A camera stood on a tripod near the entrance.
Julian had arranged for two additional recordings from different angles, ensuring that no single viewpoint would determine the interpretation of an exchange.
Lena arrived at nine forty-five.
She wore a clean white training jacket, black trousers, and the same faded belt she had worn during her first visit. She greeted Master Ward, bowed toward the assembled students, and placed her bag beside the wall.
Marcus watched her from the opposite side of the mat.
He had expected her to look nervous.
Instead, she appeared almost ordinary.
That irritated him more than it should have.
Master Ward stepped into the center of the room.
"Before we begin, I want everyone to understand the purpose of this session. We are here to learn. No one is here to punish, humiliate, or prove personal superiority."
He looked directly at Marcus.
"Any deliberate violation of the rules ends the session immediately."
Marcus nodded.
Derek did the same.
Julian remained silent.
Ward continued.
"We will conduct three separate rounds. Each round will focus on a different range. There will be no simultaneous three-on-one engagement today. That would add unnecessary risks without improving the quality of the assessment."
Marcus opened his mouth to object, but Ward raised his hand.
"This decision is final."
Lena looked toward the instructor.
"That format is acceptable."
Marcus exhaled sharply.
"Fine."
Ward turned to the assembled students.
"First round: striking distance. Derek and Lena."
The two fighters stepped onto the mat.
They bowed, raised their guards, and began moving.
Derek started cautiously, using small feints to test Lena's reactions. He wanted to establish the rhythm early and force her to respond to his preferred combinations.
Lena refused to follow the pattern.
She changed her distance, occasionally stepping forward when Derek expected her to retreat. Each time he tried to accelerate the exchange, she shifted just far enough to disrupt his timing.
Derek landed a controlled touch to her upper arm.
She acknowledged it with a nod.
"Good."
He attempted another combination.
Lena redirected the entry and tapped his shoulder.
The exchange was brief, but the audience noticed the difference. Neither fighter was overpowering the other. Instead, they were competing to control the space between them.
After two minutes, Ward called time.
Derek lowered his hands, breathing steadily.
"I understand now," he said quietly.
"Understand what?"
"You aren't trying to be faster than me."
"No."
"You're trying to make me use speed at the wrong moment."
Lena smiled.
"Now you're learning."
Derek returned to the sidelines without complaint.
The second round focused on grappling.
Julian stepped onto the mat.
Unlike Derek, he did not smile.
He bowed, waited for Ward's signal, and approached Lena with careful footwork. His objective was to establish a secure grip and force the exchange into the ground, where his experience gave him an advantage.
Lena recognized the strategy immediately.
She defended the initial grip, adjusted her stance, and prevented Julian from controlling her balance. He changed angles, attempted another entry, and finally secured a position that allowed him to begin a takedown.
Lena countered, but Julian anticipated the movement.
For several seconds, neither gained a decisive advantage.
The audience watched in silence.
Julian was the first to disengage.
He stepped back and bowed.
"Thank you."
Lena returned the gesture.
"Your timing is excellent."
"So is your defense."
There was no resentment in his voice.
For the first time since she had entered the academy, Lena saw Julian not as Adrian Cross's son but as a fighter with his own abilities, questions, and choices.
The third round belonged to Marcus.
He entered the mat with his shoulders squared and his expression determined.
Ward repeated the rules.
Marcus nodded.
The signal came.
He advanced immediately, using his reach to control the opening exchange. Lena moved laterally, refusing to be driven toward the edge of the mat. Marcus adjusted and attempted to close the distance.
This time, Lena did not disengage.
She met his entry, disrupted his balance, and turned the exchange into a brief struggle for position. Marcus resisted effectively, using his strength to recover his stance.
For several seconds, the two stood locked in a contest of balance and leverage.
Then Marcus made a mistake.
He tried to force the exchange rather than adjust to it.
Lena changed direction, guided his momentum, and brought him safely to the mat.
The movement was controlled.
There was no slam, no dramatic finishing strike, and no unnecessary pressure.
Marcus landed on his side, blinked, and realized that Lena had already released him.
Ward called time.
Silence filled the academy.
Marcus rose slowly.
His first instinct was to argue that the movement had been lucky. He could feel the familiar excuses assembling in his mind.
Then he remembered Derek's words.