Week 9 Power Rankings: The Prophecy Continues (And My Grudges Deepen)

**Glassveil Prophets (8-0)** — They're doing it again. Somehow. The Prophets are operating on a level of prescience that makes Nostradamus look like he was guessing blindfolded. Their offensive line moves in supernatural synchronization — I'm genuinely convinced they're telepathic. No other explanation accounts for it. Their coach winked at me three weeks ago at a Sunoco in Murkmoor and didn't say hello. DIDN'T SAY HELLO. Obviously they're thriving purely on the negative energy of my wounded feelings. Spite is their 12th man.

**Ironveil Saints (7-1)** — Holy rollers playing like divine intervention is literally occurring live. Their quarterback threw for 487 yards last week while wearing a visor that cost more than my first car. The absolute disrespect to normalcy. But fine, they're phenomenal. It murders me to admit it, but I'm nothing if not honest. Well. Honest-adjacent.

**Hollowpeak Behemoths (6-2)** — Enormous lads doing enormous lad things with brutal efficiency. Their running back has accumulated more rushing yards than I've accumulated regrets — and that is a staggering number. They're consistent, punishing, effective, and unbearably monotonous to write about. Like watching a perfectly executed tax code.

**Murkmoor Engines (5-3)** — Mechanical. Soulless. Efficient only against teams so comprehensively bad they make the Engines look sentient. Their helmet design resembles a Windows 95 pop-up dialog box. Don't get me started on their stadium concessions: $16 for nachos. Sixteen dollars! That's a crime against humanity and also against my expense report.

**Thornwick Ramblers (4-4)** — The definition of beige if beige could wear shoulder pads. Inexplicably competent one week, genuinely mystifying the next. Their fans seem nice, which somehow makes everything worse. I respect their capacity for suffering.

**Brinewater Tide (3-5)** — Drowning, appropriately namesaked. Their defensive coordinator blocked me on Twitter after I made a completely fair comment about his abysmal play-calling. Now I'm trapped pretending I don't know why they're failing. Cosmic injustice dressed as professional consequence.

**Duskholm Specters (2-6)** — Barely corporeal. Watching them lose to a team that punted on first down — FIRST DOWN — and somehow won was transcendent in its sadness. Their quarterback throws with the confidence of someone assembling IKEA furniture in the dark. Haunting, but not in the cool way.

**Crestfall Collective (1-7)** — Irredeemably, artfully cooked. They make losses look like intentional performance art. I've seen more competitive energy at a DMV waiting area. Their mascot looked genuinely depressed during a timeout last week and honestly — same.