"We still have to win."
He nodded once. He did not glance at her; he kept his eyes on wrists and angles. "We will. We just won't do it with a hammer."
He lifted his hand again, palm flat, fingers speaking more than his mouth. The wedge captains watched his knuckles instead of his eyes. He liked that; it meant they trusted their own lanes. "No kill-rush," he said. "We cradle the limiter first. Then we take the head."
A bright heart rolled near the crack as if to test them. No crowns flared. Librarian hands stayed neat. He heard one lich draw in a breath it did not need and let it go. Good.
"Invest for archer velocity and rim re-knit only," he added, eyes on the boss's elbow as a Scurabon tapped it again with delicate malice. "No glamour. One-cycle delay holds."
Thalatha's shoulders lowered by a hair. Even that small change mattered; it bled a little fear out of the ring. "Order with mercy," she murmured, almost like she was agreeing with someone who was not present.
