If brute force was a solution, then the gang of blond thugs wouldn't have been so scared of the glasses guy.
In fact, the harder they had beaten him, the more excited he had gotten.
Eric prided himself on being a skilled martial artist, a rogue healer with a killer instinct, one hand saving lives, the other taking them.
But psychological disorders? Yeah… those weren't in his field of expertise. There was no cure for pure, unfiltered depravity. The only solution? Stay the hell away from him.
"Hey. Hey man. I beg you," Eric pleaded, his voice breaking. His pride was in tatters, but his survival instincts had long taken over. "Can you just go away? Please? I can't relive while you're watching!"
His entire body was tensed, pressed against the restroom wall.
Having another grown man stare at him while he tried to relieve himself was the kind of nightmare that could haunt someone for years.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced. An old warning from his master before he left the mountain:
