Chapter 207
One down
IAM stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The hum of the machinery and the faint vibration under his feet felt almost meditative, though his mind was anything but quiet. As the elevator descended, he found himself swallowed by his thoughts.
Not much had truly happened. If he were the "actual" IAM, the information he'd just uncovered might have shifted his perspective entirely and might have made him rethink his next steps or his understanding of certain things.
But he wasn't that IAM. He was himself, and for him, the revelation had not shaken the foundations of his daily life. It was a small thing, a minor ripple in an otherwise calm pond.
Still, there was a subtle sense of closure, however slight, as if a tiny knot in the tangle of mysteries that surrounded him had been loosened. One puzzle solved—if solving it could even be called that. It was just one down, while countless others still waited, layered and obscured, each more opaque than the last.
His thoughts drifted to one particular enigma that had occupied much of his time whenever he had a spare moment: the Circle of the Accursed. Whenever he wasn't training, talking with friends, or dealing with the mundane intricacies of life, he would dig into this cult in the library. But progress was agonizingly slow.
The famed blackout had done its work. Vast stretches of history had been obliterated, leaving him only with scraps of information—stories were half-told and books that contradicted each other.
The facts were twisted, distorted by time and circumstance, leaving more questions than answers. Yet, even this fragile and incomplete knowledge was better than none at all.
So far, his efforts had yielded less than satisfactory results. Most leads dissolved into dead ends, each promising tidbit of information crumbling under scrutiny. Whenever he did find something, the text would not mention the Circle of the Accursed or describe events that didn't match what he already knew.
The group had left no easy trail; they were meticulous in covering their tracks, almost as if they had anticipated someone like him would eventually start digging.
The more he uncovered, the more he realized how carefully hidden they had remained. It wasn't just that their history was obscured—it was actively concealed, locked away behind layers of misinformation and myth.
Every scrap he read was a shadow of the truth.
At some point, IAM realized that the chances of finding anything useful in the academy library were slim to none—even if it belonged to the best academy in the country. The shelves were filled with meticulously curated books, research papers, and journals, but none of it touched the deeper, hidden truths he was after.
The Circle of the Accursed wasn't something that would appear in a neatly indexed catalog or in a publicly approved thesis.
That left him with only two realistic options. The first was to somehow gain access to official files—documents that had been carefully researched, verified, and approved by the government. The second was far riskier: going straight to the source, to the accursed themselves.
The second option, he knew, was entirely out of reach. He wasn't remotely prepared to approach them, let alone confront or infiltrate their ranks. And even if he were, he had no idea how to locate them, no hint of where they operated, or how their members could be identified.
As he had seen in the Hold, the accursed could be anyone, walking among ordinary people without leaving a trace. Anyone could be an accursed, and that made the thought of approaching them outright not just impossible, but dangerously naive.
That left the first option—And, as luck—or circumstance—would have it, he knew someone in the government who might be able to help. Thor.
It wasn't exactly a casual favor to request. Still, IAM resolved that he would try. He planned to ask to meet with Thor either before or after his next appointment with Thomas. That way, it wouldn't feel entirely out of context, and he could frame the request in a way that seemed reasonable rather than reckless.
He hoped the timing would allow for a proper discussion—long enough for Thor to understand exactly what IAM was asking and, more importantly, long enough for him to provide an answer that was useful. IAM knew there were no guarantees, but it was the closest thing he had to a viable path forward.
IAM stepped out of the elevator and into the quiet hallway, the soft hum of the building fading behind him as he made his way through the lobby and out of the main hall. The afternoon sunlight hit the courtyard just beyond the doors, warming the air slightly, and he paused for a moment, taking it all in.
He stopped just outside the building, leaning slightly against the frame of a pillar, lost in thought. The meeting with the Flame hadn't taken long, and he had no intention of going to the library. He had already decided that searching there would be fruitless, no matter how prestigious the academy's collection, he would only now visit from time to time.
A part of him wanted a break—a proper pause from the relentless pace of the past few weeks. They had been grueling, each day pushing him harder than the last, and he deserved a little time to unwind. But "break" didn't mean idleness; he wanted to mix a bit of fun with productivity, to feel the satisfaction of improvement while still enjoying himself.
Naturally, he was carrying KASSARA, and after a moment of consideration, he decided to take a mini car out to the combat grounds.
It had been too long since he had given himself proper time with KASSARA, and he could feel the neglect in himself.
Lately, he had been focused on learning sword techniques with Henry, pouring a lot of effort into it.
But KASSARA was meant to be his main weapon, the one he relied on above all else. He couldn't afford to let it gather dust while he trained with the sword.
With that in mind, he swung open the car door and slipped inside, the engine humming to life as he set off toward the combat grounds.