Movement didn't reduce attention.
It redirected it.
Riser realized that within minutes.
The moment they left the training grounds—
The watchers didn't disappear.
They repositioned.
Different faces.
Different distances.
Same intent.
"…Yeah," he muttered, walking down the corridor, "they're not subtle."
Lyra didn't even look.
"…They don't need to be."
"…That confident?"
"…That curious."
There was a difference.
Riser slowed slightly.
"…So what's the move?"
Lyra glanced at him.
"…You tell me."
"…That's not reassuring."
"…You're the one who wanted control."
Fair.
Riser exhaled quietly.
"…Alright."
A brief pause.
"…We stop reacting."
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"…Explain."
"…We're being watched, tested, evaluated."
"…Yes."
"…So we don't give them clean reads."
A small pause.
"…We move unpredictably."
Lyra considered that.
"…That'll make you harder to categorize."
"…Exactly."
"…It'll also make them more interested."
"…They already are."
Which meant—
That wasn't a real downside.
"…Fine," she said.
"…Then where are we going?"
Riser smirked faintly.
"…Somewhere they're not expecting."
Lyra frowned.
"…That sounds like a bad idea."
"…Probably."
But that hadn't stopped him before.
They changed direction.
Not toward classes.
Not toward common areas.
Toward the less-used sections of the academy.
Quieter.
Less traffic.
Fewer observers—
At least—
The obvious ones.
"…You've been here before?" Lyra asked.
"…No."
"…Then how do you know—"
"I don't."
A pause.
"…You're improvising."
"…Always."
She sighed.
"…One day that's going to get you killed."
"…Not today."
Hopefully.
They reached a wide, open corridor that led toward a series of unused training halls.
Empty.
Still.
Quiet.
Riser stopped.
"…Better."
Lyra scanned the area.
"…Less people."
"…Still watched."
"…Of course."
Because this wasn't about losing attention.
It was about—
controlling how it flowed.
"…So?" Lyra asked.
Riser rolled his shoulders once.
"…We train."
"…Again?"
"…Differently."
That—
Caught her attention.
"…Define."
Riser stepped forward.
"…You push."
"…I always push."
"…Harder."
A pause.
"…And?"
"…No holding back."
Lyra studied him for a moment.
"…You sure?"
"…No."
Honest.
"…But it's the right move."
Because if they were watching—
Then let them see something unclear.
Something they couldn't easily categorize.
Lyra exhaled slowly.
"…Fine."
She stepped back.
Lowered her stance.
"…Don't fall behind."
"…Wouldn't dream of it."
They moved.
Faster than before.
No warm-up.
No easing in.
Lyra struck first—
Harder.
Not testing.
Forcing.
Riser reacted—
Late—
But not wrong.
He adjusted—
Barely avoided a clean hit.
"…Again," she said.
No pause.
Another strike.
Sharper.
More pressure.
Riser stepped in—
Instead of back.
Took the risk.
Their movements collided—
Not clean.
But real.
The exchange lasted longer this time.
More intense.
More unstable.
Exactly what he wanted.
"…You're pushing too far," Lyra muttered mid-exchange.
"…That's the point."
Because stability—
Made him predictable.
And predictable—
Was dangerous.
Another clash—
Faster.
Closer.
Riser misstepped—
Lyra capitalized instantly—
Strike aimed at his side—
He twisted—
Barely avoided it—
But not cleanly.
"…Tch—"
He slid back—
Reset—
Then stepped in again.
No hesitation.
"…You're not thinking," she said.
"…I am."
"…Then explain."
"…I don't want them to understand me."
That—
Slowed her slightly.
Just enough.
And Riser used it.
A sudden shift—
Change in rhythm—
Unpredictable.
His strike came—
Not perfect—
But unexpected.
Lyra blocked—
But it forced her back half a step.
Silence.
Just for a moment.
Then—
"…That's new," she said.
"…Yeah."
Because that wasn't clean technique.
That was—
intentional disruption.
They moved again.
Faster.
Less controlled.
More adaptive.
More chaotic—
But not random.
There was a pattern—
Just not an obvious one.
Time passed.
Not long—
But enough.
Then—
Lyra stopped.
Suddenly.
"…Enough."
Riser didn't argue.
He stepped back.
Breathing slightly heavier.
"…Well?"
Lyra studied him.
Longer than usual.
"…That's dangerous."
"…Good."
"…Not just for them."
A pause.
"…For you."
That—
Was fair.
Riser exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah."
Because pushing like that—
Came with risks.
Control slipping.
Patterns breaking.
Mistakes increasing.
But—
So did unpredictability.
And right now—
That mattered more.
"…They saw that," Lyra said quietly.
"…Good."
"…You're not worried?"
"…I am."
A small pause.
"…But I'd rather they not know what they're dealing with."
Silence.
Then—
"…You're making this harder on yourself."
"…Probably."
"…And them."
That got a faint smirk.
"…Even better."
Lyra shook her head slightly.
"…You're going to be a problem."
"…Already am."
And that—
Was the point.
Because now—
They weren't just watching him improve.
They were trying—
And failing—
To define him.
And as long as that continued—
He stayed one step ahead.
Even if he didn't fully understand the path himself.