Jarod had no idea what he was thinking when he signed up for the summer tournament this year. Truly no idea. He assumed when Seraphina told him to get out more, she didn't mean going to a certain death competition. It's not a death game, he chastised himself. It's just a simulation. It's not The Hunger Games. He let out a sigh as he trudged up toward the large platform, clear of people aside from a teacher or two nearby, ready to supervise any students in need.
The fifteen-year-old had only used the ring once in his time at the Academy, the first month he arrived. He kinda sucked majorly and did nothing before getting beaten by his opponent--some random 10th grader, if he remembered correctly. But now, he had a bit of a better grip on his powers and had a much greater idea of what he could do. Screw spreading herpes; Jarod could make a whole new disease. In reality, probably not quite yet, but he could dream. He could try. And I will, he thought as he stumbled in from of the stage where, in a few minutes, he'd be standing on and begin his first time out of many training for his probable defeat. He'd work his ass off here for the new few days and maybe, just maybe, he might make it past the first round of the tournament.
