Coach Tracy was talking to Leo in the tunnel as he led him toward the field.

  "Chen. You're doing the coin flip."

  Leo blinked. "I am?"

  "Captain's duty."

  The roar of the crowd filtered down from above, a constant pressure that vibrated through the walls.

  "But that's not what I need to talk to you about. Your job isn't just to clear out the defenders and win the game."

  "It's not?"

  "No." Tracy leaned in conspiratorially. "I need you to beat up their flyers. Badly. So badly they can't continue playing. And then do the same to their defenders."

  "What's the difference?"

  "Their coach is probably going to surrender immediately after you wipe their team." Tracy laughed, a sound Leo suspected most Exeter students had never heard.

  "Once he does, the game restarts with fresh rosters, so the kids who didn't get to play can have their time in the spotlight. An exhibition match."

  "You're the exterminator." Tracy's eyes gleamed with glee. "After their starters are gone, it'll be our starters against their backups. Our backups against their third string.."

  "That seems cruel."

  "Think of it as doing your teammates a favor." Tracy clapped him on the shoulder, grinning like a man who had waited years for this exact moment.

  "A little graduation gift if you know what I mean."

  Tracy reached into his pocket and withdrew a small metallic cylinder, roughly the length of his palm. Inscriptions covered its surface in tight spiraling patterns.

  "Take this."

  Leo accepted it, turning it over in his hands. "What is it?"

  "Formation pivot. Standard issue for every flyer." Tracy gestured vaguely toward the field above them.

  "The stadium has massive formation arrays covering the entire playing surface. The pivot lets you interface with them and simulate the experience of a Tier Two lifebound sword."

  "I have my own flying sword."

  "I know. You won't need the pivot for flying." Tracy produced a carabiner clip. "But this one has camera formations embedded in it. Carry it during the match."

  Tracy attached the pivot to Leo's waistband.

  "Don't lose it. Just forget it's there."

  "Okay, that sounds easy."

  Tracy reached into his spatial ring and produced a coiled length of silver rope, its surface shimmering with formation light.

  "Peak Tier-2, just like you asked." Tracy handed it over. "A little better than the one you tried out yesterday at practice. Easier to use too."

  Tracy studied him for a long moment, his usual scowl softened into something almost approaching warmth.

  "You know, Chen, I've coached a lot of players. National champions. Future military heroes. Kids who went on to become the most feared cultivators of their generation."

  "And?"

  "And none of them scared me the way you do."

  Leo wasn't sure how to respond to that.

  The tunnel opened onto the field.

  Light flooded Leo's vision, formation-amplified illumination that turned the evening stadium into something brighter than noon. The crowd noise hit him like a physical force, over a hundred fifty thousand voices compressed into a wall of sound that would have deafened an unawakened human.

  The announcer's voice cut through the din.

  "AND NOW, REPRESENTING PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY..."

  The Exeter half of the stadium leaned forward.

  "TEAM CAPTAIN AND STARTING FLYER..."

  Leo reached into his dantian. The downgraded Eclipse answered his call, emerging from his spiritual storage in a burst of controlled light.

  "LEO CHEN!"

  Leo stepped onto the Eclipse and rose.

  The Exeter side of the stadium erupted. Over seventy thousand voices screaming in unison, their combined spiritual pressure adding to the weight that already pressed down on the field.

  Banners waved. Formation-lights spelled out his name in characters fifty feet tall.

  They had never seen him before. He was a complete unknown, a student who had appeared from nowhere to claim the captain's position. But they had watched the monitors during the pre-game preparations.

  They had seen Coach Tracy walking beside him, Tracy's signature worried expression replaced with something that almost resembled joy.

  Tracy didn't relax. Tracy didn't joke with players. This was a new side of Tracy they never seen.

  Whatever this Leo Chen was, he was the real deal.

  Leo lazily descended toward center field.

  The ref waited at the midpoint, beside him stood the Lutheran team captain, a broad-shouldered young man whose aura marked him as peak Qi Refinement.

  "Gentlemen," the ref said. "Welcome to the Quarterfinals of the National High School Flying Aces Championship."

  He launched into a prepared speech, something about sportsmanship and tradition and the honor of competition.

  Leo listened with half an ear, more interested in studying his opponent. The Lutheran captain stood with military bearing, his posture perfect, his expression controlled. He wore his team's colors with obvious pride.

  "...and may the best team prevail!"

  The ref fell silent.

  Leo waited.

  The silence stretched.

  The Lutheran captain arched an eyebrow.

  The ref arched an eyebrow.

  "Am I supposed to do something?" Leo asked.

  The Lutheran captain's composure cracked. "You're supposed to call heads or tails."

  "Oh." Leo shrugged. "Heads."

  The ref produced a ceremonial coin, a disc of formation-inscribed gold that caught the stadium lights. He flipped it with practiced ease, the coin spinning through the air in a perfect arc before landing in his palm.

  "Heads."

  Drat. Leo thought.

  Another pause.

  The Lutheran captain stared at him. The ref stared at him. On the massive screens ringing the stadium, a hundred fifty thousand spectators stared at him.

  "What am I supposed to do now?" Leo asked.

  The Lutheran captain's composure shattered entirely.

  "Why are you here if you know nothing about the game?"

  "I've never played Flying Aces before." Leo scratched the back of his head. "This is my first time."

  The stadium buzzed with confused murmurs. The Lutheran captain's face cycled through several shades of red.

  "Then why did your coach make you captain? Why are you doing the coin flip? Why are you even on the field?"

  Leo considered the question.

  "Coach Tracy told me to beat you and your flyers up so badly you couldn't play anymore," he said. "And then do the same thing to your defense."

  He said it casually, conversationally, the way someone might describe their plans for the weekend.

  The stadium went silent.

  Then it exploded.

  The Lutheran half of the crowd surged to their feet, seventy thousand voices raised in outrage. Spiritual pressure spiked as Gold Core alumni displayed their might, and some Nascent Soul parents released their domains to brush against the stadium's defensive formations.

  The Exeter side responded in kind.

  Cheers and battle cries mixed with the sound of swords being drawn. The two halves of the audience pressed against the invisible barrier separating them from the arena, the air shimmering.

  The ref's face had gone pale.

  Leo looked down at the formation pivot clipped to his waist.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The one with the camera formations.

  The one that was broadcasting everything he said to every screen in the stadium.

  "Oops."

  I guess I forgot it was there.

  ---

  Leo rose above the field, the downgraded Eclipse humming beneath his feet with familiar resonance.

  The stadium stretched out below him, a bowl of light and noise that dwarfed anything he had experienced in his previous life. Two forts were at opposite ends, the defenders were taking their positions, their flak cannons already tracking the airspace above.

  A figure fell into formation beside him.

  Derek Okonjo matched Leo's lazy figure-eight pattern with practiced ease, his academy-issued formation pivot glowing faintly as it interfaced with the stadium's flight arrays.

  "Dude," Okonjo said. "That entrance was the most badass thing I've ever seen."

  "Was it?"

  "You literally told their captain you were going to beat him so badly he couldn't play anymore." Okonjo's grin was visible even from ten feet away. "On live broadcast. To the entire stadium. While their Nascent Soul parents were watching."

  "I just told him what Coach Tracy said to me! It's his fault"

  Okonjo just laughed.

  Leo maintained his holding pattern, eyes scanning the airspace. The Lutheran flyers were assembling on the opposite side of the field, five figures in matching formation, their movements crisp and coordinated.

  "I need to warn you about something," Leo said.

  "What's up?"

  "I genuinely have no idea how to play Flying Aces."

  Okonjo stared at him for a long moment. Then, inexplicably, his grin returned, wider than before.

  "So how does it work?" Leo asked. "When do I start destroying everyone?"

  "It's simpler than you'd think." Okonjo pointed toward a platform at the edge of the field, where an official stood beside a massive formation-cannon.

  "There's going to be a loud starting gun. Like, really loud. Spiritual resonance that hits everyone in the arena. When you hear it, the game has officially begun."

  Leo looked a little unsure.

  "What if they do a practice fire and I jump the gun?"

  "Tell you what. I'll throw a fireball when it's time. You'll see it, and that's your cue."

  "Great, thanks!"

  They continued their holding pattern, the seconds stretching into minute, the crowd noise had settled into a steady roar, anticipation building toward the moment of release.

  Leo's eyes found the Crusaders captain.

  The broad-shouldered young man had positioned himself at the highest point of his team's formation, a clear statement of dominance. He flew with the rigid precision of military training, overwatching the field.

  He was also staring directly at Leo.

  Their eyes met across the battlefield.

  Leo motioned to Okonjo and gestured upward.

  Then they began to climb.

  They climbed together, two figures spiraling upward through the stadium's airspace, until they hovered near the upper limits of the playing field.

  The air was thinner here, and the ceiling boundary flashed above. Below them, both teams watched in tense silence.

  Then the starting gun fired.

  To his left, Okonjo hurled a small fireball into the empty air.

  The world shifted.

  Leo's consciousness expanded outward, his awareness blooming into that familiar spherical bubble. His body became a piece on a board. A chess piece. A piece to be directed rather than inhabited.

  The Eclipse hummed alongside him, the Lifebound blade responding to his will with that perfect synchronicity only a bonded treasure could provide.

  Move.

  He willed himself forward and the Eclipse obeyed, cutting a jagged path through the air. Left. Right. Left. The trajectory a broken lightning bolt, impossible to track, impossible to predict.

  The Crusaders Captain's eyes went wide as Leo materialized beside him, the lasso already snapping out with casual precision.

  The loop cinched tight around the Captain's torso.

  Leo yanked his piece toward the earth, the Eclipse screaming through the air at speeds that were impossible for any high school level flyer.

  The Crusaders Captain tumbled behind him like a rag doll caught in a hurricane, his own flying treasure completely irrelevant against the force of Leo's descent.

  This is slow.

  The thought came unbidden, tinged with disappointment. He remembered what his Eclipse had been. Peak Tier Three. The vertical dives that had crushed him into blackouts, all those painful hours of training to recover consciousness mid-combat.

  This was the downgraded version. Tier Two. Safe enough that he wouldn't black out from vertical g-forces as long as he moved diagonally.

  Surprisingly the Crusaders gunner was good. Genuinely good. The shell left the flak cannon before Leo had traveled thirty feet, the trajectory a perfect intercept of his projected path. Instant reaction. Zero hesitation. Impressive.

  The shell screamed toward him and Leo simply shifted his piece to the left and back. The projectile just brushing past.

  The Captain met the shell.

  The detonation was spectacular. Fire and shrapnel and a body tumbling through the explosion, still alive, still in the arena. Leo noted this with the clinical detachment that third person perspective provided.

  Release.

  He loosened the lasso at the exact moment his trajectory reversed. His Eclipse screamed to a halt, the sudden deceleration slamming into him like a wall. He gritted his teeth and locked his core, pure muscle memory after months of brutal training.

  The Captain on the other hand did not stop. The Captain continued, ragdolling forward.

  He hit the flak cannon like a meteor.

  Metal shrieked. Ammunition cooked off in a chain of secondary explosions that tore the weapon apart from the inside. The gunner vanished in a flash of arena teleportation, eliminated from the match.

  The remaining defenders scattered, diving behind barricades, ducking beneath what little cover the fort offered.

  The Captain lay sprawled at the bottom of the crater. Battered. Burning.

  Leo became the lightning bolt himself.

  The Eclipse dove. Left. Right. Down. Leo slammed through him again, the impact pummeling the man. He reversed, zagged, struck again. And again.

  The Captain vanished in a flash of white light, teleported to the medical station.

  Leo stepped out of third person perspective.

  The whole exchange had taken perhaps fifteen seconds.

  He angled his Eclipse upward, rising with an almost lazy spiral.

  The defenders were regrouping below, scrambling back into their positions with admirable discipline despite having just watched their captain get used as a human wrecking ball.

  The second gunner was already behind his cannon, already tracking him, already preparing to fire.

  The stadium erupted.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  The Exeter section had gone absolutely feral. Students climbed over seats. Alumni drew their swords. The chant thundered through the stands.

  He had spent years dying in game. Years having his consciousness crushed into paste, respawning, drinking tea, and doing it all over again. Months of quiet suffering that nobody saw and nobody appreciated.

  But this? Seventy thousand people chanting his name because he had just done something spectacular?

  Leo allowed himself a grin.

  The crowd roared louder in response, feeding off his energy, and Leo felt something warm bloom in his chest. Validation. Recognition. The pure, undiluted high of being witnessed.

  So this is what it feels like, he thought, raising one fist to the Exeter section. To realize my destiny as a transmigrator.

  The stadium shook with approval.

  Below, the gunner fired.

  Leo slipped back into third person perspective. His consciousness expanded. The shell crawled toward him, its trajectory a readable line in his spherical awareness.

  He zagged left.

  The shell passed through the space he had occupied a heartbeat before, continuing uselessly into the empty sky.

  A few seconds later another screaming meteor came down and obliterated the remaining flak cannon.

  ---

  Leo lazily flew in a figure-eight pattern above the enemy fort, his Eclipse humming contentedly beneath his feet.

  Below him, the remaining Crusaders flyers had already landed. They huddled behind their defensive barriers, refusing to take to the air. Their sky, their domain, had become a dark forest. And Leo was the apex predator circling overhead, patient and hungry.

  The five remaining soldiers arrayed themselves in front, a last stand formation. Various Tier Two treasures glowed with defensive light. Spell Art barriers shimmered into existence, layered and reinforced.

  To Leo, it looked like children playing at war.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  Feet stomped in unison, the rhythm shaking the stadium infrastructure. The Lutheran side had gone quiet, but there was something in that silence. The acknowledgment of witnessing something extraordinary.

  The announcer's voice cut through the noise, amplified by formation arrays throughout the arena.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing here is truly unprecedented. Leo Chen is a sophomore. He stepped into Qi Refining less than a year ago."

  "According to Coach Tracy, Chen possesses what can only be described as monster-level divine sense and has successfully lifebonded with a Tier Two flying sword. We are watching the birth of a prodigy."

  Behind Leo, his four teammates followed him, creating a V formation.

  "Hey," Okonjo said, his voice carrying over the wind. "You don't have to beat them until the emergency teleportation triggers. Coach can surrender them out if they're unable to continue. Going too hard might make some enemies. Their families are watching."

  Leo considered this for a moment, watching the eight remaining players below. They stood their ground with a determined expression.

  "It's probably more honorable this way," Leo said finally.

  Okonjo was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.

  "Yeah. I'd probably feel the same way if I was down there."

  Leo turned to address the formation behind him.

  "Stay out of my way," he said. "I'm taking the flyers first."

  Leo angled the Eclipse downward. The formation followed, matching his acceleration as they began their dive. Wind screamed past. The ground rushed up to meet them. Speed built and built until the world became a blur of color and noise.

  At maximum velocity, Leo slipped into third person perspective.

  His consciousness expanded. The spherical awareness bloomed outward, encompassing the entire fort. His body became a piece on a board.

  He broke formation.

  His Eclipse screamed to the left, then right, then down, the trajectory a jagged lightning bolt that defied prediction. The Lutheran flyers saw him coming. They scattered, finally taking to the air in desperation, trying to create distance.

  His lasso snapped out, catching the first flyer around the ankle. He yanked, redirecting his trajectory into his teammate with brutal efficiency.

  The collision produced a wet crunch as his shoulder drove into his ribcage, force transferring through the armor. Ribs splintered.

  Before either could recover, Leo was already there, the Eclipse singing through the space between them. He slammed into them once, twice, three times, each impact sending shockwaves through their bodies.

  Two flashes of white light. Emergency teleportation.

  The third flyer launched a desperate Spell Art, flames erupting from his palms in a wide cone. Leo's piece shifted up and back, the fire passing harmlessly beneath.

  He dropped onto the flyer from above, one boot connecting with the back of his head. The impact drove the flyer downward, his flying treasure spinning out of control.

  Leo followed, lasso already looping around the player's throat. He pulled tight and reversed direction, the whiplash snapping the flyer's neck back with a crack that made the crowd gasp.

  The body went limp, limbs dangling like a puppet with cut strings.

  Flash of white light.

  The Crusaders flyers saw him coming. They scattered, finally taking to the air in desperation, trying to create distance.

  Leo's teammates arrived half a second later, diving toward the soldiers from the front in a wedge formation. The five Crusaders had already cast barriers and braced for impact, their attention focused entirely on the incoming threat.

  They had forgotten about Leo.

  He hit them from behind like a thunderbolt.

  His first target never saw him coming. Leo drove his Eclipse into the soldier's lower back, the flying sword's momentum transferring through the armored uniform with devastating efficiency.

  The man's spine compressed, vertebrae grinding against each other. His legs buckled, folding at wrong angles as the force traveled downward through his pelvis. He crumpled, mouth open.

  A silent scream. A white flash.

  Leo was already moving. His lasso caught a second soldier around the waist as Okonjo crashed into the defensive line from the front. The pincer shattered their formation instantly.

  Leo yanked his captured soldier backward, off balance, then swung him in a wide arc directly into his teammate.

  The two Crusaders' helmets collided skull to skull. The sound was hollow, like coconuts cracking together. Both went limp, their bodies ragdolling across the plateau stones.

  Two flashes of white light.

  The remaining two soldiers tried to pivot, tried to address the threat behind them. Too slow. Cortland Winthrop, one of Leo's teammates, caught one across the chest with his sword, launching him backward.

  Leo intercepted, driving his knee into the airborne soldier's unguarded back. The armor held. His spine did not.

  Flash of white light.

  Leo's remaining teammates descended on the last soldier like wolves.

  The man raised his treasure, a defensive stance that might have meant something seconds ago. One hit him head on, sending him stumbling backward. Before he could recover his footing, a spinning kick connected with the side of his helmet.

  The soldier's head snapped sideways. His knees wobbled.

  Archer Pemberton dropped from above, kneeing the man to the ground. He got on top and started wailing at the helmet until a flash of light teleported the last member of the team away.

  Then the horn sounded.

  Three long notes echoing across the arena. Victory. The Lutheran coach had directly surrendered the game. Minutes into the first quarter.

  The Exeter section erupted. Students poured over the barriers, rushing toward the field. The chant evolved, no longer just his name but a roar of pure triumph that shook the stadium foundations.

  "EXETER! EXETER! EXETER!"

  Leo stepped back on ground. He barely had time to store his Eclipse in his dantian before the crowd reached him. Hands grabbed at his shoulders, his arms, his legs.

  He felt himself lifted, hoisted above the mob like a conquering hero. The world tilted as he rose on a sea of bodies, faces grinning up at him, voices screaming his name until they went hoarse.

  Someone had produced an Exeter banner and waved it above the chaos, gold and crimson snapping in the wind.

  Leo let himself be carried, let the tide of celebration sweep him across the field and toward the tunnel, his teammates somewhere in the crush behind him.