Chapter 132
Blackout
After completing the rest of their classes with the others, IAM felt both drained and restless. The remaining lessons of the day—battle strategy, mental conditioning and the rest—were, in their own ways, insightful. Each one offered something valuable, something practical or philosophical, but none could compare to the raw tension and intrigue of the first class that morning. That lesson had left an impression—a strange cocktail of adrenaline, and revelation that clung to IAM like dried blood on skin.
As they left the last classroom, sunlight streaming through the arched windows in golden bars, Reuel let out a loud yawn that echoed down the quiet hallway.
"That was so boring," Reuel groaned, dragging his feet. "After that first lesson, I'm convinced the rest of the day was designed to yap my ears off. Just endless talking."
Henry, ever so nonchalant, spoke up. "Well, you better get used to it. I'm pretty sure the first year is mostly theory… it's all groundwork before they let you do anything fun."
Reuel rubbed his eyes dramatically. "Great. So we're going to be listening to lectures while the actual interesting stuff is happening outside. I feel like watching a wall be a wall would be more exciting. Maybe I'll major in 'Staring At Paint Dry.'"
IAM stifled a grin. "Apparently we've got a physical class tomorrow, so don't worry too much. You might get your wish to move around."
Reuel perked up at that, then deflated again.
"Anyways," IAM added,"I'm off to the library."
Yohan turned his head quickly. "Wait—really? I want to come with you. I've been curious for a bit now… What's with you and the library?"
IAM chuckled, the light catching the tiny glint of his diamond earrings as he turned. "Most people go to the library to learn, Yohan. It's not a secret society."
Yohan smiled faintly. "Yeah, but with you, for some reason... nothing ever feels simple."
IAM shrugged. "I don't have anything to hide. I'm just trying to read up on history. Everything I can, really."
Yohan blinked, caught off guard. "History? Why that?"
IAM's lie slid off his tongue like silk on stone. "Did I not mention? I'm actually suffering from slight amnesia. So I'm trying to re-learn everything."
Yohan's brow furrowed. "Amnesia? How did you even—" His words stopped mid-sentence as the obvious answer bloomed in his mind. He remembered who he was talking to. His voice dropped, quiet and cautious. "Could it be… from the Hold?"
Silence fell like a curtain.
IAM didn't answer. Instead, he raised a hand and began to absentmindedly caress the front of his neck. His fingers traced the same path over and over, as if trying to remember something or perhaps trying to forget it.
Henry looked between them, puzzled. "What about the Hold? What does that have to do with anything?"
He hadn't been there when the three of them met. He wasn't aware of what had happened.
Reuel spoke up quietly. "Don't worry about it, man."
IAM gave a long, soft sigh. He didn't want to talk about it. He turned to leave, already facing the hallway.
Then he felt a tug at his shoulder.
Yohan.
IAM turned, his eyes dark and penetrating.
"Whatever the reason," Yohan said, meeting IAM's gaze without flinching, "I still want to follow you."
"Why do you care so much?" IAM asked, his voice low, uncertain, laced with tired suspicion.
Yohan's single blue eye flickered—not with coldness. "Is it wrong for me to be curious too?"
IAM said nothing.
He simply turned again—and the others followed, no more questions asked.
...
They sat together now, high up on the top floor of the library.
The reading booth they chose was spacious enough to hold all four of them, tucked neatly between tall shelves and old glass windows that spilled light across the wood. Books surrounded them, stacked high on the table like a paper fortress.
IAM sat calmly at the head, opening another book, while the others looked on in a mix of amusement, confusion, and fear.
Reuel stared at the pile in disbelief. "Are… are you actually going to read all of this?"
IAM looked up casually. "No."
Reuel sighed in relief, a small chuckle escaping his lips—until IAM continued.
"I can't finish them all in one day."
The relief drained from Reuel's face in a second. "This guy's not human…" he whispered under his breath, deadpan.
IAM smiled faintly. "Funny you say that. I actually have my suspicions."
Henry leaned back in his chair. "Even I have to agree. Reading all these history books looks like hell. Why don't you just use the digital versions? They've summarized everything into clean little entries."
"They leave out too much," IAM replied, flipping a page. "You miss the small details. The things nobody realizes are important. Those small things… they matter."
"Alright, Mr. Philosopher," Reuel muttered.
IAM looked at him sideways. "I'm not forcing you to read with me. Besides, I remember you saying something once… that noticing the small things makes you feel bigger."
Reuel blinked. "You remember that?"
"It was quite inspiring," IAM said. "Especially when you think about it."
There was a brief moment of peace.
Then the sound of flipping pages and soft breathing filled the space. IAM closed one of the books after several long minutes, rubbing his temple. A small frown had formed on his face.
"Everything is so jumbled," he said quietly. "Or just… messed up. Whole pieces of history are missing. One book says one thing, and the next one says something else entirely. It's frustrating."
"That's normal," Henry said. "Everyone knows it's because of the Blackout. It's part of the Seven Heroes story."
Reuel nodded. "Exactly. Any information on the past is basically useless. Too many people have probably forge their own versions. There is no way to tell what's real."
IAM sat still for a long time, his fingers gently tracing the corner of a page. His eyes were darker now, as if a black hole had taken their place.
"Have any of you ever really questioned why that Blackout happened?" he said, his voice low. "It's easy to assume it was caused by The Tragedy, but what if that's just what we're told? What if it was a cover… or the result of something else entirely?"
The room grew quieter.
IAM's voice dropped even further, as if whispering to the darkness.
"What proof do we even have that the Seven Heroes existed? What evidence? All the records we have could've been manufactured afterward. We just accept it. That this great tragedy happened, and that seven divine beings who apparently made us could only just stop it by working together…"
His gaze drifted to the pile of books again.
"Have you ever… just questioned it all?"
None of them answered.
IAM stared down at the table for a moment, then looked back up at the ceiling as if searching for something that refused to be found. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he exhaled and muttered,
"Or maybe… there's no answer at all. Maybe there never was."