Chapter 208
Target
After a few minutes, the mini car rolled to a stop. The ride hadn't been long, but IAM had spent most of it leaning into the seat, his eyes distant as he let his thoughts go silent for a while.
IAM stepped out, shut the door behind him, and walked under the metal archway that marked the entrance to the combat grounds.
His shoes clicked softly against the metal flooring as he moved. The space above was partly open, but there were support beams crisscrossing the ceiling—thick, industrial and probably reinforced to handle weather and whatever accidents students managed to cause.
To either side of him were all kinds of training zones. Some looked like massive sandpits, probably for movement drills or path sparring. Others were made of rough concrete, full of jagged walls and uneven ground, almost like an abandoned war zone. It was like a patchwork of miniature worlds.
Some arenas were wide, deep pits filled with coarse, sun-bleached sand. Others were jagged concrete mazes, designed to replicate the chaos of urban warfare.
Farther along, he spotted artificial landscapes that mimicked nature—pockets of forest with dense synthetic trees, rocky inclines and even a fabricated river that flowed with a filtered current, complete with faux reeds and glistening stones.
Closer to the center were sealed-off chambers. Those were the advanced ones, soundproofed and lined with thick padding, meant for testing for high-level path methods.
Every direction offered a new challenge, a new way to grow.
There was a lot to pick from. Honestly, it was the kind of place that could make you stop and stare for a while. But IAM wasn't here to explore.
He already knew where he was going.
The shooting range.
He hadn't been there often. Barely at all, really. Ever since he started training with Henry, most of his time had gone into swordwork. It made sense—Henry was good at it, and IAM needed the practice. But still, KASSARA was supposed to be his main weapon.
He didn't bother changing. There was no need for that. He wasn't here to run drills—just to shoot.
With KASSARA slung over his shoulder, hidden beneath his blazer, he walked across the open floor toward the far end of the grounds, where the shooting range sat tucked beneath one of the low towers.
It wasn't hidden, but it felt separate. The path there was quiet.
The entrance was just a sliding door— it was a plain dark grey that was marked with a red stripe across the top. IAM pressed the panel beside it and walked in as it slid open.
The range inside was clean and sharp-looking, more modern than the rest of the combat grounds.
The floor was a non-slip material. The walls were lined with panels to muffle sound—dark matte tiles that absorbed light more than they reflected it. The place was quiet even when people were firing. You could still hear the shots, but they didn't echo.
The space was divided into individual shooting lanes, separated by thick partitions that went up to about head-height. Each lane had its own station: a waist-high console with basic controls, a flat rest area for ammunition or tools, and a built-in monitor to track accuracy.
Further down each lane was a targeting track—an adjustable rail system that extended all the way to the back wall. Targets could be sent out or recalled at different distances with a simple command. Some were standard paper sheets—vital zones outlined in red or blue—others were more complex, made from reinforced foam that could react to hits or trigger timed movement.
A few lanes had toggles for simulated conditions: stuff like movement drills. IAM wasn't planning on using those today.
There was also a storage rack built into the back wall, stocked with spare targets, gloves, weapon clamps, and cleaning tools. Everything was kept in order, nothing just lying around. The range clearly expected people to know what they were doing when they walked in.
IAM glanced around. Only two other students were inside, both far down near the end lanes. He didn't recognize them, and they didn't seem to care about him either.
He picked one of the empty lanes near the middle and stepped into it, he reached the station, rested one hand on the edge of the console, and took a breath.
He reached underneath his blazer, behind his back, and pulled out the beautiful weapon.
KASSARA.
The weight was perfect. It was cold in his grip at first, but it settled quickly—like it recognized him. He turned it in his hands once, slowly.
He couldn't help but smile.
It really was a masterpiece.
He'd already read the manual and completely understood everything about it. Mechs, like Deadline creatures, also had similar tiers.
Low tier.
Low mid tier.
Low peak tier.
Mid tier.
Mid mid tier.
Mid peak tier.
High tier.
High mid tier.
High peak tier.
As impressive as the weapon was, it was still barely a mid-tier mech. Compared to the mechs most other ascenders might have, though, it was very decent for someone at his level.
It could be upgraded as he grew stronger if he wanted, but that would obviously cost a lot. Creating tiny, intricate paths in a mech—especially a hot weapon designed to channel mana and enhance his path methods and attacks—wasn't cheap.
But IAM wasn't planning on abandoning it. Raj had personally helped make it for him. It hadn't meant much to him at the time, and he hadn't put an incredible amount of effort into it, but it was still something Raj had worked on before he died. IAM wasn't going to just let it sit unused.
He would keep using it—in memory of Raj.
It had a lot of features, including a special type of ammo IAM didn't have much of: mana bullets. These bullets could take the mana he put into them and turn it into as much power as possible.
They weren't considered a path method—they just used mana to deliver devastating shots. He wasn't going to waste them casually.