Petty

But, it wasn't like there weren't some other alchemist brutes who didn't do the same thing. In fact, there were some ancient cauldrons that couldn't be used without overwhelming physical prowess even far beyond Dyon's level. 

However… This wasn't what Dyon was doing. This wasn't just hand seals… 

They could see it with their own eyes. The rhythm of his body… No, the rhythm of every one of the fibers running through him. 

With every resonating strike, his cauldron seemed to sing. Every strike came with a different beat of his heart, a different vibration of his skin, a different position of his body. 

After being lost in a daze for a long while, the alchemists finally understood. They didn't even have the mind to pay attention to Dyon's weird transformation. Even Nazaire's couldn't completely keep them from paying attention to Dyon any longer.