The door finished opening.
An old man stepped into the Headmaster's Office.
He wore simple robes—worn, comfortable, and utterly unimpressive at first glance. His beard was long but unkempt, his eyes sharp in the way only those who had lived far too long could manage.
Keith felt it instantly.
Not power pressing down.
But history.
His breath caught.
"…No way," Keith muttered.
The old man smiled, amused.
"So someone finally noticed," he said lightly.
Dumbledore rose from his chair at once.
"Merlin Ambrosius," he greeted respectfully.
"Founder. Archmage. Trouble incarnate."
Keith's eyes widened.
"…Merlin?"
For the first time since his evolution, Keith was genuinely stunned.
He turned his head sharply.
"Headmaster," Keith asked, then looked to Cedric's portrait,
"Ancestor—did you both know about this?"
Cedric Runcandel snorted.
"Of course we did," he said dryly.
Then he lifted one finger and pointed directly at Merlin.
"This guy," Cedric continued,
"was brilliant, powerful… and unbelievably lazy."
Merlin placed a hand over his chest, feigning injury.
"Ouch," he said cheerfully.
"I prefer the term efficient with effort."
Cedric rolled his eyes.
"Lazy," he repeated.
Merlin chuckled.
"I'll take it as a compliment."
A Dragon's Grudge
Before anyone could react—
The necklace at Keith's chest glowed.
The air warped.
A woman burst forth in a flash of crimson-gold dragon aura.
Velgrynd.
Her expression was thunderous.
"MERLIN."
The ancient mage barely had time to blink.
THWACK.
Her fist landed squarely on the top of Merlin's head.
The sound echoed through the office.
Merlin crumpled slightly, clutching his skull.
"Ow—! That was uncalled for!"
Velgrynd crossed her arms, eyes blazing.
"That," she snapped,
"is for leaving Temar Runcandel alone when he needed you most."
The room froze.
Cedric's expression darkened.
Dumbledore looked away, pretending to adjust his spectacles.
Keith watched silently, understanding dawning.
Merlin sighed.
"…Yeah," he admitted quietly.
"That one's on me."
Velgrynd stared at him for a long moment, then turned away with a huff.
She vanished back into the necklace, muttering.
"Hmph. Still weak."
Regret of the Greatest Mage
Merlin straightened his robes, rubbing his head sheepishly.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice uncharacteristically sincere.
"To Temar. To the House of Runcandel. And to you, Keith."
Keith studied him carefully.
"You could have helped," Keith said—not accusing, just stating fact.
Merlin nodded.
"I could have," he agreed.
"And history would have been… quieter."
Cedric snorted again.
"Or worse," he said.
"You tend to cause disasters when you get involved."
Merlin grinned weakly.
"True."
Then his gaze sharpened as he looked at Keith properly—really looked.
The air trembled slightly.
"…So," Merlin said softly,
"the Void chose you."
Keith met his gaze without flinching.
"I chose myself," Keith replied.
Merlin laughed—genuinely this time.
"Oh, I like you already."