Chapter 232
Fight (2)
IAM, contrary to what anyone might have expected—had decided to go after the three enemies outside the warehouse rather than the two who had gone inside.
It might have sounded counterintuitive at first. After all, two was fewer than three. But IAM had his reasons. Several, in fact.
The first was simple: the group hadn't split as cleanly as it seemed. One of the three outside had been stationed specifically to keep an eye on the warehouse entrance. A precaution, clearly. If IAM tried to circle around and take the two inside by surprise, he'd be spotted before he even reached the door. He'd lose stealth, lose control of the situation, and probably end up filled with bullets before landing a single blow.
And while one of the pair inside was an Ascender—barely—IAM had already judged her level.
A novice. Someone freshly awakened. Stronger than the average civilian, maybe a bit tougher, but she wouldn't pose much of a threat in a one-on-one, not to him—not with preparation and the element of surprise. So yes, taking on the two should have been the more reasonable choice.
But it wasn't. Not with someone watching the door like a hawk.
Second, he was pretty sure they had tried to lure him toward that warehouse on purpose.
That meant it probably wasn't just a coincidence. There was likely a Path formation laid around or inside the warehouse. What kind, he had no idea. But if they had set one up, then it wouldn't be something shallow.
Whatever it was, IAM didn't know how it worked, and that alone made it too dangerous to walk into. If he was wrong, fine. He'd miss an opportunity. But if he was right…
He wasn't stupid.
And third…
Well—third was simpler.
The truck was parked closer to these three.
If they decided to shoot it, or torch it while he was off sneaking somewhere else, that was it. Thor wouldn't be able to track him anymore. IAM had no signal here, and no way of knowing how far Thor was or how soon he'd arrive. The truck was his only link. He couldn't leave it undefended.
He shook his head slightly, adjusted the grip on the weapon strapped to his lower back, and narrowed his eyes as the group near the truck.
Now he had to deal with the three.
IAM came up with a plan.
It was risky.
Really risky.
But if it worked, it would end things fast—before anyone could react.
There were obvious problems with going after them. He hadn't forgotten them—he had listed them in his head like a checklist of things that could kill him.
First: they were three. He was one. That was simple math, and not the kind that worked in his favor. If they all opened fire at once—he wouldn't survive. He wasn't bulletproof.
Second: time. If even one of them managed to shout, or fire a shot, the two inside the warehouse would come rushing out. Maybe even trigger the Path formation early. And then it wouldn't be three versus one anymore.
Third: the terrain. The truck was parked in an open area. A few scattered stacks of old crates and rusted debris offered half-cover at best, but nothing close enough to sneak up from. If he tried to move directly toward them, they'd see him before he got within ten steps. It was too exposed.
It almost seemed hopeless.
Except for one thing.
He was an Ascender.
And they weren't.
That changed everything.
He didn't have strength or skill or years of experience. But he had a Path.
The Path of Cursed and Blessed Speech.
IAM had yet to fully develop any specific Path methods.
His Path—Cursed and Blessed Speech—was too flexible, too broad. The upside was obvious: limitless potential. But the downside was just as clear. Without proper structure or form, it was hard to build reliable techniques. He didn't have a full manual or a mentor to guide him, and trying to invent something from nothing was… exhausting.
Still, that didn't mean he was helpless.
He had used his Path before. Against Kon, during their first sparring session.
Back then, with nothing but instinct and pressure, he'd managed to make Kon freeze mid-step with a single spoken command. It hadn't lasted long—just a few seconds—and IAM had nearly collapsed afterward. He hadn't had enough mana at the time. The backlash from forcing his will into reality had hit him like a hammer to the lungs. He couldn't land the final blow.
That wouldn't happen this time.
He wasn't a novice anymore. He was low-experienced now. His Avien was stable. His mana reserves were larger and his control better. He had spent every spare moment since then practising.
And most importantly: these weren't Ascenders.
They were normal humans.
Armed, yes. Dangerous, definitely. But vulnerable.
Even so, all three at once would be a stretch. IAM knew that. But he also knew it was possible.
As long as he didn't mess up.
As long as he got close enough for all three of them to hear him clearly, without mistaking the command or being out of range.
And as long as he took each of them down before they could scream, shoot, or recover.
That was the plan.
This was IAM's first real experience fighting other people with his life genuinely on the line. Training spars, drills and arguments that escalated—those didn't compare. This time, if he made a mistake, there wouldn't be a warning or a second chance.
He felt the nerves creeping up his spine, it was sharp and sudden, but before they could take hold, he used that strange trait of his—the one he didn't fully understand. It didn't erase the fear, just compressed it. Like a thin lid over boiling water, it was still there underneath, but it couldn't reach him.
IAM suddenly broke into a sprint.
His body exploded forward as he pushed off the ground with every ounce of strength he could muster, his legs driving him across the open space like a bullet loosed from a chamber. His boots hit the gravel with sharp, rhythmic impacts. The two men near the truck barely had time to blink.
They turned—just in time to see a figure rushing toward them.
"Wha—?!"
One of them reached instinctively for his gun, panic setting in. But before his fingers even grazed the trigger, IAM's eyes deepened.
His core was churning, the pressure building behind his skull like a storm barely contained. He could feel the mana pulse inside him, cold and fast.
And then he spoke.
His voice wasn't loud—but It rang out, sharp and clear. There was something unnatural about it. Something that didn't belong in this world.
It carried an otherworldly weight—ethereal and divine, cutting through the soul.
[STOP]