Let them laugh.
Exploding into a run, he cut left and intercepted the ascendant sphere carrier’s vector, forcing him to change direction. He took an elbow to the temple for his trouble, rocking him back on his heels as stars burst across his vision. The Ascendant who’d hit him was already three meters away, not even bothering to check if the wildcard was still standing.
He stayed standing, just, and wheeled away to harass the Ascendant’s other flank.
The first quarter was a masterclass in misdirection. Every time the Ascendants made a play or tried to block the Exiles in, he was there, all up in their business and draanthing it up for them.
The Exiles didn’t trust him… why would they… so they didn’t capitalize on the gaps he opened for them. Frustrating as draanth.
He hissed as Vaath went down on a late hit that should have drawn an immediate ejection. The Exile’s knee bent sideways with a crack audible from twenty meters away, but the ref’s whistle stayed silent.
Raaze’s eyes narrowed.
It got worse. Bravnak took a blindside tackle that came three full seconds after the sphere had left his hands. The big Exile hit the turf hard enough to bounce, and when he got up, he was favoring his left side in a way that meant cracked ribs at minimum. The ref signaled to play on.
He blinked as he realized the Ascendants weren’t trying to win the match. They were trying to break the Exiles, and the officials were bought and paid for. They had to be because every dirty hit went uncalled. Every foul that should have drawn a card was in the referee’s blind spot. Convenient as draanth.
He clenched his jaw. So they wanted to play dirty, did they?
Sorrath had the sphere. The young Exile was fast, faster than he had any right to be, but he was also predictable. Two Ascendant defenders were already setting up the same trap they’d used on Vaath, and the Exile hadn’t seen it as he raced forward for a try. But Raaze had. The angle was wrong, the timing was all wrong, and in about three seconds, Sorrath was going to learn what a shattered collarbone felt like.
He didn’t think; he just exploded into movement. Hitting the gap between Sorrath and the incoming defenders, he planted his feet, dropped his shoulder, and took the impact meant for Sorrath right across his back.
The world went white for a moment.
When he could see again, Sorrath was staring at him. The Exile’s red eyes were wide, confusion warring with rage for dominance.
“Move!” Raaze snarled. “Sphere’s in play. Let the Rage out, don’t let this draanthic take you down.”
Sorrath blinked, then he grinned, his mouth full of teeth that were way sharper than they should have been for a mere Latharian. Way too sharp for anything the Ascendants had ever seen or faced before.
The game continued, but something had shifted.
Vaath came at him from his blind spot two plays later… the same shoulder-drop Raaze had read in that corridor on Parac’Norr. He pivoted, covered the angle, and Vaath’s shoulder found empty air instead of Raaze’s kidney.
The Exile pulled up short, surprise flickering across his face.
“You’re still slow on the recovery,” Raaze growled. “Rotate your hips thirty degrees earlier and I wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
Vaath’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.
The Exiles started moving with him after that. When he called out a position, they adjusted. When he called a play developing, they listened.
By the third quarter, the Ascendants had the sphere and the lead, and they were getting cocky. Their formation had loosened, confidence bleeding into sloppiness. Raaze had been watching their patterns for forty minutes now, cataloging tells and timing, and the tiny hesitations that separated good players from great ones.
And the Ascendants weren’t great players. Oh, they were good. They were trained well and coordinated, and they were playing against opponents they’d been promised would be easy targets.
And now that confidence would be their downfall.
He caught Daavyn’s eye across the field and shot him a hand signal. It wasn’t warball shorthand, but one of the adapted hand signals he’d drilled into the team when he was there because half of them couldn’t remember the correct ones. He called for a three-phase press, staggered timing, with him as the pivot point.
Daavyn’s eyes widened.
Yeah. I taught you that drill, you ungrateful trall. Now run it.
The Ascendant sphere carrier never saw it coming. Daavyn hit him low, Sorrath hit him high, and Raaze was exactly where the sphere went when it popped loose.
Now he had the sphere in hand and an open field ahead.
