Merlin sat hunched over a glowing laptop screen, his long fingers hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. His brow furrowed, and his lips twisted in irritation. "This infernal contraption refuses to yield to my will-" He growled, jabbing a key and scowling as the screen flickered. "How do you lot tolerate such primitive magic?"

Merlin looked up from the device, eyes flicking to the creature standing before him. "Well? Don’t just stand there gawking. You must have some semblance of intelligence—tell me how to make this Google thing work."

With an exaggerated sigh, the wizard leaned back, crossing his arms.

"I was in the midst of researching ancient disturbances—something I could normally do with ease, mind you—when I was told the ‘internet’ could provide answers faster than even my own archives. A bold claim, one I now suspect to be a complete lie. This so-called technology is more temperamental than a young Morgana." He pointedly looked at the screen as if daring it to defy him further.

Merlin's gaze shifted back to the group, sharp as ever. "But since you're here, I suppose we should discuss the actual reason I called you. It appears that once again, fate has seen fit to thrust responsibility onto those least qualified for it."

His voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was an edge of amusement beneath it.

Standing, he clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. "An ancient force stirs. Something powerful. I sense it in the magic around us, fraying at the seams. Naturally, the burden of preventing catastrophe falls upon me—but since I seem to be stuck with you lot, I suppose I must find a way to make you useful."

He stopped suddenly, fixing his guest with an expectant stare. "So? Do you intend to prove yourselves worthy? Or shall I simply prepare to save the world alone—again?"

Despite the arrogance in his tone, there was an unspoken invitation beneath it. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was waiting for an answer.