[Location: Gaius' Tower – Daytime]
Sunlight leaked through the tower's narrow windows, cutting the dust into visible shafts of gold. The old stone walls seemed to breathe with every draft — like the tower itself had been watching for centuries.
Most days now began the same way.
Gaius brewed tea. Merlin dropped something expensive.
And I tried not to explode the furniture.
This morning, the target was a candle.
Merlin was supposed to light it with a spell, and I was supposed to… not interfere.
"Incendia!" he shouted, wand hand flailing.
The candle sputtered, glowed — then went out.
Gaius sighed. "Intent, Merlin. Not volume."
Merlin turned to me. "You think you can do better?"
I hesitated. "Maybe."
I steadied my breathing, extended my hand, and visualized not fire, but the probability of fire — heat as an event waiting to occur.
Mana trickled from my fingertips. The candle wick flared to life, a small but perfectly stable flame.
Gaius's eyebrows rose. "No incantation?"
"Just… focus," I said. "Fire is energy. Energy follows observation."
Merlin groaned. "You make everything sound so— complicated."
"Physics is complicated."
Gaius chuckled. "And yet, he makes it look simple."
[Location: Camelot – Lower Courtyard, Afternoon]
Gaius had given me permission to walk the lower courtyard now. Camelot was smaller than I'd imagined — less legend, more life.
Merchants haggled, children chased one another with wooden swords, and knights moved through the streets like living myths.
Every so often, someone's gaze lingered too long on my clothes, my accent, my questions.
Still, it felt… normal.
Merlin ran up beside me, breathless. "Arthur's training again. You want to watch?"
I nodded.
We sat on the edge of the practice field, watching the prince fight three men at once. It wasn't magic, but there was a rhythm to it — motion and reaction, cause and effect. I found myself analyzing his stance, the force vectors of each swing.
"You're thinking too much," Merlin said.
"I'm always thinking too much."
[Location: Gaius' Tower – Evening]
When we returned, Gaius was waiting, a stack of scrolls beside him.
"These," he said, "are from the royal archive. Texts on early magical theory. I've never had time to study them properly. Perhaps you will."
I reached for one, but paused. "Why are you helping me, Gaius?"
He studied me for a long moment. "Because I've seen what happens when gifted men stand alone. You understand the world differently, Ren — but you feel it the same as the rest of us."
His voice softened. "That makes you dangerous… and necessary."
Merlin looked between us. "So he's your new favorite now?"
Gaius smiled. "No, Merlin. You're still my greatest headache."
[Location: Tower Balcony – Midnight]
Later that night, I stood on the balcony again, tracing lines of mana across the stars.
Each point of light felt connected — like threads in an invisible web.
When I extended my senses, I could almost hear the hum of reality itself.
Quantum mana — still faint, still unstable, but growing.
Not through mutation, not through pain. Through understanding.
This world taught magic as faith, but I was learning it as structure.
And somehow, that balance — science and sorcery — made me feel more human than I had in years.
Behind me, Gaius's voice broke the silence. "Can't sleep?"
"Never could."
He joined me, leaning on the railing. "Whatever you're searching for, Ren… don't lose yourself chasing it."
I met his gaze. "I'm not chasing anymore. I'm building."
He nodded, satisfied. "Then build wisely."
The old man left me alone with the stars — and for the first time since escaping that lab, I didn't feel like a runaway.
I felt like a student again.
[End of Chapter 11]