Chapter 181
Joint class (2)
Murmurs immediately broke out among the students after the instructor's booming declaration.
A competition?
IAM blinked, mildly surprised. He hadn't expected this to be anything more than a joint sparring session, maybe a few drills. But a full-on competition?
That raised a whole list of questions. Why? What were the rules? What exactly were they competing for?
Kevin rubbed the spot on his back where he'd been slapped and let out a sigh. "After the sparring session with my class, I was putting together some personal objectives for each personal student—looking at strengths, weaknesses, and areas for improvement—when Hobbie here suggested we do a joint lesson. One where the students would compete competition-style. One-on-one fights, so it's easier for us to observe and get even more accurate data."
That immediately caught the attention of the students. Conversations erupted. This was a lot more exciting than a regular training session. And no one was about to say no to a competition—not in an environment like this.
There was already an unspoken tension between the two classes…And while no one said it out loud, there was a sense of wanting to prove that their class was better.
Hobbie let out a booming laugh. "And to make things even more fun, we've decided to throw in a little incentive. The winning class student gets 50 Hope Points each."
He grinned.
"The losing class gets nothing."
That lit a fire under everyone. The volume in the arena rose sharply. The stakes had been officially set.
Reuel grinned as he rubbed his hands together. "Now we'll get to see who really stands above the rest at the Academy…The people who'll actually be influential at the Academy. Sure, it's just sixty or seventy of us total, but it's still a good sample size…"
He paused, then smiled wider.
"And depending on how things go, this'll be the perfect way to figure out who I need to make… connections with. Mwah ha ha ha."
IAM gave him a side-eye. "My respect for you lessens by the day."
"You liar!" Reuel gasped. "You never respected me in the first place!"
IAM rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "That… might be true."
Reuel stared at him, horrified. "That was supposed to be a joke!"
"Regardless of that… wouldn't this ruin your whole plan to keep your level a secret?" Yohan asked, raising a brow.
"Yeah, I know," IAM replied, squinting slightly.
He could hardly believe it. He had barely even begun putting together a proper plan to keep his advancement to Experienced hidden, and already something like this was happening.
It was almost absurd. What was he supposed to do now?
There were a few ways this could go:
First scenario—he could try to lose early in his match, and hope that kept the attention off him. But that plan had some obvious flaws.
For starters, the instructors would immediately notice that he wasn't using his Avien. There would be no mana flowing through his body, and even if he managed to fool the instructors, his opponent—and everyone watching—would sense something was off. That would just bring more awkward questions, and eventually, pressure to explain himself.
On top of that, faking an early loss would be hard to pull off. Who would actually believe that he lost that easily? If anything, it would just raise more suspicion. And if he tried to drag it out, his opponent might come at him full force, unaware he was holding back—meaning he could end up seriously injured in the process. It simply wasn't worth the risk.
Second scenario—he could refuse to participate altogether. Or surrender the moment he stepped onto the platform.
But that came with its own consequences. His reputation would take a nosedive. His classmates would stop taking him seriously, and his life at the Academy would get unnecessarily complicated. And more than that—Kevin had already seen him spar before. If he suddenly pulled out without any explanation, Kevin would absolutely question him.
The third scenario—the most straightforward of them all—was to just face the music and reveal his current level.
But that would come with its own storm.
Doing so would attract a ridiculous amount of attention—not just from instructors, but from the school at large. Students would start whispering, assuming he was some kind of prodigy. A once-in-a-generation genius. And as IAM understood very clearly… that kind of misunderstanding never ended well.
Not for someone like him.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
As IAM weighed the mess of consequences swirling around in his head, a hand landed on his shoulder. It was Henry.
"So," Henry said, leaning slightly closer, "what are you going to do? I mean, we don't even know why you're trying to keep this a secret, but it's obvious it'd be a problem for you if it got out, right?"
"I'm thinking…" IAM replied, distracted. "This is…"
But his words trailed off as his thoughts picked up speed again, spiraling faster than he could keep up with.
Henry just shrugged and turned away as the two instructors stepped forward and began explaining the rules of the mini-competition.
They laid it out clearly:
Each match would be held in the arena, with one student from each class chosen at random to face off.
Each duel would last a maximum of two minutes. If there wasn't a clear winner by then, it would be declared a draw.
Students who had already fought would not fight again.
A match could only be won in two ways: if one student forced the other into a position where victory was clearly impossible—or if the opponent voluntarily surrendered.
The goal was simple: win as many matches as possible. The class with the most wins would be declared the victor.
Instructors would alternate refereeing duties to keep things fair. It was their judgment call whether a fight had reached an unwinnable state.
Students were allowed to use weapons—but only wooden ones. If a student's preferred weapon couldn't be replicated safely, they'd have to adjust. For example, IAM wouldn't be allowed to use a gun. His only options were a wooden substitute or something like a baton.
As the rules were explained, the competitive energy in the air thickened.
And IAM still hadn't come up with a solution.
Finally, the moment arrived.
The first two names had been drawn, and the chosen students stepped forward, making their way to the center of the arena. Their classmates shouted encouragement from the sidelines, voices echoing through the stadium as both fighters raised their wooden weapons.
Hobbie stepped onto the platform, grinning widely. He would be refereeing the first match.
"Ready?!" he bellowed. "In three... two... one—go!"
With a loud shout, the match began.
IAM stood silently, watching as the first blows were exchanged. With every match that passed, the chances of his name being called only increased. And with it, the chances of being exposed.
It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the ground slowly crumble beneath him.