Authority meant nothing without reach.
Ethan stood in the center of the room, his Ten active without effort, his breathing steady, his posture controlled. Silent Authority existed within him now—defined, stable, real.
But his body remained unchanged.
Human.
Limited.
The door opened.
Not the man.
Someone else entered.
Older.
Broader.
His movements carried weight—not from aura, but from experience. His Ten was present, but restrained. His body spoke before his Nen did.
A fighter.
The door closed behind him.
No observers entered.
No explanation followed.
The man looked at Ethan without hostility.
Without sympathy.
"Attack me," he said.
Ethan did not move.
He observed.
The man's stance was relaxed—but not vulnerable. His balance was perfect. His center unmoving. Every small shift of muscle was efficient.
He was ready.
Ethan activated Ren.
Silent Authority formed instantly.
"Stop," Ethan said.
The man hesitated.
Barely.
But he did not stop.
He stepped forward anyway.
His resistance was absolute.
He crossed the distance between them in a single motion.
Fast.
Too fast.
His hand struck Ethan's shoulder—not violently, but precisely.
Ethan's balance collapsed.
His body hit the floor before his mind finished processing the movement.
Pain followed.
Not overwhelming.
But undeniable.
He had lost.
Not because Silent Authority failed.
Because his body could not enforce it.
The man stepped back.
"Again," he said.
Ethan stood.
He did not hesitate.
This time, he moved first.
He stepped forward and struck.
His movement was inefficient.
His weight misplaced.
His strike predictable.
The man avoided it effortlessly.
A simple shift.
A simple step.
A simple truth.
He struck Ethan's leg.
Ethan fell again.
Faster this time.
Cleaner.
Final.
He lay on the ground, his breathing controlled despite the pain.
Silent Authority existed.
But his body could not support it.
The man looked down at him.
"You understand," he said.
Not a question.
Fact.
Ethan stood slowly.
"Yes," he said.
His voice was calm.
His mind clearer than before.
Nen was authority.
But the body was execution.
Without execution—
Authority meant nothing.
The man nodded once.
"Your Nen is advanced."
He paused.
"But your body is weak."
Not insult.
Measurement.
"That will change."
He stepped back.
"From now on, you train both."
He raised his hand slightly.
"Body."
A pause.
"Nen."
Another pause.
"And the space between them."
The door opened.
He left without another word.
Ethan remained standing in the center of the room.
His shoulder ached.
His leg trembled.
His body had failed him.
But his mind had not.
He activated Ten.
Contained his aura.
Contained his pain.
Contained himself.
For the first time since awakening Nen—
Ethan understood the next truth.
Authority was not enough.
He needed the body to enforce it.