The academy didn't feel the same the next morning.
It wasn't obvious.
Nothing had changed structurally.
Classes continued. Training fields were active. Conversations filled the air like always.
But—
There was a shift.
Subtle.
Measured.
And directed.
Riser noticed it the moment he stepped outside.
"…Yeah," he muttered, stretching his arm slightly, "this is definitely different."
Lyra walked beside him, already dressed for training.
"…You expected it to go back to normal?"
"…I hoped."
"…You shouldn't."
He glanced around.
Students still talked.
Still trained.
Still moved.
But now—
There were pauses.
People looking at him—
Then looking away.
Not avoiding.
Adjusting.
"…They're not approaching," he said.
"…Not yet."
"…That's worse."
"…Much worse."
Because silence meant—
They were thinking.
Not reacting.
And thinking led to decisions.
"…So what's first?" Riser asked.
"…Training," Lyra said immediately.
"…Before everything else hits."
He smirked faintly.
"…You sound like you're preparing for impact."
"…I am."
That—
Felt accurate.
They reached the training grounds.
This time—
No crowd formed.
No immediate challengers.
Just space.
And distance.
"…That's new," Riser muttered.
Lyra stepped forward.
"…Don't get comfortable."
"…Wasn't planning to."
They started light.
Movement drills.
Positioning.
Timing.
No pressure.
No audience.
But even then—
Riser could feel it.
Eyes.
Not close.
Not obvious.
But there.
Watching from a distance.
"…They're still observing," he said quietly.
"…Of course they are."
"…Feels different."
"…It is."
Lyra stopped moving.
"…Yesterday was reaction."
A pause.
"…Today is evaluation."
That—
Made sense.
Riser exhaled slowly.
"…Alright."
Then—
He moved.
Not casually.
Not lazily.
Deliberately.
His steps tightened.
More controlled.
More precise.
Every movement—
Intentional.
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…You're adjusting already."
"…Figured I should."
"…Good."
Because this—
Wasn't just training anymore.
It was—
Demonstration.
Even without a crowd.
They sparred.
Short exchanges.
Focused.
Lyra pushed slightly harder than usual.
Not overwhelming—
But enough to test him.
Riser responded.
Cleaner than yesterday.
More stable.
Less hesitation.
"…Better," she muttered.
"…You keep saying that."
"…Because it keeps being true."
A brief pause.
Then—
She stepped in faster.
Riser reacted.
Not perfectly—
But correctly.
The exchange ended quickly.
No decisive strike.
No clear winner.
But—
Progress.
They stepped back.
"…You're starting to stabilize," Lyra said.
"…That sounds like a good thing."
"…It is."
A pause.
"…But it also means expectations will rise faster."
Of course.
Riser exhaled lightly.
"…Wouldn't want it to be easy."
"…It won't be."
Before they could continue—
A presence approached.
Not aggressive.
Not hidden.
Deliberate.
"…You're improving."
Riser turned.
Ilyra.
Of course.
"…You again."
"…You say that like it's surprising."
"…Not really."
She stepped closer.
Not too close.
But closer than before.
"…Your movements are cleaner today."
"…I trained."
"…No."
A slight tilt of her head.
"…You adjusted."
Riser didn't deny it.
"…That's kind of my thing."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…That's why you're dangerous."
Lyra crossed her arms.
"…Or useful."
Ilyra didn't look at her.
"…Those aren't mutually exclusive."
Riser smirked faintly.
"…Good to know."
She studied him for a moment longer.
Then—
"…You were noticed yesterday."
"…I gathered."
"…Not just here."
That—
Changed the tone.
Riser's expression didn't shift much.
"…Define."
"…There are systems within systems."
A pause.
"…And things outside them."
Silence.
Lyra's posture tightened slightly.
"…You're talking too much."
Ilyra ignored her.
"…You touched something you shouldn't have."
Riser exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah."
Because that was obvious now.
"…So what?" he asked.
Ilyra's gaze didn't waver.
"…So now you're visible."
Not new.
But—
Different.
"…And that matters why?"
"…Because attention isn't neutral."
A pause.
"…It acts."
That—
Was the real problem.
Riser nodded slightly.
"…Yeah."
He already knew.
But hearing it—
From someone else—
Confirmed it.
Ilyra stepped back.
"…Be careful."
"…I always am."
"…No."
A brief pause.
"…You adapt."
Another pause.
"…That's not the same thing."
Then—
She turned.
And walked away.
Leaving that behind.
"…I don't like her either," Lyra muttered.
"…You don't like anyone."
"…She's worse."
Riser exhaled quietly.
"…No."
Lyra glanced at him.
"…No?"
"…She's right."
Silence.
Because that—
Was the problem.
Not the threats.
Not the fights.
Not even the attention.
But the fact that—
They were starting to understand him.
Even a little.
"…We need to move," Riser said.
"…From training?"
"…From this."
Because staying still—
Would only make things easier for everyone else.
And right now—
He needed the opposite.
Movement.
Uncertainty.
Control.
Even if he didn't have it yet.
Because one thing was clear—
Yesterday made him visible.
But today—
Would decide what that visibility meant.