She simply said:
— Attack me.
Two words.
As flat as the silence that surrounded them.
And yet, they echoed within us like a sudden rift, a clean break in our perception of reality. There was no arrogance in her voice, no provocation, no harshness. Just perfect neutrality. A calm so absolute it became chilling.
Attack me.
It was not an order.
Nor a challenge.
It was a door she had just opened. A door to something we could not yet see, but that we already sensed as irreversible.
A simple trigger.
And in that instant, I understood — or at least, something inside me understood — that we were not gathered here to learn. Not to improve. Not to perfect ourselves.
We were here to be… confronted.
Confronted with what, exactly? I still didn't know.
But her stillness, her voice, her presence… all of it formed a certainty greater than logic.
What we were about to experience would not be a fight.
It would be a dismantling.
