Emma did not waste the first ten minutes.
The privacy field had barely settled over the coaching room before she threw the Gia Định Saviors' profiles onto the wall display and began speaking in the clipped, clean tone that meant she was serious. The team portraits arranged themselves into two rows beneath the Orange County emblem, each with level estimates, class tags, public match notes, reported habits, injury history, and media-derived reliability scores pulled from interviews, league footage, and Tannenbaum analysts who had clearly been paid enough to make gossip look like intelligence. Phong stood near the side of the table with Emma's marker still in one hand, while Alex remained beside him in that quiet state that made the room feel like thunder had learned manners.
"The Gia Định Saviors have ten active members," Emma said. "Five primary fighters, three mages, two support-adjacent classes, and Andrew Nguyen as their core. The fighters are competent and have taken different evolution paths, which means their front line can adapt to several engagement shapes. Their three mages give them ranged pressure and area denial, while the support pair seems designed to preserve Andrew's tempo rather than create independent win conditions. Public footage suggests the team's entire system is built around Andrew forcing openings, punishing clustered formations, and turning enemy defensive reactions into targets."
She tapped the center portrait, and Andrew Nguyen's profile enlarged. His media photo smiled with professional discipline, but the video clips underneath showed something sharper. Andrew blurred across an arena floor, palms glowing with translucent psychic force before each strike detonated against a shield. Another clip showed him twisting midair without touching the ground, body accelerated by telekinesis as he hammered a tank from three angles in less than two seconds. In another, he fired a cluster of psychic orbs across a field, each exploding on contact and making the enemy team flinch far harder than the visible damage justified.
"Andrew's base class was Mind Blade," Emma continued, glancing once at Alex. "That makes him conceptually related to Alex, but his development path diverged early. Alex took the harder route of splitting focus, controlling multiple constructs, and building battlefield judgment around precision, restraint, and layered manipulation. Andrew took the simpler and more direct road. He infuses his fists and kicks with psychic mana, uses telekinesis to accelerate his body, and relies on pain-amplifying contact to make exchanges more expensive for the opponent than they appear."
Joanne watched the footage with narrowed eyes. "So he punches people with psychic brass knuckles and makes it hurt twice."
"Closer to five times, depending on pain amplification scaling," Emma said. "Alex uses that sparingly because she prefers control and has moral objections to unnecessary suffering. Andrew uses it as a core pressure tool, which is why opponents in his footage overreact after what appear to be moderate hits."
Alex's expression did not change, but Phong felt her attention sharpen. The insult from the handshake line was still present in the room, not as noise, but as a scent in the air. Andrew had called Phong communist lineage like a curse, and now Emma was calmly explaining that Andrew's class path was built around making pain do more work than force. There was a symmetry there that Phong disliked.
Emma enlarged another branch of the class chart. "His evolution is Psychic Bombardier. It is not Arbiter Mindblade, and from what I can see, it is less versatile in duels against elite opponents, but it is designed to overwhelm the battlefield with firepower. He creates orbs, balls, and condensed packets of psychic mana that explode when they come into contact with enemies, shields, constructs, or terrain. These blasts deal psychic impact, disrupt focus, and amplify pain perception if the target's defensive mana is pierced. In a crowded fight, that makes him extremely irritating to fight, because every block can become a stagger and every stagger can create a follow-up angle."
Jake grimaced. "I do not enjoy hearing 'irritating' when Emma says it. Her irritating is usually somebody else's medical leave."
Ron Takeyama, seated near the far end of the table with Tanya and James, smiled faintly but did not interrupt. The Bronx Musketeers were being careful, which Phong appreciated and distrusted in equal measure. Ron had accepted provisional status with grace. Tanya watched Emma with intense focus. James, quieter than both, studied Andrew's clips with the focus of a man measuring how fast he would need to move to survive.
Dominic folded his arms. "Can Andrew carry them against us?"
"Alone, no," Emma said. "With the correct battlefield, enough support cover, and our team making emotional mistakes, he can create ugly exchanges. Gia Định's Saviors are not an all-star roster. Their media results call them disciplined, patriotic, cohesive, and resilient, which are all polite ways of saying they are good enough to beat disorganized teams and charismatic enough to market. They reached double elimination because they have solid fundamentals, Andrew can punish mistakes, and their support system protects his momentum."
Camille glanced toward the wall. "So their weaker members matter because they let him act stronger."
"Yes. Their formation is built around Andrew as star player. Remove his freedom and the team becomes manageable. Let him dictate tempo and the entire fight becomes psychic splash damage, pain amplification, and crowd-control irritation."
Emma summarized the other members quickly, folding their profiles into function rather than reading them one by one. Gia Định's Saviors had one shield fighter who liked to pin opponents against terrain, one spear evolution with strong anti-charge capability, one dual-blade skirmisher whose job was to protect Andrew's flank, one heavy striker who punished anyone trying to rush the backline, and one young speed fighter whose profile photo matched the boy who had spat near Phong's boot. Their mages included a fire user with predictable but powerful cones, a binding specialist who used red-thread mana to slow limbs, and a sound mage whose disruption attacks could make coordination messy. The support pair appeared to be a mana stabilizer and a pain-dampening medic, both important because Psychic Bombardier tactics invited counter-pressure against the star.
When Emma finished the first ten minutes, Phong could see the outline clearly. Gia Định's Saviors were good, but they were not Team Nemean. Their danger came from tilt, spectacle, and Andrew's ability to turn the match into a personal grudge while his team enabled him. That meant the fight had to be won in a way that denied him emotional rhythm, broadcast heroism, and any claim that Team Nemean had treated the match like ideological revenge.
Emma looked around the room. "Questions before roster selection?"
Joanne raised a hand. "Do I get the spitter?"
"No," Emma said.
Joanne lowered her hand. "Oppression is everywhere today."
Alex still did not speak.
That made Emma turn to Phong. "A word."
Phong followed her to the corner of the room where the privacy field's secondary masking charm blurred their voices from casual listening. The others could still see them, but Emma angled her tablet so the Bronx Musketeers' line of sight was blocked. It was subtle, and Phong noticed Ron noticing that it was subtle.
Emma lowered her voice. "This is a weaker Yuan Zheng Zi."
Phong blinked once, then understood. "Area denial. The boss just had a tons more mana."
"Yes. Andrew is not level 65, and he does not create instant formations, but the battlefield shape is similar enough to matter. Psychic Bombardier fills space with explosive points that punish movement and defense, while his teammates create channels that make dodging costly. Against Yuan Zheng Zi, we had Yue Ting's qián, Alex using Bīng openly, and a boss arena where secrecy had already become impossible. Today, we do not have Yue Ting, and I doubt you want Alex revealing the Bīng fragment in the first match of double elimination."
Phong looked at Alex across the room. She stood with Dominic and Séline now, listening as Tanya explained something about puppet deployment ranges. Alex's face was calm, her shoulders loose, but Phong knew how much new power sat under that calm. The Ballad of Blades. Charge of the Bloodless Knights. Bīng. Relic-copy constructs. The league cameras would sell their souls for one clean shot of any of those.
"No," Phong said. "Not this early. Not unless something goes very wrong."
Emma nodded. "Then we need field control, durable front line, precision disruption, and enough unknown variables that Andrew cannot route the match around Alex alone. We also need to use the Musketeers in a way that gives them real responsibility without showing them our deeper hand."
Phong almost smiled. "You're getting sneaky too."
"I was always sneaky. You were simply too sleep-deprived to appreciate it."
They returned to the table with fifteen minutes left.
Phong picked up the marker and drew three circles on the roster board. "We need seven. First, Dominic."
Dominic did not react with surprise. As the strongest tank at level 49, he was the natural anchor, and his presence at the front would force Andrew either to waste psychic bombardment on Eyeless Heaven or angle around him into zones Team Nemean could control. Phong wrote his name at the center front, then added Alexei beside him as secondary shield and anti-collapse support. Alexei had not quite reached 48, but a level 47 Evolved Paladin was still a nasty opponent to any diver team.
"Séline," Emma said before Phong wrote the third name. "She's our most mobile fighter, and her trump card is already revealed."
Séline nodded once.
Phong wrote her name.
"Joanne," Alex said.
Everyone looked at her.
Alex's tone stayed even. "Good choice. I doubt we need her to use the Celestial Skeletal though."
Joanne touched the hair hiding Yuan Zheng Zi's Celestial Skeletal headpiece and smiled. "Stereo murder has entered the bracket."
"Please stop calling it that," Janet said from the side.
Phong added Joanne to the roster. Then he looked at Ron and Tanya.
The room noticed.
Ron sat a little straighter. Tanya's expression sharpened, not hopeful exactly, but ready.
"We use two Musketeers," Phong said. "Ron Takeyama and Tanya Holston."
Jake's mouth opened, then closed when Emma gave him the look that said he could complain after the match if he survived the logic. Phong wrote Ron's name first. The display pulled up his class: Yokai Samurai, an evolution of the base Samurai class. Ron fought by manifesting parts of various yokai onto himself, not full transformations, but partial monstrous overlays: claws, horns, masks, spectral limbs, strange eyes, defensive hide, and burst movement depending on the spirit aspect he invoked. He was similar to Beast Souls Barbarian in a way. His footage showed a fighter who could change texture mid-exchange, which made him useful against Gia Định's disciplined but Andrew-centered patterns.
Ron inclined his head. "I will not waste the slot."
"Don't make it dramatic," Joanne said.
"I cannot promise miracles."
Tanya's profile appeared next. Dueling Puppeteer. A summoner class, though narrower than the word suggested. She stored a puppet in a personal space, summoned it into battle, imbued it with mana, and let it fight on her behalf while she controlled its aggression and positioning. Public footage showed a lacquered dueling puppet with jointed arms, hidden blades, reinforced ribs, and quick footwork that could harry midline fighters without exposing Tanya herself. Against Psychic Bombardier, an expendable or semi-expendable dueling body had obvious value.
"Tanya gives us a body that can trigger psychic bombs without morale damage," Emma said. "Her puppet can also pressure their binding mage or force Andrew to waste blasts on a non-living target."
Tanya accepted that with a professional nod. "It can take punishment. I would prefer it not be treated as disposable, but I understand the assignment."
"That leaves one," Dominic said.
Everyone already knew.
Phong looked at Alex.
He wrote her name last.
Alex would fight because leaving her out would insult reality. Yet her instructions would be more restrictive than usual, which was absurd for their strongest duelist and necessary because the league's first match was not the place to show the world the shape of a cracked one of the Nine. Her job would be control, deterrence, and selective pressure. Bai Hu's storm could appear in moderated form. Arbiter Mindblade constructs could remain within known public expectations. Charge of the Bloodless Knights, the Ballad, and Bīng stayed hidden unless the match tilted toward disaster.
The final roster stood on the board: Ron Takeyama, Dominic Torres, Séline Lambert, Tanya Holston, Alex, Joanne Parr, and Alexei.
Phong looked at the timer.
Seven minutes left.
That was when the structure of the stage itself bothered him properly.
"In group stage, we knew the opponents ahead of time," he said. "We prepared for the bracket environment, the likely team order, the scouting reports. Here, we only learn the opponent on match day, then get thirty minutes to lock roster and tactics."
Emma's mouth curved faintly. "You noticed."
"It is testing a different skill. Group stage tested preparation. This tests rapid adjustment."
"And marketability," Joanne said. "Nothing says premium broadcast like watching teams panic on a clock."
Phong looked toward the wall where sponsor logos glowed faintly through the broadcast feed. "No matter the format, capitalism does not lack ways to monetize it."
Ron chuckled softly. "That is bleak."
"It is accurate," Tanya said.
Emma took back the marker and began the final briefing. She gave Dominic the opening lane, Alexei the lock angle, Séline the interception assignments, Joanne the mage priority order, Ron the flank disruption path, Tanya the puppet trigger routes, and Alex the restriction list with enough precision that nobody had to say aloud what she was forbidden from revealing. The Bronx Musketeers listened closely. Perhaps because they wanted to prove themselves. Perhaps because they were collecting information for someone else. Phong treated both possibilities as true.
When the timer reached one minute, Dominic stood.
The room shifted with him.
He was not the flashiest member of Team Nemean, and after Alex's recent evolution, he was no longer the most terrifying headline waiting to happen. But Dominic had become the team's center in a way levels alone could not explain. Level 49, gentle protector, shield bearer, living battery, the man who stepped forward first because everyone else made better decisions when they knew he would not move aside.
He looked at the chosen seven.
"We win clean," Dominic said. "We protect information. We do not let them bait us into making Phong the match."
Alex's eyes remained on the door. "And if Andrew wants pain?"
Dominic's smile was small and humorless. "Then we teach him there are sturdier things than hatred."
The roster lock sounded.
A chime rang through the coaching room, and the wall display changed from strategy board to match staging prompt. Outside, beyond the privacy field, the broadcast machine stirred awake again. Commercials would be ending. Commentators would be raising their voices. Fans would be choosing narratives before the first blow. Somewhere across the venue, Andrew Nguyen and Gia Định's Saviors were likely telling themselves that this fight meant old flags, old grudges, old purity, and the humiliation of a farmer whose family had refused to grieve correctly.
Phong stepped close to Alex before she left.
"Don't kill the spitter," he said softly.
Her eyes flicked to him.
He added, "On camera."
For the first time since the handshake line, her mouth curved.
"I will be tactical."
"That is not reassuring."
"It is what you get."
Dominic led the roster out.
Ron followed with the easy grace of a man walking onto a stage he trusted himself to survive. Tanya walked beside her invisible stored puppet, one hand flexing as if already feeling strings that were not there. Séline moved like a promise of impact. Joanne spun her revolver once, eyes sharpened by split mana flow and professional irritation. Alexei rolled his shoulders and lifted his shield. Alex walked last among the fighters, silk over blade, storm under skin, the secret of Bīng hidden where the cameras could not yet see.
Phong watched them go with Emma at his side.
The door closed behind the roster, and the broadcast roar swelled beyond it.
Team Nemean took the stage to face Gia Định's Saviors, led by Dominic Torres, carrying strategy, restraint, anger, and more secrets than any bracket had been designed to hold.