Chapter 28
INTENT
The laughter crashed like a wave against IAM's ears, cold and biting. It echoed in the sterile training room, bouncing off walls, vibrating against his chest. His shoulders stiffened.
Some tried to stifle their amusement behind hands and smirks. Others didn't bother. Their voices rang out with cruel delight, some pointing, others whispering just loud enough to be heard. How could someone still not have formed an Avien? It was the first step. The bare minimum. The starting line — and IAM hadn't even crossed it.
But hypocrisy clung to their jeers like a bitter perfume. Many of them knew how hard forming an Avien truly was. Some had taken longer than the average two weeks themselves. It wasn't easy. It wasn't supposed to be.
Yet here they stood, basking in petty relief. It was the oldest human instinct — feel better by finding someone worse off.
"I might be bad," they thought, "but at least I'm not that guy."
IAM takes a sharp breath, he was expecting a reaction like this, so he was not too rattled.. Just as he was about to try and ease the atmosphere to shift from that embarrassing note with, what I'm sure the readers are aware of by now,one of his 'great' jokes.
He opened his mouth—
"Stop it!"
The voice rang through the training hall like a whip. The laughter died in an instant. Heads turned, eyes snapping to the speaker as they stepped out from the crowd.
Ryan.
He pushed his way through the group, his emerald eyes sharp, his jaw tight.
"Stop laughing at him," Ryan said, his voice clear and commanding. "Just because he hasn't formed his Avien… don't judge him on that alone."
A pause.
"No one here knows IAM like I do."
He turned slightly, standing beside IAM now, facing the crowd with his back straight and his chest out.
"He's one of the most hardworking people I've ever met. His grit, his determination — it's plain to see if you spend any time around him. We met just over a month ago, and since then, we've been side by side on this journey. We both tried forming our Aviens countless times. I succeeded before him. The gap between us grew… and I know he felt that gap more than anyone."
Ryan's voice softened.
"But he never gave up. He kept pushing, kept trying. More than me. More than most. Every failure hit him hard — but he stood up again. Again and again. Even when it hurt. Even when it broke him."
IAM froze, jaw clenched, chest tight.
Ryan continued, "By the time we arrived at The Hold, I had already succeeded. But IAM… he hadn't. I didn't want to crush his confidence, so I avoided telling him. But the situation forced my hand. I had to — and I saw what it did to him. It hurt him, and I know he misunderstood my intentions.
Ryan looks at IAM with a meaningful look.
"And in his desperate effort not to fall even further behind, he pushed himself too hard. He overtrained. Ignored his limits. That resulted in prolonged mana exposure. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. For two weeks, he was stuck, frozen. All the progress he had made — wiped away. He had to start over. From scratch. A clean slate."
Ryan pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, his voice trembling slightly.
"So yeah… it hurts. To see people mocking him. Laughing at his pain. Disregarding everything he's fought for. That's not just wrong — that's shameful."
The silence in the room now was heavy, uncomfortable.
Ryan raised his voice once more, filled with a new fire.
"We've all been told over and over again how slim our chances of survival are. How we're insignificant. Cannon fodder. But we're not. We're more than that. We're human. Against these devilish odds, As long as we stick together, support each other, and refuse to give in to fear or ridicule — we won't be just statistics. We will prevail. We'll fight, we'll work, and we will not stop. That's what's right..... That is justice."
Silence stretched for a beat.
Then, like a spark to dry wood, applause erupted. Claps, whistles, even cheers filled the room.
Ryan stood tall....
With the brightest smile on his face.
Regina's eyes narrow.
"Damn, in contrast to earlier this yesterday, he is a completely person ..." kepa whispered...
As the noise began to settle, Ryan turned to IAM again. He didn't speak. He just looked.
IAM's expression was unreadable. His mind swirled. He didn't know what he had expected — but it wasn't this.
"…Thanks," IAM said quietly, his voice dry and hesitant. "For taking my side."
Ryan nodded and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
And in that moment, IAM stared into his friend's eyes. Green, almost gemlike under the ceiling lights. They sparkled with warmth and strength — but IAM couldn't help but wonder.
Which Ryan was real?
Before he could think too long, the sharp sound of slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the hall.
Riley, sunglasses catching the overhead lights, stepped forward with a wide grin.
"Brilliantly said," he said. "Absolutely stirring. I'm proud to say I have the pleasure of teaching someone like you. Well done."
Then he turned to IAM.
"So — given the situation, IAM will be pairing with me for today's demonstration. Understood?"
IAM blinked, then frowned slightly. "What about my partner?" he asked, glancing at Kepa.
Riley hesitated for just a moment — barely noticeable — then slapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm.
"Well then, he can pair up with… Regina!" he declared, voice an octave too high.
He turned to her. "Don't break him, please."
Regina gave Kepa a sharp glance, the kind that could slice through steel. Her lips tightened, and then, without a word, she nodded once. Kepa gave a very quiet gulp.
Riley let out a sigh of relief, though his eyes flickered toward Kepa with the silent hope that he'd survive the lesson. He then turned his attention back to the rest of the group.
"Alright, everyone," he called, raising his voice slightly. "Pair up. Quickly. I want you in position in less than three minutes."
There was a flurry of motion as the students began moving, forming pairs with mixed excitement and apprehension. Some bumped fists, others exchanged nods.
A couple of minutes later, Riley raised a hand and snapped his fingers once.
"Circle up!" he barked.
The room of pairs formed a wide ring along the perimeter. In the center stood Riley and IAM, the instructor's posture loose and casual.
The murmurs died down.
Riley's voice rang through the space.
"Let's go back to what I said earlier—intent. It's not just a word. It's not a slogan. It dictates your every action together in battle. It guides your strikes, your blocks, your movement, your very breath."
He took a few steps around IAM, his voice calm and clear.
"In this exercise, one of you has the goal of protecting—that's me—and the other, attacking. That's IAM. Simple. Your intent defines your objective. And in turn, defines how you move."
He turned to the group.
"Your job, attackers, is to strike your partner's forehead. Defenders, stop that from happening. Nothing more, nothing less. This means your intent is sharpened. Focused. Limited to one thing. Let's see how well you understand what it means to fight with intent."
He turned back to IAM.
"So, I will defend. And you wi—"
Before he could finish, IAM moved.
With sudden speed, IAM lunged forward and threw a fist aimed directly at Riley's forehead.
Gasps rippled through the room. One someone blurted, "What a cheat!"
But Riley only chuckled, spinning slightly and dodging the punch with casual grace. IAM's fist cut through empty air, and he managed to stop himself from falling forward due to the momentum.
Riley grinned. "Actually, I'd recommend abandoning that kind of thinking—'cheating' is just another word for thinking ahead. In battle, there is no such thing as unfair. Only the goal. Your intent."
He turned to the group, adjusting his sunglasses.
"I have seen the most experienced and strongest people I have ever met in my life, using the dirtiest of tricks when they were put in desperate situations . Resort to tactics that would make your skin crawl. Why? Because when your life is on the line, nothing matters but reaching your goal. If your intent is clear and your will unwavering, the how is irrelevant."
He glanced at IAM. "That was a good instinct. But now… you'll need to do better."
IAM nodded once.
He darted forward again—this time faking with his left, then switching into a solid right hook aimed at Riley's forehead. But Riley's forearm rose calmly and blocked it with the precision of someone who'd done it a thousand times before.
Then, with one swift motion, Riley's fist buried itself into IAM's stomach.
He held back—clearly—but the force was enough to knock the wind out of him. IAM folded with a grunt, dropping to one knee, his breath stuttering.
A few winced in sympathy.
Riley smiled down at him.
"A common misconception," he said. "Just because your goal is my forehead doesn't mean your attacks should always aim for it. You must think deeper."
He crouched slightly, speaking directly to IAM.
"Break my legs. Trip me. Blind me. Limit my ability to move. Then go for the strike. You have to manipulate your opponent into a position where your intent can be fulfilled, regardless of their awareness of it."
He stood up again. "The trick is to either hide your intent—or force a situation where even if they know your goal, they can't stop it."
IAM coughed, nodding slowly, one hand on his gut.
"I hear you," he wheezed, raising his hands again.
He stepped forward once more.
Over the next several minutes, Riley and IAM moved in a fluid dance—IAM striking, feinting, adapting. Riley blocking, dodging, countering with precision. Each failure taught IAM something. Each blow clarified Riley's lesson.
Around them, the rest of the class mirrored the exercise, pairs sparring in a loop of forehead taps, dodges, and increasing aggression. Kepa, to his misery, was taking blow after blow from Regina, who fought with the calm intensity of someone used to winning. She never broke a sweat. Kepa looked like he might break something else.
Eventually, Riley called it.
"Alright, wrap up! Switch roles if you haven't already. "
Later...
The crowd slowly filtered out of the training hall, with minor bruises and swelling foreheads, especially IAM and kepa who had to practice with Regina and Riley.
IAM realises that he was tired of dealing with people whose name started with a R.
He trudged toward the health ward, every step aching.
There was still one class left for the day.
Path class.