Harry's apartment occupied the third floor of a converted warehouse half a mile from the Bulldogs facility. The building had once housed textile manufacturing equipment.

  Leo stepped through the door and stopped.

  The space was sparse, and everything looked like it was from Ikea. The only concession to wealth was the size of the place itself, an open floor plan that could have held three normal apartments.

  "You live here?" Leo asked.

  Harry shrugged, already pulling out his phone. "What were you expecting? Gold fixtures? Servants in the corners?"

  "Maybe a painting or something."

  "There's a poster in the bathroom." Harry scrolled through a delivery app. "Alright, everyone order something. We're doing family style tonight, which means everyone has to eat what everyone else orders."

  Jimbo's grin turned predatory. "Family style?"

  "Within reason," Vicky added quickly. "Jimbo, I swear to god."

  "Too late." Jimbo's thumbs were already moving. "Already submitted. Thai place on Chapel Street. Their spiciest curry. The one that makes you sign a waiver."

  Ellie groaned. "I hate you."

  "You'll survive." Jimbo settled into the couch with the satisfaction of a man who had already won. "What are you getting, Medici? Something Italian, I hope. Represent your heritage."

  "Obviously." Ellie pulled up her own phone. "There's a place that does handmade pappardelle with wild boar ragu. Imported truffles."

  Harry's head snapped up. "Wait, no. Get Little Caesars."

  Ellie stared at him. "Excuse me?"

  "I've been craving Little Caesars all week. Hot and Ready. The crazy bread. You're Italian, this is your moment to provide."

  "You want me to order Little Caesars."

  "It's five dollars. It's delicious. It's ready in..."

  "I am not ordering Little Caesars!" Ellie's voice rose an octave. "My family has been making pasta for six hundred years! We literally funded the Renaissance! I am not going to disgrace my ancestors by ordering cardboard pizza from a strip mall!"

  "The crazy bread is really good though," Jimbo offered.

  "I will burn this apartment down."

  Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Get your fancy pasta. But you're explaining to my stomach why it's not getting crazy bread."

  Leo placed his order quietly while Ellie continued to fume. A dim sum place he'd found during his first week in New Haven. Soup dumplings. Char siu bao. A few other small plates.

  Vicky just texted someone and didn't even bother opening the app. "I'm getting four sets of omakase from Sushi Sakana."

  Ellie looked up. "Sushi Sakana? The three-star place? I don't think they do delivery."

  Vicky shrugged. "If you send a driver over and have him order takeout with your name card, they figure it out for you."

  Ellie's fingers moved across her phone screen, filing away that tip for future reference.

  Harry got burgers and fries. "So we all don't go hungry. Someone has to provide actual sustenance while you all order nonsense to torture each other."

  The food arrived in waves over the next forty minutes. They spread everything across the coffee table, a chaotic arrangement of containers and plates that shouldn't have worked together but somehow did.

  Jimbo's curry sat in the center like a warning. The orange-red color seemed to pulse with malevolent heat.

  "Okay." Harry surveyed the spread. "Let's start with something that won't immediately cause pain. Leo, what did you get?"

  Leo opened the plastic take out container. Steam rose, carrying the scent of pork and ginger. The soup dumplings sat in neat rows, their translucent skins glistening.

  Vicky leaned forward. "Oh, these look amazing."

  "Soup dumplings are an art form," Jimbo said, already reaching for one. He placed it on his spoon, bit a small hole in the top, poured in a little soy sauce, and ate it in one gulp.

  His eyes closed. "Okay. Yeah. These are perfect."

  Ellie tried one, then immediately grabbed a second. "Where is this place? I need to know for future reference."

  "Little shop on Crown Street." Leo felt warmth spread through his chest at their reactions. "You know it's good when it has a three-star rating."

  Even Harry nodded appreciatively. "Alright, Chen. You get to stay."

  They worked through the dishes. Ellie's pasta drew appropriate sounds of approval, though Harry made a point of sighing wistfully at every bite, muttering about missed opportunities.

  Vicky's sushi disappeared quickly, each piece a small work of art that seemed almost too perfect to eat. Harry's burgers were solid, unpretentious, exactly what they claimed to be, and his fries vanished faster than anything else on the table.

  Then came the curry.

  Jimbo served everyone a portion with ceremonial gravity. "Remember. Family style. Everyone has to eat it."

  "Why did we save this for last?" Ellie complained.

  The first bite seemed manageable. Warm. Flavorful. Leo could taste lemongrass and coconut beneath the spice.

  Then the heat arrived.

  It came in waves, building exponentially. Leo's eyes watered. His sinuses opened. Sweat broke out across his forehead.

  Ellie was coughing. Vicky had gone very still, her face carefully blank. Harry was drinking directly from a carton of milk that had appeared from somewhere.

  Jimbo ate his portion with serene calm.

  "I hate you," Ellie repeated, her voice hoarse. "I hate you so much."

  "You'll thank me later. Builds character." Jimbo took another bite. "Also clears the sinuses. Very healthy."

  They survived. Barely. Leo's mouth continued to burn for twenty minutes afterward, but the pain became something to laugh about rather than suffer through.

  As the meal wound down, Harry leaned back against the couch. The easy humor in his expression shifted to something more serious.

  "So." He looked at Leo. "I've been thinking about the captain position."

  Leo paused mid-bite. "What about it?"

  "I should pass it to you."

  The statement hung in the air. Ellie stopped pretending to be interested in her phone. Jimbo set down his chopsticks. Vicky watched with quiet attention.

  "Harry, no." Leo shook his head. "That's not... I'm a high schooler. I just got here."

  "Leo." Harry leaned forward. "The captain decides tiebreakers."

  "What?"

  "If a match is tied, the captains duel. One on one. That's it. That's the whole job." Harry spread his hands.

  Leo sat back, processing this. "I thought... I don't know. I thought there would be more."

  "Like what? Inspiring speeches?" Vicky snorted. "We're all Foundation Establishment cultivators from wealthy families. We've been getting motivational pep talks since we were seven. We're immune."

  "Besides," Ellie added, "the captain can't teach teamwork to everyone." She pointed at Vicky with her chopsticks. "Take this mad woman over there. All she knows is how to scream and shove her pointy thing at people."

  Vicky tilted her head, considering. "Rich words from the girl who spends half the match doing barrel rolls for the cameras. What's are you fighting for anyways? Instagram followers?"

  "The point is," Harry interrupted the girls, "you're the best flyer on the team. And when we face Harvard, when we face Texas A&M, we need every advantage we can get. You'll officially be captain by week three."

  Leo looked around the room.

  He thought about everything he'd learned in the past year. About cultivation. About combat. About the strange world of wealth and power that surrounded him.

  "I didn't think rich kids would live like this," he said finally.

  Harry blinked. "Like what?"

  Leo gestured at the apartment. At the secondhand furniture. At the takeout containers scattered across the table. "This. Simple. Normal."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Then he looked at the elaborate containers from Sushi Sakana.

  "Mostly normal."

  A ripple of amusement passed through the group.

  "You spend enough time in the Catacombs," Harry said, "and you stop caring about rich bullshit."

  Jimbo nodded. "Amazing how putting your life on the line puts things in perspective."

  "Some parents throw spoiled kids into boot camp to straighten them out," Vicky added. "The Catacombs accomplish the same thing, just with existential fear and better food."

  Leo's smile faded slightly.

  "I heard that two of my classmates died last year," he said quietly. "In the Catacombs."

  The room's atmosphere shifted.

  Jimbo set down his drink. "I heard about that incident. I was stationed in the New York Catacombs at the time."

  "What happened?"

  "It should have been a safe mission. Easy transport mission in the backline." Jimbo's voice was flat. "But a VIP got captured somewhere on the front lines. An elite Catacomb squad was sent to break them out. Your classmates were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Silence settled over the group.

  Harry cleared his throat. "The Catacombs aren't that bad, overall. Most missions are routine. And it's getting better. In the future the transport missions will be handled by drones."

  "That's not a necessarily good thing," Jimbo said. "If all the easy missions go to drones, kids will be forced to take harder missions to earn merits."

  Leo frowned. "Merits?"

  Vicky leaned forward, and explained. "If you want to reach Gold Core through the military route, you need to earn enough merits to purchase a Gold Core commission. The system is designed to ensure that people eagerly perform all missions regardless of the danger."

  "So those two kids..."

  "Were probably trying to grind merits early," Vicky confirmed. "Early promotions mean better mission access, and command of your own squad. Better mission access means more merits. It's a common strategy, even the rich kids do it too."

  "Getting merits is only going to get more dangerous," Jimbo said. "As the easy missions disappear."

  Harry refilled his drink. "Which brings me to something I've been thinking about. If we win this season, Leo's probably going to be banned from collegiate competition."

  "Almost certainly," Vicky agreed. "Unless Mateo wins this year. Then he's getting banned."

  "So this might be our last year with him." Harry looked around the room. "Jimbo's been suggesting something. If we win the championship this year, we all graduate together. Form a proper expedition squad. Me, you all, Shawn, and Dee."

  "We can rack up a lot more merits if we run an expedition squad before the war gets hot." Jimbo added.

  Ellie's expression flickered.

  "I don't know," she said quietly. "My style is... aggressive. Really aggressive. That works in Flying Aces because getting eliminated just means sitting out the rest of the match. In the Catacombs, getting eliminated means dying."

  "We're all going to die eventually," Vicky said. Her tone was light. "Why not get it over with earlier?"

  The group laughed, but there was tension beneath it. The kind of laughter that acknowledged uncomfortable truths.

  Leo looked around at his teammates. At these people who had wealth beyond his imagination, who could probably spend their entire lives in comfort and safety if they chose.

  "Can't you do something safer?" he asked. "Command positions? Administrative roles? Something cushy?"

  The laughter died.

  Harry exchanged glances with the others. Something passed between them, an understanding Leo wasn't part of.

  "Life isn't that simple," Harry said finally. "Our families have expectations."

  "What kind of expectations?"

  "The generation of leaders, business owners, and money counters was our parents." Harry's voice was quiet. "They built empires. Expanded territories. Consolidated power. That work is done. Our generation is meant to serve a different purpose."

  "What purpose?"

  "Foot soldiers." Harry said it simply, without bitterness. "The Earth Catacombs war is about to resume. Our families need fighters, not administrators. So that's what we'll be."

  The weight of the statement settled over the room. Leo thought about his own path, about the cultivation he'd pursued so desperately.

  These people had been born with power. And that privilege came with responsibilities he was only beginning to understand.

  Harry seemed to recognize that the conversation had grown heavy. He shifted, his expression lightening.

  "Speaking of expectations," he said. "How's high school treating you? You went to Exeter too, right?"

  Leo blinked at the change of subject. "I... honestly, I've barely set foot on campus. Dr. Reyes kept me training most of the time. And now..."

  "Now you're famous," Vicky finished.

  "I'm worried about walking around. Everyone knows my face. The guy who beat Mateo Thandril. I don't know how to be a normal student anymore."

  "You should try anyway." Harry's tone was serious. "I know it seems pointless. You're already stronger than most of your classmates will ever be. But when you start thinking about forming your own squad for teams and expeditions, having people you can call up and rely on will be invaluable."

  Ellie leaned forward, her earlier hesitation replaced by conviction. "I'd join whatever team you form. When you're ready."

  "Same," Jimbo added.

  Vicky nodded. Harry just smiled.

  Leo felt something warm in his chest. Something he didn't have words for.

  "I don't really understand what you mean," he admitted. "Squads and expeditions and merits. I'm still figuring out how all of this works."

  "Then let me explain." Harry settled back. "Merits are the currency of advancement in the cultivation military. Everything flows through them. Promotions. Equipment access. And most importantly, the Gold Core and Nascent Soul commissions."

  "A commission?"

  "For civilians, Gold Core means being able to pay four hundred thousand a year for spirit vein fees. Nascent Soul would be four million a year." Harry's voice was grim. "Even our families won't guarantee Gold Core if we don't do something to earn it. Too many mouths to feed. Especially the big ones on top."

  "If you earn a Gold Core or Nascent Soul commission the government will guarantee your daily cultivation needs for free. Nascent Soul has a lifespan of 640 years. That's two and a half billion dollars."

  "How many merits?" Leo asked.

  "More than anyone can earn in a single lifetime of normal service. Which is why starting early matters." Harry leaned forward. "Even merits earned at Qi Refining can help you. Every mission you complete, every cultist you kill, every bonus objective you accomplish adds to your total."

  Ellie snorted, "Good luck living more than thirty years as a commissioned Nascent Soul."

  "And Leo..." Jimbo grinned. "You are basically invincible in the Boston Catacombs. You can easily escape from everything, thanks to your third person perspective. The missions rated for Qi Refining cultivators will be trivially easy for you."

  "Which means everyone will want to join your teams," Vicky added. "Free merits. Low risk. Everyone would kill for that kind of opportunity."

  "I would've," Ellie muttered.

  "Starting junior year, upperclassmen can begin forming teams for Qi Refining level missions," Harry explained. "Standard squad minimum is usually eight people. With your strength, you can probably request an exemption to get that down to four."

  "Transport missions are perfect for grinding," Jimbo said. "Moving supplies in large convoys. Even if you encounter a Nascent Soul level ambush, you can just run away. The merits aren't huge per mission, but they add up, especially if split four ways instead of eight."

  "Better to finish as many as possible before Starlink is complete," Harry added.

  Leo frowned. "Starlink? The internet company?"

  "SpaceX is building an internet satellite constellation in the Catacombs," Jimbo explained. "Although the Catacombs realm is a lot larger than Earth and they're good at shooting things down, it's only a matter of time before SpaceX is able to complete their network."

  "Once Starlink is complete and we blanket the Catacombs with uninterrupted internet coverage, easy missions like transport will be handled by operators sitting behind computer screens."

  "So the window for easy merits is closing," Leo said slowly.

  "Exactly." Harry nodded. "Which is why you should start forming a team now. Get your junior year classmates organized. Begin grinding transport missions as soon as you're eligible."

  "I have connections in the authorization office," Jimbo offered. "I can get you approved for reduced squad sizes in the Boston Catacombs. That will double your earnings."

  "Okay," he said finally. "I'll form a team. But what about the rest of you? Shouldn't we be practicing for the regular season?"

  Harry waved dismissively. "Look at our schedule. First two weeks are Florida and Dartmouth. Easy wins. Week three is Harvard, which is going to be our real test. But there's no point practicing against Harvard's strategies when we don't know what Mateo can actually do at Foundation Establishment."

  "So what do we do instead?"

  "Team practices on Monday and Tuesday. The rest of the week, we go into the Catacombs." Harry shrugged. "We are at the point where additional training doesn't really help. We've maximized what practice can give us. Might as well earn some easy merits while we wait for useful intelligence."

  Leo nodded slowly. It made sense, in a pragmatic way that seemed to characterize everything these people did.

  "Any advice?" he asked. "For forming my team? Should I recruit... I don't know, your cousins? Important family connections?"

  Harry laughed. "At this point, you're better off building loyal subordinates than networking with rich kids. Every rich kid has their own designs and plans. They'll join your team for the merits, but their loyalty will always be to their family first."

  "Kim Yuna especially," Ellie added, her voice sharp.

  Leo blinked. "She would have been my first choice."

  "She can't even enter the Catacombs," Ellie said. "Doesn't have American citizenship, doesn't want it either."

  Vicky's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Too bad you can't bring Ellie along on those missions. Someone warm to snuggle with on the long drives."

  Ellie's face flushed. Rather than denying it, she leaned into the tease. "You know what? That would be wonderful. Hiding away, away from everyone, just the two of us in the dark..."

  Leo felt heat rise to his own cheeks. He grabbed a soup dumpling and shoved it in his mouth, suddenly very interested in the texture of the wrapper.

  The group's laughter echoed off the exposed brick walls.

  ---

  Leo ended up calling Tom the next day.

  "Leo!" Tom Wheeler's voice came through bright and energetic. "Man, I was wondering when you'd reach out. Will you be away for this year too?"

  Leo leaned back in his chair. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. I'm thinking about forming a team for the Catacombs."

  A pause. Then: "Holy shit. Seriously?"

  "Yeah. Harry Rockefeller actually suggested it. Said I should start grinding transport missions this year."

  "Harry Rockefeller told you to..." Tom let out a low whistle. "Leo, do you have any idea how many people have been asking about you? Like, every week someone corners me in the dining hall wanting to know if you're putting together a team."

  "Really?"

  "You beat Mateo Thandril. The Catacombs is just free merits for you." Tom's excitement was palpable through the phone. "What kind of team are you thinking?"

  "Transport missions in the Boston Catacombs. Squad of four. I've got connections for the reduced squad authorization."

  Tom went quiet for a moment, calculating. "A squad of four for transport missions. That's... Leo, that's brilliant. Standard squad is eight, so everyone effectively gets double the merit share."

  "That's the idea."

  "Okay, okay." Tom was clearly thinking out loud now. "What are your requirements? What do you need from the other three?"

  Leo hesitated. He'd thought about this during breakfast, trying to figure out how to phrase it without sounding demanding.

  "I want to make sure the missions don't slow down my cultivation," he said finally. "Specifically, I need access to my VR pods during the mission. It doesn't have to be for long. Just a few minutes to check in on some things."

  "VR pod access during transport missions?" Tom sucked in a breath. "Is three minutes enough? We could try connecting to Starlink satellites. When they're overhead, the receiver can maintain contact for about three to four minutes before the satellite moves out of range."

  Leo considered this. Three to four minutes. It would be tight, but he could make it work...

  "I can make that work" he answered.

  "Alright. So you need a team of three who can handle transport duties while you deal with any combat situations." Tom's voice had shifted into planning mode. "Because realistically, if something attacks the convoy, you're going to exit the transport and fight alone. The rest of us would just be in the way."

  "Basically, yeah."

  "There's a girl," Tom said slowly. "Everyone's been trying to recruit her. Top of our class, can handle everything and multitask. If we want to drive a transport with a team of three we need her."

  "Who is she?"

  "Her name's... actually, let me not get ahead of myself. The thing is, she's picky. Really picky. She's turned down like six different teams already because she doesn't think they can keep her safe. She knows her worth."

  "What would convince her?"

  "Data. Hard evidence that whoever she's working with can actually protect the squad when things go sideways." Tom paused. "You got any practice footage? Specs on your flying sword?"

  Leo pulled up his files. "I've got footage from my training sessions against the walk-ons. Maybe a recording of simulator footage where I fight one v eight. And I can send over the specifications for my flying sword."

  "Send it over. All of it."

  Leo compiled the files and transferred them. "If that's not enough, let me know. I can make more."

  "This is..." Tom went quiet as he reviewed the data. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. Softer. Almost awed. "Leo, these videos are insane. Is that really you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay. Yeah." Tom laughed, a slightly manic edge to it. "You can count on me. I'll get her on board. Just give me a day or two."

  "Thanks, Tom."

  "I should thank you, we are going to be swimming in merits." Tom's grin was audible through the phone. "This is going to be amazing."