The word landed quietly.
That was what made it dangerous.
"Again."
Aria didn't raise her voice.
Didn't gesture.
Didn't move.
She simply looked at the remaining line of them like a teacher waiting for a student to realize the answer was wrong.
No One Wants to Be First
Silence stretched.
Too long.
Someone cleared their throat and immediately regretted it.
"…She's not asking," a man murmured.
"No," another replied under their breath.
"She's resetting."
The Next One Steps Forward
A younger man moved this time.
Lean.
Fast.
Eyes sharp with something that wasn't arrogance.
Respect.
That made him more dangerous.
"I'll go," he said.
Not defiant.
Professional.
Aria nodded once.
"Good."
That was all the encouragement he got.
He Attacks Cleanly
No feints.
No theatrics.
A straight entry, tight guard, aiming to control space rather than dominate it.
Aria shifted.
Minimal.
The first exchange passed in silence—hands flashing, feet adjusting, angles closing and reopening.
For half a second—
It almost looked even.
Noah felt his pulse spike.
"…He's good," he thought.
Aria Lets Him Think That
She gave ground.
One step.
Then another.
The man followed.
Careful.
Focused.
Confident now.
Too confident.
The Correction
Aria stopped retreating.
The world tilted.
She stepped inside his reach and caught his wrist mid-strike.
Not a block.
A claim.
Her other hand pressed lightly at his elbow.
Her foot slid behind his heel.
"Again," she said.
And the man understood too late.
The Floor Answers
She didn't throw him.
She removed his permission to stand.
The man hit the ground hard enough to rattle teeth.
Still conscious.
Still breathing.
Flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it had betrayed him.
Respect Without Comfort
Aria stepped back.
"You're better," she said.
"Which is why you fell harder."
She offered no hand.
No consolation.
Just truth.
No One Misreads This One
No jokes.
No comments.
No excuses.
They all saw it now.
Skill wasn't enough.
Effort wasn't enough.
Trying wasn't enough.
The hierarchy wasn't about how well you fought.
It was about who decided when it ended.
Closing Beat
Aria looked down the line again.
Her gaze stopped on each of them.
Measured.
Final.
"Again," she repeated.
And this time—
No one wondered whether they should move.
They only wondered how long they'd last.