Ordin looked at Mark at eight feet.
At the silver eyes looking at his face.
At the simulation building.
He clapped—Arrow Burst, immediate, the eight-foot compression, the burst arriving at Mark's position in a fraction of a second.
Mark's reflex read it—the evasion at eight feet minimal but present, the burst passing his shoulder rather than hitting center mass.
He didn't create distance.
He maintained eight feet.
Ordin clapped again—the same thing, Arrow Burst, immediate.
Same result—evasion, graze, maintained distance.
The sustained gaze between exchanges—Mark's silver eyes on Ordin's face during each brief reset between claps, the simulation building in the seconds the exchanges provided.
Forty percent.
Ordin recognized the specific quality of Mark's gaze—the same recognition that Gorr had eventually produced, the same recognition that Ragnor had produced. The silver eyes weren't just reading his technique. They were building something.
He looked away.
