Extra To Protagonist-Chapter 345: Shade

Shade settled on Merlin's shoulder like a warm breath of air, pulsing with quiet contentment as the group walked down the corridor. The academy was winding down for the evening—torchlight dimming, windows glowing, students drifting toward dorms or late study sessions. It should've felt normal.

It didn't.

Every step Merlin took hummed faintly in his bones, like his mana was running a half-second ahead of his heartbeat, pulling his body along with it. Shade matched the rhythm perfectly, which only made the sensation sharper.

Elara noticed instantly.

She drifted closer until her arm brushed lightly against his. "You're overthinking," she murmured.

He snorted. "You think?"

"Yes," she said. "And you're doing it loudly."

Nathan jogged ahead, walking backward with hands shoved in his pockets. "So. What's the game plan? You've been declared magically grounded. Elara's emotionally compromised. Rowan's having a moral crisis. We need structure."

Liliana elbowed him. "You don't get to call anyone emotionally compromised."

"My emotional state," Nathan said primly, "is stored in the muscles."

"Pick a target," Adrian growled. "I'll kill it."

Dorian flicked him on the forehead. "Conversation, not combat."

Shade chirped, which everyone pretended not to find cute.

They drifted toward the courtyard, where the evening air was cold enough to bite but still warm compared to Rowan's office. Merlin paused near the fountain. The others naturally formed a circle around him—not protective, not coordinated, just… habit.

"What exactly did Rowan say?" Elara asked.

Merlin dragged a hand through his hair and inhaled slowly. "Supervision. Constant. No solo magic. No solitary training. No resonances without an instructor."

Dorian's eyebrow arched. "Instructor. Singular?"

"He said 'instructor,'" Merlin admitted. "But I think he meant anyone who isn't me."

Elara folded her arms. "Fine. We rotate."

Nathan blinked. "We what?"

"We rotate shifts," she said simply. "Two at a time. Morning, afternoon, evening. Nobody leaves Merlin alone during any magic-related activity."

Adrian's grin stretched slow and sharp. "You want a guard rotation."

"A support rotation," she corrected.

"Same thing," he said.

Liliana frowned. "Won't Rowan ask questions?"

Dorian shrugged. "Rowan asks questions regardless of reality."

Shade bobbed in agreement.

Merlin exhaled. "I don't need a rotation."

Elara stepped closer—not confrontational, but close enough he felt her breath when she spoke.

"We know."

Her voice was soft but anchored with steel.

"You don't need it," she continued, "but you have it."

He held her gaze for a beat too long, until Nathan cleared his throat loudly.

"Anyway," Nathan said, "if we're doing rotations, I call mornings. Merlin's less likely to burst into flames before breakfast."

"And I'm evenings," Liliana said. "He needs someone responsible."

"Adrian and I will take nights," Dorian said.

Adrian cracked his neck. "Perfect. Darkness is when things die brightest."

Everyone stared at him.

He sighed. "I meant the stars."

"Sure," Nathan said.

Elara slid her hand into Merlin's sleeve—not grabbing, but nudging. "Let's walk."

He followed because his legs seemed to move toward her naturally.

Shade drifted above them, leaving faint glimmers in the air like falling ash.

—

The closer they got to the dorm hall, the quieter it became. Students murmured from open doors, a few glowing runes hovered in the hallway from unfinished homework, and somewhere down the hall someone was singing very badly.

Merlin pushed open his door.

Shade drifted inside ahead of him and flopped onto his bed like a smug house pet claiming territory.

Nathan whistled. "It's… weirdly cute."

"It's a mana entity," Merlin said.

"It's cute," Nathan repeated with commitment.

Liliana stepped in behind him. "Does it talk?"

"No."

Shade chirped again.

Liliana's eyes sparkled. "It tries."

Elara leaned against the wall near Merlin's desk. "Has it done anything dangerous?"

"Not yet," Merlin said.

"Not yet isn't reassuring."

"Well neither are you," he shot back.

She gave him a slow, warm almost-smile that took the edge off the words immediately.

Shade hopped onto Merlin's shoulder, bumping against his neck as if sensing tension. Its mana buzzed comfortably—too comfortably. Like it was syncing to his pulse, his breathing, his thoughts.

Elara watched the interaction, her expression shifting from curious to calculating.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"Shade isn't reacting to you," she said. "It's mirroring you."

Merlin frowned. "That's—"

"Bad," Dorian said from behind him. "Potentially very bad."

Shade dimmed a little.

Liliana rushed forward and cupped the little orb with both hands. "No no no, don't listen to him. You're wonderful."

Shade brightened in response, practically glowing affection.

Merlin groaned. "Stop babying it."

"You're just jealous," Nathan said.

"Of what?"

"That Shade likes her more than you."

Shade shrunk behind Liliana's hair.

Merlin gave up. "It's late."

Adrian nodded at the door. "We'll be nearby."

Nathan added, "Scream if Rowan breaks in with test tubes."

Liliana waved. Dorian disappeared into the hall shadows like he was fading into another dimension. Adrian cracked his jaw once before leaving. Elara lingered the longest, studying Merlin with that sharp, quiet intensity she only ever aimed at him.

"You good?" she asked softly.

He wanted to say yes.

Shade nudged his cheek.

"…Trying to be," he answered instead.

She nodded once. "Then we'll try with you."

She left without waiting for a response, because she knew he didn't have one ready.

Merlin stood there, the door closing behind them, Shade hovering at his shoulder like a loyal moon.

Silence settled over the dorm.

But beneath it—beneath the room, beneath the academy, beneath the world—Merlin felt a faint pull.

Like something was adjusting.

Turning.

Reaching.

Not toward the world—

toward him.

Shade shivered.

Merlin stared at it, pulse steady, breath slow.

"…What exactly are you?" he whispered.

Shade flickered.

Then, very faintly—

the whole room exhaled with it.

Something answered.

Not in words.

Not in sound.

Just a ripple through the air, through Merlin's mana, through the floorboards and the walls and the space between breaths—

a presence responding to its anchor.

Merlin felt his blood run cold.

Shade drifted closer to him for comfort.

And Merlin finally understood:

Rowan was wrong.

Shade wasn't the danger.

Whatever was answering Shade…

that was.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath. "Another problem."

Shade chirped apologetically.

Merlin lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the air settled.

Tomorrow, the real consequences would begin.

Shade settled beside Merlin as he stared at the ceiling, a faint luminescent pulse matching the slow beat of his heart. Every time it brightened, he felt the answering ripple—faint, far, but undeniable. Like something distant was taking breath in time with him.

He didn't sleep.

He just drifted in that limbo between exhaustion and alertness until the faint knock on his door told him morning had already come.

Nathan didn't wait for an answer. He shouldered his way in with a yawn and a half-eaten pastry. "Rise and shine, my emotionally constipated friend. Breakfast is legal property of the first person to bite it, so if you want food left, move."

Merlin sat up. Shade slid off him like a lazy pet cloud and buzzed once in greeting.

Nathan froze mid-bite. "It slept with you?"

"It didn't sleep." Merlin stood, rubbing his eyes. "It just… stayed."

"Right. Comfort creature." Nathan pointed at Shade. "I don't trust that thing, but if it keeps you from having aneurysms, I won't question it."

"You just did."

"I only question things I don't understand." Nathan paused. "I don't understand anything, Merlin. This is my curse."

Merlin grabbed his jacket. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting downstairs. We're running escort today." Nathan puffed up proudly. "Elara made a schedule. It's color-coded. Did you know she color codes?"

"…Yes."

"She color-coded me in red."

"That tracks."

Shade drifted over to Nathan and inspected him like a disapproving librarian. Nathan stuck his tongue out at it.

"Come on," Merlin said.

They stepped into the hallway—only to nearly bump into Elara leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

She didn't look like she'd slept either.

"You're late," she said.

"It's eight minutes past dawn," Merlin replied.

"You're late," she repeated, and pushed off the wall. "We're eating before the first class."

Nathan muttered, "She's scarier on two hours of sleep," but quiet enough that she couldn't hear. She heard anyway. Her stare killed him for three full seconds.

—

The dining hall was half-full, buzzing with morning chatter, clatter of plates, and faint magical bursts from students practicing before class. Merlin felt Shade tense the moment they stepped inside—like it sensed too much mana in one place.

Elara walked beside him, deliberately brushing shoulders with him every few steps, anchoring him in a way that annoyed him and helped anyway.

Liliana spotted them and waved them over to a table already laden with food.

"Good morning! I saved a seat for Merlin. And Shade." She gently placed a napkin on the table like it was a reserved sign.

Shade perked up proudly and floated over to its designated spot.

Merlin sat, resisting the urge to sigh. Adrian and Dorian were halfway through their plates, barely acknowledging the group except with sharp glances that swept the hall.

Dorian leaned in. "Anything overnight?"

Merlin kept his voice low. "It answered again."

Elara's hand tightened slightly around her fork.

"Location?" Adrian asked.

"No," Merlin said. "Just… pressure."

"That's worse," Dorian muttered.

Liliana nudged him. "Can we not make breakfast sound like a funeral?"

As if summoned by her optimism, a loud bang erupted three tables over, followed by smoke and someone yelling, "I'm fine! My eyebrows weren't important!"

Shade flinched. Merlin felt the answering ripple—faint but automatic.

Elara saw it. Nathan too. Dorian stiffened.

Adrian rose halfway from his seat. "If it's reacting to random mana bursts—"

"It's not dangerous," Merlin said tightly. "It's just sensitive."

Shade dimmed, ashamed.

Liliana immediately scooped it into her hands like a kitten who'd been scolded. "You're sensitive because you're perceptive, aren't you? Yes you are."