I had, somehow, caught Cecilia's interest.

This was objectively bad news.

Cecilia Slatemark wasn't just a prodigy or a noble princess—she was a genuine menace to society, someone who broke people for fun. Not out of hatred or spite, but because she found it entertaining.

And now, she found me interesting.

Which meant I was one misstep away from becoming her next plaything.

Avoiding her wasn't an option, and worrying about it wouldn't make me any less weak.

I still had far too much work to do.

So, as soon as I returned to my dorm, I grabbed my sword, steeled my resolve, and headed back to the training hall.

There was no time to waste.

The Tempest Dance Technique was relentless.

A Grade 5 Art didn't tolerate hesitation, and it certainly didn't tolerate mistakes.

Strike. Step. Build.

Each movement fed into the next, momentum compounding, aura growing denser with every successive strike.

The challenge wasn't just executing the steps correctly—it was about maintaining the rhythm, the flow, the storm building with each motion.

I pushed forward, repeating the movements, feeling the subtle misalignments in my aura.

At first, my movements were too stiff, my aura reinforcement too jagged, the transitions not as fluid as they should be.

I gritted my teeth. Again.

Strike. Step. Build.

I adjusted my stance, allowing my body to move more naturally, rather than forcing the technique.

I focused on the flow, on how each movement connected to the next, on the way my aura shifted with every strike.

And suddenly—

It clicked.

The movements fell into place, each one feeding the next in perfect harmony.

Strike. Step. The power grew.

Strike. Step. The momentum surged.

My aura flared, coiling around my blade like a living storm, compounding in strength, layering itself over each previous strike.

I felt the difference instantly—the blade cut through the air smoother, faster, the weight of my aura pressing down on every swing, building with every completed motion.

I exhaled sharply.

Then, as if sensing the moment, something shifted inside me.

A familiar pressure coiled in my core, a sensation I had been chasing for weeks now.

A deep, burning thrum settled in my chest, my mana circuits tightening, then stretching, adapting to the sheer force of mana surging through them.

At first, it was just an ache, a dull sensation that had become almost familiar over the course of my training.

But this time, it didn't stop.

The ache grew.

The pressure inside me built—not like a flood, but like a dam reaching its limit, straining, creaking, seconds away from breaking.

I gritted my teeth, pushing my aura further, feeling it surge through my veins, burning away every weakness.

My body screamed for relief, but I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

The pressure swelled, my circuits expanding, my core reaching out for something just beyond its grasp—

And then—

The threshold shattered.

A rush of pure energy exploded through my body, a tidal wave of mana refining itself, reshaping the core within my sternum.

My circuits burned white-hot, but this time, it wasn't pain—it was growth.

The mana inside me was smoother now, denser, stronger.

I felt the weight of my aura shift, the sheer potency of my mana doubling in strength, as if a chain had snapped loose, letting it finally flow freely.

Mid Silver-rank.

I had finally broken through.

I stood there for a moment, adjusting to the newfound strength, feeling the way my aura settled around me differently.

There was a lightness to my movements now, but also a greater weight, as if my body had recalibrated itself, prepared for something more.

I let out a slow, measured breath, gripping my sword tighter.

Then, without hesitation—

I stepped forward, raised my blade—

And began again.

__________________________________________________________________________________

After I finished training, I headed back to the Ophelia dorms, exhaustion settling into my bones in the oddly satisfying way that only came after a productive session.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I was, once again, greeted by Rachel.

She was exactly where she always was—lounging in the common area, scrolling through her phone, as if she had all the time in the world.

She looked up the moment I walked in.

"Hello. Training again?" she asked, her voice light, amused, like she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," I said simply.

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked me over, scrutinizing me with a sharpness that suggested she wasn't just making small talk.

Then, just as quickly, her lips curved into a wider smile.

"Congratulations on breaking through."

I blinked.

Well. That was fast.

I hadn't expected to hide it, but I also hadn't expected her to notice immediately.

"Thanks," I said, nodding as I continued toward my room.

Rachel didn't say anything else, just watched me go, that same unreadable expression lingering on her face.

As I reached my door, a thought settled in my mind.

Rachel was always in the lounge when I returned.

It wasn't strange—after all, plenty of students liked relaxing here before heading to their rooms. But consistently? Every night?

I shook my head.

Unlike Cecilia, Rachel wasn't someone I needed to avoid.

She was a kind person, genuinely so—not a sociopath who broke people for entertainment.

Of course, she still kept people at an arm's length, and there was a quiet sense of superiority about her, the kind that came naturally to people who had always been exceptional.

But she wasn't like Cecilia.

Rachel wouldn't play with me until she got bored, then throw me away.

And so, I didn't mind her presence.

I stepped inside my room, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

I was one step closer now.

One step closer to catching up to Class A.

Arthur had already been closer to mid Silver-rank than I had initially thought, which was why I had been able to push through the breakthrough in just a few weeks.

I scratched the back of my head, thinking back to my earlier miscalculation.

I still wasn't fully used to this body.

There were layers of strength I had yet to tap into, instincts that were buried beneath the unfamiliarity of being someone else.

But with this progress, reaching high Silver-rank was just a matter of time.

I had a deadline now.

Winter break.

By then, I needed to erase this disadvantage completely.

Of course, the training method never got easier.

The pain never lessened.

But it was effective.

And that was enough.