Chapter 293
Disbelief
"... Trust me, it'll be fine, I managed to pick up a thing or two." IAM responded with a calm smile.
The smile wasn't cocky or smug—if anything, it looked almost too relaxed for someone who, just hours ago was still flat in a hospital bed. He kept it on his face as he walked over to the corner of the room, dropping his bag down with a dull thud.
"I won't be able to stay too long, though," he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to chase away the heaviness clinging to his muscles. "I'm tired as hell. I just wanted to test things out."
Henry didn't move at first. He simply stood there, as his sandy eyes narrowed like he was trying to see straight through IAM.
"Are you sure about this?" Henry finally asked, his voice dropping, the seriousness settling into the space between them. Then, with a doubtful lift of his brow: "With a sword?"
"Of course."
Henry could only shake his head and say, "Alright, whatever you say, man," before turning toward the weapon rack. His hand closed around one of the wooden swords, and without looking back, he tossed it toward IAM.
IAM caught it easily. He glanced down at the wooden blade, his expression changed for a moment with something unreadable before he slowly exhaled and shook his head.
Henry, already halfway to grabbing another for himself, paused mid-reach. "What now?" he muttered, confusion edging into his voice as IAM stepped towards the rack.
IAM reached past the and picked up something. He walked back toward Henry and extended it to him without a word.
Henry's brows shot up. He stared at the weapon, then at IAM, then back at the weapon again. "You've got to be joking…"
But IAM was already turning away. He grabbed another for himself, testing its balance with a small shift of his wrist, then walked out about ten meters into the open center of the room. His footsteps echoed lightly off the floor, the silence stretching thin.
He planted his feet, lifted his chin, and said with steady finality, "No. Raise your weapon."
Henry didn't move at first. A frown carved into his face, deeper with every second that passed.
Because what IAM had handed him—what he was holding right now—was a real sword.
"IAM... this is dangerous, I—" Henry started, his voice almost pleading. His grip on the sword shifted unconsciously as he stared at IAM. There was no joke in his eyes now—just a growing mix of frustration and worry.
"That's exactly why I want to do so," IAM replied, brushing a thumb along the flat of his own sword. "Without holding anything back—well, you should probably hold back. I'm not at my peak condition… but you use your path methods—"
Before he could finish, Henry cut him off.
"Wait, that's not fair! You're an experienced-level ascender while I'm only a novice-level ascender." His expression scrunched up. "How is that even remotely equal?"
"Don't worry about it," IAM said simply.
He wasn't planning to rely on his strength. He would only rely on the sword and technique, nothing more.
Seeing that IAM wasn't going to change his mind, Henry could only let out a long, defeated sigh. The breath left him in a slow drag, his shoulders dropping as he accepted the inevitable.
With a reluctant shake of his head, he moved to the side and began putting away his mech, he placed his sword back into its sheath, setting it carefully in the corner.
( His sword is his mech.)
Then, with a quiet inhale, he stepped back into the center.
He got himself into his starting stance with his hand resting firmly on the sword IAM had given him.
He had no idea what was going on with IAM—why he looked that tired yet that determined, why he insisted on this, why something in his eyes felt different—but Henry wasn't going to treat this lightly.
Henry's eyes opened wider, not in surprise but in focus. His breathing narrowed, his concentration tightening like a line being drawn straight through his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.
"IAM… do you remember the first thing I taught you about the sword?"
IAM didn't hesitate.
"That a sword is not a toy," he said, the words were calm . "It is a weapon that was made to protect, defend, attack and most importantly—kill. It must be respected."
It meant he understood exactly what he was asking for.
"Then I hope you can leave this room with no regrets."
The words had barely left Henry's mouth before he moved. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his feet sliding across the floor with a sharpness as his sword whipped toward IAM in a devastating, fluid arc. The strike flowed like water, fast and heavy, it was meant to overwhelm before the opponent even fully reacted.
Henry's blade was of average length. IAM's, however, was slightly shorter—the length he'd always preferred, the one his hands remembered instinctively. In a real fight, it was a disadvantage; Henry's reach meant his blade would arrive first, giving him priority in every exchange.
IAM leaned back with a controlled, almost effortless shift of his weight. His sword came up in a smooth motion, catching Henry's attack with a clean deflection. Steel kissed steel with a sharp ring.
A flicker of surprise flashed in Henry's eyes.
That particular redirection wasn't something beginners pulled off easily—no, not even close. IAM executed it with a precision that shouldn't have been possible for someone who'd barley picked up a sword around almost a month ago.
His surprise only deepened when IAM didn't stop there.
IAM's sword snapped forward instantly, almost reflexively, a counterattack blooming from the deflection as naturally as a shadow following light. Henry's instincts kicked in and he raised his weapon, blocking it just in time. The impact pushed him back a small step, enough to disengage.
And then he froze.
His face twisted, disbelief breaking through his composure like a fault line.
Could… Could he really have improved so quickly in such little time?