Chapter 188
So what?
IAM watched as Natsuki disappeared into the distance. For a moment, the arena felt frozen in time. Her class remained stunned in silence—until she returned to her seat. Then, like a spell had been broken, they erupted. The realization hit them all at once: they had won.
It might have been anticlimactic, with IAM surrendering without even lifting a finger, but the result was what mattered. Fifty HP for each of them. The questions surrounding IAM could wait—right now, it was celebration time.
In sharp contrast, IAM's class was dead silent.
This wasn't just about the HP. It was about pride. About ego.
Losing a fight was one thing. But to lose without even throwing a punch? To surrender like that? It stung deeper than any defeat. The silence hung heavy. The disappointment was palpable.
A voice finally broke through.
"…no way." Someone whispered. "There's no way the sole survivor of the Hold would be such a—"
"—He actually surrendered."
"Is he crazy?"
Boiling frustration gave way to anger.
Kevin had his eyes locked on IAM. He didn't shout—but his voice carried over the growing noise.
"IAM," he said firmly, "can you please explain why you would surrender your match at such a critical stage?"
IAM tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Because… surrendering is within the rules?"
Kevin's expression soured. "This isn't the time for sarcasm. You didn't even gauge your opponent's strength. You lost the entire class the competition—and for what? No explanation?"
IAM exhaled softly and looked him in the eye. "With all due respect, I didn't lose us the competition."
Kevin blinked.
"If we're being honest," IAM continued, "this was a team competition. I wasn't the only one to lose a match. If my classmates had performed better, we wouldn't have been in a tie to begin with. So no—this wasn't just my fault."
IAM had chosen to take the aggressive route.
Because to admit that you were wrong—to openly admit it and take responsibility—was to hand people a licence to do whatever they wanted with you. They would insult you, ridicule you, and drag you through the mud, all while justifying it with the fact that you yourself had already said you were wrong. So how could you fight back? How could you claim you didn't deserve it? So in their eyes, whatever came next, you deserved it.
It was something you saw play out constantly online. People would make mistakes, yes, but what truly mattered wasn't what they did—it was how they responded afterward. If they bowed their head and took the full weight of the blame, then that became the opening. That was the mistake. Because doing that was the same as handing people a knife and expecting them to be gentle.
IAM wasn't going to hand anyone that knife.
He couldn't afford to play the role of the passive guilty party. If the backlash grew louder, then he would simply push back harder. If people called him arrogant, selfish, or strange—so be it. Eventually, they'd just label him as unstable or a bit unhinged, and once that happened, he was out of the conversation entirely.
And that was the goal.
People didn't try to reason with the 'crazy' ones. Because you can't reason with someone who doesn't care for your opinion—who doesn't care to be understood. And if they believed he was that type of person, then they'd leave him alone.
This incident, while annoying and frustrating, was far from the end of the world. There would be bigger, more serious problems to deal with in this academy.
But in the fragile time before those came, the one thing IAM couldn't afford to become was a "loser." That label was dangerous.
He knew how the world treated those—once you got that label, it was nearly impossible to shake off.
Thankfully, IAM wasn't someone who needed to be liked to survive.
As expected, a lot of people didn't take it well.
Some voices from the crowd rose with irritation, a few even shouting insults his way—disbelief and anger mixing into a chorus of frustration.
IAM slowly turned toward them, his expression unreadable.
"Am I wrong?" he asked plainly.
There was a short pause before someone shouted back, "But you should've at least tried! We could've won!"
IAM raised a brow, his tone calm but firm. "We don't know that. And clearly, I didn't believe so. So I made the call to surrender. If your pride or ego can't handle that, then go ahead—step up and win it yourself next time."
That shut them up. They couldn't argue with that, no matter how annoyed they were.
Kevin, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward and spoke sharply. "Actually, it wasn't just that you didn't try. It looked like you never intended to fight in the first place."
He paused, giving IAM a pointed look. "Why aren't you using your Avien?"
IAM stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. He looked at Kevin, then exhaled as if resigning himself to the ridiculous excuse he was about to give.
"…Are you aware of a student named Blaze?" he asked.
Kevin gave him a blank look but said nothing.
IAM continued, expression unchanging. "After being forced to help the student council as punishment, he jumped me and beat me up. Then he threatened that if I so much as used my Avien for the next two months without his permission, he'd beat me again."
Kevin blinked. "Why would he even—"
"I crammed a car into him," IAM said flatly.
That made Kevin pause. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed. Honestly, it sounded ridiculous—but also exactly like something Blaze would hold a grudge over. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't adding up.
IAM turned as if to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"
Kevin's voice hardened. "IAM. Are you lying to me right now?"
IAM stopped. He turned his head slightly, just enough to make eye contact.
Then he said quietly, "Even if I was… what exactly are you going to do about it?"
"…You've got a lot of balls, kid," Hobbie muttered under his breath.
He hadn't forgotten that this entire competition had originally started—He had only ever brought up the idea of holding a competition because Marcus had suggested it—specifically requesting a rematch against Henry.
That had been the spark. Hobbie had liked the idea immediately and hadn't even tried to hide it from Kevin.
After a brief conversation, Kevin had said he didn't mind. Even if some students began to suspect the competition wasn't entirely random… so what? No one would question it seriously, and even fewer would be bold enough to complain.
Now, both instructors stood quietly, side by side, watching IAM's back as he made his way toward the changing rooms.
Kevin finally spoke, his voice calm but clear.
"Class is over."
...
IAM felt drained. The whole incident had drawn far more attention than he ever wanted. Still, in a strange way, it might've helped cast some doubt on the rumours about him being the sole survivor of the Hold—after all, would someone like that really fold so easily?
But he knew it probably wasn't enough. The rumours would keep growing, and his name would keep floating around in conversations he wasn't part of. He could already feel the annoying situations lining up ahead of him like a queue.
IAM let out a quiet snort.
"Just one quiet day. Is that too much to ask?"