Reaction became movement.
Movement became flow.
Ethan stood alone in the center of the room, his Ten active, his body calm. His muscles no longer held tension without purpose. They waited.
Not rigid.
Ready.
The door opened.
The fighter entered again.
This time, he did not stop at a distance.
He walked past Ethan.
Slow.
Unthreatening.
Then—
He struck.
No warning.
No preparation.
A direct strike toward Ethan's side.
Ethan moved.
Not away.
With it.
His body shifted just enough to avoid the full force. The strike grazed past him instead of landing cleanly.
Not avoidance.
Redirection.
The man struck again.
Faster.
Higher.
Ethan reacted.
His body turned with the motion, his feet adjusting naturally, his balance never breaking.
Ten held.
His structure remained intact.
Strike.
Move.
Strike.
Move.
No pause.
No break.
No thought.
Flow.
Silent Authority remained within him—not used loudly, not wasted. It existed as structure, reducing resistance in small, invisible moments.
The man increased speed.
Testing.
Pressure.
Ethan did not resist the speed.
He aligned with it.
His movements became smaller.
More efficient.
No wasted motion.
The man stopped suddenly.
Silence filled the room.
Ethan remained standing.
Stable.
Untouched.
The man observed him.
"You stop resisting movement," he said.
Not praise.
Recognition.
"You move with it."
He stepped closer.
"Most bodies fight force."
He paused.
"Correct bodies guide it."
He turned toward the door.
"Flow reduces cost."
He stopped briefly.
"Cost defines survival."
Then he left.
The door closed.
Ethan remained where he stood.
His Ten active.
His aura is calm.
His body no longer reacted with delay.
It responded without hesitation.
Without effort.
Flow was not speed.
Flow was the absence of resistance.
He stepped forward.
Stopped.
Turned.
Stopped.
Every motion ended exactly where he intended.
No more.
No less.
And for the first time—
Movement felt inevitable.