Leo dove.

  Below, the Florida fort bristled with activity. His divine sense painted it in perfect clarity.

  Seven signatures inside the fort's perimeter. Five Soldiers arranged in overlapping positions around the central bunker, each one carrying a spiritual crossbow. Two Gunners inside the bunker itself, their flak cannons already firing to slow his descent.

  The Soldiers were good marksmen. Well-drilled in supporting an aerial formation from a ground position.

  They were about to find out how little that mattered.

  Harry read Leo instantly. "Jimbo, with me. Keep those flyers busy."

  "On it."

  Above, Harry and Jimbo surged toward the crippled Tortoise formation. Without Keller's chain, the four remaining Florida flyers could only defend. Webb's gravity well pulsed outward, Ashford's barrier materialized, Santana's walls flickered to life.

  They weren't paying attention to their defensive line.

  Leo pierced the defensive perimeter like a thunderbolt.

  All five Soldiers opened fire, spiritual crossbows thrumming in sequence. Qi bolts screamed upward in a spread pattern designed to cover his approach vector.

  Against a normal flyer attacking on a predictable path, the volley would have been devastating.

  Leo zagged.

  His trajectory broke sideways, then down, then sideways again. The Qi bolts passed through the space he'd occupied a fraction of a second earlier. His body was a piece on a board, repositioned between gaps in their firing pattern before the bolts finished crossing the distance.

  He came in at forty-five degrees, too steep for the Soldiers to track and too fast to adjust. The first Soldier saw him closing and dropped his crossbow, reaching for his sword.

  Too slow.

  Leo sent Moonrider and his lightsaber forward on diverging paths. The obsidian blade swept from the Soldier's left while the silver curved around from his right. The Soldier raised his sword to block one.

  He couldn't block both.

  Moonrider feinted high. The Soldier's blade came up. The lightsaber took him across the ribs from below.

  Red light.

  "SOLDIER DOWN!" The announcer's voice cracked with surprise. "Chen is IN the defensive formation!"

  The remaining four Soldiers abandoned their crossbows and drew melee weapons. Spell arts erupted from their positions. Waves of compressed spiritual energy. Barriers snapping into existence. A coordinated response drilled into muscle memory.

  However Leo had already disappeared.

  He hung in the air ten feet above them, looking down. Their barriers projected horizontally and vertically, covering approaches from the sides and above. Standard defensive doctrine.

  All of it designed for threats that moved in normal flight paths.

  Leo dropped straight down between two Soldiers, slipping through gaps in the barrier, and zagged sideways before either could react. His lightsaber spun free, carving a horizontal arc at knee height while Moonrider struck from above in the same instant.

  The first Soldier tried to block overhead. The lightsaber took his legs. The second tried to block low. Moonrider caught him across the shoulder.

  Red light. Red light.

  The third Soldier was smart. He planted his back against the bunker wall, eliminating one avenue of attack, and raised a layered barrier in front of him. His sword glowed with defensive spell arts. A fortress within the fortress.

  Leo zagged upward, hanging directly above the Soldier's position. The barrier covered his front. The bunker wall covered his back. His flanks were tight against the bunker's corners.

  Moonrider and the lightsaber dove in parallel. The Soldier heard them coming and threw his barrier upward, catching Moonrider's edge with a shower of sparks.

  Leo was already behind him. He had zagged down and around the bunker wall while the Soldier focused on the aerial threat, sliding through the gap between the bunker and the barrier's edge. A gap that only existed from a three-dimensional perspective.

  His open palm caught the Soldier's helmet and shoved him forward and slammed him through his own barrier.

  Moonrider was waiting on the other side.

  Red light.

  The last Soldier broke formation and ran toward the bunker entrance. If he could reach the Gunners, if he could rebuild a fortified position inside...

  Leo let him run for two steps. Then he zagged laterally, covering the distance in a blink, and stood between the Soldier and the bunker door. Moonrider in his right hand. Lightsaber in his left. Both blades humming.

  The Soldier skidded to a halt. His eyes went wide behind his helmet.

  Leo's lightsaber casually flicked out.

  Red light.

  "ALL FIVE SOLDIERS ELIMINATED! THE FLORIDA GROUND DEFENSE HAS COLLAPSED!"

  The Yale section erupted.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  Fifty thousand voices. The sound pressed against his chest. He could feel it in his ribs. In his teeth.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  The chant found a rhythm, and Leo's heart locked into it. Beat for beat. Fifty thousand pulses synchronized with his own, and for a moment the boundary between himself and the crowd dissolved.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  His heart pounded in time with the chant, and the world felt enormous.

  Leo turned toward the bunker.

  The two Gunners inside had abandoned their flak cannons. The threat was already on the ground, already inside the perimeter, already walking toward them with silver and obsidian blades humming in each hand.

  They were good. The first Gunner threw a concentrated beam of spiritual energy at Leo. The second flanked right, trying to catch him in a crossfire.

  Leo sent his lightsaber forward.

  The silver blade met the beam and carved the beam into two streams that passed harmlessly around his body. Fragments of spiritual energy sprayed across the bunker walls, leaving scorch marks on the reinforced stone.

  The second Gunner's attack came from his three o'clock. A rapid-fire barrage meant to overwhelm.

  Leo zagged sideways, then up, then forward. His divine sense tracked every bolt, calculated every trajectory, and threaded his way in.

  He closed the distance in two zagging steps.

  Moonrider took the first Gunner across the chest. The second tried to retreat, hands already forming the seals for another spell art.

  Leo's lightsaber curved around the bunker wall and caught the Gunner across the forearm mid cast.

  Red light. Red light.

  "BOTH GUNNERS ELIMINATED! FLORIDA'S DEFENSE IS GONE! TOUCHDOWN YALE!"

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  The Yale section was on its feet. Arms raised. Voices raw.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  Leo stood in the center of the ruined defensive formation. Seven eliminations. Forty-five seconds. The Florida fort lay empty around him, spell formations flickering without operators, flak cannons silent and cold.

  He had scored a touchdown by himself. Once all the defenders were eliminated, the opposing team's flyers were automatically eliminated too. Twelve points for Yale.

  "LEO! LEO! LEO!"

  Leo stood there, chest heaving, and let the sound wash over him.

  ---

  After the first quarter, Coach Williams came prepared with detailed analysis of Florida's Black Tortoise formation. Florida had bet everything on the element of surprise, hoping to steal the game in that opening quarter. But the Black Tortoise had serious structural weaknesses when run with only five cultivators instead of the standard eight or more.

  The Yale Bulldogs systematically dismantled it over the following quarters. The tortoise shell that had seemed impenetrable in the first quarter cracked wider each time they attacked. Yale scored two more touchdowns, and Florida had no answer. They surrendered before the fourth quarter even began.

  By the time they made it back to the visiting locker room, the team had already stopped caring about their bruised and battered bodies.

  Helmets rolled across the floor. Sweat-soaked under-armor peeled off and flung over benches. The smell was brutal. Harry had Leo in a headlock, grinding his knuckles across his scalp.

  "Three touchdowns! Three! By himself!"

  He released Leo and shoved him toward Jimbo, who caught him in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground.

  "Put me down."

  "Not until you admit that last fake on the third Soldier was disgusting."

  "It was a basic feint."

  "He says it was a basic feint!"

  Vicky sat on a bench with her spear across her knees, helmet balanced on the butt end like a hat rack. "Three consecutive touchdowns forcing a surrender. Florida invited us down here for that. I almost feel bad."

  "You don't feel bad," Ellie said.

  "I don't feel bad."

  Across the room, Shawn was replaying defensive sequences with his hands, his voice bouncing off the tile without trying. "Second quarter, when they switched to offense and tried to dive our right flank? The barrier stack? Textbook. I want that every rep."

  Shawn clapped his hands once, the defensive breakdown finished, and his whole demeanor loosened.

  He grinned, crouched down, unzipped his equipment bag and pulled out a case of Bud Light tallboys. The bag was supposed to hold shin guards and backup clothing. The cans were cold, somehow, beading with condensation.

  "Gentlemen." He held one up. "And Vicky and Ellie."

  "How generous."

  "We just made Florida surrender on their home field. In their season opener." He cracked the first can. Foam spilled over his fingers. "I believe that calls for refreshments."

  Cans flew through the air. The crack and hiss of opening aluminum echoed off the walls in a chain reaction. Someone cranked the portable speaker and music thumped through the locker room.

  Harry took a long pull and pointed his can at the ceiling. "To the Bulldogs."

  "TO THE BULLDOGS!"

  Leo reached for a can.

  A firm hand landed on his shoulder.

  Dr. Reyes stood behind him, six feet of muscles in Yale athletics gear. She looked down at him with the warmth of a medical chart.

  She shook her head.

  "Everyone else is celebrating," Leo pleaded.

  "You are too young to drink, Chen."

  He watched Jimbo shotgun a tallboy in three seconds flat and crush the can against his forehead. Harry was doing some kind of victory dance. Ellie had climbed onto a bench and was conducting the room, pointing at people to cheer louder.

  Leo grabbed a water bottle instead.

  Dee, who also wasn't drinking, caught Leo's eye and raised his water bottle in a quiet toast. Leo returned it.

  The celebration rolled on. Someone dumped a cooler of ice water on the backup Gunner, who screamed and chased the perpetrator around the room with a towel. Vicky was holding her spear like a microphone, narrating highlights.

  Twenty minutes in, the door opened.

  Coach Williams stepped into the locker room. His eyes swept the room.

  Every beer can vanished in two seconds. Shawn sat on the remaining case. Jimbo tucked his behind his thigh, then immediately knocked it over with a clatter. The can hit the floor and started gushing foam, forming a very obvious puddle at his feet.

  Williams saw everything. His expression didn't change.

  "Flyers. Visiting coaches' office. Five minutes."

  He turned and walked out.

  ---

  The visiting coaches' office at the Florida arena was bare bones.

  The five starting Flyers filed in. Harry took the folding chair closest to the desk. Vicky leaned against the wall. Jimbo sat on the floor. Ellie perched on the edge of the desk itself. Leo stood near the door.

  Williams pulled a projection talisman from his jacket pocket, tapped it twice, and a recording flickered to life above the metal desk.

  An arena. Red and white. Harvard.

  A single figure hovered at center field. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Grey eyes catching the stadium lights. He wore Harvard crimson, and even through the projection, he seem to be judging them.

  The figure raised one hand. A ripple of grey expanded outward in a sphere, washing over the arena like a slow wave. Where it passed, the opposing Flyers dropped. One by one. Their swords went dark. Their flight formations collapsed. They fell and were eliminated before they hit the ground.

  The projection froze.

  "Mateo Thandril," Williams said. "Kid's divine blood concentration is way higher than anyone projected. Apparently just because his father doesn't have a lick of divinity doesn't mean it can't skip a generation." He tapped the frozen image. "That right there? Divine domain. If you're below Nascent Soul, you can't resist it."

  Silence.

  "How bad?" Ellie's voice had gone quiet.

  Williams looked at her. "You want to know? Easy way to find out. Call up your Deity Transformation ancestor in Florence. Ask him to press you with a tenth of his domain."

  Ellie's face instantly sobered up. The playfulness she'd carried from the locker room was gone.

  "So what's the play, Coach?" Harry asked.

  Williams looked at each of them in turn.

  "Texas A&M and Alabama are already developing countermeasures. Their research programs have been on divine blood resistance since the scouting reports leaked in August. I've got calls in." He held up a hand. "Countermeasures won't be ready by week three when we play Harvard. We're going to take that loss."

  "But if we win every conference game, we face them again at the Conference Championship. That's twelve weeks out. Twelve weeks to find a solution." Williams paced around the small office.

  "The NCAA approved Mateo's eligibility because they believe teams can adapt. Letting him flatten every squad in the country would gut morale, especially with the escalating war."

  He turned back.

  "The government will probably slowly release countermeasures to divine blood for the war. This season is their testing ground. They want teams to try out various solutions. They want the country watching when it happens."

  Leo reached into his bag. He pulled out a couple stacks of bound papers.

  "I have a cultivation technique. The Heart of Flesh. A dao heart method for resisting the divine." He paused. "Lord Newmont gave it to me."

  "My family might have something too," Ellie said. Everyone looked at her. "I met our old ancestor once. When I was twelve. He invited me to his study in the compound outside Florence."

  "What was it like?" Jimbo asked.

  "I walked through the door and my knees hit the floor. He was sitting in a chair reading. Aura mostly restrained." She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "He looked up and smiled. I could not move. The only thought I had was to worship him."

  The room sat with that.

  Ellie's voice sharpened. "We will have to overcome the Divine Children at some point. This is a good opportunity to practice."

  "Everyone here has families with resources. The government pays bounties for the cult's divine children dead or alive. Even blood samples alone are worth a fortune." She tapped the copy of the Heart of Flesh Leo had given her. "Ask your families. Pool what we find. Twelve weeks is plenty of time."

  They filed out in pairs. Harry and Jimbo discussing their military contacts. Vicky already on her phone before she cleared the doorway. Ellie bumped Leo's shoulder with her fist on the way out.

  Leo stayed.

  Williams was repacking his projection talismans. He didn't look up.

  "Something on your mind?"

  Leo closed the door.

  "On the field today. During the first touchdown, when the crowd was chanting. My heartbeat synced with it. Fifty thousand people, and for a few seconds I couldn't tell where I ended and they began." He paused. "I think it's connected to the Heart of Flesh. The part about tuning your pulse to something greater."

  Williams stopped packing. He looked at Leo.

  Then he smiled.

  "Sit down."

  Leo took the folding chair.

  Williams leaned back. "I had a teammate on the Giants. Ranged specialist. Best greatbow I ever saw. Darius cultivated that technique. The Heart of Flesh. Took him six years."

  "What happened?"

  "Military took him. Some special forces unit nobody would confirm existed. I never saw him play again." Williams shrugged. "Point is, what you felt today is real. The technique is something that can be cultivated."

  He leaned forward.

  "But I need you to be careful about what you think it means."

  Leo waited.

  "You just soloed seven defenders and scored three touchdowns on their home field. Fifty thousand fans were screaming your name. In that moment, the easiest thing in the world is to think they're chanting because of you. Because you're special. Because you're above them and they recognize it." Williams' voice went flat. "That's the trap. That's a heart of stone."

  He folded his arms.

  "You know how Texas A&M does their Thirteenth Man?"

  Leo shook his head.

  "Whole student section stands the entire game. Every game. Has for decades. They call themselves the Thirteenth Man because they believe their presence contributes to the team's success." Williams held up a finger.

  "And they're right. A&M's research department published a paper on it. Crowd-synchronized spiritual intent amplifies player performance by up to eight percent in controlled studies."

  "Those people tonight were chanting because they're invested. They care about this team, this season, this school. They believe their voices matter. They believe they're part of it." He held Leo's gaze. "Your heart resonated with theirs because you were all pushing for the same thing. Conference Championship. National title."

  Leo thought about the chant.

  "I know what you've been doing outside of this," Williams said, quieter. "You helped kill six Nascent Souls. You saved thirty thousand lives."

  Leo said nothing.

  "After that, a college sport probably feels small. Points on a scoreboard. Rankings that reset every season. The rational part of your brain is telling you this is just a game."

  Leo nodded.

  "Ignore that voice. The Heavenly Dao doesn't care about the size of the goal. It cares about whether you give yourself fully to something greater than yourself. As small as this sport may seem, the goal is pure, the cause is just."

  "The cultivators who master the Heart of Flesh come from everywhere. The common thread is the commitment." He looked at Leo. "Maybe this is where you practice. Stakes low enough that failure won't kill you. High enough that your heart still has to show up."

  He straightened up.

  "We're going to face Harvard twice this season. Mateo Thandril is going to hit you with an irresistible divine domain. The smart move is to accept defeat before it happens." Williams gave a thin smile. "The Heart of Flesh says otherwise."

  Leo stood. The conversation settled into him.

  "Thanks, Coach."

  "Go find Shawn. Tell him if I find beer cans in the equipment bags on the flight home, the entire defensive unit is running sprints until someone throws up."

  Leo opened the door.

  "And Leo."

  He stopped.

  "Good game today, kid."