The bench creaked a little under their weight, sun warming the back of Merlin's neck. Nathan was still nursing his bruised pride, turning the water bottle in his hands like it had answers.
"So," Nathan said, squinting up at him. "Be honest. When you knocked me flat the first time—did you use mana?"
Merlin stretched his arms over his head. "Nope."
Nathan groaned and flopped back like a corpse. "That makes it worse."
'He's not wrong.'
The training field had mostly emptied. A couple of younger students still lingered at the far end, tossing half-hearted spells at a scarecrow target. An instructor sat under a tree nearby, chewing a sandwich and not paying much attention.
Nathan kicked at a clump of grass. "You ever think you're gonna outgrow everyone else? Like, actually be alone at the top?"
'Already there, man.'
"I think I'm still catching up," Merlin said instead. "It's not a race."
