In *Awakened Academy*, things were far from peaceful. Have you ever done something bad just because you were angry? It's a natural reaction for some—breaking things, yelling, tearing up papers, anything to release that pent-up frustration. But for others, those simple acts aren't enough. They need something more... satisfying.

For some, the thrill comes from targeting another person. Just the thought of unleashing all that anger on someone who can't fight back is enough to send a shiver down their spine. Yelling at them, pushing them around, humiliating them in front of everyone—it gives a sense of power, a twisted satisfaction.

That's why they call it *bullying*.

At *Awakened Academy*, the basketball court wasn't just a place for sports. Sure, it looked like a regular modern-day arena with rows of seats for an audience to cheer and watch and it could be used for both vallyball and basketball. But in this academy, no one ever came to play basketball or vallyball, Why?

Because it had become something else entirely—a hunting ground for bullies.

In theory, students were allowed to use magic and essence stones to make the game more interesting, as long as they didn't use offensive spells. But that wasn't the reason the court was deserted. It wasn't about the game anymore. It had become the place where second-year students would gang up on the first-years. The bullying here was like a ritual, a cycle that never ended.

The second-years, having been tormented themselves the year before, now turned their pain into a weapon. They bullied the first-years simply because they could, or sometimes just for the fun of it. They didn't need a reason. It was all about power, and power was addictive.

You'd think the academy would step in and stop it, right? But no. No one ever reported it. The bullies made sure of that. They would threaten to ruin your family, destroy your reputation, and a scared first-year would always back down. What could they do? The bullying grew bigger and bigger each year, and by the time someone thought of standing up, it was already too late. They had to endure the torment for a whole year, sometimes even all three years, until they became the bullies themselves.

It was a vicious cycle that everyone knew about, yet no one dared to stop.

The basketball court was filled with tension. Around nine second-year students stood in the center, their presence commanding attention. Six of them were tall boys with strong physiques, while the three girls wore extremely short skirts, the front buttons of their shirts undone, giving them a seductive and careless look. These girls weren't just troublemakers—they were delinquent girls, and they didn't care who knew it. The group's leader, Mirael Saphirion, stood at the front, smirking. He was the son of a famous landlord, and he carried himself like someone who knew he could get away with anything.

Mirael had a sharp, clean-cut face, his light-colored hair hanging casually over his eyes, which were a striking shade of green. He wasn't just another bully; he had status, and that made him even more dangerous. In front of him, sitting on the volleyball ground, were about twenty to twenty-five students. All of them were either barons or commoners. After all, they couldn't bully someone of higher status, could they?

Each one of the students had a makeshift nameplate around their necks, like some kind of collar, made by the bullies so they could easily identify them, as if they were pets. The humiliation was thick in the air. These nameplates weren't just labels—they were signs that these students were nothing in the eyes of Mirael and his gang.

Mirael cleared his throat, the mockery dripping from his voice as he spoke. "Ahem... Ahem... I'm Mirael Saphirion, this year's president of cheering and welcome activities. And it's our job to make sure we welcome some of the first years in the most *unique* way possible," he said, his lips curling into a smug grin.

"And those chosen individuals are... all of you!" he added, clapping for himself like it was the funniest thing in the world.

For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was Mirael's lonely clapping, echoing awkwardly in the empty court. His grin widened as he watched the uncomfortable silence stretch. Then, one of the bullies snapped, "Hey! What are you all staring at? Clap, you idiots!"

The shout startled everyone, and before they could think, the first-years began to clap out of fear. Their claps were slow and hesitant at first, but soon the sound filled the court.

Clap... Clap... Clap...

The sound was hollow, lifeless, as it bounced off the walls of the court. It felt wrong, but none of them dared to stop.

"Okay, okay... stop!" Mirael said, raising his hand with a laugh, as if he'd done them all a favor.

The clapping died down, but the fear didn't. For the first-years, this was only the beginning, and they knew it. The humiliation, the bullying—it was all part of the game. And in this court, there were no rules to protect them.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Alright," Mirael began, pacing back and forth in front of the seated students, "Let's get this started. We can't let our special guests just sit around and look so bored, can we?"

The second-years behind him snickered, the sound sharp and cruel. One of the girls, her short skirt swaying as she moved, leaned against one of the taller boys and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh under his breath.

Mirael clapped his hands together, his grin widening. "Bring it here," he ordered sharply.

Two of the boys, following his command, dragged out a board on wheels. They pulled it into the center of the court, positioning it in front of the group of first-years. The board had a paragraph written on it, scribbled in messy handwriting. Mirael pointed at it with a smirk.

"Alright, listen up!" he said, his voice filled with mockery. "This is a very simple song, even little kids can sing it. So, I expect all of you to sing it with enthusiasm. But don't worry, we'll give you a demonstration first."

With that, Mirael stepped back, his grin never leaving his face. "Ready, set, go!" he shouted, and two of the second-years, a boy and a girl, started singing. Mirael joined in, his voice low at first but growing louder.

When I was raped, When I was raped~

He spread my legs, He spread my legs~

He forced me, He forced me to close my eyes~

If it were few men, It'd be alright

But there were 50 to 60 men~

The song was disgusting and filled with vulgar lyrics, the kind that made your stomach turn just listening to it. But they sang it with the same seriousness as if it were some kind of holy chant. The second-year girls struck obscene poses as they sang, lifting their skirts to flash their panties or shaking their hips in exaggerated ways. The boys weren't much better, grinning and making gestures that only added to the humiliation of the moment.

The entire scene was like some twisted performance, and every action felt like a slap in the face to the first-years. It wasn't just a song — it was a way to mock them, to make them feel small and powerless.

But the first-years stayed silent. They didn't sing along, didn't react. Their faces showed fear and disgust, but they sat there, taking it, their gazes darting to one another as if trying to find a way out of the nightmare. No one dared to say a word or even move. They were trapped, forced to endure this cruel and demeaning "welcome."

Mirael's grin grew even wider as he saw the first-years' nervous faces. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you just too scared to sing?"

The silence stretched on, no one daring to respond or join in the horrible song. Mirael didn't seem angry, though. Instead, his smile became even more sinister. "Oh, I get it," he said, pretending to be thoughtful. "You're not singing because you're hungry, right?"

It was an excuse none of the first-years had thought of, but the moment he said it, one of the boys quickly jumped at the chance to escape. "Yes! We're hungry! That's why we're not singing. I'll just go grab something from the cafeteria!" he said, forcing a smile as if he'd found the perfect way out.

Mirael clicked his tongue, clearly amused by their desperate attempt. "Tch... Tch... Tch... Is that so? Are all of you hungry?"

The first-years exchanged glances, and realizing this might be their only chance to avoid further humiliation, they all nodded quickly. "Yes, we are!" they replied in unison, voices hopeful.

Mirael tilted his head, still grinning. "Are you all hungry?" he repeated, this time louder.

"Yes, we are!" They shouted again, their voices stronger as they thought they might actually get away.

Mirael clapped his hands, feigning excitement. "Well, of course we knew that! We're not that cruel, you know. We've already prepared some food for you!"

He waved his hand, and a few of the boys and two of the girls disappeared behind the court. They returned moments later, carrying several bowls—six or seven in total. The bowls were large, filled with something that looked like soup, though it was hard to tell exactly what was inside from a distance.

Mirael smirked. "Here's the deal," he said. "We'll split you into groups of four, and each group has to finish one of these bowls."

All the first-years grouped themselves into circles of four, standing nervously around the large bowls placed in front of them. Each bowl was covered with a red cloth, and the air was thick with tension. When they finally pulled off the cloth, their eyes widened in horror.

Inside the bowls was something that looked worse than anyone could have imagined. The food was rotten, filled with squirming worms, crawling over what seemed like a meal left out for weeks. The sight and smell were so bad that even animals wouldn't touch it.

But what could they do? They had no choice. They had to eat it or face even worse punishment.

One boy, however, couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his fist on the ground, making a loud thud. "I've had enough of this! I'm not eating this garbage!" he shouted, his face red with anger.

A delinquent girl with a smug look on her face stepped forward. Her mini skirt barely covered her legs, and the top buttons of her shirt were undone, showing off her cleavage. She crouched down in front of the boy, her lips curling in disappointment. "Oh, really?" she said, pretending to be upset. "I thought you were braver than that." She then leaned closer, tugging her shirt down to reveal more of her chest. "But if you eat it," she whispered, her voice sweet and tempting, "I'll let you squeeze them."

The boy's face turned bright red, unable to look away from her chest. His heart raced, and the thought of refusing suddenly became much harder. "I-I'll eat it! I'll eat it!" he stammered, grabbing a handful of the disgusting food and stuffing it into his mouth.

The moment the slimy, foul taste hit his tongue, he gagged, coughing and then throwing up immediately. The others around him recoiled in disgust. But even after that, the thought of the girl's offer still lingered in his mind. Driven by his desire, he shoved more of the rotten food into his mouth, fighting back his nausea.

The delinquent girl laughed, watching the boy humiliate himself. "Look at him! He's really eating it! What an idiot!" she said, her laughter ringing through the court.

Bam!....

she kicked the boy hard in the face, knocking him onto the ground. He lay there, dazed, as she stood over him, pressing her foot onto his face. "You really thought I'd let you touch me?" she sneered, her voice full of contempt. "You're nothing but a fool. Like I'd ever like someone like you!" She threw her head back and laughed, her cruel laughter echoing in the court as the boy lay there, humiliated and broken.

The others stood around, silent and terrified, knowing that this was their reality now.

"Anyone else here who doesn't want to eat this *delicious* food?" Mirael's voice echoed through the court, dripping with mockery. The crowd of first-years fell silent, too scared to answer. For a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of leaves in the distance.

Then, a bold voice cut through the tension. "I don't want to eat this garbage either!" It was a girl's voice, firm and filled with confidence.

Mirael's smirk faltered, surprised that someone actually dared to speak up. His eyes scanned the crowd, finally landing on the source of the defiance. Standing in the middle of the group was a girl with long, jet-black hair that cascaded down her back, contrasting sharply with her ghostly pale skin. She looked delicate, almost fragile, like a porcelain doll that might break at the slightest touch. But her stance was strong, and her crimson red eyes—filled with rings that seemed to swirl within—gave off an eerie, unsettling aura. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something about her that made anyone who looked at her pause, unsure whether to be captivated or afraid.

Mirael squinted, his curiosity piqued. His gaze flicked down to the nameplate hanging around her neck, and he read it aloud, with a touch of disbelief. "Class B, Rank 6... Esdeath Crimson?"

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I don't know why but whenever I thinks of older of esdeath then only yor from Spy x family and Unohana from bleach comes to my mind...