Things came together in his mind as he examined number eight’s trajectory: that the boy would have to slow down, because to strike anything at that speed would hurt, maybe even break some bones. He couldn’t slow because there was no hurdle close by to bounce off and transfer momentum. The way he flew, with arms thrust out above his head, and hands clenched into fists, that was deliberate, calculated to injure Yirella. Then there was the sullen resentment number eight had shown throughout the game when Yirella scored a point, and she’d got six of Immerle’s total. That was back with a vengeance.

It’s not the flagball he’s going for, Dellian knew. His arms jerked around, hands in a grasping motion. The muncs reacted instantly, elongating the bundle shape. One of the muncs hit the side of a hurdle, managing to grab an edge for a brief moment. It was enough. The hurdle’s rotational velocity was transferred through the cohort, and they slung Dellian away.

Now he was the one going far too fast.

“What—?” Tilliana gasped. “No! Yi, Yi, look out!”

Dellian’s elbow punched into number eight’s side, and the two of them rebounded, veering sharply away from Yirella. The force of the impact dazed him as something like fire engulfed his arm. Somewhere close by he heard his target cry out in pain and fury. They were both twirling around each other like twin stars bound in a single orbit. The arena’s lights strobed scarlet as a siren went off.

Dellian hit a surface hard enough to knock the breath out of him. It must have been the wall, because he was immediately slithering down to thud onto the floor. Number eight landed on top of him.

A fist struck Dellian’s leg. He shoved back. Both of them were yelling wordlessly. Hands scrabbled at each other. Then Dellian made a fist and drove it into number eight’s stomach. The boy let out a howl of anger and pain, and immediately head-butted Dellian. Their helmets made it pretty ineffectual, but the adrenaline was pumping now. Dellian tried to chop his opponent’s neck.

“Stop it!” Tilliana and Ellici were both shrieking in his ears.

Then both cohorts of muncs arrived and jumped on the wrestling boys. Yirella was shouting. Small fingers clawed at the boys; high-pitched squeals of distress rose. Little pointed teeth snapped viciously. Dellian hit out twice more as they writhed around, only to receive a punch that dislodged his helmet, squashing it into his nose. Blood started to flow out of a nostril. No pain, just rage. He brought a knee up with all his force, feeling it sink deep into his enemy’s abdomen.