Three days passed before Sirius could stand without pain.
The infirmary lights dimmed in cycles that mimicked sunrise and sunset, but he'd barely slept through any of them. His body refused to rest fully — like it was waiting for a command that never came.
Every breath still hurt, but the ache was clean now — not sharp, not infected, just healing.
Adaptive Resonance had done more than patch wounds this time. It had rewritten him.
When the doctors removed his bandages, even they went quiet. The bruises were gone. The ribs they had scanned as fractured were fully fused, bone density increased. His pulse ran slightly faster than human average, but steady.
It didn't make sense. It wasn't supposed to.
Cor Leonis stood by the window as the physician left, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"You're impossible, you know that?" he said at last.
Sirius managed a weak smile. "I heal fast."
"Fast is one thing. You're regenerating like you're learning from injury."
"That's what it feels like," Sirius admitted. "Every time I break, I come back stronger."
Cor's jaw tightened. "That's not normal."
"Nothing about me is," Sirius said quietly.
Cor didn't argue. He turned toward the glass, watching the faint shimmer of the barrier beyond. "You remind me of Regis' line — always walking the line between power and ruin."
Sirius looked down at his hands. "Maybe I'm just finding my balance."
Cor gave him a sidelong glance. "Balance doesn't mean indestructibility. It means knowing when to stop."
Sirius chuckled softly. "You sound like Mom."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
---
By the next day, Cor cleared him for light drills.
They returned to the Citadel's private training yard — smaller than the main hall, its floor carved from black stone and marked with faint magitek etchings to absorb impact. The hum of containment fields filled the air.
Zangan was already waiting, grinning. "You sure you're alive this time, kid?"
"Mostly," Sirius said.
"Good enough."
He tossed him a practice blade. Sirius caught it one-handed — too easily.
Zangan blinked. "Show-off."
Sirius smirked. "Didn't mean to."
"Then do it again," Cor ordered.
Zangan lunged first — testing reflexes. His footwork was fluid, impossible to predict. Sirius moved before thought, parrying at perfect angle, his counter landing exactly where it would disrupt Zangan's balance.
Zangan staggered back, blinking. "That wasn't luck."
Sirius frowned slightly. "I didn't even think."
Cor's gaze sharpened. "Again."
They went for another round. This time, Cor joined — two against one. Sirius should have been overwhelmed, but his body moved ahead of him. Every feint, every strike, every pivot came with eerie precision. His breathing never faltered, his stance never broke.
Zangan circled, trying to bait him. Cor came from behind, silent as shadow. Sirius felt the air pressure shift before Cor even moved. He ducked, countered, and spun — the practice sword stopping an inch from Cor's ribs.
The yard went quiet.
Cor's brow furrowed. "How did you—?"
"I don't know," Sirius admitted. "I just knew where you'd be."
Zangan gave a low whistle. "He's reading motion through mana pressure."
"Impossible," Cor said flatly. "That kind of awareness takes decades to train."
Sirius lowered his weapon, breath steady. "I didn't train it. It just… happened."
Cor studied him for a long moment, then said quietly, "Your Resonance isn't just adapting. It's anticipating."
Zangan crossed his arms, half-impressed, half-wary. "That's not a skill, that's an instinct. He's evolving mid-combat."
Cor turned to Sirius. "We'll need to control this before it controls you."
---
Training intensified over the next week.
Cor switched to advanced combat forms — the ones reserved for Shadow Guard candidates. Zangan added layers of unpredictability — thrown sand, misdirection, feints disguised as stumbles.
Sirius adapted to all of it.
He stopped watching opponents directly. Instead, he felt them — the subtle pull of mana in motion, the vibration through air and ground. He could read Zangan's kicks through sound alone, track Cor's movements by how the mana in the room rippled before a strike.
By the third session, he was parrying blows blindfolded.
"Unnatural," Zangan muttered as Sirius blocked a strike from behind without turning.
Cor folded his arms. "Unnatural doesn't mean useless."
Zangan shot him a look. "It also means unpredictable."
Sirius lowered his weapon. "You're both right."
Cor raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
He thought for a moment. "Every time I adapt, something changes. It's not just my muscles. It's my awareness — like I'm borrowing instincts that were always there, but dormant. Sometimes it feels like they're not even mine."
Cor's expression hardened. "And when that happens?"
Sirius hesitated. "It feels… right. Too right."
Zangan exchanged a glance with Cor. "Sounds like you're getting possessed by your own potential."
Cor ignored him. "Keep control, Blake. If you start trusting those instincts more than your discipline, you'll lose yourself."
Sirius nodded. "Understood."
Cor gave a rare half-smile. "Good. Because I'm not fighting whatever comes out if you don't."
Zangan chuckled. "That's a lie. You'd fight a god if it looked at you wrong."
"Only if it started training bad form," Cor muttered.
Sirius laughed quietly — a sound that cut through the tension.
---
That evening, Sirius walked alone through the Citadel's upper terrace, overlooking the glowing city below. The barrier pulsed faintly overhead, reflecting in his eyes.
He flexed his hand, feeling the hum of energy beneath the skin. It wasn't just strength anymore — it was awareness. The world breathed differently around him now.
Every motion left a ripple in the air. Every voice, every sound carried shape.
He could sense the guards on the walls before he saw them. Feel the energy lines flowing through the magitek conduits beneath his feet.
It was exhilarating — and terrifying.
He whispered to himself, "How far does this go?"
A faint breeze answered, carrying the scent of ozone and rain.
He closed his eyes, listening. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled — a deep, slow echo, like the world's heartbeat.
---
When he returned home that night, Lyla greeted him at the door with her usual smile. "You're glowing again," she said, touching his cheek.
"Training," he said simply.
She nodded. "You're stronger every day. But make sure you're still you in there."
"I will."
She smiled faintly. "I believe you."
Dominic stepped into the hall, folding his arms. "Cor says you're evolving faster than humanly possible."
Sirius met his father's gaze. "Then I'll have to learn faster than that."
Dominic sighed. "Just… stay alive while you do."
Sirius smiled faintly. "That's the plan."
---
Long after the lights dimmed, Sirius sat by his window again. His reflection stared back — pale hair, red eyes glowing faintly.
He lifted his hand. The air shimmered around it, faint waves of heat and light bending.
He whispered, "Adaptation, anticipation, awareness."
The energy pulsed once in answer — steady, alive.
He smiled. "Alright. Let's see where this leads."
Outside, lightning forked across the barrier — not destructive, but beautiful.
The storm was watching.
And so was he.