The observation deck above Training Field 1 buzzed with nervous energy. Forty-three walk-ons clustered in groups, checking equipment, exchanging tips, stealing glances at the five figures standing at the center of the field below.

  Leo stood with his new teammates, laughing and joking with Harry and Ellie. The three had gotten familiar now after a few days of drilling. Moonrider hummed at his side.

  Coach Williams climbed the steps to the elevated platform at the field's edge. His weathered face betrayed nothing as he surveyed the crowd of hopefuls.

  "Alright, listen up." His voice carried across the field without amplification.

  "You're here because you think you have what it takes to fly for Yale. Some of you dominated in high school."

  Half the group immediately glanced in unison at Leo after hearing that. They must have been the freshman.

  Coach Williams cleared his throat, and continued, correcting himself.

  "Some of you are scholarship kids who spent years grinding divine sense before forming your foundation. Some of you are sophomores looking for a second chance now that body refinement has evened the playing field."

  He paused, letting the silence stretch.

  "None of that matters today."

  Coach Williams gestured toward the five starters.

  "Your tryout is simple. All forty-three of you will attack our starting Flyers. Simultaneously. Try to last as long as you can. Land a registered hit on any of them, and you've earned a spot on the developmental roster."

  Murmurs rippled through the walk-ons. Leo caught fragments of conversation drifting down from the observation deck.

  "Forty against five? That's barely fair to them."

  "I heard Rockefeller got embarrassed by some freshman in practice. Maybe the hype is overblown."

  "Just need one clean hit. One hit and we're in."

  "Just avoid the monster. As long as he doesn't notice you, we have a chance."

  Leo smiled behind his helmet.

  The walk-ons got ready to fight. They retrieved their weapons stored in the lockers, and pulled out lifebound flying swords emerged from dantians. The air thickened with spiritual energy as forty-three Foundation Establishment cultivators prepared for combat.

  Harry drew his great sword, the blade's edge distorting light as gravity spell arts gathered around its surface. He rose into the air with casual grace, climbing to fifty meters.

  Ellie's flaming sword ignited as she ascended, tongues of fire licking along the blade. She grinned beneath her helmet, practically vibrating with anticipation.

  Vicky followed, her new shield gleaming on her left arm. The defensive artifact hummed with dormant formation energy, ready to expand into a barrier at a moment's notice. Her spear rested easy in her right hand, perfectly balanced for aerial combat.

  Jimbo rose last among the original four, his shortbow already in hand. The greatbow remained stored in his dantian, waiting.

  Leo called Moonrider and joined his teammates. The five starters formed a loose diamond formation, Harry at the point, Vicky and Ellie on the flanks, Jimbo at the rear, Leo floating between positions.

  "Begin," Coach Williams said.

  The walk-ons surged upward.

  They came in waves, the more aggressive ones racing ahead. Swords and spears and axes caught the light. Spell arts crackled to life. A few archers hung at the periphery, firing off spiritual arrows.

  Harry met the first wave alone.

  His great sword swept in a horizontal arc, gravity spell arts exploding outward. The leading walk-ons found themselves suddenly heavier, their flying swords straining against the increased weight. Their momentum died. Their formation scattered.

  Harry was among them before they could adjust.

  The great sword moved with deceptive slowness, each swing carrying the weight of a collapsing star. A walk-on with a twin blade style tried to deflect. The impact sent him tumbling end over end, his armor flashed red. Eliminated.

  Two more went down in the same swing, pulled in by the gravity well that surrounded Harry's blade.

  "Spread out!" someone shouted from the walk-on ranks. "Don't cluster!"

  They tried.

  Ellie didn't let them.

  She hit the right flank like a comet, her flaming sword leaving streaks of fire across the sky. Where Harry was weight and inevitability, Ellie was speed and violence.

  Ellie carved through a group of four walk-ons in three seconds, her blade finding gaps in guards, slipping past desperate blocks, tagging armor with surgical precision.

  A walk-on managed to parry her first strike, which was pretty impressive for a walk on. But Ellie was already past him, her second strike catching him across the back before he finished his follow-through.

  Red light. Eliminated.

  The left flank tried to capitalize on Ellie's absence, surging toward the perceived gap in the starters' formation.

  Vicky was waiting.

  Her shield expanded, spiritual energy pouring into the artifact. A barrier of translucent blue light materialized, ten meters wide, catching the charge like a wave breaking against a seawall. Walk-ons slammed into it, their momentum arrested, their formations disrupted.

  Vicky's spear thrust through the barrier from the other side.

  One strike. Two. Three. Four armors flashing red in rapid succession.

  The barrier collapsed. Vicky was already moving, shield raised, spear dancing. She fought defensively, letting attackers commit before punishing their overextension. A walk-on with a heavy mace swung at her head. She caught the blow on her shield, redirected its force, and immediately countered with her spear.

  Red light.

  Jimbo hung back, his shortbow singing. Harassing shots peppered any walk-on who tried to circle around the main engagement. The arrows were there to disrupt, to force adjustments, to keep the pressure distributed.

  A particularly brave walk-on broke through the chaos, diving toward Jimbo's position. An arrow caught him in the chest, staggering his flight path. A second arrow took him in the shoulder. By the time he closed the distance, his rhythm was broken, his attack interrupted.

  Jimbo sidestepped the clumsy thrust and tagged the walk-on with a contemptuous tap of his bow.

  Red light.

  Thirty seconds had passed. Nineteen walk-ons remained active.

  "Regroup!" The call came from a walk-on near the back, a tall freshman with a polearm who played for Andover last year.

  "Concentrate on the shield user!"

  Smart, Leo thought.

  Vicky was the anchor. Remove the defensive specialist and the starters lost their ability to protect each other.

  Vicky originally wasn't supposed to be their defensive anchor. However after the Bulldogs were eliminated from playoff contention last year, Coach Williams had Vicky lifebond with a shield and practice suitable spell arts.

  Zhao was the Bulldogs defensive anchor, and since he graduated and Leo wasn't going to be able to be much help on that front, Vicky stepped up to the plate.

  Without a doubt Vicky was the weak point of a standard formation, since she was more of a hybrid than a true defensive anchor like Zhao. But the Yale team this year was anything but standard.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The remaining walk-ons consolidated, forming a rough wedge aimed at Vicky's position. They moved together, covering each other's blind spots, presenting a unified front rather than scattered individual threats.

  Harry started to intercept.

  Coach Williams' voice cut across the field. "Rockefeller, Walton, Medici. Disengage. Fall back to observation positions."

  Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then complied. He descended toward the platform, Vicky and Ellie following.

  "Park," Coach Williams continued. "Demonstrate the greatbow."

  Jimbo's shortbow vanished into his dantian. In its place, a massive weapon materialized, taller than Jimbo himself. The greatbow thrummed, the formation arrays carved along its length glowing with hungry light.

  The walk-ons faltered. Their wedge formation wavered as they registered the shift.

  Jimbo drew the string.

  Spiritual energy poured into the arrow forming between his fingers. The air around the greatbow began to distort, heat shimmer and spatial ripples radiating outward. The charging process was visible, a countdown measured in gathering power.

  This was another trump card Coach Williams prepared this year. Jimbo was also rotated off the team early, to prepare for their playoff run this season. Although Leo was a monster, one of his weaknesses was that his strength was limited to Peak Gold Core.

  Jimbo's greatbow would allow him to reach pseudo Nascent Soul level of strength. Albeit with a lot of limitations and charging time. However if Yale was going to make a playoff run this year, they needed to be able to beat monsters like Mateo Thandril.

  "Get him!" The tall polearm user adapted, pointing at Jimbo. "He can't shoot while he's charging! Take him down!"

  The nineteen remaining walk-ons surged toward Jimbo's position.

  Leo moved.

  He didn't accelerate so much as he simply appeared in front of leading attacker. Moonrider sang, the obsidian blade catching a desperate sword thrust and redirecting it wide.

  Red light.

  The next attacker came from thirty degrees right. Leo was there, Moonrider flowing through a rising cut that caught the walk-on's spear at the base and continued through to brush across her armor.

  Two more, coordinated, one high and one low. Leo's lightsaber ignited, spinning free of his control to intercept the low attack while Moonrider handled the high. Both walk-ons reeled back, red light blooming across their chests.

  His divine sense painted the battlefield in perfect three-dimensional clarity. Every walk-on existed as a point of spiritual pressure within his awareness. Their intentions preceded their movements. Their attack trajectories revealed themselves before muscles finished tensing.

  A walk-on dove from directly above. Leo didn't look up. He shifted two meters starboard and let the attack sail past, Moonrider tagging the overcommitted Flyer as they passed.

  Red light.

  Three came at once, a coordinated triple attack meant to overwhelm a single defender. Leo was not a single defender. His body existed as a piece on a board, to be positioned optimally. Moonrider handled the center threat while the lightsaber spun to intercept the left.

  Leo's body rotated, presenting his armored shoulder to the right-side attacker, then reversing into a spinning elbow that connected with enough force to stagger.

  Moonrider finished the staggered walk-on before they recovered.

  Three red lights, near simultaneous.

  Behind him, Jimbo's greatbow continued charging. The spiritual pressure building around the weapon had grown visible, a sphere of compressed power that made the air taste like copper. Formation arrays along the bow's length blazed with light.

  Ten walk-ons remained. They spread out, trying to find angles, trying to overwhelm Leo through sheer geometric impossibility.

  Leo let them.

  They came from six directions at once. Leo mapped their trajectories, calculated intercepts, moved.

  Moonrider sang a horizontal arc that caught two walk-ons who had coordinated their approach angles a fraction too tightly. The lightsaber spun free, orbiting Leo's body in wild patterns, tagging a third who tried to exploit the apparent opening.

  Leo reversed direction, enjoying his g-force bleeding formations, and hammered into the fourth attacker before they registered his movement. The fifth and sixth arrived at his previous position to find empty air.

  He was behind them before they finished their swings.

  Two more red lights.

  Four walk-ons remained, and they were learning. They hung back, circling at range, looking for openings that didn't exist.

  A tall woman with the spear charged at Jimbo alone, committing everything to a single desperate attempt.

  Leo respected the courage. He intercepted her anyway, Moonrider meeting her spear in a clash that echoed across the field. She was good. Her technique was clean, her fundamentals solid. Against a normal collegiate flyer, she would have been competitive.

  Leo was not a normal collegiate flyer.

  He zig zaged around her guard like a lightning bolt, Moonrider tapping her ribs with almost gentle precision.

  The last three walk-ons looked at each other. Looked at Leo, hovering motionless between them and Jimbo. Looked at the greatbow, whose charging had reached a crescendo of visible power that made their instincts scream danger.

  "Yield," one of them said. The others followed suit, descending toward the ground with slumped shoulders.

  Jimbo released the arrow.

  The shaft screamed across the training field, a streak of light that seemed to tear reality along its path. It struck the reinforced target barrier at the far end of the field. The impact detonated with a thunderclap that rattled the observation deck.

  When the light faded, a crater three meters wide had been punched through the barrier. Formation arrays sparked and smoked around the edges of the wound.

  Almost tier Four damage. Pseudo-Nascent Soul destructive power from a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

  Silence settled over the training field.

  Coach Williams cleared his throat.

  "That concludes today's tryout. Those of you interested in Soldier or Gunner positions, report to Captain Washington at Training Field 3. Dismissed."

  Coach Williams glanced at the walk-ons. For some reason they seemed a lot happier and a lot more eager than previous years. Usually they would be discouraged at their dreams being shattered.

  He glanced over at them, and then saw the walk-ons pull out their phones and open up betting apps.

  They eagerly talked with one another about whether or not they should bet on Yale for playoffs or Yale for the National Title.

  A few brave ones quickly bet their life savings on Yale for National Title and went around bragging about how they would spend their millions.

  I shouldn't have waited on placing my bets. The odds are going to get demolished.

  ---

  The good news was the Bulldogs team this year was ridiculously good. They would demolish the practice squad easily. And set new simulations records in every way.

  The bad news was it was very difficult for the squad to really practice and improve. Conventional opponents didn't challenge them.

  Even if they just gave their practice partners T4 power to spice things up, or if they nerfed themselves, it wouldn't necessarily simulate the challenges they needed to win.

  Ultimately they needed to somehow figure out what trump cards the best teams in the country were hiding, however they were very good at keeping it under wraps. Harvard didn't even have Mateo show up to practice to keep his abilities a secret, since they were so confident in him.

  Of all the trump cards teams would have to face, unfortunately Leo was probably the easiest to simulate. Everyone knew Leo trains with Yale, and everyone could probably guess Leo would get access to the Denver Bronco's G-force bleeding formations.

  That being said, figuring out Leo's abilities was the easy part. Beating a NFL type flyer was another thing.

  All the teams that tried to prepare against an NFL type flyer found out how terrifying one could be. They would invite an active NFL player and watch them just obliterate their whole lineup single handily.

  Only Harvard and Texas A&M were preparing in earnest, since they had similarly strong trump cards this year. Everyone else on Yale's schedule just planned for a loss that week.

  Today Leo was trying out the Flying Combat Simulator again. He spent a lot of time here last year, from getting bullied, to holding his own after mastering third person perspective.

  The Simulator was the size of a regulation Flying Aces Field. It used a combination of holographic projectors, formation arrays, and NVIDIA TPUs to create a Flying Aces match against AI opponents.

  "Begin scenario seven," the system announced. "Two-on-one engagement with integrated flak support."

  The same scenario that had crushed him over a year ago. His record before developing third person perspective was sixteen seconds. Over and over, the holographic Gold Core opponents had dismantled him while flak rounds denied every escape route.

  Leo's divine sense expanded outward, painting the combat zone in three-dimensional awareness. Two pressure signatures. Two flak guns.

  The opponents charged.

  Leo was already between them.

  Third person perspective transformed everything. The first opponent's blade swept toward where Leo had been. Leo was already behind him, Moonrider carving a rising arc.

  Red flicker. Eliminated.

  The second opponent launched a combination technique. Leo watched her form it from outside his own body, saw the telltale shoulder rotation, the weight shift.

  He met her in the air. Moonrider intercepted. His elbow connected. The blade completed its arc.

  "Scenario complete. Time to completion: four point seven seconds. Average Completion time for a collegiate starter: One minute twenty seconds. Recommendation: Increase dramatic difficulty of simulation"

  The chamber reconfigured. Eight opponents materialized. Full defensive grid. Artillery capable of pseudo-Tier-Four damage.

  The simulation chamber doors slid open.

  Ellie walked in, stopping at the observation platform. She watched the holographic carnage unfold below.

  Leo zipped through the chaos. His movements looked frantic, zig zagging between various flyers, but each one placed him exactly where he needed to be.

  The theories that Leo had struggled to understand last year were now second nature.

  It was as if the flak cannons had gone silent. They were either unable to track the constantly moving Leo, or unable to fire due to fear of hitting their own teammates.

  The simulated flyers fell in rapid succession. Three in a sweeping arc. Two more in the same combination. The final three going down before the flak cannons finished processing his approach vector.

  "Scenario complete. Time to completion: twelve point eight seconds. Casualties sustained: zero."

  Leo descended to the chamber floor, breathing steady.

  Ellie clapped slowly from the observation platform. "Remember when you lasted fourteen seconds against scenario seven?" She jumped down beside him, landing with practiced grace.

  "That was about a year ago, right?"

  "You saw that?"

  "Oh, I watched all of them." She grinned, something impish in it. "Nothing cheers a girl up after getting her ass kicked by the simulator like watching someone do even worse."

  Leo laughed. "Glad my suffering was useful."

  "You just cleared scenario twenty in under thirteen seconds." She shook her head. "I've been training for three years and I still can't clear it without abusing the AI."

  "The g-force bleeding formations are doing heavy work," Leo said. "Vicki is a lifesaver."

  Ellie's expression flickered. Something sharp crossed her face before she smothered it with a scoff.

  "Oh, Vicki saved you, did she?" She crossed her arms. "And who else exactly contributed to your lifebound sword? The one you're zipping around on like some kind of divine sense demon?"

  Leo blinked.

  "Ellie." He stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. "You're the best. Seriously. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

  Ellie went rigid for half a second. Then she shoved him back, turning her head sharply to the side hiding a blush.

  "Whatever. Obviously I am." Her voice came out higher than usual. "Someone has to look out for you."

  She quickly changed the subject

  "By the way, Harry's organized a dinner at his house tonight for the starting Flyers. He wants to talk about stuff." She was already walking toward the exit, her back to him.

  "What kind of stuff?"

  Ellie shrugged, still facing away. "Strategy, I think. It's become pretty apparent that more training isn't going to help much. We're about as sharp as we're going to get before the season starts. Harry wants to discuss how we actually use what we've got."