D-Class wasn't louder.
It was sharper.
Cyron noticed it the moment he stepped into the new training hall—fewer students, cleaner space, stronger barriers. No wasted movement. No careless summons. Everyone here had already learned the basics.
Which meant mistakes mattered more.
And people watched closer.
"…So you're the E-Class jumper."
Cyron didn't turn right away.
He already knew who it was.
Angelica Voss stood near the center platform, hands clasped behind her back, posture perfect as always. Her presence hadn't changed—but the way people gave her space had.
Respect.
Fear.
Both.
Cyron finally faced her. "And you're still picking fights below your level?"
A few nearby students went quiet.
Angelica didn't react immediately. She studied him instead—eyes scanning, calculating.
"…You've stabilized," she said.
Not impressed.
Not surprised.
Just… confirming.
"Enough," Cyron replied.
A pause.
Then—
"Show me."
Not a request.
Cyron sighed. "You really don't let things go, do you?"
"No," Angelica said simply. "Unresolved variables are dangerous."
Cyron smirked faintly. "I'm a variable now?"
"You always were."
Silence stretched between them.
Not hostile.
Not yet.
But close.
Observation Duel – Unofficial
They didn't need a formal match.
Not anymore.
The students around them naturally stepped back, forming space. No announcement. No system.
Just instinct.
Two Binders.
One question.
Who breaks first?
"Partial manifestation only," Angelica said. "I don't need a full summon to assess you."
Cyron rolled his shoulder slightly. "Good. Because you're not getting one."
Inside—
A quiet murmur.
"Cowardice."
Cyron ignored it.
He raised his arm.
The mark pulsed.
Crimson energy flowed outward—controlled, contained—forming along his forearm and hand like a living gauntlet.
No explosion.
No surge.
Just presence.
Angelica's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Improved."
She lifted her own arm.
Light gathered instantly—clean, precise—forming a thin blade in Seraphis' likeness. Not the full entity.
Just an extension.
The air shifted.
Two forces.
Different.
Opposing.
Angelica moved first.
A step—
Then she was in front of him.
Fast.
But this time—
Cyron saw it.
He shifted sideways, the light blade slicing past his shoulder instead of through it.
"…Better," she said.
Cyron countered.
Not wildly.
Not blindly.
His crimson-clad hand struck forward—not to hit, but to test.
Angelica blocked.
Light met blood-red energy.
The impact cracked the floor slightly.
Contained.
Both of them held.
For a moment—
They were equal.
Then they broke apart.
"You're still holding back," Angelica said.
Cyron exhaled. "You too."
"Correct."
Silence.
Then—
"Why?" she asked.
Cyron frowned. "Why what?"
"Why limit your output?"
Straight to the point.
Cyron's jaw tightened. "…Because I like the building standing."
A few students chuckled nervously.
Angelica didn't.
"That's not the real reason."
Cyron didn't answer.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Inside—
The voice returned.
Quieter now.
More… observant.
"She sees it."
Cyron shifted his stance. I know.
"She wants it."
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath.
Angelica's eyes sharpened. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
A lie.
And she knew it.
Angelica stepped forward again—but slower this time.
Measured.
"…Your energy," she said. "It resists structure."
Cyron raised an eyebrow. "Is that bad?"
"Yes."
A beat.
"Because it means it doesn't belong to you."
The words hit harder than expected.
Cyron's hand tightened.
"…It does now."
Angelica tilted her head slightly.
"Does it?"
The air tensed.
Not from movement.
From implication.
Cyron's mark pulsed harder.
Just for a second.
Enough.
Angelica noticed.
Of course she did.
Her gaze dropped briefly to his arm—
Then back to his eyes.
"…There it is."
Cyron's stomach tightened. "What?"
"Instability."
The word lingered.
Sharp.
Accurate.
Dangerous.
She moved again.
Faster.
More force behind it.
This wasn't testing anymore.
This was pressure.
Cyron blocked—barely.
The impact pushed him back a step.
Then another.
The crimson energy flickered.
Strained.
"See?" Angelica said calmly. "You're compensating."
Cyron gritted his teeth. "I'm controlling it."
"No," she said.
"You're containing it."
The distinction—
It mattered.
More than he wanted it to.
Inside—
Something stirred.
Not violently.
But noticeably.
"…She understands the difference."
Cyron pushed back, forcing distance between them.
Breathing harder now.
"Yeah," he muttered. "She does."
Angelica lowered her blade slightly.
"…Then stop pretending."
Silence.
Cyron stared at her.
At the calm.
At the certainty.
At the fact that she wasn't trying to humiliate him—
She was trying to break through something.
"…You want me to lose control?" he asked.
"No," Angelica said.
"I want to see what happens when you stop lying to yourself."
That hit deeper than any attack.
For a moment—
Cyron didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just… stood there.
Then—
Slowly—
He raised his arm again.
The mark pulsed.
Stronger.
He didn't release it.
Didn't let it surge.
But he didn't choke it either.
Just—
Loosened his grip.
Slightly.
The crimson energy responded instantly—growing sharper, heavier, more defined around his arm.
The air shifted.
Students stepped back further.
Angelica's eyes widened—
Just a fraction.
"…There."
Cyron exhaled slowly.
"…This is as far as it goes."
A warning.
To her.
To himself.
They moved at the same time.
Light and crimson collided again—harder this time, faster, more precise. The floor cracked deeper, pressure building—but still contained.
Still controlled.
Barely.
Then—
"Enough."
Instructor Kaelis' voice cut through the hall.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Both of them stepped back.
The energy faded.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Measured.
Kaelis stepped between them, gaze moving from one to the other.
"This isn't an official duel," she said. "And you're both pushing limits you're not cleared for."
Neither of them argued.
"…Understood," Angelica said.
Cyron nodded.
Kaelis looked at him longer.
Then—
"Control is not the same as restraint," she said quietly.
A beat.
"Learn the difference."
She turned and walked away.
The tension didn't disappear.
It just… settled.
Angelica looked at Cyron one last time.
"…You've improved," she said.
Not praise.
Not approval.
Just fact.
Cyron shrugged lightly. "Trying not to die."
"A reasonable goal."
She paused.
Then—
"But insufficient."
Cyron smirked faintly. "Yeah. I figured."
Angelica turned to leave.
But just before she did—
"…Next time," she said, "don't stop."
Cyron's expression didn't change.
But inside—
Something shifted.
"…Next time," Bygon Blood whispered softly, "we won't."