Chapter 86
Thor
Thor almost couldn't believe it when he heard the news. The one and only survivor of the Hold—the sole living remnant of the largest tragedy in recent history—had tried to take his own life.
Tried to hang himself.
The moment he'd heard, his expression had gone blank. For a second, his brain refused to process it, as if it were a joke. But no one was laughing. And the facts were facts: if the nurse hadn't arrived when she had—if the guards hadn't burst in mere seconds later, dragging in a flurry of doctors—then IAM would've been dead.
He had always believed that if someone survived that kind of horror, surviving—living—was its own reward. What greater gift could exist than a second chance after everyone else died?
For now, the boy was back in his hospital bed, surrounded by machines and recovering.
Thor stood in the hallway, a few steps from the dark brown door that led to the boy's private room. His arms were folded, his brow low. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. A part of him understood—yes. Trauma. Guilt. Whatever it was that kept people up at night and strangled them slowly from the inside out. He'd seen it before in soldiers. The shaky hands. The thousand-yard stare. The silence that screamed louder than any words ever could.
But in his experience, the best cure for those things was revenge. Honest, bloody revenge. And not just because Thor liked fighting—though he did. Not because he was a battle-hungry monster or a barbarian. But because, for him, there was nothing more healing than tracking down the ones who took everything from you and tearing it all back from them.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Screaming.
There was something about it that soothe his soul.
But not everyone confronted their trauma that way. Thor knew better than to expect the same in IAM. He knew too well that everyone processed death and survival differently. So he wouldn't force the conversation. If IAM really did want to end his own life, Thor wouldn't stop him—at least not yet.There was a reason to keep him alive: information.
IAM was the last one alive from the Hold. He might not have answers yet, but he was the only lead they had. If he chose death now, they'd be back to square one—blinded again, fumbling in the dark against an enemy they couldn't fathom.
But this…?
"You survive something like that," Thor muttered, "and the first thing you do is try to kill yourself?"
He exhaled sharply.
IAM had crawled out of a massacre that wiped out an entire military stronghold. Masters and veterans—gone. Not a trace of them left behind. IAM had faced the kind of horror. And yet he'd survived. A novice. A boy. When all odds said he shouldn't have.
Thor clenched his jaw. Survival like that—it wasn't random. It wasn't luck. Something had let that kid make it out alive. Something had chosen him. Whether fate or will or sheer stubbornness, IAM had been spared.
He pressed his forehead against the glossy surface of the polished door frame, took another breath.
Thor could acknowledge the feelings that came after such a tragedy. Depression. Despair. Survivor's guilt. And he knew not everyone was built like him....
So no—he didn't blame IAM. But he didn't understand him, either.
He gave a small nod to the guard standing at the door. The guard nodded back and silently opened it.
Inside, the room was quiet.
Just to the left of the door, a female guard stood at attention. She acknowledged him with a firm nod. Thor gave her one in return as he stepped inside fully.
Thor didn't move. He allowed the silence to fill the room, letting it soak in—the hum of medical monitors, the sterile odor, the quiet whisper of filtered air. In front of him was the boy who had survived impossible odds. And now, hung himself. If not for quick response, he would have been dead. And Thor would be standing in a different universe entirely.
Maye, the nurse,looked up, concern stark in her expression. She wore her pink-and-white uniform—her calm composure cracking ever so slightly.
Holding a spoonful of porridge that had clearly gone cold. She looked up at him helplessly as IAM continued to stare blankly past her, unmoving.
The room was spacious—designed more like a luxury bedroom than a hospital chamber. A soft blue rug lay across the polished wooden floor. A small table in the corner held a vase filled with fresh white lilies. The walls were lined with subtle paintings—abstract works done in dark hues, elegant but non-intrusive. A wide window stood beside the bed, its curtains half drawn to let in pale, golden light.
And in the center of it all, lay IAM.
Hooked up to a monitor. Dressed in a plain patient's gown.
Thor's gaze drifted upward, settling on the hanging light fixtures above the bed. They were suspended by thick chains bolted into the ceiling—strong enough to bear a surprising amount of weight. That, Thor realized, was why the lights hadn't simply crashed down when IAM had tried to hang himself from them using strips torn from his bed cover.
He made a mental note: those chains needed to be replaced or raised higher. Far higher. He cleared his throat gently and gave Maye a small gesture, requesting privacy.
She clasped her hands together and exited without a word. The guard followed, leaving them alone.
Thor was alone now.
Just him and the boy.
He approached the bed slowly, then pulled a chair from the wall and sat beside him. For a few seconds, he didn't say anything—just observed. IAM looked... calm. Still. Almost too still. His head full of locs rested against the headboard, his caramel-toned skin contrasting the pale hospital sheets. His nose was slightly broad, his lips full and relaxed, as if he were asleep.
But his eyes were open.
Dark brown.
So dark they were nearly black. They looked like pools—silent, undisturbed, with no ripples. There was a magnetic pull in them, but they offered nothing in return. No emotion. No flicker of recognition. No anger. No grief. Not even a glint of pain.
Just… emptiness.
A blank page.
Thor found himself at a loss.
Now that he was sitting here, now that it was just the two of them, he didn't know where to begin. Should he get straight to business? Ask about the Hold? Should he try something softer—ask how the kid was feeling, maybe offer a drink, make a joke?
He didn't know.
All he knew was that this kid had been through something nobody else could understand.
Something unexplainable.
And he was still here.
Just barely.
Thor stared for a while longer, trying to read the unreadable.
Then he took a deep breath.
And prepared himself to speak—to this boy who had walked through hell and come back empty-handed. To this kid who might still be standing at the edge of the abyss, unsure whether to step back or forward.
This wasn't going to be easy.
But it had to be done.
Because for all the silence, all the pain, and all the mystery—
IAM was still alive.
And that meant there was still hope.