Chapter 200
Two Weeks (3)
IAM failed to beat the alarm. That meant only one thing—Reuel had already sprung out of bed and bolted straight into the bathroom before IAM could even lift his head off the pillow.
IAM groaned softly, his eyes half-lidded as he sat up. It felt like he hadn't even slept. His body ached, his thoughts were sluggish, and every inch of him felt just as tired as he had the night before. Maybe even more.
He rubbed at his eyes slowly, his limbs protesting every movement, and stretched his arms above his head in a lazy, half-hearted motion that did nothing to loosen the tension clinging to his shoulders.
Across the room, Yohan was already up and dressed, standing by the small kitchen counter with a warm drink in hand. He turned his head when he heard the bedsheets rustle.
"I woke up in time," he said, "and I did try to wake you up, but you slept like a log. So I had no choice but to let you be."
IAM gave a slow nod in reply but didn't say anything.
These past two weeks had been grinding him down bit by bit, and today was no different. The exhaustion had long passed the point of being temporary.
It probably wouldn't have been so bad if he had just used his Avien more often—used mana to keep himself going.
But the only time he allowed himself to activate it was during his late-night sessions with Henry. Every other moment of the day, he stayed as he was— A normal human.
His muscles were tight. His joints ached. His head was constantly fuzzy around the edges. There was always this faint pressure behind his eyes, like he was one bad night's sleep away from crashing entirely.
Still, he stood up.
He made it to his feet and dragged himself into the kitchenette, rubbing at his face with one hand as he opened a cupboard with the other.
He was looking for something with carbs, or sugar, or anything that didn't require more than ten seconds of prep.
...
As they moved through the day's lessons, IAM did his best to ignore the looks.
Some were subtle, others more obvious. His classmates looked at him like they couldn't figure out what his deal was. His instructors weren't much better—especially Vanessa, whose narrowed eyes lingered on him every time she looked in his direction.
She didn't say anything, but her confusion was written all over her eyes.
Still, it wasn't enough to cause a disruption. The lessons that day were mostly theory-based, so his refusal to use his avien didn't really matter. They let it slide—for now.
By the time the lunch break rolled around, the group shuffled into the cafeteria like tired soldiers returning from the front lines. No one said much as they grabbed their trays and made their way to their usual table.
The moment they sat down, a thick cloud of grumpiness settled over them. Each one poked at their food with varying degrees of irritation, the energy at the table practically groaning.
Reuel was the first to break.
"I can't take it anymore," he said, stabbing his fork into a piece of food like it had personally offended him. "I'm tired of cleaning toilets. We need to talk to them. This madness has to stop."
The others nodded in agreement, chewing like they were being forced to eat gravel.
"The only reason I even agreed to suffer through these two months of hell," Reuel continued, "was to try and build connections with the Student Council. But since we got hit with this punishment, I haven't even seen Snow or Ari once."
He leaned back with a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face.
"And most of the Council members seem to just hole up in that building of theirs like they live there full-time. Huh..."
IAM, who had been quietly eating, finally spoke up.
"No, seriously—I think we do need to arrange a proper meeting," he said, his voice was low. "This punishment isn't just wasting our time. It's not even remotely productive."
As the boys were still talking, a group of students approached their table with a bit too much confidence.
Leading the pack was a girl with short-cut hair and an obvious sneer carved across her face. She strode forward like she owned the place and slammed her hand down on the table, hard enough to make the trays jump.
"Hey! You're the coward, right?" she said loudly, her voice dripping with disdain. "Why don't you try and fix your little reputation and have a duel with little old me?"
There was mockery in her tone, but her reasons weren't purely about shaming him. IAM's brand—MINE—was a well-known and expensive one.
Even if his reputation was currently being dragged through the mud, the brand itself still carried a lot of power. If she could beat him, even with all the rumours of his cowardice, it would be a clean way to boost her own standing—and by extension, her brand's ranking too.
She wasn't the first to try this. For the past two weeks, ever since the match, IAM had been getting approached like this regularly.
Some came to taunt him.
Some came to test him.
Most came looking for an easy win to pad their own record.
And every time, he gave the same answer.
"No."
A pause. Then:
"Wow," she scoffed, turning to look at her friends. "You guys heard that?"
"Oh, he really is a coward," one of them laughed.
"Doesn't even have the balls to fight."
"He's been rejecting duels left and right. What kind of Ascender has no pride?"
The group burst into loud, fake laughter. They were trying to peer pressure IAM in an attempt to provoke him into making a mistake.
One thing worth noticing about the group was that they were all sponsored by the same brand.
This wasn't unusual. At the academy, it was common for students supported by the same brand to naturally gravitate toward each other. Sharing a sponsor created an immediate bond—it made it easier to talk, to trust and to train together. There was rarely any reason for conflict among them. In fact, more often than not, they would go out of their way to support one another.
Because of this, the student body had quietly become divided—not through official factions, but through informal alliances. Unspoken lines were drawn, and students from the same brand often formed tight-knit circles. In some cases, those circles evolved into something closer to gangs.
One of their favorite activities was just like what was happening now: challenging so-called "easy pickings" from lesser-performing or scandal-marked brands to elevate their own status.
Of course, being from a different brand didn't mean you couldn't make friends across the aisle. Many students did. But if you were part of one of the more intense brand cliques, those kinds of crossovers were rare—and often frowned upon.
IAM let out a quiet sigh and turned his attention back to his food, choosing to ignore the crowd that had gathered. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and at this point, he had grown numb to the noise. But the girl who had issued the challenge wasn't about to let it go so easily.
Her pride bruised by his complete dismissal, she suddenly leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of his collar. Her voice rose with frustration, echoing through the cafeteria.
"Are you even a man, you son of a bitch?! Just fight me already so I can get this over with!"
Her face was close, her breath hot and her eyes looked furious—but IAM didn't flinch.
Instead, his gaze slowly lifted to meet hers. His expression didn't change much, but his eyes… they deepened.
They always get like this, he thought.