Everyone except Gorak, his men, and the boy remained frozen in place, heads bowed deeply, refusing to take even a single step toward the child. They could not bring themselves to torture him further—not after all he had already suffered. Even powerless to save him, they would not add to his pain.
But their resolve crumbled the instant Gorak spoke again: "If you can't do that, let's think about your families. You will get tons of motivation to do that."
Every mind in the room emptied in terror. The brutal truth hit hard—no choice existed; they must obey or see their loved ones destroyed.
Gorak's men lurked unseen around every home—wives, children, parents all one order away from vanishing.
The principal's mind raced in frantic panic. What if I log my family into Eternal Ascendancy right now? The shields would protect our bodies—Gorak couldn't reach us. I could report him inside and end this nightmare.
But the fantasy shattered in seconds. No. His politician friends would shield him—he'd vanish for a month, then come back for blood. My family, Mory's, the staff's—everyone dead because I tried to hide in the game.
Real bodies couldn't stay logged in forever anyway; the system forced logout at the first sign of weakness, just like that player who nearly died after three days of countinous playing.
And even if escape were possible, Gorak would never allow it. The principal wasn't in the game now—he was here, trapped in the same room, under the same gaze. The last spark of hope flickered out. There was no point thinking anymore.
Seeing Gorak's growing fury, the principal and most of the staff finally straightened in fear and moved toward the boy. Gorak turned to his men. "You four, stop. Let them take turns."
He then fixed his gaze on the three who still hadn't moved—Mory and two staff members. His face was already cold with anger. Mory felt the stare like ice on his skin; nerves flooded him as his mind recoiled at the thought of striking the child. He stood paralyzed, trembling. The other two mirrored him, frozen in dread.
After a long, silent moment, Gorak rose slowly and approached them. He stopped first before one who still bowed low. The man could only see Gorak's shoes, his body shaking violently.
Gorak loomed above him, then suddenly gripped the back of his head. Intense fear surged through the man, but before it could fully form, Gorak slammed his head into the ground. His mind blanked instantly on impact.
Gorak said nothing; he simply lifted the head and slammed it down again and again. The man lost consciousness after the first blow, yet Gorak continued, his brutality on full display.
When Gorak finally tired of the first man's punishment, he rose and turned toward the next one—the staff member who had straightened up and was now backing away slowly, sweat pouring down his face as he pleaded desperately. "Master Gorak, please don't hit me. I will do it. I will hit that child—no, that filth. Please don't punish me."
He had already witnessed what happened to the one who refused to move, and the sight burned in his mind. Previously, Gorak beat us, but never this extreme. What changed him to—
His thought cut off abruptly as his eyes drifted to the boy. Line by line, the child's own teachers struck him—some swinging weakly, hesitant and guilty, only for Gorak's men to force their arms harder, compelling them to hit with real force. The room filled with the rising rhythm of slaps and dull thuds.
Yet the boy's face remained utterly blank—no flinch, no gasp, no sound at all. The staff member suddenly understood: this child's complete lack of reaction, this emotionless shell, was exactly what had pushed Gorak to such savage extremes. He opened his mouth to think further, but Gorak's voice cut through like a blade.
"You should have thought about it before," Gorak said coldly. "Now don't run. Take your little punishment, then do your work. If you keep backing away, think about your family. It would be better if you stop."
The words paralyzed him instantly. His feet rooted to the floor; he stopped retreating and let Gorak close the distance. In his mind, he tried to steel himself with bitter irony: *Well, it's just a little beating. I can take it.*
But he was wrong. The moment Gorak reached him, a brutal kick slammed into his crotch with full, merciless power.
Crack~
A sickening sound echoed through the room. Everyone froze. Blood bloomed instantly across the man's pants, soaking the fabric red and dripping onto the floor in dark rivulets.
He let out one long, broken scream—"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"—before collapsing to his knees, hands clutching desperately at the ruined area.
Gorak's irritation flared at the noise. "Why are you crying like a little kid?" he sneered. "Look at that filth—he hasn't shed a single tear yet. How can you cry? You can't even match him. You're a failure."