People tend to get comfortable when things start turning into monotonous ones. It is called comfort zone, and it is one of the traits we humans have developed over the course of evolution.
Whenever we find something or somewhere safe, we would stick to it to survive. But as the time passed, this type of evolution became something different.
It became a trait symbolizing laziness. After all, the more you get comfortable, the more you will get stagnant.
And being stagnant means being content with yourself.
And this is not something I can ever accept.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Standing in front of the training dummy, different kinds of thoughts passed through my head.
“Huff…..”
Sweat was pouring from my face. It was the usual routine for me at this point. I woke up after sleeping for around three and a half hours and then started to train instantly.
“This should be enough for now.”
I mumbled, reaching out the towel utilizing the formula I had been working on. Follow current novels on ovl_Fir.et
「Telekinesis」
It was the name, though the definition itself is a lot more complex. First-ranked magic spell that enables the user to control the forces by creating fields.
As I left the training room, the chill of the winter night embraced me, and the darkness loomed overhead.
The academy’s corridors were quiet, the only sound echoing being the soft tap of my footsteps against the cold tiles.
“Huff….”
‘It had been a while, had it?’
It was exceptionally cold this time, contrary to last year. However, it was doubtful that I could even remember it correctly. Sometimes I wondered, was my memory even right?
‘Whatever.’
Then, I decided that thinking like this was pointless.
I walked briskly through the empty roads, my breath visible in the frigid air.
The dimly lit pathways and the occasional gusts of wind rattling the windows – it was a stark contrast to the bustling activity during the day.
As I ventured outside, the silence of the night was broken by distant sounds.
THUD! GIGGLE!
lightsnοvεl Intrigued, I followed the noises, my steps muffled on the snow-covered ground. As I approached, I could discern hushed voices and occasional laughter.
Peering around the corner, I saw a group of students gathered in an open area.
‘Hmm?’
They seemed engrossed in a clandestine activity. Curiosity getting the better of me, I silently moved closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.
It was unusual for any students to even be awake at this hour of time. Unless people are training maniacs like me, their motives would be shady.
That was my own analysis, though, as nothing was certain.
“I didn’t do anything like that….Please…Why don’t you believe me?”
However, as I had concealed my presence utilizing my trait [Shadowborne], I finally crossed enough distance to be able to hear everything I needed to know.
“Sob….Please….Sob….”
“Heh, look at this little thwart.”
As I witnessed the disturbing scene unfolding before me, my brain looked for any information for the people in front.
The girls, with a malicious glint in their eyes, circled around another student, their laughter echoing in the cold night air.
The victimized girl, visibly distressed, tried to defend herself with a meek voice, denying the accusations hurled at her.
‘I see….’
This was a common case that happened in the world. People tend to become cruel when they hold power.
After all, we are all beings with egos inside them, and that ego is something that continuously encourages us to become something.
‘It is a human’s desire to become a god, but that desire is what makes them sink.’
SLAP!
As the sound of a slap echoed around the place, giggles followed.
“Shut up, bitch. Who are you to lie before me!”
SLAP!
“Hick…..I didn’t do it…..I didn’t do it…..I didn’t do it…..”
“Oh, look who’s denying everything! We have proof, you little tramp! Or should I say, Mia?”
At the mention of the name ‘Mia’ specifically, the girl flinched.
“You thought we didn’t know, right? Nobody would notice, right? Our little M….I….A…..”
“Nooo….”
The girl continued to shrink while grabbing her knees with her arms. It was a common response to trauma, especially when it was something that the mind recognized as a threat to life.
The gesture of fetal position is an instinct that almost all humans have the moment they are born.
“Look at her Emma….She can’t even take it….” One of the other girls came forward while looking at ‘Mia’ like she was a bug.
My mind, devoid of empathy or guilt, continued its dispassionate analysis.
It recognized this pattern as a common manifestation of power dynamics among humans. The desire for dominance, for asserting one’s ego, often led to the degradation of others.
In times like these, I always found myself different from any general people out there, as if something inside me was always missing itself.
Like I was a person that came here as a silent observer.
The torment of the bullied girl escalated as one of the girl’s leaders grabbed her by her hair, cruelly forcing her to face the damning evidence on the smartwatch.
The screen is illuminated with compromising images, capturing moments of Mia’s vulnerability.
“See this, Mia? This was you, wasn’t it?” The girl named Emma taunted sadistically, her voice dripping with contempt. “Look how happy you were, sitting on the laps of those boys. Selling yourself like a cheap thrill.”
‘Mia,’ now physically restrained and emotionally battered, struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Tears streamed down her face as she vehemently denied the accusations, her voice reduced to desperate sobs.
“No… It’s not me… I never…” Mia’s words were choked by the vice-like grip on her hair.
No, it wasn’t because of the grip. From her eyes and the small gestures of her body, it was evident.
‘She gave up.’
Her tensed body suddenly relaxed as if she had already accepted her fate.
‘…..’
For some reason, it reminded me of previous Astron and his interactions with other students when he entered. Even though he was no longer here completely, he was still a part of mine.
Something….
A feeling appeared inside me.
The other girls, reveling in the spectacle, intensified their verbal assault, feeding off the power they held over Mia.
“Pathetic liar!”
SLAP!
“You thought you could fool everyone, huh?”
SLAP!
“I hate bitches like you the most! Do you know Ken dumped me because of you? He said she no longer liked me, and when I asked him if he had someone in his mind, he looked at you.”
The accusations and physical blows rained down on Mia, who was trapped in a nightmarish cycle of humiliation. The girls, fueled by a toxic blend of resentment and power, reveled in their role as tormentors.
“You are always getting on my nerves. Were you seducing guys with this hair? They call this silky?” one of the girls mocked, grabbing a handful of Mia’s hair with malicious intent.
People tended to ignore this fact because of the general conception of male aggressiveness. However, the reality of the female world is a lot more cruel than you would ever expect.
A woman’s grudge and methods to undermine others are not just limited to physical aspects. They not only destroy their enemy in physical form but also in social form.
They destroy the target’s reputation with gossip and use mental tormenting methods to torture.
And this was the perfect example of this case.
The viciousness of the assault seemed boundless, an unrestrained manifestation of the darker facets of human nature.
As the vile spectacle unfolded, Emma, the orchestrator of this twisted drama, called forth another girl into the malevolent spotlight.
‘Hmm?’
The timid figure with glasses and visible bruises on her body stumbled forward, casting furtive glances at the tormentors who had summoned her. It looked like she was another victim of a
“Look who we’ve got here! Our dear Mia’s not as innocent as she pretends,” Emma declared with a triumphant smirk. “This one here,” she gestured toward the bruised girl, “is the result of Mia’s little outburst when they were alone. Turns out our precious Mia has a darker side.”
The revelation injected a different shade of complexity into the situation. Mia, the seemingly helpless victim, had a side that contributed to the cycle of violence.
After all, there was no need to doubt that the girl named Emma was lying since she had no reason to do so.
The bruises on the timid girl testified to a narrative of reciprocal harm, blurring the lines between perpetrator and victim.
“Now, Melanie, it’s time to show Mia what she deserves,” Emma goaded, addressing the timid girl with the bruises. “Don’t let her get away with it. Give her a taste of her own medicine.”
Melanie hesitated, torn between the fear instilled by her tormentors and a glimmer of reluctance. The pressure to conform to the cycle of violence weighed heavily on her fragile shoulders.
“Come on, Melanie! Don’t let her off easy. Show her we won’t tolerate her crap!” Emma’s encouragement, laced with cruelty, pushed Melanie to the brink. With a hesitant resolve, she raised her hand, her palm trembling.
SLAP!
The sound echoed through the desolate night, mingling with the cold wind that whispered through the empty streets.
“How does it feel?” Emma taunted, her voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. The air seemed to thicken with tension as Melanie, caught in the web of coercion, gazed at Mia with conflicted emotions.
Melanie’s initial reluctance morphed into a grim determination. The smile that spread across her face, while unsettling, mirrored the twisted satisfaction Emma and the others derived from this macabre display.
On the cold winter night, under the indifferent gaze of the stars, Melanie raised her hand once again. The second and then third slaps landed with a resounding crack, the sound reverberating through the silent darkness.
SLAP!
Mia’s anguish was palpable, and the cycle of violence continued unabated. Each blow inflicted seemed to further erode any semblance of humanity in this cruel tableau.
“Keep going, Melanie! Make her pay for what she did to you,” Emma goaded, reveling in the power dynamics she orchestrated. Melanie, now fully succumbing to the dark currents around her, unleashed a barrage of slaps.
The once timid girl, now consumed by the perverse satisfaction of power, delivered each blow with a disturbing sense of satisfaction.
‘Bully-turned-bully behavior.’
It was a typical case and a behavior that contributed to the problem itself. The cold wind carried the sounds of violence and sadistic laughter, creating an eerie symphony under the starlit sky.
Despite my detached demeanor, a subtle urge to intervene flickered within me. It was an instinct, perhaps a trace of normality, trying to resist the apathy that usually governed my actions. However, my rational mind swiftly overruled this impulse.
‘No. It is pointless.’
This was humanity’s own nature, and I was no saint. Intervening offered no tangible benefits.
‘But….’
However, at that moment, from the corner of my eyes, something appeared in my vision from very far away.
‘I guess this is the hero’s job.’
It was the perfect tailored job for our hero, after all.