The fervour for the tournament mounted as they approached the Play-In weekend. Each passing day the impending matches occupied more and more of the campus headspace, until it was all anyone was talking about. Despite the fact that they were finally learning to cast real magic, absences racked up in each class. The profs, however, took it in stride. They either expected it, or didn't care.

Blake, a diligent student even by Academy standards, skipped the second Decomp Basics that week. It was too bad, because Jacob was actually having fun in those classes for the first time that term. They spent each ninety-minute class practicing their type-specific casting. By the end of the week he could consistently cast transformation, raise a little nub out of his ball of putty. Production he found a little easier, though if that was his own inherent ability or the proximity of Camilla's help, he didn't know.

The class partnered up and went to an outdoor training ground and shot little orbs of light at each other with the goal being to cast your light spell strongly enough that the light would still be glowing when it reached your partner. Camilla showed him a little trick of flowing your magic down your limbs instead of just forcing it outside your body, which she explained was why many mages shot magic with their hands even though you didn't have to.

Most of Jacob's Consumption training came outside of the classroom, though. Each day him and Blake each booked their allotted hour long training session whenever they could fit it in; in between class, during dinner, right before curfew ended. With the impending Play-In, training rooms were booked every possible hour, and it took an obsessive hovering over their phones, refreshing the booking pages as the slots opened up in order to get one. They spent most of these sessions working on the intensity with which they could cast their strength-resilience spells and playing tag games to get a feel for the explosive unwieldiness of the augmentation.

He went to both MW Club meetings, but it was the first week he missed the free night at the movie theatre. The campus felt deserted at times. All the little passive activities like recreational Split, that little croquet-like game people played on the lawns Jacob still didn't know the name of, the extra seminar lectures, even the unofficial things like the localized nightly gatherings/parties in Harrison Hall's third floor all fell by the wayside. The week had adopted the nickname 'Dead Week' in years past. Everyone was prepping for the tournament, even those who didn't have matches this weekend, even the second and upper year students, who weren't competing.

The Bourbon gang minus Archie got out for a couple walks through the town, but instead of the usual commentary on their surroundings they all chattered about the tournament or tried to decipher which spells Ms Sterling had used in the Menagerie against the 'razorbear.' Ms Sterling had quickly gone from a professor the class seemed indifferent about, at best, to much discussed and adored. In particular, many of the boys in the class began to idolize her as if she were some mythical Amazonian, a desirable yet nearly unattainable conquest, which only served as fuel for Grace and Camilla's lengthy ravings about the stupidity of high-school boys.

They didn't see much of Archie that week. He was locked away in his private suite dorm room training for the tournament or trading stocks. Apparently it was possible to engage with the stock market while at Tisdale, but because of the dilated time, it opened at odd, three-and-a-quarter hour intervals at seemingly random times throughout the day and night. Times which Archie assured them he knew.

Blake had had the misfortune of drawing the first match of the entire tournament—or fortune, if you were Grace, who said it would be nice to just get it over with.

----------------------------------------

Beep! Beep!

Jacob shot up out of bed and turned his phone alarm off.

"Light?" He asked.

No response.

He looked over at Blake's bed. It was empty, the covers thrown back. He must have gotten up early.

Probably anxious about his match.

That reminded Jacob of his own match next week. He shuddered with anxiety. But there was no point worrying about it now. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Plenty of time. He threw the blind up and started his morning routine. It was weird, actually almost disturbing, not having to move around someone else in the small space.

He threw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and made his way down to the cafeteria, blinking sleep from his eyes. He hadn't slept well, but he couldn't remember any nightmares. Probably anxiety over his impending match. Goddamn anxiety. At least wait until after Blake's match; until after he'd watched the Play-Ins.

The Tisdale Tournament Opening Ceremony was this morning at 9:00am, followed by the sixteen play in matches between the thirty-two lowest ranked students.

The cafeteria was packed and loud, almost rowdy, like what Jacob imagined sports bars got like late at night. Students were clustered at tables, vehemently discussing their matchups or matchups they were interested in. Drinks and plates of food sat untouched. Printed off Strength Charts littered the tables and lay on the floors. Jacob made his way over to the food window line up. Bacon and eggs this morning. Not bad. He grabbed a big portion and turned back to the crazed cafeteria. Idly, he wondered if there was a big underground freezer where they kept the food they'd need for four months. Or did they periodically ship it in through that one-way portal he'd come through?

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Blake, Grace, and Camilla were chatting at a table in the middle of the room. Camilla and Grace were their usual chipper, well dressed selves. Blake practically twitched with nervousness. His hair was combed straight, but everything else about him was dishevelled.

"There's the sleepyhead!" Camilla said.

Jacob blushed and sat down. "here's Archie?"

"Said the market opened low," Grace rolled her eyes, "but he'll be there for Blake's match."

"What the hell is with him and investing? Doesn't he have enough money already?" Blake asked.

"Beats me," Grace shrugged. "He told me once that while other kids are playing video games, he plays real life games on the market. Whatever that means."

Jacob noticed Blake didn't have a plate in front of him. "You gonna eat anything?"

Blake shook his head. "Not hungry. Think I'd probably throw it all up."

Jacob couldn't blame him. "You're gonna do fine." He said.

Blake shrugged.

"You look at this guy's Strength Chart?" Camilla asked.

Blake patted his pocket. "Got it right here. But, let's talk about something else, please."

"Okay, sorry," Camilla said.

"Anyone do the readings for Magical History today?" Jacob asked, knowing full well not a single person in the room had.

"Hell no!" Grace said. "Homework? Don't know her."

"I don't think I'm gonna do any classwork until the end of the weekend, even though it might bite me in the ass," Blake said.

"Really? You guys shouldn't let this be an excuse to get behind in your courses." Camilla said.

"Okay, mom," Grace said.

"Easy for you to say, Mrs Powerhouse. Who's the poor sucker who got you first?" Blake said.

"Whoever wins the third match today," Camilla said. She folded her arms and sat back in her chair.

Jacob cleared his throat. "What about you, Grace? Who do you have?"

"Winner of the twelfth match. Both of them are strongest in Decomp, so it doesn't really matter who wins."

"Did your dad say he was going to watch your match?" Camilla asked.

Grace nodded. "Called me last night to tell me he was taking the day off next Saturday to watch. Told me that every round further I get will determine my allowance for the next year. Ugh! As if I don't know that he was really saying 'Don't lose, daughter.'"

"How far did your brother get?" Camilla asked.

"Um, Quarterfinal? But, Milla, that was like a decade ago."

"Still."

"Yes. Still. I'll need to get there at least. Not because of him, though, because otherwise I will be flat broke."

"Wait, are all your parents watching?" Jacob asked.

The three of them nodded in unison.

Oh. Suddenly Jacob was very ashamed of himself. His parents couldn't watch. They probably could never know what he was doing here. The three of them would probably be worried about impressing their parents. But what did he have in place of that? Impressing himself? And what if his parents never knew about this? Like never knew in the whole rest of his life? What would he tell them? How could he tell them? Would he just not be able to share any of this with them? What about Luke, and Thiago? He'd texted them a bunch over the past week, but he kept having to make stuff up about where he was. Juggling all the details he conjured himself with the made-up cover story the Academy had given him was like playing an overly complex board game that he didn't like

"Camilla D'Angelo," A warm voice said.

Jacob turned. Victor had come over to their table. He grinned easily at them. With him was the timid looking girl he'd been with the night of the party first week. She was the same height as him with lush dark hair that fell down to her waist in waves.

"Excited for the tournament?" Victor asked.

"Excited to win it," Camilla said.

Victor laughed heartily.

Jacob eyed the short guy. He was tough to read. He seemed laid back, but he was always working hard and showing off in the classes.

"Well, well, I like the confidence. Good luck to you. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. And good luck to the rest of you too." Victor turned, said something to the girl, and the pair walked away.

"I have yet to see her without him," Grace said. "Like she's his little puppy dog, or something."

Camilla's face was curled in a snarl. "That arrogant little rat. I'm gonna squash him."

Blake pushed himself out of his seat suddenly. "Opening Ceremony is in twenty minutes. I'm gonna go get some fresh air. I'll see you guys there."

"Okay. See ya."

He turned and disappeared into the bustling cafeteria.

"I was reading up on the rules last night," Jacob said, filling the sudden, apprehensive silence. "What's the whole Match Advisor thing?"

"You didn't know about that?" Camilla asked.

"No."

"Good think you asked. Each fighter gets called down like fifteen minutes before their match. They get some time in a room alone. You can call one person in to be a 'Match Advisor' before the match to talk strategy, strengths, etc."

"Like another student?"

"Yes."

"You'll probably be Blake's," Grace said.

Oh.

"And how many people will be watching?"

"The whole school, plus thousands of people worldwide on the stream."

"Christ."

Just then Archie came bumbling through the crowd.

"Ah, shit! Sorry, I'm so late, lads. And ladies," Archie plopped himself down in Blake's seat. "Where's McGinnis at?"

"Went out for a walk."

"Ah, the calm before the storm. Feel bad for the guy. First match of the tournament can't be easy. Wish I had caught him here, but you should have seen the Tech sector ETFs this morning. Chef's kiss. Couldn't have asked for a better start to the tournament. Maybe it's a good omen?"

"Blake was wondering what you do with all that money," Grace said. "Since you already have a ton."

Jacob frowned. It hadn't been Blake that had wondered that.

"What do you mean?"

"Like the money you invest."

"I invest it."

"No, like the money you make from investing it."

"I re-invest it."

"Why?"

"Progress. See how far I can get. How much I can make. There's no point cashing out."

"Really?"

"Think of it like magic," Archie sat forward, thrilled. "Whatever you learn about a spell or one of the types of magic, you don't just use it for that specific spell and 'cash out' so to speak. You use that knowledge or whatever to help you learn other things, like similar spells, or to help you put more strength into that spell. You put back in what you've learned. You compound. You progress. What's the point of stopping?"

Camilla smacked the table. "Ugh, you two! The tournament's starting in five minutes and you're talking about that!"

"I'm just hype," Archie said. "Feel like a firecracker. Can't believe we're actually in it this year."

The intercom blared on:

"The Tisdale Tournament Opening Ceremony will begin in fifteen minutes. Please make your way to the arena now."

They all looked at each other and grinned.