Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 90: Merlin Takes the Stage
Stacie was gently guided to a seat in the audience by one of the proctoring professors. Almost immediately, a crowd gathered around her, their faces filled with concern. People whispered hurried questions: “Are you hurt? What exactly happened just now?”
Of course, there were also murmurs of admiration. Some couldn’t help but marvel at Stacie’s incredible feat—defeating a second-year senior, no less. And not just any senior, but the famously renowned “Ice-and-Fire Princess,” Yuna.
Clutching the cloak draped over her shoulders as if it were a lifeline, Stacie forced a faint, weary smile. She shook her head slightly, making it clear she had no desire to discuss the incident.
“Stacie, are you alright?” Merlin stepped forward, his brows furrowed with genuine worry. He was careful, almost protective, afraid that his secretary—already honed and trained under his guidance to be utterly reliable—might be hurt. Tomorrow promised to be exceptionally busy for Honey Snow Time, and he needed someone steadfast at the center of operations.
Stacie lifted her gaze to meet Merlin’s. She opened her mouth, seemingly about to speak, but her words caught in her throat when two teachers entered, carrying a stretcher. On it lay Yuna, unconscious and grievously injured.
The sight was harrowing. Yuna’s body was wrapped in bandages, but the exposed wounds were grotesque, gnarly, and terrifying. Stacie’s pupils trembled violently as if they might split apart from shock, and her body instinctively curled in on itself. She hugged her legs close, burying her face against them, whispering through chattering teeth:
“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t… I’m… sorry… I didn’t want to hurt you…”
Merlin frowned, watching her. The expression on Stacie’s face wasn’t just fear—it was trauma, deep psychological pain etched across every trembling movement.
“Stacie, your exam is over. Go back and rest,” one of the professors said gently, stepping forward.
Relieved to escape the chaotic exam hall, Stacie slowly rose, giving a small nod. She glanced at Merlin one last time, her eyes carrying a quiet, apologetic sorrow, before she quietly left.
Merlin’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure, a nagging unease prickling at the back of his mind. What was that black shadow I saw in the audience just now?
A sudden, faint whisper brushed against his ears: “Please… help her… help… Cici…”
Merlin’s head snapped around, scanning the crowd—but no one was there. His mind questioned whether he was hearing things, hallucinating perhaps—but the voice was crystal clear, insistent. Who was it asking for help? And Cici—was that… Stacie?
His eyes drifted to her direction, and for a fleeting instant, he saw it: a ghostly deer-shaped silhouette, staring directly at him. Then, just as suddenly, it vanished, scattered as if by a gust of wind.
A fairy?
Merlin’s curiosity flared, but before he could take a step toward Stacie to investigate, the proctor’s voice called out, cutting through the air.
“First-year alchemy student, Leo Merlin, please enter for your exam.”
Merlin clicked his tongue, turning toward the exam hall.
“First-year alchemy student, Leo Merlin,” he murmured, glancing at the ring on his finger and adjusting his alchemical gear. Only then did he feel ready.
Across from him stood a towering second-year senior, sword in hand. The man was imposing—about 1.85 meters tall—with a presence that seemed to press down on anyone who approached. His muscular frame was defined and strong, each movement radiating restrained power. Sun-kissed skin suggested hours of disciplined outdoor training, a testament to relentless effort.
His angular features and deep-set eyes conveyed a mix of sternness and confidence. Brown hair, slightly tousled yet effortlessly stylish, added a hint of rebellious charm. A long, thin scar marked his forehead—a souvenir of past battles, an emblem of courage and experience.
“Second-year magic sword student, Kyle Alpha,” he said with a confident smirk, sword tip gleaming coldly in the sunlight. “Merlin, you’d better be careful. I’m not an opponent you can take lightly.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. Kyle Alpha—second-year prodigy of the Magic Sword Department—was an elite fighter. And here he was, pitted against a first-year alchemy student whose studies barely extended beyond Incense mixing. She could hardly imagine what Deputy Dean Jenny was thinking.
Of course, Jenny’s intention was clear: to assert her authority, perhaps even give Merlin a taste of discipline. After all, he had dared to negotiate a seemingly impossible deal—airing a Honey Snow Time advertisement during the duel in the final exam’s crystal arena. Every negotiation with Merlin left her feeling that this student was no ordinary underclassman, and the opportunity to “teach him a lesson” during finals was too tempting to pass up.
Merlin’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced calm over his nerves. Perhaps past encounters had hardened him; facing Kyle Alpha, he felt surprisingly composed, as if the outcome had already been decided in his mind. Just do it, then.
“I’ll do my best, Senior,” he said, determination threading through his quiet tone.
As the proctor announced the start of the exam, Alpha sprang forward, sword slicing the air with blinding speed. Magic coiled along the blade, and the sun caught the arc, transforming it into a dazzling streak of light.
Merlin’s gaze followed the rapid approach. Alpha moved like a shadow, blade slashing through the air, a storm of precise strikes aimed directly at him.
Reacting swiftly, Merlin lifted a single finger, channeling magic into the ring on his hand. The beauty of alchemical equipment lay in its speed—instantaneous activation, no incantation required.
A shield of fire erupted before him, flames coalescing into a protective barrier. The inferno forced Alpha back, halting his sprint momentarily.
“Impressive defense!” Alpha’s eyes flickered with grudging respect. But he didn’t pause. Swordplay like a meteor, he adjusted angles fluidly, unleashing a torrent of attacks. The shield shimmered under the relentless onslaught, flames licking at the edges, threatening to be torn apart.
Merlin sensed the raw magic wound into Alpha’s blade. This level—undeniably peak third-tier, possibly even a mid-level fourth-tier magic swordsman.
The shield flickered, threatened, and Merlin’s mind raced. He needed a counter. Swiftly, he activated the “Wind Boots” of his alchemical gear. In an instant, he felt lighter, the gusts beneath his feet propelling him back just as Alpha’s blade cleaved through the space his shield had occupied.
“Trying to dodge?” Alpha’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. His sword arced, slicing through the air toward Merlin’s side.
At the same time, he analyzed Merlin’s equipment: the fiery shield capable of projective flames, the wind-boosting boots enhancing speed—each tool meticulously recorded for future use.
Merlin’s reflexes were sharp. He triggered the “Earth Circle” on his wrist—an invention of senior Henry King. The ground beneath him surged upward, forming a solid earthen wall that intercepted Alpha’s strike with a resonant thud.