“And outweigh you by more than four hundred pounds combined.”
“Yes.”
Rafael asked, “Do you actually believe you can beat three black belts?”
Simone answered immediately.
“No.”
That quieted the room again.
“Not in a fight, not in a normal grappling round, and definitely not if three trained men can actually use the advantages of being three trained men.”
She pointed toward the square.
“But this isn’t that.”
Simone explained that the drill removed nearly every dangerous advantage numbers normally created. Nobody could tackle her, submit her, lift her, pin her under multiple bodies, or strike; all she had to do was find enough empty space to touch a line before sixty seconds expired. Under those narrow conditions, she believed her movement background might give her a chance.
Andre liked that answer.
Not because it proved she would succeed.
Because it remained accurate.
He changed the first round to thirty seconds.
If everything stayed controlled, they could consider sixty afterward.
He assigned two assistant coaches as spotters, enlarged the square slightly, prohibited two-person body locks, and made everyone agree that any awkward balance meant immediate release. Then he looked around at the growing audience and warned them not to turn the drill into a circus.
A blue belt called from the wall, “What counts as circus?”
Andre stared at him.
“You asking.”
People laughed.
The tension dropped.
Simone stepped into the middle.
Grant stood in front of her, Elijah angled toward her left, and Rafael waited on the right. Andre checked the timer, asked each person whether they were ready, and received four yeses before raising one hand.
“Thirty seconds,” he said.
Then he dropped his hand.
“Go.”
Nobody moved for the first two seconds.
Simone noticed immediately.
Three people required some shared understanding of who initiated.
One person did not.
She stepped toward Grant slowly enough to make him react, then changed direction as soon as his weight committed forward.
Elijah closed the left side.
Rafael protected the right.
Better than before.
Simone backed toward a corner.
Grant moved to pressure without touching hard, Elijah reduced the lane, and Rafael stayed far enough away that she could not simply use his momentum against him. For several seconds, their coverage looked surprisingly clean.
Then Simone stepped toward Rafael.
He shifted.
Grant closed behind.
Elijah crossed.
She stopped.
All three men continued moving for half a step.
It was tiny.
Half a step was enough information.
Simone reversed.
Elijah recovered quickly and blocked her.
Grant arrived.
Rafael narrowed the remaining space.
Fourteen seconds.
Simone could feel the square shrinking.
Grant smiled.
“Still confident?”
“I said specific.”
Rafael laughed.
That laugh cost him a fraction of attention.
Simone moved.
Elijah anticipated correctly.
Grant overcommitted by less than a foot.
Rafael shifted to repair Grant’s lane instead of maintaining his own.
For a moment, all three looked at Simone’s upper body.
Nobody was protecting the lower-left corner.
She changed direction.
Elijah recovered first.
He nearly stopped her.
Simone touched his shoulder lightly, not to shove him but to redirect her own body around the outside angle. Grant reached from behind, and Andre immediately called, “Light.”
Grant released.
Simone kept moving.
Rafael arrived.
Twenty-five seconds.
She was close enough to the boundary to see it beside her foot.
Rafael blocked the final angle.
Grant covered behind.
Elijah recovered left.
For the first time, they had her contained cleanly.
Andre counted twenty-seven.
Then twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
“Time.”
Everyone separated.
Simone breathed out and smiled.
Grant pointed toward the center of the square.
“Still inside.”
“Yes.”
Rafael nodded.
“That was harder than it looked.”
Elijah said, “She almost had the corner.”
Simone shook her head.
“Almost is not outside.”