[Location: Camelot – Lower Market District, Night]
The night air stank of wet iron and smoke.
Camelot's lower streets had grown quieter over the last month — fewer lamps, more soldiers.
Uther's newest decree had spread like wildfire: "No magic, no mercy."
I kept my hood low and my mana quieter.
Merlin and I had split up an hour ago — his job was to circle back toward the tower, mine was to deliver a small pouch of herbs to an old woman Gaius trusted outside the wall.
Simple errand. Supposedly.
But the longer I stayed in the shadows, the more I could feel the tension in the air.
Mana currents ran strange here — thin and brittle, like static before a storm.
Then came the shouting.
Two guards turned the corner ahead, dragging a young man by his arms. His wrists glowed faintly blue — a faint magical residue that made my gut tighten.
"Another hedge-witch's brat," one guard spat.
"King says no trials anymore. Straight to the pyre come dawn."
The boy looked barely sixteen. He caught my eye for half a second, terrified and pleading.
And I knew I shouldn't.
Merlin would tell me to wait. Gaius would say patience saves lives.
But some things I couldn't unlearn — the part of me that had died in a lab once refused to watch another experiment burn.
I moved before I could think.
[Location: Lower Alleyway – Moments Later]
A crash echoed as I ducked into a side path, dragging one of the guards in with me.
The man hit the wall with a dull thud.
Before he could shout, I whispered the incantation Merlin had taught me — short, simple, meant for diversion, not harm.
"Luxa motar."
Light bloomed between my palms — a flash bomb compressed by sheer will.
It burst outward, pure white. The guard cried out, clutching his eyes.
The second one stumbled back into the alley, sword half drawn.
That was when instinct took over.
I reached inside — not for structured geometry, not for words. Just the feeling of how energy flowed.
Quantum mana gathered around my arm, shimmering faintly blue. I swung, releasing it like a pulse.
The blast wasn't elegant — it sent both of us crashing against opposite walls, sparks bouncing off wet stone.
When I stood again, my ears rang.
The boy was staring at me, wide-eyed.
"Run," I hissed. "Now."
He didn't argue. By the time I turned, he was gone — a shadow swallowed by darker shadows.
[Location: Same Alley – A Few Minutes Later]
Boots thundered in the distance — reinforcements.
Too many.
I grabbed the stunned guard's helmet and pulled his cloak over my head. My mana signature was still unstable — I could feel it leaking, sparking faintly through the disguise.
"Think, Ren, think," I muttered.
I pressed my palm against the stone wall and whispered another phrase, this one Balthazar's method — precise, geometric.
"Containment weave, level one."
Circles of faint gold formed just long enough to dampen the signature. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.
The guards ran past, shouting to each other.
When the street was finally clear, I dropped the disguise and leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
"Do you ever listen?"
Merlin's voice — sharp with anger, soft with relief.
"I told you to avoid patrols, not pick fights with them."
I grimaced. "They were about to kill a kid."
He glared at me, jaw tight. "And if they'd caught you, what then? You can't save anyone from the pyre if you're standing on it yourself."
Silence hung between us for a long moment — just the rain and the distant ring of metal.
Finally, Merlin sighed, letting go.
"Come on. Before someone notices the light show."
[Location: Lower Tower Workshop – Later That Night]
Back in the safety of the workshop, I stared at the scorch mark still smoking on my glove.
The spell had been rough, unstable — but it worked.
"Next time," Merlin said quietly, "we plan before you act."
I nodded. "Next time, I won't miss."
He looked at me then — really looked. "You're not like anyone I've met, Ren. You fight like magic is a weapon, not a gift."
"Where I'm from," I said, eyes on the flickering flame between my fingers, "it was both. And it was the only thing that kept me alive."
Merlin didn't argue. He just nodded, eyes reflecting the small blue flame that hovered between us — the first real spark of what was coming.
[Author's Note]
This chapter marks Ren's first real combat and the moment his mana control leaves theory behind. His hybrid style — Merlin's emotion-fueled will and Balthazar's structured containment — now exists in harmony under stress.
We also deepen his moral compass: Ren acts on instinct and empathy, not caution. This will become a defining flaw and strength later in the Merlin arc.