Shawn was woken by a sharp, aching pain in his neck.
He shot his head up and gasped. The vast lecture hall was empty. The last rays of the setting sun stained the rows of empty chairs a blood-red, casting long, ghostly shadows. Memories flooded back like a tide—the piercing ridicule in the locker room, Eric's cold "disgusting," and Ben's vicious curses. These voices had circled his mind all night, finally dragging him into a deep abyss of exhaustion during Professor Marshall's hypnotic lecture.
He glanced at his watch and his heart stopped—class had been over for almost an hour! He had been completely forgotten.
Frantically sweeping his books into his backpack, Shawn bolted out the door as if fleeing a disaster. Most of the lights in the hallway were off. In the dim light, his shadow was stretched and distorted, like another imprisoned soul. He kept his head down, wanting only to escape this suffocating silence as quickly as possible.
Just as he reached the middle of the first-floor hallway, the door of a classroom to his side clicked open. Four or five figures filed out, like a wall, blocking his path.
The one in the lead, hands in his pockets, a malicious grin like a hyena's on his face, was Ben.
"Well, well, look who it is. Our 'Miss Succubus' has finally woken up?" Ben's voice echoed in the empty hallway, filled with undisguised malice. "I've been waiting so long the flowers have withered."
The other equally burly football players behind him instinctively spread out, forming a semicircle that trapped Shawn against the cold wall.
Shawn's back was instantly soaked in a cold sweat. His heart pounded wildly, almost shattering his sternum. "Ben, what do you want?"
"What do I want?" Ben sneered, taking a step forward, his spit nearly spraying onto Shawn's face. "Don't you have a fucking clue? Harassing Eric every day, and now you're spreading your gay stink everywhere? Aren't you disgusting?"
"I didn't harass him!" Shawn's voice was shrill with fear.
"Still talking back!" Ben's face darkened. Without warning, he lifted his foot and kicked Shawn hard in the thigh!
The sharp pain made Shawn cry out and curl up.
"Hold him!" Ben ordered. The others swarmed in, roughly pinning Shawn against the wall. Fists and boots rained down like hail, striking his back, his stomach, his legs. At first, it was a sharp, stabbing pain, but it soon went numb, becoming a dull, distant thudding sound.
He couldn't make out their filthy words; his ears were filled with the buzzing of his own rushing blood. The world became a spinning, gray vortex. The humiliation, far worse than the pain, wrapped around his heart like a poisonous vine, tightening its grip.
"Alright!" After what felt like an eternity, Ben's voice sounded as if from underwater.
The fists and feet stopped. Ben grabbed a handful of Shawn's hair, forcing him to lift his bloodless face. Ben slapped his cheeks insultingly with his palm, the force not light.
"Listen up, you piece of trash," Ben leaned in and said, word by word. "Stay away from Eric. If I see you sticking to him like a piece of gum again, I'll beat you every time I see you. Got it?"
Shawn lowered his eyelashes, saying nothing. A warm drop of liquid escaped his control, slid past the cut on his lip, and landed on the cold floor tile.
"Fuck, you gone mute?" Ben yanked his hair hard, a tearing pain shooting through his scalp.
Shawn's spirit was completely numb. Like a hollowed-out doll, he obediently let out a broken syllable: "Ah."
Ben let go with satisfaction, as if tossing aside a piece of trash. Shawn slid down the wall to the floor.
"Let's go, time for practice," Ben said to his cronies. The group walked away, laughing and talking, their footsteps fading into the distance, as if they had just completed a trivial warm-up exercise.
In the empty hallway, Shawn curled up in the corner, every part of his body screaming in pain. But that pain was nothing compared to the utter desolation that had been crushed inside his heart.
Why me?Why do I have to endure this?All because of that damned system...
An unprecedented rage and despair, like magma, erupted in his chest.
"Bullshit system!" he roared in his mind, every word soaked in blood and tears. "What the hell are you? You enjoy watching me get beaten like a dog, don't you? Huh? Is this what you wanted? Fuck you! I curse you! I curse you, you coward hiding in the shadows! You bastard!"
Just as he was being consumed by this destructive emotion—
[Curse has been received.]
[Detecting host's strong desire for revenge and thirst for power.]
[System is now issuing a special promotion mission: The Blood Sacrifice.]
The cold, emotionless electronic voice once again sounded directly in the depths of his mind.