A lot of people had plans for Leo after the game. Post-game interviews. Parties. Celebrations. Sponsors reaching out through intermediaries. Students begging for autographs.

  Leo avoided what he could. He knew there was a time and place for everything.

  This was the first time in his life he'd experienced glory like this. The roar of the crowd still echoed in his ears. The feeling of being carried off the field, hoisted above a sea of adoring faces, their voices raw from screaming his name.

  It would have been easy to drown in it. To chase that high, to maximize every opportunity, to squeeze every drop of fame from this moment.

  But he was just sixteen. A promising collegiate career stretched before him, and beyond that, the NFL. Championships and glory and real teammates who would bleed beside him through grueling seasons.

  These Exeter seniors were strangers. Rich, talented and skilled, they were undoubtedly the most popular kids at school. But he barely knew them. Celebrating with them felt hollow.

  The real celebrations could wait. They would mean more when earned alongside people he cared about.

  The semifinals against Prolific Prep on Tuesday ended up being a similar affair.

  Leo showed up. Leo demolished the enemy starters. Leo picked them apart like an adult playing with children.

  Prolific Prep surrendered their remaining players before Leo could engage the defenders.

  The rest of the match became four rounds of exhibition, the Exeter seniors facing off against Prolific's reserves in friendly competition. The crowd still cheered, still chanted, still stomped their feet until the stadium shook.

  The seniors were in excellent moods. They got to show off against a weakened opponent, demonstrating the skills they had honed over the years. And since Leo was absent from the celebrations, slipping away through a service tunnel Coach Tracy had shown him, all the extra attention redirected to them.

  They became the faces of Exeter's championship run.

  Leo was content with the cheers he received in the arena. That was enough. That was all he needed.

  It was the day before the Championship game on Friday.

  Tom Wheeler had been waiting for Leo to finish his daily cultivation, sitting cross-legged on his bed with uncharacteristic patience. The moment Leo's eyes opened, Tom was on his feet.

  "Hey Leo!" Tom called out, intercepting him before he could reach his VR pod. "Coach Tracy was looking for you. He told me to pass you a message."

  Tom had proven himself a great roommate. The natural extrovert had somehow sensed that Leo wanted to keep a low profile, that he had no interest in being a sports star off the field. So Tom had become his shield. A buffer between Leo and the endless parade of people seeking his attention.

  The requests had been relentless. Students asking Tom for Leo's number. Fans begging for signatures. Random people wanting "memorabilia" that Tom suspected would end up on auction sites within hours. The volume had grown so overwhelming that Tom himself had taken to hiding in their dorm, the social butterfly voluntarily clipping his own wings.

  Leo checked his phone, saw a message notification, then remembered he had never actually given Coach Tracy his number. He put it away.

  Tom continued. "Choate Rosemary Immortal Hall has updated their starting lineup. They put up a secret weapon. Someone just as strong as you. Mateo Thandril."

  Leo raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

  "Mateo is the Divine Child of the Grey Cult. Some country deep within the catacombs, far away from the front lines. Rumor has it that his grandfather is the God of the cult. Capital G."

  Tom's voice dropped slightly, as if even speaking the words carried weight.

  "There isn't much known about him, besides the fact that he's special."

  "Special how?"

  "He and his father both have this quality about them. Marks them as Divine Children. When most people get close to them, they can sense this innate superiority. A desire to worship." Tom shrugged.

  "Mateo claims it's just remnants of realm suppression running through his blood. Says he isn't divine, and his grandfather isn't a God. But Choate is definitely bringing him out as a trump card. He probably knows even less about the game than you do."

  "What's his signature ability?"

  "Coach says he can lock down one thing. 'Grey it out,' so to speak. Could be your body. Could be your lifebound treasure. Could be your weapon. Whatever he targets just stops working." Tom met Leo's eyes. "Coach is asking what you need."

  Leo considered his plan. Mateo was probably going to lock down his Eclipse, third person perspective was going to be a lot less useful without the ability to fly.

  "What weapon does Mateo use? What's the range on his ability?"

  "Coach says he onehands a greatspear. He's also an extremely strong spell arts user, focusing on fire Spells Arts. The Grey Out ability is pretty short at the Qi Refining level. If you build some distance, you can break free and fly away."

  Leo ran through his options. He had less than a day to prepare. There was no time to learn a new weapon. No time to develop a new spell art.

  He could only rely on his existing strengths. The only weapon training he had done before was with the lightsaber.

  "Tell Coach to prepare someone who can fight like him tomorrow. I need to practice against that weapon type." Leo paused.

  "And get me the strongest lightsaber the rules allow. Something that can be controlled purely by divine sense."

  Tom nodded, already moving toward the door. "Got it."

  He was gone before Leo could say anything else, sprinting down the hallway to find Coach Tracy.

  Leo turned back toward his VR pod, ready to practice in the Azure Profound Continent game world. Then he remembered the unread message.

  He unlocked his phone.

  The notification was from a contact labeled "Yuna ??". The Samsung heiress. The girl from the start of the year who had given him her number.

  "I can't believe you didn't call me all year!"

  Leo stared at the message. He had genuinely forgotten about her.

  "Sorry," he typed back. "I've been busy."

  To his surprise, three dots appeared almost immediately. She was typing.

  "I could tell."

  Another message followed seconds later.

  "I want you to give me your starter uniform as an apology."

  "I don't know where it is," he wrote. "Ask my coach for it."

  A sticker appeared in response. A cartoon face blowing a kiss.

  ---

  Leo sat in the locker room, listening to the roar of the crowd.

  The semifinals had been muted. After his domination against Lutheran, people had simply accepted that Prolific Prep would be an easy win. The stadium hadn't even been half full. Students had treated it like a victory lap, rather spending their time at campus parties.

  But today was different.

  The vibration in the walls told him everything. The thunder of a hundred fifty thousand voices pressed through concrete and steel, seeping into the locker room like a living thing. Every seat was filled. Every eye would be watching.

  Leo sighed and leaned back against his locker.

  He didn't even know why he had agreed to this. He was just a sophomore. Many years stretched ahead to develop, to grow, to prove himself on bigger stages.

  From what the instructors had implied during yesterday's practice sessions, Mateo Thandril was a monster.

  The simulated sparring had been brutal. The instructors had mimicked Mateo's fighting style, his spear work, his fire based spell arts, his grey out ability. Leo had struggled to keep pace even with their help. Every exchange had pushed him to his limits.

  Mateo had easily dominated, as a junior, last year's High School Dao Discussion Tournament, the premier nationwide one-on-one championship. And somehow Choate had convinced him to compete in Flying Aces this year, even though rumor said he had no interest in team sports.

  Leo exhaled slowly and tried to quiet his mind.

  By his side, his teammates were deep in conversation. Okonjo, Archer, and Cortland sat together on a bench, their voices carrying in the enclosed space.

  "I'm still trying to decide between UConn and walking onto Yale," Okonjo said. He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration evident in the gesture. "My parents want me close to home. Connecticut schools are basically my only options."

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Archer nodded sympathetically. "I'm thinking about Yale too. William Zhao-Huntington is graduating, so there should be an open spot on the roster."

  Leo looked up.

  "Don't go to Yale," he said.

  Both seniors turned toward him.

  "I'm taking Zhao's spot."

  Okonjo blinked. "You're walking onto Yale? As a high school student?"

  "Already started lifebonding with a new sword." Leo shrugged. "I need to be ready by fall training."

  Archer and Okonjo exchanged glances.

  "Thanks for the tip," Okonjo said slowly. He scratched his chin, processing the information.

  "I'm surprised though. Yale's returning six starters are pretty strong this year. I figured they'd grab someone from the transfer portal to make a playoff push. Someone with more experience."

  Leo grinned. "I'm that someone."

  Archer studied him for a moment, then nodded. "After what you did to Lutheran and Prolific, I believe it."

  He extended a fist toward Leo. "Hope you make the playoffs, man. You've earned it."

  Leo bumped it.

  Cortland had been quiet throughout the exchange. Now he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his expression troubled.

  "I accepted an offer from Dartmouth," Cortland said. "We play Yale week two in January."

  Archer laughed cheerfully.

  "I'll probably be going to Columbia and get stomped by Leo week seven. I already know we are going to lose that match"

  He gestured at Leo.

  "Yale is making a playoff push next year. They're going to roll over unranked teams like Dartmouth and Columbia. I've already prepared myself mentally."

  Cortland grimaced. Okonjo laughed at their misfortune.

  Leo frowned, a question forming in his mind.

  "Wait," he said. "Doesn't lifebonding take six months?"

  The seniors turned to look at him.

  "If you're all graduating now and the season starts in January, that's only..." Leo counted in his head. "Seven months? How will any of you be ready in time?"

  Cortland leaned back against his locker.

  "After the playoffs end tomorrow, almost the entire senior class will take the Mortal Shedding Pill and enter Foundation Establishment."

  Leo nodded slowly. Pfizer's Mortal Shedding Pill was the best spiritual medicine for entering Foundation Establishment. Although based on ancient formulas, they came up with a new formulation every few years that somehow had enough of an improvement to maintain a patent.

  "From there, the ones who want to be ready for fall training have about four months to complete their lifebond," Cortland continued.

  "But you said lifebonding takes six months," Leo pressed.

  "Six months at eight hours a day," Cortland clarified. "That's the standard schedule for Foundation Establishment and Gold Core cultivators. Fast enough while still giving you time for other training."

  He held up a hand, ticking off points on his fingers.

  "But players who need to accelerate to make the fall training schedule can spend more time lifebonding each day."

  Archer jumped in. "One hour of maintenance cultivation. One hour of body cultivation. Fourteen hours of lifebonding. Eight hours of sleep."

  "Fourteen hours?" Leo's eyebrows rose.

  "Every day for four months," Cortland confirmed. "Most players also take the Bone-Forging Elixir during this period. It handles body cultivation passively. Just pain and rest, no exercises required."

  Okonjo grimaced. "The Bone-Forging Elixir is supposedly miserable. You spend every night feeling like your skeleton is trying to tear itself apart."

  "Worth it though," Archer said. "But doing fourteen hours of lifebonding a day gets you ready by mid-September. A little late for the start of fall training, but early enough to be ready by season start in January."

  Cortland nodded. "The diminishing returns on extra lifebonding hours make it less efficient than the standard eight-hour schedule. You waste some hours. But the opportunity for professional coaching and freshman playing time is rare. Most players consider it a worthwhile trade."

  Leo absorbed this information, filing it away for future reference. But it was unlikely that he would sacrifice his cultivation time, with the Azure Profound Continent game world he wouldn't be short of Spiritual Qi for a while.

  "I'm looking forward to seeing you both on the field next year," Leo said, breaking out into a grin.

  Cortland smiled ruefully. "I'm looking forward to it slightly less, knowing you'll be on the other side."

  Archer laughed. "Just don't embarrass us too badly, Leo. Please don't ruin our debuts."

  "No promises."

  The locker room door swung open.

  Coach Tracy stood in the doorway, his expression serious.

  "Leo," he called. "It's time for the coin toss."

  Leo rose from the bench, leaving his teammates behind.

  ---

  Coach Tracy walked beside Leo through the tunnel, their footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. The roar of the crowd filtered down from above, over a hundred thousand voices compressed into a vibration that Leo could feel in his teeth.

  "Arms up," Tracy said.

  Leo raised his arms. Tracy ran his hands along the seams of the armored uniform, checking the fit at the shoulders, the waist, the joints. The formation arrays inscribed in the uniform provided T4 level protection and tracked damage. Enough simulated injury and the teleportation formation would activate, pulling him from the field in a flash of white light.

  Tracy nodded in approval.

  "This game will be different," Tracy said, while checking the uniform's collar seal.

  Leo glanced at him. "How so?"

  "Exeter and Choate have arranged something special. A duel. You against Mateo. One on one. The teams won't engage until it's over."

  Tracy reached into his spatial ring and produced the lightsaber. Tier Two, peak grade. The strongest weapon tournament rules would allow. Exeter invited formation masters to create one earlier in the day.

  Leo accepted it, feeling the weight. Tested its responsiveness to his divine sense. He ignited it briefly, a blade of silver light humming to life, then extinguished it and clipped it to his belt.

  "What's the purpose of a duel?" Leo asked. "Shouldn't I just focus on wiping their team and winning on points?"

  Tracy shook his head, pulling out the formation pivot.

  "Although this is the championships, everyone knows the real reason Flying Aces matters. It has nothing to do with loving the sport. Nothing to do with entertainment." Tracy's voice carried the weight of decades of experience.

  "It's a showcase of combat power. Pure and simple."

  He clipped the pivot to Leo's waistband. The device would interface with the stadium's massive formation arrays, simulating the experience of a Tier Two flying sword. Previously Leo had no need for it, however earlier today he practiced some basics, enough to dodge and roll out of the way.

  "I'm not going to pretend there's anything at stake for you here but self-satisfaction. You'll graduate. You'll move on to collegiate leagues. This championship trophy won't change your trajectory."

  "Then why the duel?"

  Tracy stopped walking. He turned to face Leo directly, his expression more serious than Leo had ever seen it.

  "This won't be the first time you meet Mateo. And it certainly won't be the last." Tracy held Leo's gaze. "In the end of the day, the people you face on the field, the people you meet in class, are the same people who will be fighting alongside you in the catacombs."

  Leo held his helmet at his side, the visor gleaming under the tunnel lights.

  "Right now, when you look out at that field, all you see are some high schoolers. Kids playing a game. But the world of cultivators is smaller than you think. Much smaller." Tracy resumed walking, and Leo fell into step beside him.

  "The eight high schools represent the concentrated talent of the entire generation. You will meet the same people again and again throughout your life. Rivals become allies. The boy you fight today might be the man you trust your back to in ten years."

  The tunnel curved ahead, stadium light bleeding around the corner.

  "The next time you see Mateo, whether it's in a year or a decade, you'll want to know you tried your best. That you gave him everything you had, and he gave you the same." Tracy's voice softened slightly.

  Leo nodded slowly.

  Tracy gestured vaguely upward, toward the crowd.

  "Everyone is watching. The current generation is up there in those stands, looking down at you with hope. They want to see talent. They want reassurance that the next generation can carry the burden, that the war will go smoothly when you all join the fight."

  Tracy paused, his expression growing heavier.

  "And your future subordinates are watching too. Without a doubt, you will eventually receive a command position. You will be responsible for the lives of those below you." He let that sink in. "Kids will fight for you, Leo. And some of them will die for you."

  The tunnel seemed to grow quieter, the crowd noise fading to a distant hum.

  "They need to know it's worth it. They need to look at you and believe that dying for you means something."

  Tracy's voice dropped lower.

  Tracy reached up and gripped Leo's shoulder.

  The tunnel opened onto the field.

  Leo lifted the helmet and settled it over his head. The interior padding compressed against his skull, snug and secure.

  Leo reached up and slapped the side twice.

  Tracy slapped it three more times, harder.

  The impacts resonated through Leo's skull, sharp and clarifying.

  "Go get him."

  Light flooded Leo's vision. Formation-amplified illumination transformed the evening into blazing noon. The crowd noise hit him like a physical force, a hundred thousand voices merging into a single roar that vibrated through his chest and settled into his bones.

  Leo reached into his dantian.

  The Eclipse answered his call, emerging in a burst of golden light. The blade materialized beneath him, humming with power. He stepped onto its surface and rose.

  The Exeter section erupted. Scarlet and grey banners waved in frantic celebration. And entire generation was watching, either here, or via telecast.

  Leo's gaze swept across the stadium as he flew. The VIP boxes ringed the upper levels, filled with figures in military dress uniforms and cultivation robes. Generals. Commanders. The men and women who would lead his generation into the depths.

  Below them, the general seating stretched in every direction, packed with students from both academies watching and cheering. Future soldiers. Future officers. Many who would come home in coffins.

  They were all watching him.

  The guy who would give them orders someday. The guy who would ask them to hold a position, to advance into darkness, to die so others could live. They needed to see what kind of person he was. They needed to know if he was worth following.

  Leo never fully considered what it meant to be a protagonist. But somehow he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide in the game forever.

  He somehow knew that he would eventually play an important role in the war. That he had a greater destiny that awaited him.

  His attention fixed on the center of the field, where a referee in neutral grey robes stood waiting on the pristine grass. Stadium lights cast sharp shadows across the painted lines.

  Beside the referee stood a young man.

  Mateo Thandril.

  Leo descended toward them, his Eclipse humming beneath his feet. The blade carried him in a smooth arc, controlled and unhurried.

  As he drew closer, he felt it.

  A pressure that had nothing to do with spiritual cultivation. Something older. Something that whispered to primitive parts of his brain, urging him to kneel, to bow, to worship.

  Mateo was tall. Lean. His features possessed an almost sculptural quality, as if someone had carved him from marble and forgotten to add imperfections. Grey eyes studied Leo with calm interest.

  "Leo Chen," Mateo said. His voice carried an odd resonance, like an echo in a cathedral.

  "I propose we settle the right to select sides through combat rather than chance."

  Leo glanced at the referee.

  "Is that in the rules?"

  The referee shifted his weight, suddenly finding the grass beneath his feet fascinating.

  "It was... uhh... added about an hour ago."

  Leo turned back to Mateo. The Divine Child stood with perfect stillness, his greatspear strapped across his back, waiting.

  "Sure," Leo shrugged. "Why not."

  Something flickered across Mateo's face. Frustration, perhaps.

  "You know what this represents," Mateo said quietly. "This duel. Everyone watching will see it as a battle between the catacombs and Earth. Between their world and ours."

  "And?"

  "And I am forced to represent the catacombs." Mateo's grey eyes hardened. "A place I have never seen. A grandfather I have never met. A cult I did not choose."

  Leo said nothing.

  "Everyone is hoping for me to lose. I can feel it. The weight of their expectations pressing down." Mateo gestured toward the stands. "To them, I am the child of a foreigner. An outsider wearing their uniform. They cheer for Choate, but they would rather see me fall."

  Leo laughed.

  The sound cut through the tension, genuine and unexpected. Mateo's eyes widened slightly.

  "What amuses you?"

  "I'm the son of immigrants too," Leo said. "Chinese. First generation." He met Mateo's gaze steadily. "You and I are probably more alike than you think."

  Mateo stared at him for a long moment.

  "Perhaps," Mateo said. "But then what are we fighting for?"

  Leo considered the question. The entire country was watching their exchange over TV.

  Whatever he said would follow him for the rest of his life.

  Leo reached toward his dantian. His Eclipse answered his call, reforming in his grip as a blade of compressed red light. The familiar weapon hummed with eagerness. He clipped it to his left wristguard, physically locking it to himself.

  His right hand moved to his belt. Fingers closed around the lightsaber's hilt. He unclipped it slowly, deliberately, letting the motion carry weight. He fastened it to his right wristguard, silver hilt gleaming against the armored fabric.

  He raised the weapon.

  Activated it.

  Silver light unfurled from the hilt, a blade of pure radiance that cast stark shadows across the grass.

  The crowd noise dimmed. Every eye in the stadium fixed on the two figures at the center of the field.

  Leo held Mateo's grey gaze.

  "To temper our Dao Hearts."