“You do not know anything about me.”
“I know you were found without parents.”
Everything stopped.
Max's face went blank.
Tom moved.
Not towards Jason.
Towards Cass.
Too late.
Jason continued.
“I know nobody can tell you who made you.”
Cass's breathing changed.
“Blue,” Cala said from behind them.
She had returned.
Cass heard her.
Jason did too.
He smiled.
“Blue.”
Cass closed his fists.
Kira stepped between them.
“Don't.”
Jason looked at her.
“And here comes the ordinary one to control the experiment.”
Cass moved.
Not to punch him.
To pull Kira out of the space between them.
Rafe interpreted the movement differently.
He grabbed Cass's arm.
That was the mistake.
Cass spun.
Years of Corpus training converted reaction into technique before thought caught up.
Rafe's grip disappeared.
His balance vanished.
Cass stopped himself before completing the throw.
But Silas shoved him from behind.
Max intercepted Silas.
Jason pushed Max.
Vega stepped in.
Someone knocked a table.
Glasses fell.
A crowd opened around them.
For perhaps five seconds, everything became chaos.
Not serious combat.
They were far too trained for that.
Which made it more dangerous.
Tom caught Jason's wrist before an attempted shove became a strike.
Vega blocked Rafe's path.
Cala dragged Kira away from Silas.
Max kept Cass from moving forward.
Then one of Jason's friends struck Max across the mouth.
Cass saw it.
Something inside him ignited.
He broke Max's grip.
One step.
Jason raised his hands.
Cass's fist moved.
And stopped.
One centimetre from Jason's face.
The air displaced by it touched Jason's skin.
Everyone froze.
Cass's entire body trembled.
Jason stared at the fist.
Then at Cass.
For the first time that evening, his confidence disappeared.
Cass whispered:
“Blue.”
He lowered his hand.
Security arrived.
Then instructors.
Jamal.
Sensei Akari.
Fernand.
The party was over.
After the Music
Fernand did not shout.
That was worse.
The six sat inside a classroom while Jason, Rafe and Silas were questioned elsewhere.
Jamal stood against one wall.
Akari stood near the door.
Fernand looked at The Entourage.
“You know better.”
Cass stared at the floor.
“He started—”
“I do not care.”
Cass looked up.
Fernand continued.
“If the only standard you require for your behaviour is whether someone else behaved worse first, then Concordia has failed you completely.”
Nobody answered.
Vega crossed her arms.
“They insulted us.”
“Yes.”
“They insulted Kira.”
“Yes.”
“Rafe grabbed Cass.”
“Yes.”
“Silas hit Max.”
“Yes.”
Fernand looked at all of them.
“And none of that changes what you control.”
Cass's jaw tightened.
“I stopped.”
Jamal spoke.
“At the last possible moment.”
“But I stopped.”
“Yes.”
Jamal approached.
“And that matters.”
Cass looked up.
“But tomorrow, four people are going to begin training you for something none of us fully understand.”
Jamal pointed towards Cass's hands.
“You cannot take that temper with you and simply hope you always stop one centimetre before disaster.”
Cass said nothing.
Akari looked at Vega.
“You won the Convergence Championship because you understood that Jason wanted your anger more than he wanted victory.”
Vega nodded.
“Tonight you nearly gave him both.”
That hurt.
Tom spoke.
“I should have moved us away sooner.”
Fernand looked at him.
“You are not responsible for every member of this group.”
Tom looked towards the others.
“That is debatable.”
“No.”
Fernand's voice softened.
“That is something else you need to learn.”
He took a breath.
“Go home.”
Cass frowned.
“No punishment?”
“Oh, there will be consequences.”
Max sighed.
“There it is.”
“But not tonight.”
Fernand looked at them.
“Sleep.”
He paused.
“You will need it.”
They did not sleep much.
Naturally.
II
THE FIRST LESSON
By the next Earth morning, Tzion's Universal Calendar had barely moved.
The same final Universal Day continued.
And six extremely tired teenagers entered a restricted training chamber beneath District 199.
No observation gallery.
No scoring displays.
No branded Oasis equipment.
No Mentis emblem.
No Corpus markers.
No Concordia circles.
Nothing.
Only a vast black floor.
White walls.
And four people waiting in the centre.
Merlin. Arthur. Morgana. Lancelot.
Fernand remained outside.
Antonio Reis was nowhere to be seen.
The doors closed.
Arthur looked at the six.
Then at the clock.
“You are late.”
Tom looked at the display.
“We are forty-three seconds early.”
Arthur looked at Merlin.
“I dislike him.”
Lancelot smiled.
“I like him.”
Merlin stepped forward.
“I heard about last night.”
Six expressions changed simultaneously.
Cass muttered:
“Of course you did.”
Merlin looked at him.
“Would you prefer I had not?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Merlin walked slowly before them.
“Before we discuss what you will become, we need to discuss what you currently are.”
Max whispered:
“This sounds promising.”
Morgana spoke without looking at him.
“It isn't.”
Max stopped.
Merlin faced Cass.
“Why did you nearly strike Jason?”
Cass answered immediately.
“He insulted my friends.”
“Wrong.”
Cass frowned.
“He attacked Max.”
“Also wrong.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
Cass stared at him.
Merlin waited.
Finally:
“He made me feel like I was nothing.”
There.
Nobody moved.
Merlin nodded.
“Better.”
He turned towards Vega.
“Why did you remain?”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You knew the confrontation was escalating. Why didn't you leave?”
“Because leaving would have looked weak.”
Merlin nodded.
“Good.”
Tom understood where this was going.
Merlin looked at him.
“You?”
“I believed I could control the situation.”
“And?”
“I could not.”
“Max?”
“I thought I could talk everyone down.”
“Could you?”
“No.”
“Cala?”
“I waited too long before intervening.”
“Kira?”
Kira hesitated.
“I wanted everyone to stop being cruel to one another.”
Lancelot breathed out through his nose.
Kira looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Morgana answered for him.
“He remembers being young enough to believe that was a strategy.”
“I was never that young,” Lancelot said.
Arthur looked at him.
“You were unbearable at every age.”
Merlin raised one hand.
Silence returned.
Then he said:
“The first lesson is not fighting.”
Cass looked disappointed.
“The first lesson is that an enemy who controls your emotion controls your body before touching you.”
Merlin's gaze moved across all six.
“Jason Veyne almost moved this entire group with words.”
No one liked hearing it.
“On the battlefields for which we are preparing you, the enemy will do more than insult you.”
His voice became colder.
“It will use the faces of the dead.”
Morgana's expression changed almost invisibly.
“It will use fear.”
Arthur.
“Pain.”
Lancelot.
“Confusion.”
Merlin.
“Love.”
The teenagers stared at him.
“So if a boy from District 200 can make you abandon formation because he knows which sentence hurts, you are not ready for what exists beyond Earth.”
Cass swallowed.
Merlin stepped back.
“That is not condemnation.”
He looked towards Fernand's closed observation window.
“It is why we are here.”
Remove the Numbers
Arthur ordered them to remove every monitoring device.
Training bracelets.
Power-regulation bands.
Medical interfaces.
Tom hesitated.
“These systems are mandatory during Corpus activity.”
Arthur held out one hand.
Tom slowly removed his.
The others followed.
Arthur placed all six devices on the floor.
Then stepped on them.
The equipment cracked.
Tom stared.
“That contains years of individual calibration data.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Then you should remember what matters.”
Tom's face was magnificent.
Lancelot turned away so nobody saw him laughing.
Arthur pointed towards the line.
“Again.”
They stood.
“No scores.”
Arthur walked before them.
“No rankings.”
Morgana joined him.
“No instructors telling you what your result means.”
Lancelot appeared at the other end of the line without anyone seeing him cross the room.
“No machines adjusting the difficulty to keep you safe.”
Cass turned.
“How did you—”
“Later.”
Merlin remained in front of them.
“From this moment onward, your first measurement is awareness.”
He touched his chest.
“Your second is control.”
Then pointed towards the other five.
“Your third is whether the people beside you remain standing.”
Cala looked at him.
“That sounds like Concordia.”
Merlin smiled faintly.
“Fernand Claes understood more than he knew.”
The first hour humiliated them.
Arthur taught posture.
They already knew posture.
Apparently they did not.
Morgana taught breathing.
They had practised breath control since childhood.
Apparently they did not know that either.
Lancelot made them walk from one end of the chamber to the other.
That sounded easy until he required all six to arrive at precisely the same moment without looking at one another.
They failed seventeen times.
Tom attempted to count.
Lancelot changed speed.
Cass tried to follow Max.
Morgana blocked his peripheral vision.
Cala began listening to footfalls.
That improved things.
Vega deliberately changed rhythm to test the group.
Arthur made them start again.
Kira began laughing.
Arthur made them start again.
Eventually the six crossed the room and stopped almost simultaneously.
Lancelot looked at Merlin.
“Acceptable.”
Arthur said:
“Barely.”
Cass bent forward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Arthur looked at him.
“You fought three adaptive machines and defeated them by changing opponents.”
Cass nodded.
“You defeated them because you discovered they understood information better than trust.”
Another nod.
Arthur stepped closer.
“And yet you still believe advanced training begins with punching harder.”
Cass straightened.
“No.”
“Good.”
Arthur turned.
“Again.”
Cass closed his eyes.
After two hours, Merlin finally called a halt.
The six sat against one wall.
Sweaty.
Frustrated.
No one had thrown a single punch.
Max looked towards Lancelot.
“You people are very strange teachers.”
“Magisters.”
“What is the difference?”
“You will discover that when Arthur decides you need conditioning.”
Arthur looked over.
Max immediately addressed Merlin.
“Teacher is fine.”
Merlin stepped into the centre of the chamber.
“It is time you understand why we are here.”
The room changed.
Even Lancelot stopped joking.
Merlin looked at them.
“We are not here to improve your Oasis evaluations.”
Cass nodded.
“We assumed.”
“We are not here to prepare you for another tournament.”
Vega folded her arms.
“Good.”
“We are not here because Earth requires better soldiers.”
Tom watched him.
“Then why?”
Merlin answered:
“Because we intend to make you capable of becoming Kwasars.”
Silence.
Six blank faces.
Finally Max raised a hand.
“What is a Kwasar?”
Lancelot looked at Merlin.
“This is going to take a while.”
THE SAPIENS
Morgana lifted one hand.
The training chamber darkened.
Stars appeared.
Not projected from machinery.
They formed directly in the air.
Millions of them.
The six teenagers slowly stood.
A vast sphere of light emerged at the centre.
Then worlds.
Galaxies.
Systems.
Tom stared.
“This is a simulation.”
“No,” Morgana said.
His expression changed.
“What is it?”
“Memory.”
The image expanded.
Merlin spoke.
“You believe Earth is the world of the Sapiens.”
He looked towards the tiny blue planet appearing among the stars.
“It is one world of the Sapiens.”
The map exploded outward.
The number of illuminated planets became impossible.
Thousands.
Millions.
More.
“Earth belongs to the Universe of Tzion.”
Merlin paused.
“Across Tzion exist innumerable worlds capable of sustaining Sapiens life. They are commonly known as Vita Worlds.”
Cass stared at the lights.
“How many?”
“Enough that the number will not help you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only useful answer today.”
The map changed.
A colossal world appeared.
Blue.
Green.
Ancient.
Almost impossible in scale.
“Urkulo.”
Kira whispered:
“The planet you came from.”
“Yes.”
“The Mother World.”
Merlin nodded.
“The first great template of Sapiens life within Tzion.”
Another figure appeared.
A man.
White hair.
Blue eyes.
Power contained inside a physical body.
“Kronos,” Merlin said.
The room became quiet.
“The physical incarnation of Goddark, Architect of Tzion.”
Tom looked at him.
“The being Fernand said created the Oasis.”
“Yes.”
Merlin continued.
“Long before Earth possessed life, long before the civilizations you study in Mentis, Goddark entered physical Tzion as Kronos.”
The image changed.
A woman appeared.
“From the sacred substance of Urkulo, he created the first Sapiens.”
The name appeared in light.
GENESIS.
Kira stared.
“The first?”
“The first.”
Vega looked towards Merlin.
“Everyone?”
“In the deepest sense, every Sapiens lineage of Tzion descends from the pattern Genesis established.”
Merlin looked at all six.
“Your species is not confined to Earth. Earth simply forgot.”
What Is a Kwasar?
The stars disappeared.
A single figure remained.
Human-shaped.
But radiating something beyond humanity.
Merlin spoke more quietly.
“A Kwasar is not another species.”
“You do not become a different race.”
“You do not stop being what you were.”
“A Kwasar is an ascended condition of existence.”
Tom frowned.
“Define ascended.”
“Body.”
Merlin touched his chest.
“Mind.”
His temple.
“Soul.”
Then the space around him.
“Spirit.”
Finally:
“And the deeper energies through which physical and spiritual existence interact.”
He looked towards the six.
“A Kwasar has crossed the threshold between mortal existence and demigodhood.”
Cass laughed nervously.
“Demigod.”
“Yes.”
“No metaphor.”
“No.”
Cass looked at Max.
Max did not have a joke.
Merlin continued.
“Kwasars are stronger than ordinary mortals. Faster. More resilient. Their perception changes. Their relationship with energy changes. They can awaken disciplines and powers you currently understand only as impossibilities.”
Lancelot disappeared.
Not moved.
Disappeared.
A fraction later he stood behind the six.
Max nearly jumped.
“Like that.”
Lancelot smiled.
“Like that.”
Arthur lifted one hand.
The entire floor beneath them trembled.
Cass stared.
Arthur lowered it.
Morgana looked towards Kira.
“Think of a number.”
Kira frowned.
“No.”
Morgana smiled.
Kira's eyes widened.
“You know it.”
“Yes.”
“That is horrifying.”
“Yes.”
Finally Merlin raised his hand.
Every broken piece of the monitoring equipment Arthur had destroyed lifted from the floor.
Each fragment separated.
Rotated.
Reassembled itself.
Tom watched, speechless.
Merlin let the restored devices float in front of them.
“Imperium.”
He lowered them gently.
“That was the first Kwasar discipline I ever awakened.”
Vega looked at him.
“You were born like us.”
Merlin met her eyes.
“No.”
A pause.
“I was born far less extraordinary than you.”
THE THREE PATHS
Merlin drew three circles in the air through Imperium.
“The origin of a Kwasar is not always the same.”
The first circle ignited.
“Some are created directly by an Architect.”
Cass pointed.
“Goddark.”
“In Tzion, yes.”
The second circle darkened.
“Some are born through Kwasar reproduction.”
Merlin's expression changed.
“That lineage is known as Kwasar Eclipse.”
Tom immediately asked:
“Why Eclipse?”
“Because the subject carries laws, history and prohibitions you are nowhere near ready to study.”
Tom clearly disliked that.
Merlin continued before he could argue.
“And the third path…”
The final circle remained empty.
Then a simple human silhouette appeared within it.
“…begins mortal.”
Vega stared.
Merlin nodded.
“A Sapiens can rise.”
Cass looked at Tom.
Tom looked at Max.
Kira looked at Merlin.
“A normal Sapiens?”
“Yes.”
“No special birth?”
“Yes.”
“No genetic modification?”
“Yes.”
Merlin looked towards Vega, Cala and Kira.
“That is why the three of you are here.”
Then he said:
“I was born a simple Sapiens.”
The room became silent again.
“I was not created as a Kwasar.”
“I did not inherit it.”
“No Eclipse blood placed divinity in me.”
“I began mortal.”
He looked at them.
“And I walked.”
THE EVOSAPIENS
Tom turned back towards the map.
“Then the Oasis.”
Merlin nodded.
“Yes.”
The image of the three hundred infant records appeared.
Not stolen from Arkadia.
Reconstructed from deeper knowledge.
“The beings Fernand calls EvoSapiens Oasis did not appear by accident.”
Cass stared at the faces.
“You know where we came from.”
“Yes.”
Cass stood.
“Then tell me.”
Merlin did not retreat from the intensity.
“You were created by Goddark.”
Nothing.
For several seconds Cass simply looked at him.
Max whispered:
“What?”
Merlin continued.
“The Sumaya war had escalated beyond the calculations of the Kwasar orders. Tzion was losing worlds faster than the existing Kwasar population could protect them.”
He looked towards the map.
“Goddark required a new possibility.”
The Oasis symbols spread across different sectors of Tzion.
“EvoSapiens.”
Tom's eyes moved across the data.
“There are others.”
“Yes.”
“Earth is not the only cohort.”
“No.”
Cass's voice was different now.
“So we were made.”
“Yes.”
“For war.”
Merlin hesitated.
“For possibility.”
Cass laughed bitterly.
“That sounds better.”
“It is more accurate.”
“Were we made to fight?”
“You were made with a greater compatibility for ascension.”
Tom stepped forward.
“Biological?”
“Biological.”
“Neurological?”
“Yes.”
“Spiritual?”
“Yes.”
Tom stopped.
Merlin continued.
“Goddark refined the Sapiens pattern.”
Max stared.
“We're genetically superior.”
“No.”
The answer came sharply.
Max blinked.
Merlin stepped closer.
“Never confuse suitability with worth.”
He pointed towards Vega.
“Is she worth less than you because you recover faster?”
“No.”
“Is Cala worth less because your nervous system processes information differently?”
“No.”
“Is Kira worth less because your physical thresholds exceed hers?”
“No.”
“Then remove the word superior.”
Merlin touched Max's chest.
“You are not better people.”
Then his forehead.
“You are a more deliberately balanced Sapiens architecture.”
He looked at Tom and Cass.
“Body, mind, nervous system, spiritual resonance and genetic stability aligned in a way Goddark believed would allow the Kwasar path to be entered more efficiently.”
Tom whispered:
“An ascension-compatible genome.”
Merlin considered it.
“Crude.”
Tom frowned.
“But acceptable.”
Tom nodded.
Merlin smiled faintly.
“The EvoSapiens are among Goddark's most beautiful works.”
Cass looked at him.
“Beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“A weapon can be beautiful.”
Merlin's expression hardened.
“So can a child.”
Cass stopped.
Merlin continued.
“You were not created complete.”
“You were created capable.”
“That difference is everything.”
Vega stood.
“Then why us?”
Merlin looked at her.
“Us?”
“The three of them.”
She pointed towards Tom, Cass and Max.
“They are EvoSapiens.”
Then herself, Cala and Kira.
“We are not.”
“Yes.”
“You supposedly need people who can become Kwasars quickly.”
“Yes.”
“So why waste half the first group on ordinary Sapiens?”
Arthur looked towards Merlin.
Merlin almost smiled.
“That question is one of the reasons you are here.”
Vega frowned.
Merlin continued.
“Goddark did not identify three Oasis.”
He looked at all six.
“He identified:
THE ENTOURAGE.”
The words landed differently.
“When the six of you are separated, Goddark perceives six remarkable young beings.”
“When you are together…”
Morgana completed the sentence.
“…the possibilities change.”
Tom stared.
“What does that mean?”
“We do not know.”
Tom blinked.
“You don't know.”
“No.”
“Goddark doesn't know.”
“No.”
Tom looked genuinely offended by reality.
Lancelot whispered to Max:
“I like him more every minute.”
Merlin continued.
“The three ordinary Sapiens among you are not mistakes in the selection.”
He looked towards Vega, Cala and Kira.
“You are part of the phenomenon.”
Kira whispered:
“Chosen.”
Merlin's expression changed.
“Be careful with that word.”
“Goddark called us—”
“I know what he called you.”
Merlin moved closer.
“Being chosen does not make you destined to succeed.”
“It means someone has chosen to give you an opportunity.”
“What happens next remains yours.”
WHY NOW?
Cala finally asked:
“What happened?”
Merlin looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep speaking as though you are running out of time.”
She looked towards the map.
“If Kwasars have existed for billions of years, why suddenly create EvoSapiens?”
The four members of Excalibur 4 became still.
Cala noticed.
“So something changed.”
Merlin nodded.
“The Sumaya changed.”
Morgana darkened the room again.
The stars returned.
Then some began to disappear.
Not explode.
Go dark.
“The Sumaya are entities originating from a reality that does not belong to the recognised architecture of the Cosmos.”
Merlin did not yet say Eklis.
Not today.
“They began without stable physical bodies.”
“They observed.”
“They fed.”
“They learned.”
Then shapes appeared.
Rapax.
Raptax.
Putrids.
“Their servants entered physical Universes.”
“Their experiments improved.”
“They learned to use flesh.”
“DNA.”
“Technology.”
“Magic.”
“The dead.”
Kira's face changed.
“The dead?”
Merlin looked at her.
“Yes.”
No elaboration.
Not yet.
The map pulled inward towards Tzion.
“Earth is currently undergoing ecological and social collapse.”
Antonio Reis and Supra had spent generations trying to stop it.
“But Earth is not unique.”
World after world illuminated.
Then reddened.
“Across Tzion, Vita Worlds are failing.”
Some through war.
Some through exploitation.
Some through climate collapse.
Some through Sumaya infiltration.
Some through crises the teenagers could not yet understand.
“Civilizations are dying faster than Kwasar intervention can stabilise them.”
Cass stared.
“How many planets?”
Merlin answered softly.
“Too many.”
Tom asked:
“Billions?”
Merlin did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Max looked towards Earth.
“So Arkadia…”
“…is one small response to a crisis occurring across an entire Universe.”
Merlin nodded.
“The people of Earth believe they are trying to save one planet.”
He looked at them.
“You are living inside a symptom of something much larger.”
Vega whispered:
“Is Tzion dying?”
Silence.
Merlin's answer was honest.
“It could.”
No teenager spoke for several moments.
Arthur finally stepped forward.
“That is why there are not enough Kwasars.”
Cass looked at him.
“How many do you need?”
Arthur answered:
“More.”
“That is not a number.”
“No number is enough if we train them badly.”
Merlin continued.
“The existing orders cannot simply create Kwasars by decree.”
“Ascension is dangerous.”
“Slow.”
“Rare.”
“And forcing it would produce catastrophe.”
“So Goddark created the EvoSapiens.”
“Not guaranteed Kwasars.”
“Candidates with a more efficient path.”
Tom looked towards the three hundred Oasis signatures.
“All three hundred on Earth?”
“Potentially.”
“Then why aren't you training them?”
Merlin smiled.
“Because armies do not begin with three hundred teachers who know nothing.”
The six looked at him.
“They begin with a first cadre.”
An image appeared.
A chessboard.
Max groaned.
“Tom is going to love this.”
Tom ignored him.
Merlin touched two pieces.
Bishops.
“In ancient Kwasar instruction, when a large group of Prenovas required formation, Magisters selected a very small number of advanced students first.”
“The first line.”
“The trusted cadre.”
“The ones expected to understand the principles deeply enough to help extend them later.”
“These students are known as:
PRENOVA BISHOPS.”
Cass stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Bishops.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Chess.”
Tom nodded.
“Diagonal movement. Indirect influence across the board.”
Merlin looked pleased.
“Exactly.”
Vega looked at Tom.
“Do not encourage him.”
Merlin continued.
“A Prenova Bishop is not a commander by right.”
“Not a superior being.”
“Not a favourite.”
“It is responsibility.”
He looked at all six.
“You learn first.”
“You fail first.”
“You endure first.”
“And if you become capable…”
He pointed towards the three hundred Oasis signatures.
“…you help us open the path for those who come after you.”
Cala understood.
“Your right hand.”
“Something like it.”
Kira looked at the others.
“Six.”
“Yes.”
“Always six?”
“Not always.”
Merlin looked at them.
“But often enough that some traditions consider six ideal.”
Max leaned towards Cass.
“That definitely means we are mystical.”
“It means someone likes symmetry.”
Tom glared at them.
THE CHOICE
Vega asked the most important question.
“Do we get to say no?”
Arthur's expression changed.
Lancelot looked towards Merlin.
Morgana watched Vega carefully.
Merlin answered immediately.
“Yes.”
Vega had not expected that.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“You need us.”
“Yes.”
“Tzion might be dying.”
“Yes.”
“You have three hundred Oasis to train.”
“Yes.”
“And we can just leave.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Merlin looked at her for a long time.
“Because a Kwasar created without choice is not a Kwasar.”
The room became quiet.
“Power without free will produces obedience.”
“Ascension requires identity.”
“Responsibility.”
“Judgement.”
“And the willingness to remain yourself when becoming more than yourself becomes possible.”
He stepped closer.
“If you do this because we command you, you will fail.”
“If you do it because Goddark chose you, you may still fail.”
“If you do it because you want power, you may become dangerous.”
“If you do it because you are afraid…”
He paused.
“…you will discover what fear does when given the strength of a demigod.”
Cass swallowed.
Merlin looked at all six.
“So yes.”
“You can walk away.”
No one moved.
Lancelot waited.
Arthur waited.
Morgana waited.
Merlin did not pressure them.
Finally Max spoke.
“I have a question.”
“Go on.”
“You said you were ordinary.”
“Yes.”
“And now…”
He gestured vaguely at Merlin.
“…this.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Merlin looked at the six.
For the first time that morning, something changed in his face.
Not Magister.
Not legendary Excelsior.
Not the being Earth remembered as a wizard.
Something older.
More vulnerable.
“I spent most of my youth asking exactly the same question you have spent yours asking.”
Tom frowned.
“Which one?”
Merlin looked at him.
“WHAT AM I FOR?”
He walked towards the far wall.
The chamber changed.
Stone appeared.
White cliffs.
A fortress beneath a distant moon.
The six slowly sat.
Merlin looked at the memory.
“Before I was your Magister…”
His voice lowered.
“…I was a paladin.”
And then he began.
III
MERLIN
THE PALADIN WHO SOUGHT THE GLORY OF THE KWASAR
“In the ancient days of Tzion, in a galaxy so distant from Earth that your current technology would die before crossing the smallest fraction of the journey, there was a Vita World called:
LIBERTA.”
The image expanded around them.
Blue oceans.
White mountains.
Vast forests.
Civilisations unknown to Earth.
“I was born there.”
Cass looked towards the legendary Kwasar.
Merlin smiled faintly.
“No prophecy.”
“No cosmic sign.”
“No Architect announcing my importance.”
“I was simply born.”
The Mortal Beginning
Upon the eastern cliffs of Liberta stood Aurelion Gate.
A fortress.
A sanctuary.
A military order.
A temple.
Its white walls rose above a valley filled with ancient roads, ruined battlefields and shrines older than the kingdoms surrounding them.
Within it lived the:
ORDER OF THE DAWN OATH.
Paladins.
Not Kwasars.
Not demigods.
Sapiens.
Mortal defenders trained to place themselves between ordinary people and the things that hunted them.
Young Merlin watched them from childhood.
Their armour fascinated him.
Their swords.
Their rituals.
But most of all:
their endurance.
“Children often see warriors and imagine victory,” Merlin told The Entourage.
“I saw their scars.”
He had noticed how older paladins moved when they thought nobody watched.
The stiffness in damaged shoulders.
The silence after funerals.
The way some stared too long at empty chairs.
Merlin wanted to understand what made a person willingly return to battle after discovering what battle actually was.
When he became old enough, he presented himself before the masters of the Order.
He placed both hands upon the altar of the First Flame.
And said:
“I do not ask to be protected. I ask to be forged.”
Arthur glanced towards Cass.
Cass noticed.
“What?”
Arthur said nothing.
Merlin continued.
Training began.
Sword until the palms opened.
Shield until the shoulders failed.
Running until the lungs burned.
Silence.
Prayer.
Restraint.
Service.
The cleaning of armour belonging to warriors who outranked him.
The burial of the dead.
The protection of people who would never know his name.
Merlin learned that the first weapon of a paladin was not steel.
It was:
WILL.
But even then, something existed inside him that the Dawn Oath had not placed there.
Ambition.
The Glory of the Kwasar
Liberta knew the stories.
Kwasars who had appeared on distant worlds.
Champions who had once been mortal.
Figures whose names survived across ages no kingdom could imagine.
Merlin consumed those legends.
Not casually.
Obsessively.
He wanted to know how.
How could a Sapiens stop being limited by ordinary mortality?
What separated the person who died beneath a sword from the person who learned to command reality?
What did the Astrals see?
What did the Architects recognise?
Why one mortal and not another?
Merlin wanted:
THE GLORY OF THE KWASAR.
At first, he told himself the desire was noble.
If monsters grew stronger, defenders needed to grow stronger.
If one paladin could save a village, a Kwasar could save a world.
If one sword could defend ten people, perhaps divine power could defend millions.
All true.
None complete.
Because Merlin also feared something.
Being small.
Being forgotten.
Dying after a lifetime of sacrifice and discovering that the Universe continued without noticing.
He wanted the heavens to look at him.
And say:
YOU ARE MORE.
Merlin looked directly at The Entourage.
“That desire nearly destroyed me.”
Cass shifted.
“Wanting to be powerful?”
“No.”
“Wanting power to tell me who I was.”
That answer stayed with them.
Harrowfen
The first impossible thing happened before Merlin completed his paladin vows.
During the winter of the third red moon, corrupted creatures descended from Mordrath Vale.
The Order rode out.
Merlin was ordered to remain behind.
He disobeyed.
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Merlin noticed.
“I was young.”
Lancelot smiled.
“Finally, something relatable.”
Merlin ignored him.
He reached the village of Harrowfen after the barricades had already fallen.
Homes burned.
People ran through smoke.
One enormous horned creature cornered several children inside a collapsed chapel.
Merlin charged.
He lost.
The creature struck him through a wall.
His shield cracked.
His sword left his hand.
Blood filled his mouth.
He could barely stand.
The creature turned towards the children.
And something inside Merlin opened.
His sword moved.
Not because he touched it.
Because he commanded it.
The blade lifted from the ground.
The beast stopped.
Merlin extended one hand.
The sword flew.
It struck the creature through the shoulder and pinned it to the chapel wall.
Then the stones began to rise.
Broken beams.
Iron.
Debris.
Everything around the young paladin trembled.
His will touched matter.
And matter answered.
Merlin whispered one word:
“OBEY.”
The world moved.
That was his first awakening of:
IMPERIUM.
In the training chamber beneath District 199, Cass stared at Merlin.
“You awakened Kwasar power before becoming Kwasar.”
“A fragment.”
“Like Tara and Nexo,” Morgana said quietly.
The teenagers did not know who Tara was.
Yet.
Merlin continued.
“Such awakenings happen.”
“Rarely.”
“They do not make someone Kwasar.”
“They indicate possibility.”
After Harrowfen, the elders tested him.
Move a stone.
He moved ten.
Disarm one paladin.
He disarmed six.
Stop one arrow.
He held an entire volley in the air.
The Order admired him.
And feared him.
Because Imperium responded to emotion.
Calm produced precision.
Anger produced damage.
The elders told him:
“Power is not proof of worth.”
But young Merlin heard only:
Power is proof that the path exists.
The Starless Vigil
Every nine years, Aurelion Gate extinguished every flame.
The paladins stood beneath a dark sky and renewed their vows.
Merlin climbed the highest tower alone.
He carried his sword.
His shield.
And a fragment of strange black crystal recovered from Harrowfen.
There, beneath the starless sky, he made an oath no Magister had authorised.
“I shall not remain as I was born.
I shall climb beyond the limits of blood.
I shall seek the gaze of the Astrals.
I shall earn the judgement of the Architect.
And if Goddark looks upon me, I shall become worthy of the Glory of the Kwasar.”
Nothing happened.
Cass frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“No lightning?”
“No.”
“Voice?”
“No.”
“Glowing eyes?”
“No.”
Lancelot murmured:
“Disappointing story.”
Merlin gave him a look.
Lancelot smiled.
Merlin continued.
“The Universe does not owe you an immediate response because you make a dramatic promise.”
Max nodded.
“That should probably be written somewhere.”
The Conflict
Merlin became stronger.
And more dangerous.
He learned to recall his sword through Imperium.
Raise his shield without touching it.
Stop falling stone.
Alter trajectories.
Pull weapons from hands.
Leap by pushing invisible force against the earth.
But every new capability made the same thought more tempting:
If matter obeyed him, why not destiny?
The Order of the Dawn Oath could no longer teach him the path he wanted.
So he searched.
Libraries.
Ruins.
Forbidden records.
Fragments of ancient Kwasar instruction.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
ELYNDOR VAEL.
The Silent Magister of the Astral Steps.
No two records agreed about him.
Some called him Kwasar.
Some claimed he had once trained Kwasars.
Some claimed he had failed ascension and survived something no one was supposed to survive.
Others insisted he was simply a very old liar.
Merlin smiled.
“The last possibility seemed increasingly credible when I met him.”
Lancelot laughed.
Arthur almost did.
Almost.
The Glass Desert of Syrath
The trail led to the Monastery of the Hollow Star beyond the glass deserts of Syrath.
The desert had been transformed in an ancient cosmic catastrophe.
Its sand reflected the sky.
At noon, light blinded travellers.
At night, stars appeared beneath their feet.
For seven days Merlin crossed it.
Water disappeared.
Sleep became impossible.
Then the desert began showing him things.
A version of himself crowned.
A version adored.
A version feared.
A version standing above the bodies of friends.
A version wearing living white and gold armour he had never seen.
A version kneeling before a presence he could not comprehend.
And one version in which entire populations bowed not from love...
but terror.
On the seventh day Merlin collapsed.
The glass rose around him.
Thousands of fragments.
Each reflecting another Merlin.
Hero.
Tyrant.
Martyr.
Saint.
Conqueror.
Monster.
Then a voice asked:
“Which one do you seek to become?”
Merlin could not answer.
When he awakened, he lay before the Monastery of the Hollow Star.
Elyndor Vael
The Silent Magister was old.
Blind.
Unimpressive.
He carried a wooden staff.
No magnificent armour.
No celestial weapon.
No crown.
Merlin almost believed he had travelled across a lethal desert for nothing.
Then every loose stone inside the monastery rose from the floor.
Merlin had not moved them.
Elyndor had.
Without gesture.
Without effort.
The old man said:
“You seek the Glory of the Kwasar.”
Merlin knelt.
“I do.”
“Why?”
“To protect Tzion.”
“That is the answer of a paladin.”
“It is true.”
“It is part of the truth.”
Merlin said nothing.
Elyndor walked closer.
“You also want to be remembered.”
The accusation went deeper than any sword.
Merlin expected judgement.
Instead Elyndor said:
“Good.”
Merlin looked up.
“A hidden wound becomes poison. A revealed wound can become discipline.”
And that became the beginning of Merlin's true education.
DOMINION
Elyndor taught him that the first great threshold was not power.
It was:
DOMINION.
Merlin had assumed Dominion meant control of Imperium.
Elyndor corrected him.
Dominion meant control of Merlin.
He placed one thousand pieces of glass around him.
“Hold them.”
Merlin did.
“Do not break one.”
Hours passed.
Muscles trembled.
Blood came from Merlin's nose.
One fragment cracked.
“Again.”
Another day, Elyndor placed an enemy beneath a falling column.
Merlin hated the man.
The man had murdered civilians.
Merlin could save him.
Or allow gravity to execute judgement.
Merlin stopped the pillar.
Elyndor asked:
“Why?”
“Because I am not gravity.”
Another day, Merlin had to lose.
Deliberately.
No anger.
No excuse.
No demand for another attempt.
That nearly proved harder.
Vega smiled at that.
Merlin saw.
“Yes.”
She stopped.
“You understand.”
“I hate losing.”
“So did I.”
“Did you stop?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“I learned that hatred of losing and inability to lose are different weaknesses.”
Vega nodded slowly.
SACRIFICE
The second threshold was worse.
Elyndor refused to explain it in advance.
“You cannot rehearse true sacrifice.”
Merlin did not understand.
Until Malakar Voss arrived.
The name had haunted failed ascension stories throughout Liberta.
A warrior who had once sought Kwasar glory.
Powerful.
Brilliant.
Devoted.
And rejected.
Not because he lacked strength.
Because when Judgement came, he had chosen himself.
Malakar had refused the cost.
Then blamed the Cosmos.
He began hunting those who walked the path he had failed.
Not always to kill them.
To corrupt them.
He offered shortcuts.
Power without discipline.
Ascension without judgement.
Glory without surrender.
The black fragment from Harrowfen belonged to his influence.
Voidglass.
A substance that responded to ambition.
Amplified it.
Fed it.
Whispered:
You deserve more.
Malakar had sensed Merlin years earlier.
Harrowfen had been a test.
Merlin had survived.
So Malakar came personally.
The Fall of Aurelion Gate
The attack began at dawn.
The same courtyard where Merlin had once watched the paladins train became a battlefield.
Voidglass creatures breached the walls.
Paladins died.
Merlin returned from the monastery to find the place that had created him burning.
His first instinct was rage.
Imperium answered.
Entire sections of the fortress tore free.
Enemy bodies rose.
Steel bent.
Stone broke.
For several terrible minutes Merlin was magnificent.
And uncontrolled.
Malakar appeared in the centre of the destruction.
He wore black armour.
No Kwasar radiance.
No Astral sanction.
Only power taken through methods the legitimate orders had forbidden.
He watched Merlin destroy his servants.
Then applauded.
“There you are.”
Merlin attacked.
Malakar stopped Oathwake in the air.
With one hand.
“You still ask permission from Gods who do not care whether you live.”
Merlin pushed.
The sword trembled.
“They rejected you.”
“They have not judged me.”
“Exactly.”
Malakar smiled.
“How long will you crawl before beings above you decide you are allowed to stand?”
He offered Merlin the Voidglass.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
Merlin felt it.
Power.
Immediate.
Enough to save Aurelion Gate.
Enough to destroy Malakar.
Enough to leap beyond everything Elyndor had taught him.
All he needed was to accept.
Cass whispered:
“Did you?”
Merlin looked at him.
“For one moment, I wanted to more than I have ever wanted anything.”
Then Merlin heard screaming.
Children.
The lower sanctuary had collapsed.
The fortress core was failing.
Malakar was vulnerable.
Merlin could attack him.
Perhaps kill him.
Perhaps claim what he had spent years seeking.
Or turn away.
Save people.
And allow the enemy to escape.
Every part of the young Merlin who wanted glory screamed:
Finish him.
Elyndor's lesson returned.
Power removes excuses.
The choice becomes yours.
Merlin lowered his sword.
Malakar stared.
“What are you doing?”
Merlin turned away from him.
He ran towards the sanctuary.
Malakar laughed.
“You will lose me.”
“Yes.”
“You may never have another chance.”
Merlin used Imperium to hold the collapsing structure.
Paladins pulled survivors out.
Stone crushed his body downward.
Blood covered him.
Malakar screamed:
“LOOK AT ME.”
Merlin refused.
One child.
Then another.
Then another.
The roof collapsed further.
Merlin fell to one knee.
Oathwake dropped.
Malakar could have killed him.
Perhaps that was what he wanted.
Instead he watched.
Because for the first time he did not understand Merlin.
The final child escaped.
The sanctuary collapsed.
Merlin disappeared beneath it.
The True Sacrifice
Merlin awakened beneath stone.
Unable to move.
Imperium gone.
Body broken.
A strange peace entered him.
He realised something.
He might die.
Nobody would know what decision he had made.
Malakar could leave.
History could remember the attack as failure.
His name might disappear completely.
And for the first time...
that was acceptable.
He had saved them.
That was enough.
A voice reached him.
Elyndor.
Not physically.
Through something Merlin did not yet know as Mystica.
“What do you seek?”
Merlin tried to answer:
“Ascension.”
The word felt false.
Again:
“What do you seek?”
“Glory.”
False.
“What do you seek?”
Merlin thought of the children.
The villagers at Harrowfen.
The paladins.
Aurelion Gate.
Every small life his ambition had once treated as evidence for some greater destiny.
Finally he answered:
“Let them live.”
Silence.
Then:
“Good.”
JUDGEMENT
The stones vanished.
Not physically.
For one impossible instant, Merlin's perception moved beyond Liberta.
Beyond the fortress.
Beyond the stars.
He saw Tzion.
Not all of it.
No mortal mind could.
But enough.
Vita Worlds.
Civilizations.
Births.
Wars.
Lives.
Countless lives.
Then something greater touched his awareness.
Not Silke.
Not an Astral council.
Something intimately bound to Tzion.
GODDARK.
Merlin could not see him.
The presence was too vast.
He only felt the question:
WHY DO YOU SEEK POWER?
Years earlier he would have answered:
To become worthy.
To be remembered.
To protect the Universe.
Now:
“Because there are people I cannot protect without it.”
The presence remained.
Merlin continued.
“But if becoming greater means becoming less capable of seeing them…”
He thought of the children.
The villagers.
The ordinary.
The small.
“…then leave me mortal.”
The Universe became silent.
And Goddark answered:
RISE.
The Ascension of Merlin
Merlin's mortal heart stopped.
Cass looked sharply at him.
Merlin nodded.
“For a moment.”
His body broke apart into light.
Not destroyed.
Rewritten.
The mortal structures that had carried Imperium opened to something greater.
Mind.
Body.
Soul.
Spirit.
All forced into alignment.
Pain beyond pain.
Then silence.
Merlin felt the boundary he had spent his life pushing against.
And crossed it.
His heart began again.
But the rhythm was different.
He opened his eyes.
The world contained things he had never perceived.
Energy.
Spiritual resonance.
The shape of living presence.
The movement of forces beneath matter.
Imperium no longer felt like a miracle.
It felt like a language he had previously spoken with one word.
Around his body appeared the first manifestation of the greater symbiotic architecture that would eventually lead him toward the Sublime Skin he wore now.
He stood.
No longer merely Sapiens.
Still Sapiens.
But ascended.
A Kwasar.
Malakar Voss remained at Aurelion Gate.
Waiting.
He saw Merlin emerge from the ruins.
And understood immediately.
“No.”
Merlin lifted one hand.
Malakar's weapon left his grasp.
His armour locked around him.
Stone rose.
Air compressed.
Oathwake crossed the courtyard and entered Merlin's palm.
But Merlin did not kill him.
Vega frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I no longer needed to prove I could.”
“What happened to him?”
“That is another story.”
Lancelot looked towards the teenagers.
“A very long one.”
Merlin nodded.
“And not today's.”
THE GLORY
The memory faded.
The training chamber returned.
Six teenagers sat silently.
Merlin stood before them.
No fortress.
No Liberta.
No Malakar.
Only the Magister.
Cass was the first to speak.
“So that was it.”
“What?”
“The Glory of the Kwasar.”
Merlin looked towards him.
“No.”
Cass frowned.
Merlin touched the white and gold architecture hidden beneath his human appearance.
“This is power.”
He looked towards the others.
“Glory was the word a frightened young man used because he thought becoming extraordinary would make him significant.”
Tom asked:
“Then what did becoming Kwasar actually give you?”
Merlin considered the question.
“Responsibility.”
Max groaned.
“That is a terrible reward.”
Lancelot laughed.
Merlin smiled.
“Yes.”
Then:
“And the ability to do something with it.”
Kira looked towards him.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“Would you do it again?”
Merlin hesitated.
“Yes.”
“But differently.”
Vega stood.
“You said you were like us.”
“I said I was ordinary.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
She looked at Tom, Cass and Max.
“They were created for this.”
“Yes.”
“Merlin wasn't.”
“No.”
“Neither were we.”
Merlin looked at her.
“Perhaps.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know why Goddark created the EvoSapiens.”
Merlin looked at the three Oasis boys.
“I do not yet know why he chose all six of you.”
The six exchanged glances.
Merlin continued.
“And that uncertainty matters.”
Tom asked:
“Because?”
“Because predetermined answers make poor students.”
Lancelot smiled.
Tom ignored him.
Arthur moved into the centre.
“Enough history.”
Cass looked at him.
“We have been sitting for hours.”
“Yes.”
“So training is over?”
Arthur removed his jacket.
Beneath it, the first white lines of his hidden Sublime Skin began to emerge.
“No.”
Cass's face fell.
Lancelot stretched.
Morgana smiled faintly.
Merlin looked at the six Prenovas.
“The story was training.”
Vega frowned.
“How?”
Merlin answered:
“Because tomorrow I can teach you how to hit harder.”
“Arthur can teach you how to endure pain.”
“Lancelot can teach you how to move before an opponent understands where you are.”
“Morgana can teach you to perceive what people try to hide.”
Then he touched his own chest.
“But none of us can decide why you want power.”
He looked at Cass.
“That must be yours.”
Tom.
“And no equation can solve it.”
Max.
“No audience can validate it.”
Vega.
“No enemy can be allowed to define it.”
Cala.
“You cannot carry everybody else's answer.”
Kira.
“And hope is not enough unless you choose what you are willing to defend.”
Silence.
Merlin stepped backwards.
“Your first assignment is simple.”
Max sighed.
“It will not be.”
“No.”
Merlin looked at all six.
“Before tomorrow, answer two questions.”
He raised one finger.
“WHAT DO YOU REFUSE TO LOSE?”
Then another.
“WHY DO YOU WANT THE POWER TO PROTECT IT?”
Cass stared.
“That is it?”
“That is enough.”
They left the chamber exhausted.
Not physically.
That irritated Cass more.
The corridor outside District 199 looked exactly the same as it had that morning.
Students walked past.
Drones moved overhead.
The ocean reflected sunlight through the transparent exterior.
Somewhere, Jason Veyne was probably being punished.
Somewhere, Fernand was waiting to ask how their first session had gone.
Somewhere, Antonio Reis was continuing to run Arkadia while hiding the greatest secret in human history from Supra.
And the six of them had just discovered that one of the men humanity remembered as a wizard had once been an ordinary Sapiens who wanted so desperately to become a demigod that he nearly confused greatness with meaning.
Max walked for several metres.
Then:
“So.”
Nobody answered.
“We're potentially going to become demigods.”
Vega kept walking.
“Apparently.”
Cass looked at his hands.
“That is insane.”
“Yes.”
Tom was thinking.
“That explains some of the Oasis physiology.”
Cala looked at him.
“Please do not start.”
“I have approximately forty-seven questions.”
Kira smiled.
“Only?”
Tom ignored her.
Cass looked at Vega.
“You three can become Kwasars too.”
She looked back.
“So he says.”
“You don't seem excited.”
“I am.”
“You look angry.”
“That is also possible.”
Max put an arm around her shoulder.
She removed it immediately.
“Do you know what I am thinking?” he asked.
“No.”
“The New Elite are going to be absolutely unbearable if they ever discover this.”
Cass began laughing.
Kira joined him.
Even Cala smiled.
Tom tried not to.
Failed.
And for a few moments they were teenagers again.
Just six friends walking through District 199.
Except nothing was the same.
Behind them, inside the sealed training chamber, Excalibur 4 remained together.
Arthur watched the door close.
“They are not ready.”
Morgana looked at him.
“Obviously.”
Lancelot smiled.
“That is traditionally why one trains.”
Arthur ignored him.
Merlin remained silent.
Morgana noticed.
“What?”
Merlin looked towards the door.
“Cass almost struck Jason.”
“Yes.”
“Vega nearly allowed pride to hold her inside a confrontation she understood was pointless.”
“Yes.”
“Tom believes responsibility means controlling everyone around him.”
“Yes.”
“Max hides uncertainty behind humour.”
“Yes.”
“Cala will exhaust herself trying to keep the others whole.”
“Yes.”
“Kira chooses hope because she knows exactly what hopelessness feels like.”
Morgana waited.
Merlin smiled faintly.
“They are perfect.”
Arthur stared at him.
“No.”
Merlin looked at his old friend.
“I did not say flawless.”
He turned towards the place where the six had disappeared.
“I said perfect.”
“Perfect for what?”
Merlin's expression became serious again.
“We will find out.”
Far beyond Earth, worlds burned.
The Sumaya continued their war.
Rapax hunted.
Raptax learned.
Putrids rose from graves beneath foreign stars.
Kwasars fought battles no human on Earth knew were happening.
And somewhere beyond the recognised architecture of creation, Eklis waited.
But inside one tiny sector of one young Vita World, six teenagers had completed their first morning of training.
They had not learned to fly.
Had not awakened Arkana.
Had not touched a Sublime Skin.
Had not become Kwasars.
They had learned only three things.
Their world was not the world.
Their lives were not accidents.
And power would eventually ask them what kind of people they intended to become.
The final Universal Day of Universal Year I of Tzion continued.
There were still countless mortal hours before the Universal Calendar turned.
Enough time for training.
Enough time for stories.
Enough time for Merlin, Arthur, Morgana and Lancelot to open the ancient history of Tzion before six young minds and show them worlds that had risen and fallen billions of years before Earth understood its own name.
Because that was how the Magisters intended to teach them.
Not with manuals.
Not only with combat.
With history.
Every discipline would have a story.
Every power would have a cost.
Every lesson would open another door into the impossible past of Tzion.
And The Entourage would discover that twelve billion years of Universal history contained more heroes, monsters, wars, betrayals, Gods, Kwasars and forgotten civilizations than any lifetime could ever hear.
Their first door had been Merlin.
There were many more.
And as the six walked back towards the Tower, none of them understood yet how extraordinary their education was about to become.
The stories of the past were waiting.
The war of the present was approaching.
And somewhere between the two...