Jacob entered the tunnel and the emotions from the fight faded to a distant thing and the immediate issue became going and facing everyone.

It shouldn't have been that hard. He shouldn't have had to go through all those mental gymnastics to win that match. He shouldn't have taken a hit from Altman.

"Would you like to reflect on the match in one of the Post-Match Rooms?" The tournament aide asked as he came through the tunnel.

Jacob paused. "No," He'd spent enough time worrying over stuff already. "I'll just head up to the seats."

"Alright. Congratulations on your win," The tournament aide smiled.

"Thanks."

Jacob grinned as he made his way back to the seating area. That was right. He'd won. Screw all that other stuff. What mattered was the win. He wanted to jump up and down and cheer but that would be corny, so he just quickened his step. He felt like a million bucks. He felt like he could jump to the moon and back. He felt like he could do anything, and the whole world would just bend to his will.

He couldn't believe he'd spent all those years being weak, and for a time he just revelled in the feeling.

He emerged from the undercroft into the seating area and scanned it quickly, for some reason a little worried that the gang had left. They were still there, talking amongst themselves.

A voice caught his attention.

"Not bad, Caibo," Victor was lounging in the front row near the entrance, his legs kicked up on the seat in front of him. Maria sat next to him, and Victor's arm was around her shoulders. Victor grinned. "Not bad."

Jacob eyed the boy for a moment, unsure what his intentions were. Was he surprised by the strong Consumption magic Jacob had shown? Was he genuinely impressed, or faking it? Or was he pleased that Jacob had beaten the guy who had beaten Maria?

"Thanks," Jacob said. "Good luck tomorrow."

Victor laughed and nodded to him curtly.

Jacob ran up the stairs to the row where they were sitting.

"Let's go!" Blake cried. He came out of the row and gave him a stinging props in the aisle.

Then Camilla, Grace, and Archie were heaping congratulations on him, including a hearty slap on the back from the latter.

"I must admit I was a trifle spooked at the beginning there," Archie said.

"Yeah, what happened?" Grace asked. "Looked like Altman caught you by surprise."

Jacob ran a hand through his hair. How could he tell the truth? It would take hours. That made him chuckle, which brought glances from the others.

"Took me a second to get my footing," He said.

And he had. He had gotten his footing; taken control of the match. Taken control of his life in that instant. He smiled. It felt so good.

"Well, you certainly found it," Camilla said. "Sent that poor guy flying."

"Who's up next?" Jacob asked, eager for a change in topic. He'd had enough attention for one day. He settled back into his chair, suddenly weary.

"13th seed and the 52nd seed," Archie said.

A tournament aide appeared at the end of the aisle. "Mr Caibo?"

Jacob frowned. "Yes?"

"Ishaan Stone has requested you for his Pre-Match Advisor. Do you accept?"

Jacob blinked. Ishaan? They'd had that conversation a while back, but he hardly knew the guy.

"Sure. Yeah, I do," He was gassed, but that didn't mean he was going to hang Ishaan out to dry.

"Follow me,"

Jacob stood up.

"Once more into the fray," Archie chuckled.

"I guess I'll be back in a bit," Jacob said.

He followed the tournament aide back into the now too-familiar stadium undercroft.

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

The tournament aide opened the door to one of the prep rooms, ushering Jacob in and shutting it behind him. Ishaan sat rigidly on one of the benches inside.

Jacob nodded to him and entered. "Yo."

"Hello," Ishaan said.

Jacob didn't know what to say so he stood there awkwardly. He knew Ishaan was 18th, fairly strong and knowledgeable in Production magic, but that was it.

Ishaan broke the silence. "Other people were requesting people so I thought that I should do the same. You talked to me the other day so I figured it might as well be you."

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Jacob blinked. Did the guy not have any friends? Not that he thought about it, whenever Jacob had seen Ishaan around campus he'd always been by himself, absorbed in a book.

"Yeah, no worries," Jacob said. "Is there anything you wanted to talk about? Like strategy? I didn't really look at your opponent's Strength Chart, to be honest."

Ishaan frowned as if this confused him, then made a little noise of understanding in his throat. "Ah. No, I won't lose. But I am curious: Were those books I recommended helpful?"

Jacob had hardly thought about the vampire the whole weekend. He ran a hand through his hair. Every time he thought about it, it just seemed surreal that they were all here fighting in a tournament while the vampire was running around.

"Yeah," Jacob said. "They were super helpful."

"I'm glad," Ishaan said. "When do you think it will strike again?"

Jacob frowned. "The book said it strikes every few weeks. The last one was two weeks ago, so I guess maybe next week," It felt weird to be talking about this.

Ishaan nodded gravely. "Scary."

"Yeah, it is."

"I have been wondering if there is any way to catch it, but I cannot come up with anything," Ishaan said.

Jacob nodded. He wanted to tell Ishaan about the escapade to the morgue with Tanaka—the boy might prove a valuable ally—but he couldn't do that without clearing it with Tanaka first. "Yeah, I don't know," He said.

A knock came at the door.

"Mr Stone. It's time."

Ishaan stood. "Thank you for coming."

Jacob nodded. "No problem. Good luck."

Ishaan nodded curtly, then followed the tournament aide out of the room. Jacob stayed for a moment longer, thinking about what Ishaan had said. Man, it seemed a lot of people liked his pre-battle advice.

He chuckled and left the room. Kinda weird, since he'd had so much trouble in his own fight. He pictured John Altman flying away from him, smacking into the wall, and plummeting to the ground. The boy must have weighed almost two hundred pounds. It seemed surreal that Jacob had thrown him that far. He'd made a lot more progress with the strength spell than he'd thought. But how strong could you get? Like, Hulk strong?

That had lowkey been dangerous for Altman. Jacob was sure the boy had absorbed some of the impact and fall with his own strength spell, but still. Yet it had been legal. How much force did the judges consider 'lethal force?'

He shuddered. He hoped Altman was okay. He didn't have anything against the guy. In fact, he felt bad he hadn't apologized or checked on him at least, after the fight.

That reminded him. The triage was down here. Jacob wasn't entirely sure Altman would want to see the guy who'd beat him right now, but the right thing would be to go and check on him. Right?

He made his way through the undercroft, to the triage, and knocked on the door.

Sister Megan opened it and narrowed her eyes at him. "You again?"

"Is John Altman here?"

"Yes, but he's recovering," Sister Megan folded her arms.

"I just want to apologize to him about our fight."

"You were the one who beat him?" Sister Megan raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down.

Jacob shrugged. "Magic, I guess."

"Very funny. Fine. You can see him for a bit," She stepped aside.

Jacob walked through the triage. The boy Archie had fought was in one of the beds. Altman was in the back corner, opposite where Blake had been. He was sitting up in his bed, on his phone. Jacob couldn't see any bandages. Thank Christ.

"Hey..." Jacob trailed off before he'd even started.

John Altman looked up from his phone and blinked in surprise. His face matched his body, blocky as if hewn from stone, his eyes little beads set deep beneath his brow. His nearly shaved head made his bushy eyebrows look comic.

Jacob forced himself to speak. "I just wanted to apologize. I went a little overboard with that throw."

Altman looked taken aback, his beady eyes widening. Then he shrugged and smiled. "Thanks, dude. And no problem, it's all part of the risk."

"You're not injured too badly?" Jacob asked.

"Nah, just a lightly sprained ankle and some bruises on my back. Nothing like that McGinnis guy on Thursday."

It was Jacob's turn to be surprised. "Blake?"

"You know him?"

"He's my roommate."

"Oh, damn. Is he crazy like that in person?"

"Not really," Jacob didn't mention The Dynasian Reality.

"Ah," A moment of silence. "Yeah man, no worries. I'm glad I got a hit in on ya."

Jacob chuckled.

"You gotta win next round, though. It'll make me look better."

"Alright, I will," Jacob said. "I'll see you around."

"Cya."

Jacob left and made his way back up to the seating area, a small smile on his face. Yes, that had been the right thing to do.

Ishaan's fight had ended, and Prof Michaelson was resetting the arena's ward.

"Who won?" Jacob asked Archie.

"That Ishaan fellow. Handily. He's quite good."

Jacob sat back down.

They watched the rest of the matches eagerly. That night in the cafeteria it was all they could talk about. Sunday morning found them back at the stadium bright and early. Tanaka had the first match of the day. He cleaned up his opponent casually with a similar Decomposition spell to the one Grace had performed. The biggest upset was the 46th seed beating the 19th seed, which sent Archie into a ramble about past upsets and potential for the next round. Blake's match came and went. He would have fought the 12th seed, a strong Decomposer named Zelda. She won by default, much to the crowd's chagrin, and the next match was quickly queued up. Jacob explained to the others that Blake was still injured.

Every match was an interesting watch for one reason or another, but there weren't any new spells displayed. Everyone was using some variant of what had already been shown, no doubt keeping their better spells close to chest. Or maybe it was a simple lack of ability to cast anything more complex. Jacob paid very close attention to the second to last match of the day. The 22nd seed, Layla Wilkins, against the 43rd seed Miles Davis, the winner of which he would fight the next week.

Jacob pulled up both of their Strength Charts on his phone. Layla was a waifish girl with jet-black hair down to her shoulders. Her Strength Chart was fairly balanced, with her strongest type being Production. Miles Davis was a skinny, dark-skinned kid with a short afro. He was quite strong in Consumption, a little under Jacob's level, but negligible in both other types.

Unsurprisingly, Davis opened the fight by casting strength and sprinting at Layla.

Layla raised her hand and Jacob felt her Production flare. A cone of force like Laszlo's rocketed out of her hand. Except where Laszlo had fired little volleyball-sized cones, Layla's was the size of a dishwasher. It rifled at Davis, who threw himself to the side. The cone dealt him a glancing blow and sent him tumbling to the ground.

He recovered, but a second cone slammed into him. Instead of shattering like Laszlo's, it struck Davis's midsection and carried him back across the ground and out of bounds.

Jacob sat back. Clearly, he couldn't expect to learn much from these fights. Layla Wilkins obviously didn't want to show off too much. Still, those force cones would be tricky to deal with with just strength. Maybe he should get Camilla to teach him a projectile.

Once the final match was done the gang all went to the library, which was already packed when they got there. It seemed not a single line of homework had been written on the entire campus over the weekend. They tried the cafeteria, and the spare rooms in the Richter Building and even the lobbies of the type magic buildings, but they were all full. Jacob had never thought it would be a problem to find somewhere to study. Seemed a ridiculous concept that a school wouldn't do everything in its power to provide enough space for students to do schoolwork. Eventually, they ended up in Archie's suite, which led to more goofing off than studying.