72 Round of Sixty-Four

His name wasn't called for another hour until after the original 128 fighters were weeded down to sixty-four. Cynthia had yet to fight in this round, so Jacob didn't have the chance to witness her fight again. With any luck, he'd be sitting back in the warriors' sector – which now looked more bare – and watching the fights in a moment.

That was a pipe dream, he knew. The warriors that were able to pass through the qualifiers were all strong in their own ways. Especially those from the Colleges. Underestimating the purple-wearing warriors would be a fatal mistake.

As luck would have it, his opponent was yet another Dauntless warrior. Jacob grinned at the thought of potentially eliminating one of Provost Thomson's institution's enemies. Over the past few days, he had truly blossomed into a warrior worthy of his title. Much of that was due to the instruction he received at her hands, and he had yet to repay her for it. This was his way.

Drawing his spatha, Jacob stood at the ready. The long-haired savage-looking man in front of him brandished his twin handaxes. They were small weapons, but their edges looked sinister. Being struck by one of those was an experience Jacob would rather miss. His feet shifted in the sand of the arena, the crunch accompanying the start of the match.

Guessing that his opponent was more aggressive than him based purely on weapon choice, Jacob backpedaled. His read hadn't been wrong, and his actions saved him from a hasty overhand chop. The following flurry of strikes was difficult to block, putting Jacob on a permanent defensive. Every so often, he was forced backwards and towards the end of the platform. Clever bastard, this purple warrior.

Though it was a losing struggle, Jacob carefully analyzed the timing of his opponent's strikes. The strikes weren't staggered; they were occurring at a constant rate. Grinning, Jacob took the second lull between strikes to throw himself forward, spatha outstretched. The Dauntless warrior jumped backwards much as Jacob had at the beginning of the match. Anger simmered in the man's eyes now; clearly he wasn't expecting to be shaken off.

Worrying that he'd lose the sudden momentum he'd gained, Jacob committed to the attack. His spatha whipped about at a speed he would have never been able to muster with a heavy blade. Though not quite as difficult to see as the axe attacks, it was still hard to gauge any given strike's trajectory. He varied the speed of his attacks though, slowing down on purpose to force his opponent to forget any chance of doing what Jacob had done.

Eventually, a thin line of red appeared on the man's right arm after Jacob's blade sliced open his thin armor. For a style such as his, Jacob didn't blame the man for not wearing heavier armor. However, it had been his undoing, at least this time.

"Well fought," Jacob offered his hand to the man after the referee called an end to the match. The Dauntless warrior stared at the hand, choosing to spit on the platform and walk away. "Alright, then," Jacob mumbled, returning to his spot as the first victorious member in the second round of the Relentless group – they had remained largely intact after the first round. Only a single man who Jacob didn't even recognize was missing from his spot.

Dauntless was similarly well-represented, but they were now down an additional warrior. Jacob took pride at seeing the direct effect of his combat. They glared at him; it was easy to find him because of his unique tabard. The collar would have been difficult to see clearly at the distance they sat apart from each other.

Cynthia's fight was far swifter than his, her sword striking with impunity. Her opponent, a warrior not associated with either of the colleges, was an older woman wielding a vaguely Asian-looking spear. It was useless; once Cynthia stepped into the range of her longsword, the woman stood no chance. Bringing her spear to defend a point-blank strike was nearly impossible.

Relentless Blade College lost a few warriors, most of them to Dauntless. As it stood by the end of the round, Dauntless had twelve warriors, Relentless had ten, and another ten warriors of no affiliation remained in their seats. Based on what Jacob could gather from the chatter between the men and women sitting beside him, it was an unusually large number of free-warriors – that was the nickname those unaffiliated went by.

Most of them were young, not yet in their twenties. Jacob felt pride upon seeing their excitement. It was an odd thing; he didn't know these people at all. And yet, they were tied together by a similar age and a similar desire to make it to the end of this tournament. They smiled freely among each other, lacking the tense atmosphere that both Dauntless and Relentless shared.

The next round, the round of thirty-two, was about to begin. The more important personages, the Duke included, would begin appearing after the round of sixteen began. These fights were probably too insignificant to spend an entire day watching them. While Jacob detested their rule, he acknowledged that they probably did have some legitimate work to do somewhere.

Called first was Cynthia. It was a complete reversal from the last round where she had been the last to fight. She wasn't all that winded, for her round was short, but there was no way her luck could be so terrible. Jacob glanced over at the announcer, only to see the impish man share a knowing look with a man in decadent purple clothing towards the top of the stands. So it hadn't been just luck alone, it appeared. They wouldn't be so brave in front of the Duke, so they were attempting to rig the competition now, before the round of sixteen.

Cynthia's opponent was a tall man with a greatsword. It was huge; she wouldn't be able to parry it properly if he were able to wield it with as much skill as she used her longsword with. Based on the announcer's look, the man could very well have the skill that Jacob feared he would.

A small part of him hoped Cynthia would lose, just for losing's sake. It was the same part of him that rankled over the defeat he was handed in the training yard. And yet, Jacob knew that Cynthia losing now would be terrible for Relentless' position and prestige. He hoped, for Provost Thomson's sake, that Cynthia would prevail.