A metal door screeched open, the cool wind pushing against Merlin. Frost lined the corridor ahead, a faint mist curling out into the air.
"I guess I'm doing this," Merlin muttered, stretching his arms.
"Try not to embarrass me too much," Sera said with a teasing note.
"Whatever," Merlin replied.
The training track was vast, eight lanes wide enough to fit the entire class. Inside, it felt like a whole new world—snow crunching underfoot, icy wind biting at their faces. Merlin couldn't even tell if the cold was artificial or if they had stepped into another realm entirely.
They lined up at the starting line. The pressure was already heavy, the cold digging into their bones before they had even begun. Merlin, taking position just behind another student, still wore a grin. The cold was clearly affecting him—his shoulders trembled, his lips pale—but he acted as though nothing was wrong. Whether it was a bluff to fool everyone or a reckless belief in his own strength, no one could tell. Still, the determination in his eyes was undeniable.
The whistle blew.
The first lap was four hundred meters. Merlin exploded forward, sprinting at full speed without a thought of conserving energy. But after barely sixty meters, reality hit. His lungs screamed for oxygen, sharp pain cutting through his chest as the freezing air refused to fill them properly. The cold stabbed at his throat with every gasp, making it feel like he was breathing in shards of glass. Dizzy and gasping, he slowed, his vision flickering.
He glanced back—despite his explosive start, most of the class, including Sera, were already right at his heels. At the hundred-meter mark, Sera swept past him with ease, followed by several others. His vision blurred as more figures overtook him, though he could only make out a few clearly.
Then he remembered—the teacher never said anything about not stopping. So, Merlin slowed to a halt, pacing his breath. But the moment he did, the timid grey-haired boy passed him. A dent in his pride.
As he readied himself to move again, he caught sight of Tony right beside him. Unacceptable.
Merlin launched forward again, forcing his body into motion. This time, he didn't make the same mistake—he steadied his breathing, reduced his pace, and kept the oxygen demand manageable.
Tony, refusing to be left behind, smirked to himself. He thought it smarter to let Merlin keep running like this, believing he would eventually burn out. And perhaps, he was right.
But at the two-hundred-meter mark, Merlin was once again in the lead, chin raised, flashing his familiar grin.
Sera trailed fifty meters behind, keeping pace with steady control. What is he trying to pull? He can't keep this up for long… she thought. Knowing Merlin, he never acted without a plan. Then again—she paused—unless… his ego's gotten the better of him.
Her gaze sharpened. I wonder what Isaac would think of that, she thought, referring to their instructor. Isaac was the one who had abruptly changed today's schedule—because of Merlin.
Merlin rounded the end of the track, completing the first lap. His chest was on fire, his body begging him to stop. But as he passed the starting point again, his ego held him captive. He clenched his fists, pushing forward despite the doubt he felt.
He knew there was no turning back at this point. His lungs felt like collapsing furnaces, his legs heavy as though chained to iron. The cold clawed into his joints, but he refused to slow down. He kept stumbling while the others ran with flawless rhythm, their training obvious. Dammit, Merlin cursed under his breath as his vision blurred and frosted at the edges.
Merlin started veering left and right, his speed faltering—though never completely breaking. Each step felt unstable, as if the track itself wanted him down. Desperate, he lowered his pace just enough to breathe, but not enough for anyone to close the gap. By the end of the second lap, he felt slightly refreshed, bracing himself for the third.
The teacher adjusted his glasses, a faint smirk on his face. This boy is full of surprises… I thought for sure he'd have been finished by now considering his pacing. He keeps struggling forward, though his form is like that of a child. I highly doubt he'll make it through this last round. He scribbled notes but kept his eyes sharp.
Merlin was steady until the hundred-meter mark of the third lap. Suddenly, the world tilted. Everything in his sight began to fade, the track dissolving into frost and shadows. He staggered, unsure if his legs were carrying him the right way.
He heard footsteps behind and glanced back—but instead of classmates, the track bent into something else. He was somewhere else.
A dirt road. His legs smaller, weaker. His hand, tiny and trembling, reaching forward but never far enough. Someone ahead—running, always faster. Then the figure stopped. It was a woman, older than he was then, a presence both distant and warm.
We will meet again one day, she said, before fading into the distance.
"Wait!" Young Merlin's voice cracked, echoing though no sound left his lips. "Don't leave me behind."
The vision shattered as his boot slammed against the icy track again. He blinked hard, jaw clenched, forcing reality back into place. His pride snapped like a whip. Not this time. I won't be the one left gasping in the dirt.
Fueled by desperation, Merlin surged forward again, overtaking stragglers until he was ahead of the first wave of eighteen people. Still, the weight dragging at his legs grew unbearable, every step a battle.
The horde overtook him in a swoop, his hope crumbling. His breaths came ragged, white clouds exploding from his mouth. It all felt hopeless.
Then—
A sharp voice echoed in his skull.
One more time.
Soft at first.
One more time.
Louder.
One more time.
Faster now, insistent.
One more time.
It struck like a whip crack.
ONE MORE TIME.
The final command screamed too loud to bear, rattling his skull, drowning his own thoughts.
Merlin lowered his head, lips curling into a grin unlike any before—not mocking, not proud, not cocky. Something darker.
With a violent burst of strength, his legs shot forward, overtaking them all. He crossed the line before collapsing in a heap, chest heaving as if he'd swallowed fire.
The teacher's shadow loomed over him. "Do you want to stop?" he asked evenly.
Merlin lay still, fighting for breath. At last, he whispered, voice barely audible—
"Yes…"
But the test was still going on for the others. Sure, it took them longer, but they all finished with a number of laps significantly higher than Merlin's. On average, the class managed six. Sera, of course, stood above nearly everyone—running a total of eleven, her pace unwavering from start to finish. Yet even she was not the highest.
The one who pushed himself most was Tony. He kept running like a man possessed, his pace collapsing into a crawl, but his stubborn pride driving him forward. All to prove he was better than Merlin.
When it was over, the teacher gathered the class, announcing the results. Merlin's heart sank—everyone had run farther than him. He doubted himself, convinced he would rank near the bottom.
The shock came like a blade.
Tony, despite his endless laps, came in dead last.
The class erupted in outrage, everyone except Sera.
The teacher raised a hand and spoke calmly: "I told you before—your marks are not only based on distance. They are based on speed. Yes, more laps add to your score, but the slower you run them, the more your score is dragged down. Tony's recklessness cost him everything."
The room fell silent.
"First place: Sera. Ninety-nine points out of one hundred. Second place: Merlin. Eighty-nine."
Gasps filled the hall. Even the timid grey-haired boy, who had secured fifth with seventy-six, stared wide-eyed.
Merlin tilted his head up, grin flashing once more.
Tony stormed out, fists clenched in rage.
And Sera smirked, eyes narrowing on Merlin. I figured this was his plan. Sure, it was a gamble, but it was his best chance. He might look overconfident in abilities he doesn't possess. But behind it all— she exhaled softly, he's smarter than you think.