Chapter 295
Disbelief (3)
Killing intent… Henry thought.
On the other side, IAM was busy suppressing his own killing intent. He had expected it to surface eventually—it was never a matter of if, only when. He had been managing it well enough until his eyes caught the sight of blood on Henry's skin. That single detail had been enough to let it leak out before he could fully rein it in.
IAM took a slow breath, forcing it back down.
As he did, a quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. [STAB] It was his first time using the skill in an actual exchange, and the results were… acceptable. Better than acceptable, even. It had consumed only three percent of his mana, an amount so small it was already being replenished as he stood there.
He had managed to injure Henry—the same Henry who fought like a sword demon, whose reactions were razor-sharp and whose instincts rarely failed him. IAM was realistic enough to know that surprise had played a large role in it, but that didn't lessen the significance. A hit was still a hit.
And this was only the beginning.
As his body continued to be trained and as he grew more accustomed to using his skills in the real world, the gap between his intent and execution would narrow.
When that happened, he would only get better.
When Henry saw that IAM's killing intent had faded, he immediately took the initiative, stepping in and striking while IAM responded in kind.
The spar progressed, sparks flying each time their swords clashed, the sharp ring of steel cutting through the room alongside the sound of exerted breaths.
Henry moved like a skilled dancer, his attacks shifting seamlessly from liquid to solid to gas. Every strike had intent, every transition smooth. He controlled the rhythm of the exchange, subtly dictating the overall direction of the battle.
IAM, by contrast, was like a mass of chaos. His attacks were unpredictable, fierce, and dangerous, pressing forward with overwhelming pressure. The sudden use of [STAB] and [PIERCE] made him especially threatening, his offense bordering on overbearing.
But with the element of surprise gone, things unfolded as expected. Henry managed to barely contain the chaos in front of him, though it was inevitable that, as the clash continued, he would be wounded from time to time.
But IAM wasn't spared either. He had already fought a taxing battle earlier, and even with his superior level, his body couldn't keep up with everything he demanded of it. Fatigue crept into his movements, small delays forming between thought and action.
Henry's counterattacks landed hard. Devastating slashes and sharp stabs slipped through IAM's defense, each impact forcing him to acknowledge just how skilled Henry truly was. There was no wasted movement— only efficient swordsmanship that left little room for error.
Through the exchange, IAM noticed something...
Henry was smiling.
A wide, brilliant smile sat on his face as the fight progressed. He looked genuinely excited, almost joyful, like someone who had finally found a worthy partner to clash blades with. He was enjoying himself.
Can you not see I'm starting to struggle? IAM thought. Why are you looking all jolly and shit.
His stamina was running thin now. His breathing grew heavier, his muscles burning as he pushed himself past what his body wanted to give. He was just starting to think about how to bring the spar to an end—
—when Henry suddenly disengaged.
He stepped back smoothly, creating distance between them, his sword lowering slightly as he looked at IAM with that same smile still on his face.
"Wow, IAM! I have no idea what happened to you, man, but you've actually gotten really good…" Henry said, his voice filled with genuine amazement. He hesitated for a moment, his smile faltering just slightly before he continued. "If… if you don't mind me asking… would you keep being my training partner? Even though you've gotten better now."
IAM understood what Henry was really worried about. Their original deal had been simple—Henry would train him in the basics, and once IAM no longer needed that help, it would end. But now that IAM had improved so suddenly, Henry was afraid that the one sparring partner who could finally keep up with him would disappear just as quickly.
IAM nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I was planning to anyway. I haven't exactly reached the very best I could."
Henry's smile widened instantly, relief and excitement written plainly across his face. "Thank you so much. I owe you one…" His gaze lingered on IAM for a moment longer before he added, "I can tell you're getting tired."
So he had noticed.
Henry shifted his stance slightly, still smiling, but there was a hint of anticipation beneath it now. "So I was thinking… could we just do one final move? I want to use my strongest attack, but I haven't really had many chances to use it. If possible…" He paused, looking at IAM directly. "Could I try it on you?"
Are you trying to kill me? IAM thought.
If this were anywhere else, he wouldn't have been too worried. After all, the strongest attack from a novice wouldn't normally be capable of killing an experienced-level ascender—at least, not under normal circumstances.
Unless that novice was a genius.
A true genius could surpass their level and kill someone a level higher, provided certain conditions were met. A peak novice could defeat and even kill a low to mid experienced-level ascender. In rare cases, some had even managed to do so against a high experienced ascender.
But that was where the line ended.
Such a feat could not be replicated by a peak experienced-level ascender against even a low master ascender. That gap was absolute. The difference between the two was like the difference between heaven and earth.
Only a master could harm another master—unless very, very, very special circumstances occurred.
The problem was that IAM found himself in a haven crawling with geniuses—the place known as Hope Academy.
And right now, he was standing in front of a particularly fierce one. It was only natural for doubt to creep in.
IAM himself was only a low experienced ascender. Even knowing the gap between novice and experienced levels, he wasn't entirely confident he could survive Henry's strongest attack without consequence.
"Are you a peak novice yet?" he asked.
Henry shook his head.
IAM pondered for a moment before replying, "Fine, but I'll be attacking too."
"No problem!" Henry said easily. "But I need a few seconds to get ready…"
"No problem," IAM parroted back.
He had agreed because Henry hadn't yet reached peak novice. And because he would be attacking as well—some insurance, just in case anything went wrong.
Henry suddenly spread his feet apart and twisted his body. He shifted the angle of his sword, hiding it from view, while his eyes remained sealed shut. A quiet pressure began to radiate from him, subtle at first, then growing heavier with each passing second.
As it built, Henry's figure seemed to take on an almost dashing, valiant presence. His body moved with effortless grace, each line of his stance taut with readiness, as if the air around him bent slightly to acknowledge the power coiling within. Even without seeing the sword, the sheer weight of his aura conveyed that something extraordinary was about to happen.
IAM felt a faint sense of danger ripple through him.
This is going to be a problem, he thought, tightening his grip and shifting into a stance. He forced down his own killing intent, letting it simmer just beneath the surface, focusing every ounce of awareness on Henry.
The scene around them suddenly seemed to still. The room, the air, the faint echoes of movement—all faded into a serene silence as the two faced each other. Time itself felt slower, stretched thin under the mounting pressure radiating from their bodies. Every heartbeat seemed to be loud as war drums.
Then, in an instant, both of them disappeared from their positions. One moment they were standing apart; the next, they reappeared in the center of the room, swords raised, poised to collide.
The speed of the movement was impossible to track with the naked eye, yet everything—their intent, their positioning, their energy—was clear to IAM's eyes.
Time seemed to slow even further. IAM took it all in—every fraction of a second amplified.
Henry's eyes opened. His sand-colored irises glowed faintly, sharp and piercing, locking onto IAM with unwavering focus. His sword cut through the air at an incredible speed, gliding as if resistance itself had ceased to exist.
And then IAM noticed it.
At the very tip of Henry's blade, a faint golden light shimmered, delicate and almost imperceptible. It flickered like a combination of fire and liquid, subtle enough that it might have been missed entirely—yet IAM's instincts screamed that it was real.
IAM could barely react before their blades finally collided. The sense of danger spiked, coiling in the air like electricity. Sparks erupted from the contact as the swords dragged against each other with an ear-splitting boom.
The impact was overwhelming, reverberating through the room, shaking the floor beneath them. The clash lasted a solid five seconds, each one stretching like an eternity, before they finally separated and landed.
Henry's right hand trembled slightly, a faint paleness creeping across his face. The exertion had left its mark, yet the thrill in his eyes remained undimmed.
And IAM…
He glanced down at his own blade. Cracks ran along the steel, spiderwebbing across the surface, evidence of the sheer force it had endured. With a muted sigh, he let it slip from his hands, dropping it to the floor.
Henry's excitement burst forth uncontrollably. "That was incredible! I want to do it again!"
He turned expectantly, only to meet IAM's tired gaze—a look that immediately cooled his enthusiasm.
IAM exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Well… I'm tired as hell, so I'm done for the night."
Henry's expression twisted into reluctant disappointment, but he didn't argue. IAM bent down, picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder.
Before leaving, he paused, turning to face Henry. With a small almost teasing gesture, he tapped his cheek twice with a finger. "Sorry for relying on stupid tricks," he said softly, then turned and walked away, leaving Henry behind.
Henry tilted his head in confusion, frowning as he brought a hand up to his cheek. His eyes widened as he traced a finger across the skin and felt a thin, bloody line.
He trembled slightly. When did that happen? When did IAM do it?
Instinctively, he spun around, scanning the floor—and something caught his eye. A small object glinted faintly under the light, almost hidden against the floor.
He stepped toward it, bending down to pick it up carefully. Raising it toward the light, he examined it closely, squinting as the reflection revealed its true form.
"A… piece of glass?" he muttered, disbelief tinged with confusion.