Chapter 265
To accept and to defy
But this raised some questions for IAM.
Why did his understanding of his path grow after meeting that being?
Was it something it gave him as some sort of gift every time they met? The idea made him uneasy. Gifts often came with expectations.
Or maybe it was unsatisfied with IAM's progress, and this was its way of forcing him to move forward?
Why could it do such a thing in the first place?
Could it actually be like a being that created the Blessed and Cursed Speech Path!?
But then...
If it was, why would it give him so little this time? The last time, it had taken him to the very peak of the novice level—yet now, the change was far smaller.
That didn't make sense.
Something had clearly changed… but what?
Or maybe it wasn't…
The last time something like this had happened was when he had died. Back then, the being had brought him back to life, and his understanding of his path had skyrocketed.
Maybe that explained everything. Perhaps this being was so strong that merely being near it was enough to increase a person's understanding, regardless of their path or level. It didn't have to train him, teach him, or even actively intervene—its presence alone could increase comprehension.
And when he had been brought back to life, it must have interacted with him in an even more direct way.
To restore someone from death likely required it touched his very essence. That would explain why his growth then had been so vast, while this time, the change was far smaller. Maybe the interaction now hadn't been as extensive, just a passing compared to the last.
The being may had only been present briefly, or in a less involved way, and so the effect on him had been limited.
But if that were true, then it was terrifying. The idea that simply being near it could improve a person's understanding of their path—or perhaps even of themselves—was something beyond mortal comprehension.
The more IAM thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. What was the intent of such a being? Why him? Was it guiding him? Was it testing him? Observing out of curiosity?Watching him for its own amusement?
He didn't know.
IAM's thoughts swiftly landed on the reason why he had passed out in the first place…
…
…
Maybe he had been right all along. Maybe everything that had happened to him in this world—his arrival, his growth, even his moments of despair—had been orchestrated by that being. The thought was unsettling, yet somehow it felt almost inevitable.
But…
From that endless field of flowers, from that strange, dreamlike coma, IAM had come out with something. A single mantra that anchored him whenever his thoughts threatened to spiral beyond his control:
To accept was to understand.
To deny was to defy.
To accept his reality, no matter how cruel or confusing it was—and yet, to still deny its power over him.
That was the balance he had found. Acceptance without surrender. Defiance without blindness.
He had asked himself countless questions in that place. Questions that echoed like whispers across the endless field.
Had he not suffered enough?
Had he not given enough already?
The answer was both yes and no.
Yes, he had suffered. And yes, he would continue to. That much was certain. But he had learned that suffering wasn't a reason to stop—it was a reason to endure. To keep moving, even when the world tried to break him apart.
He had to accept that pain was a part of him now. But he would live with it, carry it, and still—defy it.
What if he was stronger?
He had to accept that he wasn't — and defy that by simply becoming stronger. There was no other way. No miracle, no shortcut, no intervention waiting to lift him up. If he wanted strength, then he had to earn it. Through effort. Through pain. Through persistence.
Could he not train? Could he not improve? Of course, he could. He had before. He can now. Where he was now was proof that he could climb out of weakness and become something more.
That was no excuse.
He had asked himself, what if he wasn't IAM?
But he was!
He was IAM!
And he had to accept that. There was no escaping his own name, no trading places with someone better suited to carry his burdens. The only person who could change his story was the one who had lived it.
So what if this IAM was pathetic? So what if this IAM was flawed? That didn't mean he had to stay that way.
People could change. They could fall, and they could rise again.
If others could be reborn through their failures, then so could he.
If the world had already decided by what he was, then he would prove it wrong.
IAM could change.
The words to accept and to defy echoed in IAM's head in unrelenting waves. Each repetition flowed through him like a pulse.
The mantra wove itself into every fiber of his being. Every breath he drew seemed to carry the words along, over, and through him, until he could almost see them, floating in his eyesight. He couldn't escape them, nor would he want to.
They were both a warning and a comfort, a tether to himself.
IAM sighed. He had done a lot of thinking—too much—and now he just felt tired and hungry.
He turned his gaze toward the platter of food on the table. Steam still rose faintly from it, carrying the warm scent of something savory and well-prepared. He picked up a piece, studying it for a second and was just about to take a bite when—
The door suddenly opened.
IAM froze mid-bite, turning toward the sound. A figure stood framed in the doorway, the light from the hall spilling around them like an outline.
"…heeeeey," IAM said slowly, still holding the food near his mouth.
The figure frowned.
It was Natsuki.