Chapter 180
Joint class
Ah, that was right. They had been told they'd be having a joint class with another group. None of them really knew why—no one had explained the purpose behind it yet—but they assumed their instructor would clarify once the lesson began.
What they hadn't realized was that Zara and Natsuki were part of that other class.
And now, here they were—face to face, again.
IAM stood still as the two girls stepped out of their mini-car. His only real interaction with them had been brief, awkward, and memorable for all the wrong reasons: Zara had shamelessly stolen his pastry, and Natsuki had called him a creep.
So, no—he wasn't exactly thrilled to see them again.
But… it wasn't like he hated them. Not from just one encounter.
Still, the atmosphere instantly grew thick with awkwardness as both groups stared at each other across the parking lot. No one said anything for a long bit.
Then, suddenly, Zara pointed at them. "Ohhh! Now I remember! From the study group in the library!"
The boys collectively let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.
Reuel made a dramatic face and pointed right back at her. "Are you serious?! How could you forget us already? It hasn't even been three days! It's the guys from Hopastry!"
Zara tilted her head slightly, placing a finger on her bottom lip in thought. Her bubble braids swayed as she gave a thoughtful hum. "Hmm…"
Reuel jabbed a thumb toward IAM. "You stole his food!"
"Hmmm."
"Your friend called him a loser, ugly, and creepy!"
"I don't know about the first two—" IAM started, his voice deadpan.
"I don't remember!" Zara cut in brightly. "You guys must've been pretty boring! Sorry!"
The boys froze. Emotionally, it was like taking a full-force punch to the chest. For a bunch of teenage boys, having a pretty girl casually dismiss them as boring was kind of devastating.
"You… You…" Reuel sputtered. Then gave up entirely. "Eh, whatever. You're crazy anyway."
Zara gasped, eyes wide in innocence. "Me!? Nooo, I'm not crazy. I'm just fine. Not fine like… handsome-fine. Fine like… fine. But not like the sick person kind of fine. More like… fine-fine."
She looked genuinely pleased with her explanation.
Before she could spiral any further, Natsuki grabbed her firmly by the arm. "It doesn't matter. You don't have anything to say to them. Come on—we're going to be late."
Without waiting for a reply, she dragged Zara toward the combat grounds.
Zara offered a cheerful wave as she was pulled away, smiling like she hadn't just detonated the group's egos.
The boys stood in silence, stranded and blinking in the parking space—completely unprepared for that entire encounter.
Reuel shot a sideways glance at Yohan. "So... you still think she's cute? She didn't even know your name, man. She called you boring."
Yohan didn't miss a second. "She called us boring."
"That still includes you!" Reuel snapped, pointing at him like he'd just cracked the case.
"It doesn't matter," Yohan said with a tired sigh. "And I only called her cute once. Once. And it was an accident. Let me live."
Henry chuckled as he started walking toward the combat building. "So crazy is your type."
"I'm not into her," Yohan muttered defensively.
"Sure you're not," Henry said, grinning.
IAM trailed behind the group, following them into the massive structure. The boys moved as a unit toward the changing rooms.
After a quick change, IAM stepped out in the standard Academy tracksuit— a sleek black fabric with sharp red and white accents running along the sleeves and sides. The emblem of Hope Academy sat proudly stitched on the left side of his chest, just above his heart. Beneath it, in smaller lettering, were the words: "Hope × Mine."
The group made their way into the familiar combat arena—one IAM had been in before. In fact, it was the same one where Henry had gone head-to-head with a student named Marcus during orientation. That duel had been tense. Henry barely scraped by with a win, and it had set the tone for how serious this place really was.
IAM's gaze drifted across the arena as they entered. Towering screens were high above, each one anchored to massive metal beams and reinforced supports. The screens displayed every corner of the platform from multiple angles.
The seating wrapped around the arena in a smooth oval— it was stadium-style and tiered.
And right now, both classes were gathering on the raised combat platform in the center. It stood just a few feet above the ground, its borders lit with a path formation. The translucent energy shimmered gently, casting ripples of light outward as it activated—its purpose was clear: to reinforce the stage and shield the audience from any wild attacks.
IAM moved into position with his own class while the other class assembled across from them. At the front of the platform stood two instructors, each dressed in the standard academy staff attire, ready to begin.
His instructor, Kevin, stood at the front of the platform, unmistakable even in a crowd. He was tall, lean and almost skeletal. His shoulders sloped gently downward, giving him a slightly hunched posture, and his uniform hung loosely on his frame, as if it had been made for someone just a size larger. The crisp white shirt was tucked neatly into regulation black trousers, with the Hope Academy crest stitched over the breast pocket.
His hair was short, black, and thinning at the temples, and his face bore faint creases that made him seem far older than his weary, brown eyes suggested. There was something permanently tired about him—as though he'd seen too much and slept too little.
He was also a descendant of the Beastman.
IAM's eyes shifted to the instructor standing beside him—and this one, he didn't recognize.
The second man was shorter than Kevin, but built like a walking fortress. His bald head glinted under the arena lights, and every muscle on his frame looked like it had been carved out of stone.
His skin was a few shades darker than Kevin's, and his presence carried a certain aura—like someone used to shouting over chaos and being heard.
He had sharp brown eyes that carried the focused intensity of a predator mid-hunt. He was a descendant of the Giant.
With a grin stretched across his broad face, the bald instructor slapped Kevin hard on the back. The thwack echoed slightly across the platform.
"Ain't nothing like a little competition, right?" he bellowed, his voice loud and cheerful.
IAM blinked.
A competition?