Chapter 198
TWO WEEKS
IAM entered the changing room quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. The room smelled faintly of sweat. He moved to one of the benches near the back and sat down with a tired exhale. His muscles ached with the dull, the familiar burn of exertion as he peeled off his top, letting the cool air hit his damp skin.
For a moment, he just sat there, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling. Then he leaned back and rested his head against the cold tile wall behind him, eyes closed.
His mind wasn't quiet.
He found himself thinking back to earlier, to something Henry had said—That IAM spoke like a therapist.
It was strange to hear. And yet, not so strange. Because there was a kernel of truth in it.
IAM had, in some small way, been mimicking Thomas—his therapist. It was less about imitating a person and more about adopting a method. A way of thinking. A way of speaking.
Because for IAM, just reaching the experienced level didn't mean the work was over. If anything, it meant the opposite. He had to keep going. Keep building. He was far from finished. There was still so much about his Path that hadn't fully taken shape, and it was up to him to carve it out piece by piece.
His words were always genuine—but he was also practicing. Practicing his influence and practicing how to shape his intent with speech. Every time he spoke to someone like that—he wasn't just doing it out of kindness. He was honing his concept.
He was watching how much could he guide someone's mood? How far could his words go? Earlier, with Henry, he'd seen it clearly—how the right words, spoken in the right tone, at the right time, had calmed him down.
To truly solidify a concept, it wasn't enough to theorize. You had to confirm it. Over and over again. You had to live it.
Again and again, until it became a part of him.
While he hadn't made any massive breakthroughs in his understanding, IAM could feel deep in his core, a certainty that he was moving in the right direction. It was almost imperceptible—but it was still progress. All he needed to do was continue, step by step, allowing his understanding to accumulate naturally. Each attempt, each practice, each conversation was another small piece added to the larger picture of his Path.
Then there was Henry. That was a different matter entirely. IAM had no intention of pressing him, of prying into what clearly was a private part of his past. Yet he also knew that as their training continued, as their bond deepened, Henry might eventually choose to reveal pieces of himself.
There had already been glimpses, moments that suggested he might. IAM didn't need to force it; he simply had to be patient.
Even so, there were clues. Henry's trembling right hand was one. The way he had learned to wield a sword—hinted at a teacher of great ability. And then there was the hatred, IAM could sense it from his sword dance, but he wasn't sure where it was directed.
Still, he knew instinctively that the roots of Henry's past were embedded somewhere within those fragments.
He sniffed, letting out a quiet breath. It was time to change and head back to his dorm. Sleep was calling, and he knew he needed it to recover from the long day of training and punishment. The bed would be a temporary haven, a momentary pause before the next wave of lessons and relentless practice awaited him.
...
Blaze found himself standing in front of Kevin in his office. He was clad in his official Student Council uniform, carefully concealing the tattoos that marked his skin beneath. His body was nearly fully healed, save for a few minor aches and bruises, though a lingering sense of indignation gnawed at him. He didn't feel as though he had done anything that terrible in the last few hours to deserve this interrogation.
"What is it!?" he snapped, baring his sharp teeth with a flicker of irritation. "I've got things to do."
Kevin, unsurprised by the blunt rudeness, simply ignored it. He had dealt with Blaze enough times to know this was standard behavior. "I'm here to ask you about a student of mine," he said, his tone was calm. "His name is IAM. I'm sure you know about him after he… hit you with a car?" Kevin's voice ended on a questioning note, giving Blaze the opportunity to deny it.
Blaze's face twisted in unmistakable distaste, his expression confirming the story more clearly than words ever could. That single look was more than enough to tell Kevin the truth of the incident.
"Why are you asking about that bitch!?" Blaze snarled, his voice dripping with irritation and barely restrained fury.
Kevin stayed calm, leaning slightly back in his chair as he folded his hands. "He claimed that in retaliation, you had beaten him up and threatened him," Kevin explained. "Saying that if he dared to use his Avien in at least another two months, you would… do whatever you wanted. The main reason I'm bringing this up is because he seemed completely uninjured after getting beaten by you. And although you are certainly the type to do something like that, it doesn't seem like this kind of behavior is really your style."
Blaze's eyes widened at the revelation. "He said that!?" His voice was a mixture of shock and incredulity, his jaw tightening as he processed the words.
Kevin simply nodded, his expression unreadable.
For a few seconds, Blaze stayed silent. Then, suddenly, a wide smile spread across his face, cracking it as the grin distorted his features. His fang-like teeth shone sharply through the split, gleaming under the light as he let out a low, rolling chuckle.
"Ke… ke… ke… ke… ke… ke…" he hissed, the sound vibrating from deep in his chest, carrying both amusement and menace...