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James's fists came down in relentless succession, the principal's face now a canvas of blood. Blood oozed from his forehead and the corners of his mouth, mingling with the rain as it streamed down his cheeks. The principal's eyes were swollen shut, his body unable to support itself, collapsing to the ground like a shattered clay figure, allowing the cold rain to pelt his face and soak him through. He gasped weakly, his entire being feeling as if it had been ruthlessly torn apart; his limbs lay limp, completely devoid of any strength to resist, leaving only a faint flicker of consciousness.
James panted slightly, a victorious grin spreading across his face, his eyes glinting with cruel delight. He bent down and roughly grabbed the principal by the collar, yanking him up from the ground with force. The principal's body dangled in James's grip, his legs hanging uselessly, his mouth slightly agape as he struggled for breath. Blood and rain mixed on his face, rendering him pale and pitiful.
"Still not convinced?" James sneered softly, a malicious grin creeping across his face. He then swung his fist downwards, delivering a powerful uppercut that struck the principal's chin like a blade. "Bang!" The dull thud echoed as the principal's head snapped back violently, his body momentarily suspended in the air before being sent crashing back to the ground.
He hung in the air for just an instant before falling heavily onto the earth, muddy blood splattering everywhere and covering his already numb skin, pressing him back into the cold, slick soil. Lying there, the principal's gaze was vacant; his arms fell limply at his sides as if all strength and hope had been utterly crushed. He resembled a broken puppet, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his breath that proved he was still alive.
James stood above him, throwing back his head and letting out a maniacal roar that echoed across the playground, filled with triumphant joy and unyielding pride. He seemed to become the undisputed ruler, like a gorilla triumphing over its challenger, reaffirming his dominance. James raised his arms high, eyes wild and cruel, a smug smile curling at the corners of his mouth as if the entire world lay prostrate at his feet, no one able to challenge him.
With James's victory assured, Emma, the Cultists, and those students who had long since lost their sanity erupted into frenzied cheers. They seemed infused with a manic spirit; their eyes bloodshot as they raised their arms high and let out piercing cries. Their voices rose and fell in waves filled with mad adoration and unrestrained ecstasy; it was as if James's victory was their own—he had become an undeniable deity in their eyes.
"James! James! Praise our leader!" Emma's voice rang out shrill yet fervent as she knelt on the ground with her hands raised high, her face alight with frenzied worship while her eyes sparkled with near-religious admiration for James. The Cultists followed suit, chanting praises for James with trembling voices filled with madness and excitement as if each word could elevate their souls.
The students screamed and laughed wildly; some waved their hands frantically while others fell into the mud, their palms smeared with blood yet indifferent to it—almost as if they were participating in some horrific ritual. They embraced one another, shouting incoherently in a frenzy; some danced wildly like demons celebrating a dark festival. The playground seemed shrouded in an eerie fog where no one cared about the harshness of reality anymore.
James stood at the center of this chaos, laughing maniacally—a sound brimming with arrogant delight and unshakeable confidence. He looked down upon the bloodied principal lying on the ground with scornful derision in his eyes as if gazing at a meaningless loser.
"How does it feel, Mr. Principal? Is this your so-called resistance? Is this what you call justice?" James's voice was cold and biting, laced with mocking laughter as he gestured towards the frenzied followers around him. "Look at them; they are the true future! And you? Just an outdated failure kneeling in this pool of blood from your past!"
James laughed loudly again—his laughter filled with cruel mockery and arrogance—as if he were the master of this madness, trampling everything beneath him while reveling in his victory.
The principal lay helplessly on the ground; his vision blurred and swollen eyes unable to discern anything around him. Faintly, he heard James's icy and malevolent taunts echoing around him—each word dripping with disdain and arrogance that seemed to crush any remnants of dignity or will he had left. As James's voice grew increasingly arrogant, the principal sensed an eerie shift in the air around him—as if an invisible force stirred it up—growing heavier and more oppressive by the moment.
The force seemed to transcend his understanding of reality, the air around him thickening like a viscous liquid, making it hard to breathe. A low hum filled the principal's ears, a cacophony of voices whispering ominously, deep and chilling. The oppressive power rendered him immobile, his body seemingly anchored to the ground, heart racing, muscles taut with fear, teetering on the brink of collapse.
As James's curses intensified, the surroundings began to tremble; the ground quaked slightly as if the entire playground resonated with this force. The principal struggled to lift his body, looking towards James, who stood in the center of the playground, lips quivering as if reciting some ancient and sinister incantation. As his voice rose higher, the light around them dimmed, the blood-red moonlight appearing even more vivid under the shroud of this dark power, as if the entire world was enveloped in this eerie atmosphere.
Suddenly, the principal felt himself enveloped by an invisible force that was cold and immense, surging forth from the depths of hell with a sense of destructive oppression. His body floated uncontrollably, feet lifting off the ground as if supported by unseen hands. His limbs were forcibly stretched apart to their limits, muscles and joints ruthlessly pulled, bones creaking softly as pain sliced through every nerve like a sharp blade, causing him to tremble involuntarily.
The pressure of this force grew stronger, threatening to tear his body in half. His limbs were forced open like a crucifix nailed in the void; every muscle strained against this pull. Shoulders, elbows, knees, and ankles were immobilized by this power. He could only hang helplessly in mid-air, feeling his body being torn apart by endless agony, as if he had become a sacrificial offering suspended high above in darkness.
Around him, students and cultists fell to their knees, their eyes filled with fervent worship and frenzied delight as they chanted James's name repeatedly. It was as if this scene before them was the ultimate manifestation of James's power. Their gazes were hollow and mad; hands raised to the sky while they sang praises for James, as though he had become their sole faith, and the principal's suffering was an indispensable part of this ritual.
The principal's consciousness began to blur; the pulling and twisting of his limbs brought unbearable pain. Every muscle and bone protested against this evil force. The dark energy surged into him like a torrent, eroding his willpower and drawing his soul into an unfathomable abyss. He felt his awareness being gradually consumed, all sensation buried beneath an endless darkness as he floated helplessly in this void.
James stood on the ground with a slight smirk on his lips, eyes filled with cold satisfaction. His arms were slightly outstretched as if orchestrating everything around him. He gazed down at the principal's suspended body with endless mockery in his eyes, as if this torment was truly his ultimate goal.
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