Does continuing to administer electrical shocks to someone who is already unconscious still serve any purpose? The individual can no longer feel pain, and death is swiftly approaching. Yet, curiously, Principal Kampra seems completely indifferent to these facts. He persists in driving electrical currents through the idiot's body, penetrating every corner, every muscle, every nerve, every bone...
The electrical currents surge within the idiot's body. They strike every cell, using what appears to be a brutal force, yet is, in fact, an intricately refined power stimulating the body. The wounds from the day's work, now torn open, decay rapidly under the influence of the electricity, peeling away to reveal new skin, regenerating swiftly under the same electric impulse. His internal organs become more active, each meridian and blood vessel cleared and revived by the current. The shocks dismantle any blockages and impurities in his veins.
Externally, the idiot's body is scorched black, emitting smoke and a faint smell of burning flesh. Yet, inside, every fiber of his being—from the tips of his hair to the depths of his bones—is repeatedly assaulted by the electrical force, enduring its "torment." The sluggish cells are repeatedly awakened, transformed, and divided.
"Hahaha, so that's it. How interesting!"
Annihilation did not open its eyes, and its words did not penetrate the unconscious idiot's mind. Still, it spoke—
"Fascinating indeed! So, this is what you, old man, truly desire to do? How amusing, truly amusing! Well then, now that I know the answer, why bother stopping? Bring it on! Let this fool suffer a bit more. And wouldn't it be best if, in addition to this body, I could also electrify that brain of his?"
The silver moonlight cascades from the vast sky, quietly observing every subtle change in the world below. The swimming pool reflects the sky's beauty. In this place, where no fourth person can witness, everything unfolds in silence...
Splash.
The idiot's body emits smoke, his skin completely charred. Principal Kampra releases his grip, letting the child collapse to the ground, the residual electric sparks causing involuntary spasms.
"This is your first punishment. Since today marks your first day of work, I will forgive you and give you a chance. It is June now, and these three months before September are the busiest for the pool. During this period, you must accomplish the task of filling an empty pool within sixteen hours. Until you complete it, I will continue punishing you."
With his hands clasped behind his back, Principal Kampra walks coldly past the idiot. Just as he is about to leave for the bathhouse, he stops, turning back to gaze at the child with an icy, unfeeling look. He speaks coldly,
"However, if you fail to complete this task even once within these three months, I will expel you from this school on the first day of September. Remember, if you want a place to stay, food to eat, and water to drink, you must complete this task. Now, go and rest."
His cold words struck like a hammer upon the ground. Principal Kampra discarded the idiot and the bread on the lounge chair, leaving with no further words. Only the faint light of the crescent moon continued to bathe the pool in silence...
The idiot lay motionless, as if sensing something, the bread staring with wide eyes, too frightened to cry. And so, it waited—one minute, two minutes... After ten minutes of waiting, the idiot on the floor finally stirred.
"Mmm..."
He moved, extending his hands to push against the ground, slowly rising. His movements were sluggish, but there was no sign of fatigue—only hesitation. But... is this possible? After a full day of strenuous labor and the electric shock he just endured, how could he still have so much energy left?
Impossible, yet it is happening. The idiot slowly stood, his charred skin and flesh peeling off in large chunks. In the moonlight, he raised his hands, staring blankly at the skin on his palms. He clenched his fists, released them, and clenched again...
(What is this feeling? It's as if... my body has completely changed?)
He raised his right arm and, in one fluid motion, gripped Annihilation by the handle. This was not the first time he had done so, but this time, it felt more coordinated, faster, almost as though something was different. What is happening?
The blood-red eyes opened, sneering at the idiot. It offered no explanation, only watching him with a look that seemed to enjoy the spectacle. Upon seeing that expression, the idiot knew he would not receive any answers. Letting go, he allowed Annihilation to return to its chain before walking to the lounge chair and picking up the small loaf of bread.
Silver moonlight illuminated the small loaf's face, highlighting the expression of fear, the silent tears that she was too afraid to shed. The idiot cradled her gently and exhaled softly. He extended his left hand, letting her tiny fingers curl around his index finger...
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
"Mmm... wahhh~!"
With the calm reassurance, the little loaf finally burst into tears. The young child, still innocent and naive, crying for reasons unknown. But... perhaps that no longer matters.
"Grrr…"
No, it seems it does matter...
The idiot rubbed his stomach, now realizing that he had not eaten all day. Though his physical exhaustion had dissipated, hunger remained unchanged. Glancing at the empty bowl beside him and then at the small girl's cries...
"Are you hungry?"
He clutched his stomach as it growled. Amidst the sound of her cries, he glanced indifferently toward the distant student dormitory, where the lights twinkled faintly...
...
Meanwhile, after leaving the pool, Principal Kampra did not return to the staff dormitory but instead ascended to the top of the tall tower. Once seated in the leather chair of his office, he pressed the bell on his desk. At the faint sound, two familiar children, around eleven or twelve years old, cautiously entered.
One was a chubby boy, the other covered in freckles.
"Filte from the Holy Shield family, and Insleton from the Firewing family. You two are quite punctual."
The chubby boy and the freckled child stood before the desk, gazing at Principal Kampra with confused eyes. Kampra, leaning back in his chair, spoke flatly:
"Did you sleep, as I told you to?"
The freckled Insleton remained silent, but the chubby Filte quickly responded:
"Yes... Yes, Mr. Kampra. We slept."
Kampra nodded. "So, you should be well-rested now, correct?"
Insleton said nothing, and once again, it was Filte who replied.
Kampra opened a file on his desk, speaking slowly, "The Holy Shield family and the Firewing family are both auxiliary families to the Gudse family. As supporters of the Gudse family, do you think you have the ability to assist your superiors? In other words... how do you assess your own strength?"
Filte's face twitched, as if wanting to speak but held back in fear. At this moment, Insleton, who had remained silent, scratched his nose and stepped forward.
"Mr. Kampra, while we may be far from the genius of young Master Daelau, both of us have reached the mid-level stage of Body Refining. Compared to most students of our age, we are much stronger."
Insleton's tone was polite but not humble. He was courteous because, after all, this was the principal. And though Insleton was cautious, he had no reason to fear a mere educator. As a member of the Firewing family, with its status and military power in the Empire, he viewed Kampra as insignificant.
Kampra seemed unaware of Insleton's tone. He snorted coldly. After his snort, Filte, unable to hold back any longer, spoke again:
"Uh... Mr. Kampra, you asked us to sleep during the day, and now we're here... What is it you need from us?"
Kampra nodded, saying, "Filte, I believe you are a student of the Martial Combat department. Insleton, you, according to your Firewing family's tradition, entered the Technological department, correct?"
Neither answered.
"But, according to your transcripts, it seems your credits are insufficient. Skipping classes and missing exams have serious consequences, it seems."
As a principal, Kampra had a sharp eye for academic performance, a weakness for all students. Perhaps Insleton could afford to be disrespectful because of his family, but that did not mean his family would overlook his poor grades. Especially not with his brothers, who had suffered mockery and ridicule far worse than death.
Thinking of this, Insleton lowered his head, and his tone grew more submissive.
"Mr. Kampra... I'm sorry... at least... if possible... please don't tell my parents. I promise! I'll work hard to improve my grades when the new semester begins!"
Seeing Insleton lower his head, Filte beside him nodded enthusiastically.