Jared didn't go home immediately.
That was the first deviation.
"…you're coming, right?" Iris asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"…later."
"…that's not reassuring."
"…temporary delay."
She narrowed her eyes.
"…don't do anything stupid."
A pause.
"…define 'stupid,'" Jared said.
"…JARED."
"…noted."
But he didn't leave with her.
Instead—
He waited.
Until the school emptied.
Hallways quiet.
Lights dimmer.
Footsteps gone.
Environment: controlled.
Interference: minimal.
Then—
He moved.
Not toward the exit.
But toward the storage wing.
Restricted.
Rarely used.
Low traffic.
High privacy.
Jared stopped in front of a locked door.
"…access required," he muttered.
He observed the handle.
The frame.
The lock.
Simple mechanism.
Thirty seconds later—
It opened.
Inside—
Dark.
Cold.
Unused equipment stacked against the walls.
Perfect.
Jared stepped in.
Closed the door behind him.
Silence.
Then—
He took out a small object from his pocket.
A blade.
Clean.
Thin.
Precise.
"…controlled experiment," he said quietly.
No hesitation.
Because now—
He had data.
Small blood loss: no effect.
Large blood loss: required.
The problem—
Was control.
Too much—
Risk.
Too little—
No result.
"…threshold calibration," Jared murmured.
He sat down.
Rolled up his sleeve.
Looked at his arm.
Target area identified.
A pause.
Just one.
Then—
He cut.
Deeper than before.
Blood flowed.
Not excessive.
But enough.
Jared's breathing stayed steady.
Eyes focused.
Monitoring.
Measuring.
Seconds passed.
Nothing.
Then—
Something shifted.
Clarity.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Jared's pupils dilated slightly.
Effect confirmed.
His thoughts accelerated.
Faster.
Cleaner.
"…increase detected," he said.
But this time—
It wasn't the same.
It was stronger.
And unstable.
Jared gripped the edge of the table.
Heart rate elevated.
Processing spike.
Too fast.
"…adjust," he muttered.
But his body—
Didn't respond normally.
Vision sharpened—
Then flickered.
Thoughts multiplied.
Too many variables.
For a brief moment—
He lost control.
The blade slipped from his hand.
Clattered to the floor.
Jared exhaled sharply.
Overload.
He forced himself to focus.
Slow.
Controlled.
The effect stabilized.
But barely.
Silence returned.
Jared looked at his arm.
Blood still there.
Then at his hand—
Slightly shaking.
Conclusion: unstable amplification.
But the result—
Was undeniable.
He was thinking faster.
Much faster.
Jared leaned back slightly.
Ignoring the discomfort.
Ignoring the risk.
Because now—
He had proof.
He didn't need to wait.
He could force growth.
At a cost.
A small sound came from outside.
Jared froze.
Detection risk.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Jared stood immediately.
Wiped the blood.
Wrapped his arm quickly.
The door handle moved.
Jared's eyes sharpened.
Too late to hide.
The door opened.
And someone stepped in.
"…I knew it."
Evan.
Silence.
His eyes moved—
From the blade.
To the blood.
To Jared.
Understanding.
Immediate.
"…you accelerated it," Evan said quietly.
Jared didn't deny it.
"…inefficient method," Evan continued.
"…effective," Jared replied.
A pause.
Then—
Evan stepped closer.
"…you're going to break," he said.
Jared met his gaze.
Calm.
Focused.
"…only if I stop."
Silence.
Evan studied him.
Long.
Carefully.
Then—
"…good," he said.
A faint smile appeared.
"…now it's interesting."
And for the first time—
This wasn't just competition anymore.
It was escalation.