Chapter 135
Rumours
IAM and the others finally stepped out of the library, the large, heavy doors groaning as they shut behind them. The world outside was still bright, but the light felt dulled—like the sun no longer hit the same way. IAM found himself walking silently, his mind caught in a strange haze. There was no other way to describe it—he wasn't exactly sad, nor was he confused. It was something in between. A fog of thought that hung over him without explanation.
Yohan walked beside him, casting a sideways glance. He had been quiet too, but now his lips parted, his was voice low and almost hesitant.
"Did you find what you wanted?"
IAM blinked, as if waking from a distant thought.
He paused, looked ahead, then shook his head slowly. "Who knows..."
He didn't elaborate, and Yohan didn't press. There was no need to explain. They both understood that some answers only raised more questions—and this trip to the library, as insightful as it was, hadn't brought him the kind of clarity he hoped for. Still... it wasn't a total loss.
A name now echoed in his head.
Sacrificium Sanctum.
A place wrapped in mystery. A place that, according to the book, was located deep in Durnark that had already suffered the ultimate fate: its entire population erased.
He wasn't sure what he had expected to find in the pages of that book. But certainly not that.
A whole building made of marble. Beautiful, imposing, untouched by time—yet feared by all who lived near it. A sanctum no one was allowed near. There had been reports of people disappearing near it.
Now, if the book was to be believed, it was most likely overrun by Deadline creatures. That alone would make it suicidal to go anywhere near the place. And IAM, in his current condition, didn't stand a chance.
He wasn't even at the first true level of strength yet. He hadn't broken into Low tier Experienced. He was still stuck at the peak of Novice
He needed more time.
The class earlier in the day had taught him one thing: understanding other Paths could strengthen your own. This alone was a game-changer, and paired with his understanding of death—a cruel, intimate experience that no one else in his class could relate to—he knew he had something rare.
And then there was KASSARA, the mech. His partner. With time, IAM believed he could form a true bond with it and unlock its full potential. It was more than a machine—it was part of him now.
And Henry.
IAM had asked Henry to teach him how to use a sword—not because he wanted to become a master swordsman but because he wanted to learn the fundamentals. He needed something practical, at the very least the basics.
Henry hadn't agreed outright. He said he might teach him the basics if he had the time. That was all IAM needed for now.
IAM felt the potential that was brewing. With everything he had now — KASSARA, his growing understanding of the path, and even Henry's possible help with learning the sword—he could see the pieces forming.
But even with all of that… it wasn't enough.
To stand against the Circle of the Accursed, to even graze the edges of what they were probably truly capable of, he would need more than potential. He would need more power. Overwhelming amounts of power—the kind that could shake the foundations of the hidden organisation.
He would need allies. Resources and more... Anything he could get his hands on.
IAM knew he couldn't rely on luck or good intentions. If he wanted to survive — no, if he wanted to win — he had to dig deeper than anyone else. Nothing could be left untouched. He needed to understand everything.
Because if he didn't… he wouldn't even come close.
IAM's eyes drifted across the boys walking beside him.They were all still laughing about something someone said earlier, unaware of the thoughts inside him. Of course they didn't know.
If IAM told them the truth—that he planned to one day confront the Circle of the Accursed—they'd laugh.Not out of cruelty, but because it sounded impossible.
He wasn't optimistic about it either.
He just knew it was something he had to do.
They reached the dorms at last. The massive buildings stood like stone giants, swallowing up the last rays of the sun. Henry offered a short nod and broke off from the group, heading toward Dorm Building 7.
IAM stood still for a second longer before following the rest inside.
...
Meanwhile...
Meanwhile, far from the academy walls, something else had begun to stir. Quiet at first — almost hesitant — but growing louder by the hour.
Rumours.
The incident at the Hold, was beginning to surface. Whispers slipped through back alleys and tables, passed between families behind closed doors, and echoed in the corners of government buildings. The tragedy—the slaughter, the disappearance, the betrayal—had begun to reach the ears of the public.
IAM had made it clear he didn't want his name involved. No face attached to the words "survivor." He had given them the truth and asked for anonymity in return.
And they honoured that. Officially, no names were released. All the public was told was that there had been a survivor — just one — and that the survivor had come forward with crucial information.
That was all it took.
The public response was immediate and overwhelming. A wave of disbelief followed by grief.
The Hold had fallen.
How could something like that happen? How could something so large, so devastating, be kept quiet until now?
Tears were shed across Hope and beyond. The kind born from knowing that hundreds of thousands of people had died. Most had believed in the idea of the Hold, the way you believe in a dam keeping back floodwaters. Its collapse felt like something sacred had broken.
And then came the anger.
They didn't know all the details. But they knew enough — that there had been an infiltration. That something had crept into the Hold and torn it apart from the inside.
What if the people responsible were still out there?
What if they weren't strangers at all?
What if your neighbour — the quiet man next door, the teacher at your school, the assistant in your workplace — was one of them? What if the same people sitting behind the polished desks of government buildings were involved?
Outside the safe walls of the academy, the streets of Hope boiled.
Paranoia bloomed like fire in dry grass. Trust eroded. Everything seemed suspicious.
Arguments. Accusations. People shouting in public squares, demanding accountability. Demanding transparency. Demanding justice.
Turmoil was naked, running wild across the streets.
And somewhere, in the quietest of corners, far from the noise, far from the chaos and grief and confusion — a meeting was taking place.