Chapter 121
A duel
" I challenge you to a duel!!"
The sudden declaration sliced through the chatter and hum of footsteps, halting IAM mid-step. His boot hovered briefly above the carpet before settling down with a soft tap. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned his head toward the source of the outburst.
A tall, broad-shouldered student stood with one arm outstretched, his index finger rigidly pointing forward like a sword about to be drawn. He had short, slicked-back blonde hair, a jaw that was far too sharp, and an unmistakable air of entitlement. He looked to be around twenty-one, perhaps even a touch older—definitely someone who had been preparing for this moment long before arrival.
For a moment, IAM assumed the student was pointing at him. His brows drew together in confused annoyance, his eyes flicking from the accusing finger to the student's face and back again. But no… his finger was slightly off-center, angled past IAM. IAM glanced over his shoulder and saw the real target—a tanned boy with dark, tight curls and lean muscle beneath his regulation uniform, looking to be about nineteen. The younger student seemed as surprised as anyone, his hand still resting casually in his pocket.
IAM was ready to dismiss it, to turn away and move on with his day—whatever this was, it had nothing to do with him—but then he paused, eyebrows slightly raised. "Wait… a duel?"
Behind him, Reuel let out a low chuckle, stepping up beside IAM with an annoyingly satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Awww… did you not know what a duel is?" Reuel said, flashing a mischievous grin. He leaned in slightly, enjoying the moment far too much. "You're allowed to challenge another student to a duel—but it has to be under the supervision of an instructor or a staff member. And the one being challenged can either reject it or accept and decide the nature of the duel. It's a controlled environment. You know… to prevent students from spontaneously decapitating each other or whatever."
IAM kissed his teeth in irritation. "I know what a duel is. I just didn't expect one to happen within the first five minutes after leaving the orientation. We've barely stepped out of the damn hall. What is this—some deep family rivalry?
He immediately started forming a web of plausible connections. Surely there had to be some context.
Reuel wagged his finger at IAM playfully, then leaned a little too close for comfort.
"No, no, no," he said with a deliberate slowness, still grinning. "It's actually much simpler than that."
IAM raised a brow.
Reuel kept wagging his finger—until IAM grabbed it and twisted it back with a smooth motion.
"Gah—oww, okay okay!" Reuel hissed, wincing.
IAM didn't let go.
"Continue," he said flatly.
Reuel sighed, muttered something that might've been a curse, and relented. "Fine, fine. Look. There are probably two reasons for this. First one is pretty obvious—reputation. Everyone's trying to stand out. If you win a duel early on, you might catch the attention of the vice principals or instructors. Maybe even intimidate other students. It's about building presence and making a statement."
IAM let go of his finger.
Reuel shook his hand dramatically, muttering about how unfair life was. But his eyes still sparkled with amusement.
"The second reason is the more interesting one," he continued, "and it has to do with our brands."
IAM's expression remained neutral, but his attention sharpened.
Reuel, noticing he had a captive audience again, leaned back with his hands behind his head like a scholar mid-lecture.
"In some of our brand contracts," he said, "there are incentives—maybe even direct encouragement—to challenge students sponsored by competing brands. It's not just about your personal success—it's about showing your brand made the better pick. It reflects positively on their scouting. Like, for example, if Rolen-sponsored students beat out students wearing blah blah or blah blah brand clothing, people are gonna say: 'Wow, Rolen's talent scouts really know what they're doing. Look at their student—they're already outperforming others.'"
IAM nodded, it made sense. It was the same back on earth with stuff like footballers or boxers.
"So these companies," Reuel went on, "they're not handing out gold coins every month for fun. It's not charity. They want attention and prestige. If the person wearing their clothes or whatever the brand promotes succeeds—especially publicly—it draws eyeballs to their name. It makes them a topic of conversation."
IAM's thoughts drifted. He frowned as his brain began to unravel the motivations behind his own brand's decision to sponsor him. They probably hadn't chosen him for his skill at all. It had nothing to do with his talent.
It was more likely to be his identity...His story.
The brand likely knew exactly who he was— from some form of connections. When his past came out, when people started whispering his name around campus, it wouldn't just be him they talked about—it would be the brand on his hood. What he had across his back. Spoken in the same breath as his reputation.
He shook his head. "Great. Just great. So now I get to look forward to people randomly challenging me to duels because of a marketing strategy."
Reuel nodded, beaming. "Yup. And you'll have to deal with it gracefully."
IAM muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
"Anyway," he added more loudly, shifting focus, "I'm actually kind of curious. I want to see how these so-called geniuses fight."
Yohan, who had been unusually quiet during the exchange, didn't say anything. But he took a step forward and tilted his head slightly, as if agreeing silently.
The air around them had changed. Excitement buzzed like static. The declaration of a duel had rippled out into the crowd like a stone tossed into still water, drawing gazes, gasps, and whispers. Students paused mid-conversation, some standing on tiptoes to get a better view of the challenger and the challenged. Whispers flitted from ear to ear like fire in the woods.
It was a spectacle now.
The blonde student had timed his challenge perfectly. Right at the end of the orientation. In front of a large portion of the student body. His target, now under a hundred invisible pressures, would be hard-pressed to decline without being labeled a coward.
It wasn't just a fight anymore. It was a performance.
To the students' surprise, the instructors—after briefly discussing among themselves—agreed to the duel. Perhaps because the combat grounds were already on the tour itinerary. It saved them the hassle of backtracking. One of them made an announcement, loud enough for the gathering crowd to hear: the duel would be supervised and relocated to the combat zone immediately. Students should take this opportunity to observe and then meet their respective guides afterward.
The shift in direction turned a simple scuffle into an event.
All 205 newly admitted students were officially redirected to the combat ground.
The duel had become a detour—but no one was complaining. This would be a treat. A public clash between two branded students before the semester even began.
The blonde student's plan had worked better than even he anticipated. But with success came pressure. He had asked for the stage—and now he had it. The eyes of two hundred witnesses, fifteen instructors, and possibly even staff watching through the cameras.
To lose here would be catastrophic. It would be embarrassing and humiliating. Worse, it would tarnish his brand's name—and the brand would never forgot.
He gulped, but kept his posture confident.
This was no longer a simple duel.
It was do or die.
IAM, Reuel, and Yohan were entered into one of the academy's mini transport vehicles.
As the mini-car glided forward, IAM stared out the window, watching the buildings pass in a blur of red, black, and white.
A duel, he thought again.