The moment Dana opened the Spandim Gate, a heavy wave of power washed over him as he stepped inside.
He had reached the third level of Merlin's Secret Treasure.
The giant clam shell that guarded the treasure looked exactly the same as before—unchanged in its form—yet the aura leaking from the narrow crack between its lips was far thicker than anything Dana had felt in the future. The magic was so dense it was almost tangible. The moment it struck Dana's nostrils, the overwhelming scent of raw energy nearly made him stagger and roll his eyes.
With steady determination, Dana pried the clam shell open. Inside, instead of jewels or liquid essence, he found a strange biological tissue that looked unsettlingly similar to bone marrow. He froze for a moment, his thoughts jumping back to the past.
This was exactly what had once appeared in his palm when he had wished for "Merlin's bloodline."
Yet now, with hindsight, Dana realized the truth.
This was not Merlin's bloodline at all.
After all, Dana himself was already a direct descendant of the legendary wizard. That explained why the so-called bloodline transformation he had undergone back then had happened so absurdly quickly—it had never been a true transformation in the first place.
Dana carefully picked up the marrow-like tissue and tucked it into the pendant around his neck.
The instant it was secured, a tremendous surge of liquid magic erupted from the depths of the clam shell. It rose like a tidal wave and swallowed Dana whole, wrapping around him with unstoppable force.
His breath caught in his chest.
Never—never in his life—had he felt such an overwhelming sea of magic.
Even the famed Gerebato Magic Crystal, a core powerful enough to sustain an entire Floating City, now seemed like a mere drop of water compared to this ocean.
Dana's awe deepened.
Merlin truly lived up to his reputation as the greatest wizard in history—the Wizard God. His magic was infinite, divine, and all-consuming.
And yet, despite its terrifying vastness, Dana felt strangely familiar with it.
The raw current coursing through him was the very same origin as the tiny ball of light that had always appeared in his palm whenever he called upon "Merlin's magic."
Only now, the difference in scale was unfathomable—the contrast between heaven and earth, between a candle flame and a blazing star.
Remembering that he had not yet used his Golden Finger for the day, Dana muttered instinctively,
"Merlin's magic."
But this time, the Golden Finger gave no response. No ball of light formed in his hand.
A troubling thought crossed his mind:
Could it be because I've returned to the past? Has my connection with the Golden Finger been severed?
He had no time to puzzle it out.
The flood of magic surged violently, drilling deep into his body.
Agony exploded through him.
The sensation was brutally familiar—he had felt it once before, when he had absorbed the remains of magic from Merlin's corpse. But now, the pain was magnified severalfold, his insides swelling as though they would burst apart from the sheer volume of power forcing its way inside.
The torment was unbearable.
This time, Dana's body could not endure.
His vision dimmed, his limbs went slack, and he collapsed, unconscious.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
Merlin, trapped within the oak tree where he had been imprisoned for over three hundred years, waited in silence. Centuries of patience had dulled his urgency—seven days, seven years, it made little difference to him now.
And so, with calm eyes, he watched as the sun rose and fell.
On the seventh sunrise, the Spandim Gate shimmered open once again.
From it floated Dana.
The young man had been unconscious for seven days straight. The time had been necessary—simply absorbing the torrent of magic into his body had consumed that long. Expecting him to control it instantly was nothing more than wishful thinking.
Merlin let out a soft chuckle. His body bound within the tree, he could not move, yet his gaze carried warmth.
"I would love to nod in satisfaction, child. But as you can see, I cannot move an inch."
Dana spread his hands helplessly.
"Ancestor, is there no way I can adapt to this magic faster? This feeling of power running out of control—it's unbearable."
Merlin's lips curved into a patient smile.
"No hurry, my child. I have much to teach you—knowledge accumulated over centuries. It cannot be learned in a day or two. By the time you inherit everything I have to offer—my wisdom, my wealth—you will have mastered my magic as well."
Dana nodded reluctantly, though curiosity quickly burned in his eyes.
"Ancestor… why did you seal away so much of your magic in separate places?"
Merlin's expression shifted. His tone grew serious.
"That question touches upon the very reason you are here."
"To stop Morgan le Fay?" Dana asked immediately.
"Yes."
"But stop her from what exactly?"
Merlin let out a long sigh. His voice carried the weight of history.
"To explain that, we must speak first of King Uther."
At the mention of the name, Dana nodded—of course he knew it. Uther was none other than the legendary ruler of Camelot, the father of King Arthur.
Seeing Dana's understanding, Merlin continued.
"King Uther married Igraine. Igraine had three daughters, and among them was Morgan le Fay. At that time, I served as King Uther's most trusted advisor. Morgan approached me, eager to learn magic, and I agreed to teach her.
Before Arthur was born, Morgan displayed exceptional talent—far beyond her peers. Uther himself even considered making Morgan his heir.
But then… Arthur was born.
Everything changed."
Merlin's voice lowered, tinged with both pride and sorrow.
"Arthur was like no other child. He carried the air of a king from birth—his presence, his charisma, his destiny. Everyone who met him felt it. The people believed, wholeheartedly, that Arthur was the one who would lead Camelot into glory.
And besides… Arthur was Uther's true-born son.
Morgan, on the other hand, was only his stepdaughter.
When I declared Arthur as heir, Morgan's heart darkened. I felt it instantly—her resentment toward me, toward Arthur. But I dismissed it at the time, thinking it nothing more than childish jealousy.
I was wrong.
Morgan's ambition ran deeper than I had imagined. She discovered the legendary island of Avalon. And there… she awakened another self. Another personality.
A being called Vivian."
Dana drew in a sharp breath. He had read and heard many versions of the Arthurian legends, each painting Morgan le Fay differently—sometimes as a healer, sometimes as a villain, sometimes as both. But hearing the tale directly from Merlin himself gave it an entirely new gravity.
Still, he could not help but ask,
"If Morgan was so jealous of Arthur, why then… did she later give him the Sword from the Lake?"
Merlin's answer came quickly.
"Because by then, her ties with Avalon had deepened. She no longer cared for mere worldly power. What she sought… was eternal life."
Dana frowned, puzzled.
What does helping Arthur have to do with eternal life?
He tilted his head, waiting for Merlin to explain.
Merlin's gaze grew distant.
"At that time, I alone in the world was immortal. I had attained immortality through the Eternal Heart—yes, that strange, pulsing thing. You carry it now within your own body. Once, it belonged to me."
Dana's eyes widened.
"You separated the Eternal Heart from your body?"
"Yes."
"Then… doesn't that mean—?"
"Yes, child. Without it, I am mortal. My Cambion bloodline alone has allowed me to cling to life for so long. But my time runs thin. Eventually, I too will wither."
Dana swallowed and urged him to continue.
Merlin nodded.
"Morgan was clever. She knew wresting the Eternal Heart from me was nearly impossible. So she sought another path—knowledge she gained from Avalon. She discovered a way to bind herself not to her own flesh, but to a greater concept: the concept of a nation itself.
If the nation lived, she would live.
If the nation prospered, she would grow stronger.
Only if the nation perished would she perish."
Dana's heart tightened. He understood at once. This was no mere immortality—it was parasitism upon an entire country. A theft of destiny itself.
Merlin's voice grew grim.
"Her plan was clear. First, help Arthur strengthen the kingdom. Then, through her blood ties as his half-sister, siphon Britain's national fortune. By doing so, she would bind her life to Britain's fate, achieving longevity beyond measure."
He paused, letting Dana absorb the enormity of it.
Then he continued.
"To further her scheme, Morgan founded the Avar Coven. She was joined by eight other witches, who settled upon Avalon, shrouding it in their power.
During that time, I myself was deeply immersed in my own studies of death and immortality upon Avalon. I was blind, child. Blind to the traps being laid around Arthur. Perhaps… perhaps Morgan deliberately lured me there, knowing how I craved knowledge above all else.
And while I was distracted, Arthur was betrayed.
Grievously wounded.
Dying."
Dana clenched his fists.
Merlin's tone dropped to a whisper.
"Morgan, his sister, carried him to Avalon under the pretense of healing. But her true intent was to use him.
You see, binding one's existence to a nation requires sacrifice. And what greater vessel than the rightful king?
Arthur's death was the cornerstone of her ritual.
With his blood, his soul, his destiny, she sought to tie herself to Britain forever."
Dana's chest tightened.
"But… if she succeeded, wouldn't Britain itself—?"
"Yes," Merlin said gravely.
"Magic that draws on the foundation of a nation is never without cost. The people would weaken. The land would wither. The kingdom's fortune would be consumed at an accelerated pace.
And to maintain herself, Morgan would be forced into endless war—devouring other nations' strength to replenish her own.
If she had succeeded, the entire world would have drowned in bloodshed.
And once she became bound to the nation itself… even I could not have stopped her."
Silence hung heavy in the air.
Dana exhaled slowly. He knew the stories—knew that Morgan had ultimately failed. And that failure could only have been Merlin's doing.
Merlin paused, his eyes shadowed with memory.
"So I resolved to intervene. To stop the ritual.
But when I finally realized what was happening, I was already too late.
Arthur had died. The ritual was half-complete. Morgan had nearly forged her bond with Britain itself.
To face her then, in battle, would have been meaningless. One individual can never stand against the power of an entire nation."
His gaze sharpened, piercing into Dana.
"Tell me, child. If it were you, how would you have stopped her?"
Dana smiled faintly.
"Ancestor… even I, with my meager talent, can see two minutes into the future. Surely you—who are called the greatest prophet—saw much farther. Perhaps you were careless at first, distracted by Avalon's knowledge. But once you realized the truth, you must have foreseen what would come.
And your greatest strength has never been brute force or unmatched spells.
Isn't the most powerful magic our family possesses… Divination?"
Merlin's laughter rang out, rich and triumphant.
"Exactly! Exactly! Divination!
Though it carries heavy burdens, though it comes with severe side effects, Divination can overturn fate itself.
And in that moment… it was enough to reverse everything."
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