The students settled into their seats, staring at Sylvester.

This was the first time he had not started the class directly.

"What do you think he is waiting for?" Azrael asked Zephyr beside him.

"We are both here. How would I know?" Zephyr replied.

At that moment the door opened again.

Malaric walked in.

"He actually made it to class today?" Azrael said, exhaling in mild disbelief at his persistence.

"He did not have much choice. The clinic forces patients out once they hit a certain recovery threshold," Zephyr whispered.

Sylvester did not wait for Malaric to fully settle before continuing.

"Today we are having a practical class."

As he spoke, essence began to pour from his palm in a torrent that felt like it could swallow the room whole.

"Most of the practical exercises here will overlap with what you cover in combat class," Sylvester said.

"But rather than focusing on combat application, I want to give you the broader understanding behind it."

The essence drifting around him began to coagulate. Not into a shape, but folding inward against itself.

"For this class you will each be condensing your essence into a single sphere."

As he spoke, hundreds of vials appeared on every desk.

"The clan has provided enough essence potions for this exercise."

He paused, giving the students a moment to catch up.

"Your goal is to empty your entire reserve and condense all of it into a sphere the size of this."

An orb materialized above his desk as the word left his mouth.

Azrael glanced at Zephyr with amusement.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Nyx asked Malaric.

Malaric looked at her, eyes heavy, as though he had not slept in over a week.

"I just got out of a coma. You should be grateful you are not in my position," he muttered, leaning further back into his chair.

"This seems easy," Azrael said with a smile.

Zephyr stared at him.

"I know you missed the orientation, but seriously? You clearly do not understand why this is even part of the curriculum."

Azrael shrugged.

"Easy regardless of what you say."

Zephyr sighed.

"We will see how confident you sound once it actually starts."

"Fine," Azrael nodded.

Valdren whimpered quietly from his seat, unable to form words.

"First one to finish gets ten soul cores from the rest of us," Sirris said suddenly, turning toward Zuriel.

Zuriel smiled.

"When was the last time we competed at anything?" He asked, flexing slightly.

"The time you did that stupid thing," Sirris replied with a faint smile.

"You hold grudges."

"It seems I have gotten too lenient with this generation," Sylvester said suddenly.

His voice was cold, almost devoid of feeling.

The pressure did not spike the way it usually did when someone of his level spoke that way.

But something shifted.

None of them could pinpoint exactly what.

There was nothing visibly different. Maybe it was his crimson eyes, or the stillness in his posture.

But everything in the room felt dangerous for a brief moment.

Then, as if a switch had flipped off, it was gone.

"Begin. We do not have all day," Sylvester said.

"Create distance between yourselves so your essence does not mix and cause complications," he added, even gesturing roughly at how much space each of them needed.

Fortunately, the room was large enough to accommodate it.

Azrael sat alone, more than a hundred meters separating him from Zephyr.

The air grew thick almost immediately.

Essence poured out of each student like rising tide, filling the space around them with a faint blue mist.

Azrael focused, slowly pushing his essence outward.

Not all of it. He was deliberately limiting how much he released, careful to make himself appear like an ordinary tier two cultivator with a Mythic grade core.

’I had no idea an Infernal grade core held this much more essence than a Mythic one at the same stage,’ he thought, glancing toward Zuriel, who shared the same Mythic grade core.

Zuriel’s essence had already stopped expanding past a hundred meter radius.

Azrael had matched that output deliberately, though it represented less than half of what he actually carried.

[You fool. Why are you holding back?]

The system’s voice cut sharply through his mind.

Azrael winced at the volume.

’What is this about?’ He asked.

[Do you not realize that if you keep concealing your true potential, you will continue being treated as just another minor branch of the family.]

The system replied with a facepalm emoji.

Azrael sighed.

’I know. But whoever cursed me, I do not want them coming back even more prepared.’

The system seemed to exhale.

[That is exactly where your reasoning falls apart.]

[Whoever placed that curse was powerful enough to infiltrate the estate while you had not even awakened. Do you genuinely believe they would hesitate to act now simply because you have?]

Azrael considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

[Exactly. What you actually need is enough recognized talent to draw the Patriarch’s attention, and with it, real protection. You could even disclose the curse to them and let them hunt down whoever is responsible.]

Azrael shook his head slightly.

’Whoever cursed this body is mine to deal with personally. But you are right about one thing. Why am I even holding back?’

The thought settled in his mind with quiet finality.

The already heavy air thickened further as his essence surged outward, like a dam finally giving way.

Sylvester blinked, his composure slipping for the briefest fraction of a second.

He did not dwell on it.

A dome of restrictive space wrapped around Azrael instantly, halting the spread of essence that had already pushed past five hundred meters.

Azrael did not notice at first.

Then the isolation hit him.

And the stares.

He looked around and found the world outside the dome slightly distorted, blurred at the edges, though still visible.

Then he spoke.

"What?"

The question was directed to no one in particular, after all, he was the only one there at first.