Pressure no longer shocked him.
It shaped him.
Ethan stood in silence, his Ten active, his aura resting naturally against his skin. The pain in his shoulder had faded into memory. Not gone. Integrated.
Information.
The door opened.
The fighter entered.
He did not stop.
He did not speak.
He moved.
Instantly.
Strike.
Faster than before.
Faster than Ethan had seen.
No warning.
No signal.
Only action.
Ethan did not think.
He moved.
His body shifted just enough. His stance adjusted. The strike passed beside him without contact.
Not prediction.
Not calculation.
Instinct.
The man struck again.
No pause.
No rhythm.
Unpredictable.
Ethan moved again.
Not forced.
Not delayed.
Natural.
His Ten held.
His balance remained perfect.
Silent Authority existed within him—not spoken, not declared—but defined. It reduced resistance in moments too small to see.
The man increased speed.
Testing limits.
Strike.
Strike.
Strike.
Ethan's body responded without hesitation.
No wasted motion.
No excess force.
Only correct movement.
The man stopped.
Immediately.
Silence filled the room.
Ethan remained standing.
Untouched.
Stable.
Complete.
The man observed him.
"You stop reacting," he said.
Not praise.
Recognition.
"You begin responding."
He stepped closer.
"Reaction follows force."
A pause.
"Response meets it."
He turned toward the door.
"Instinct removes delay."
He stopped briefly.
"Delay creates failure."
Then he left.
The door closed.
Ethan remained where he stood.
His Ten active.
His aura calm.
His body no longer waited for danger.
It aligned with it.
Not faster.
Earlier.
Instinct was not speed.
It was absence of hesitation.
He stepped forward.
Turned.
Stopped.
Every movement ended exactly where it needed to end.
Nothing wasted.
Nothing delayed.
And for the first time—
He did not feel like he was learning to survive.
He felt like he was learning to control survival itself.