Chapter 280
STUPID (4)
To be honest… this situation wasn't even close to what Blaze had expected to find himself in.
He might have been reckless, loud, and undeniably hotheaded—but he wasn't stupid. He knew when to push and when to pull back, when to go too far and when to stop just short. There was always a line, and despite his temper, Blaze had always made sure not to cross it.
This whole mess had started when he'd heard about some first-years were already causing problems barely a week into their time at the academy and students being sent up for punishment.
Blaze, being who he was, didn't think much of it at first. He assumed it would be the usual sort—unruly, loudmouthed kids trying to act tough. Maybe a few spoiled brats who thought the academy was a playground. He'd seen plenty of those come and go.
So when he volunteered to deal with them, it wasn't out of cruelty. It was habit. A simple way to "help" whip them into shape, as he liked to put it. Just to slap some sense into them—that was all it usually took.
But upon meeting them, Blaze quickly realized he had been wrong. He'd seen plenty of so-called "bad" kids before—but these ones weren't like that at all.
Just a single look told him as much. There was something different in their eyes, something that didn't fit the usual pattern of troublemakers. One of them had even stepped forward to defend that insecure little, which told Blaze everything he needed to know.
They weren't acting out for attention or rebellion—they were the type who somehow ended up in the middle of chaos without ever trying to cause it.
The more he saw, the more it threw him off. He hadn't expected to find actual talent among them, much less talent that outshone his own. But during their brief exchange, as he fought them, he could tell—these kids had potential. Real potential. It wasn't just strength; it was the way they thought, reacted, adapted. He knew that one day, they'd surpass him without a doubt.
That realization had left him oddly satisfied, almost proud even, and he'd been ready to call it quits—to let them go about their day.
Except for him.
He couldn't put his finger on the kid at all—there was something off about him, something Blaze couldn't name.
When Blaze saw him break away from the scuffle and run, his first thought was simple: coward. Leaving his friends to fight while he bolted. That judgement hardened easily enough, and Blaze decided then and there he'd make life a little harder for the boy.
To teach him a lesson, to show him that the academy wasn't a place for people who ran when things got rough.
But then the car happened.
The moment he was smashed with it, Blaze realised he had been wrong again. He had been angry, sure—but he could've let it go. He really would have…
Until…
He woke up to a gun.
Surprise was the first thing that hit him — a first year with the nerve to point a weapon at a member of the Student Council. It was insane and daring. That alone was enough to make Blaze's pulse spike. But it wasn't the gun that rooted him in place.
Looking past the barrel, he saw something that chilled him all the same. IAM's eyes… had nothing in them.
Just a void.
They were completely dead.
And then the feeling crawled up the back of his neck: not fear of the weapon, not the danger of the bullet, but a raw, animal terror of the boy holding it. It washed over him the way cold water does. He hadn't felt anything like it in years. The realization that someone so young could make him feel this way hit harder than any blow.
It couldn't stand. How could he continue living, knowing that the sight of this boy put that kind of fear in him? He needed to erase it. This wasn't pride or spite; it was survival. It was life and death.
Everything that he was — everything that made him Blaze— would collapse if he let that moment define him. His very concept would crumble.
Blaze couldn't be scared of anything. That was the one truth he lived by. The second he let fear take root, it would spread, rot him from the inside out.
But then Kevin had told him a few curious things about what IAM had said that day. Things that didn't add up, things that planted seeds of suspicion. Blaze couldn't be certain at first, but the thought lingered at the back of his mind until one day it hit him like a revelation.
Could it be?
The possibility lit a fire in his chest, and without hesitation he decided to test it.
He went to Ari, feigning irritation, asking for access to the cameras and a way to locate IAM. What he discovered made his eyes narrow—IAM was in a coma. That meant he would have to wait until he woke up.
He didn't tell Ari the real reason. He simply said he wanted to "pay the kid back" for hitting him with a car. Then he left—his mind already racing with the single burning need to face that fear again… and crush it.
He was sure he would... He had to.
But... why.
Why was this happening!
Why! Why! Why!
This couldn't be possible, it can't be!
Thoughts raced through his mind as he watched, through the blurry haze, the one thing that remained clear.
There were two pools of darkness, their gaze landing on his like a god looking down on everything.
There was a strange absence in those eyes, as if they refused to acknowledge the world around them. They were undisturbed and unrefutable.
And they belonged to IAM.
His fingers weren't just gripping Blaze's neck—they were wrapped tightly around his throat, pressing down with merciless strength. Blaze struggled beneath him, his hands clawing at IAM's wrists, but they wouldn't budge. Tiny shards of glass rained down from above, glinting under the fractured light. Some cut into his skin, others mixed with the blood dripping from IAM's face, and a few even slipped into his wide‑open right eye, burning as they stained it red.
I'm going to die...
A few minutes ago—