"Answer me!" Standing atop a podium and cursing aloud in rage was a bald, middle-aged man, gracefully arcing his spittle as he pointed at a kneeling boy before him, "Do you plead guilty?"
Thwak!
The sharp, ear-splitting sound of a whip resounded, leaving behind a reddish mark with traces of oozing blood on the back of a student. He was aged fourteen, bald, with his feet and calves clamped together, and chained to the floor.
Arms tied behind his back, they were pulled as forward as possible, like a lever, pushing his face to the floor. The wrists were then chained to the floor, pointing his back to the sky. And on it, rained the whip strikes, producing sharp echoes.
"Grahhh!" Were all the screams the student could let out in response to the strikes. And with every strike, he felt his energy leaking out, lowering his strength permanently, causing months of training efforts to go down the drain.
"Plead guilty!" The middle-aged bald man cursed out in anger once again, as another whip struck the student's back. He struck, struck, and kept striking until traces of the student's vertebrae became visible.
Only then did he stop, for he didn't intend to result in the student's death. No, he would gladly kill this student, if possible. Most, if not everyone at the Academy of Accumulation intended to do the same too. However, the Clan Rules dictated otherwise.
Thwack!
The whip was formed purely out of water, drawing a beautiful arc through the sky as it lashed one last time on the student, this time on the face, since hitting the back anymore would kill him. It then dispersed into mist and flew towards the bald middle-aged man like a cloud and gathered within a bottle hung at his hip. The bottle seemed fancy, having a crystalline texture coupled with a metallic sheen.
"If you do it again…no, do it again and I'll whip you as many times as I can." The bald middle-aged man turned around, spat out once, arced his spittle like a projectile into the student's eye, and walked away while patting the cloud that had gathered next to his bottle.
The cloud was bloody red, having absorbed every drop of blood that had spilled out of the student's back. Slowly, the student nudged his head upwards, eyeing the retreating back of the bald middle-aged man as he noticed the last segment of the bloody cloud enter the fancy, crystalline bottle.
He was kneeling on a bluish-grey surface made out of granite, rough and hard. The texture prickled his knees, causing endless piercing pain. The student's eyes darted to the side, noticing he was within what appeared to be a stadium, semi-circular in shape.
There were seat stands all over, which were a series of steps made from a reddish-brown granite. There were students sprawled in small groups across the stands, having gathered exclusively to scowl upon the student getting punished.
A bald girl downed a mouthful of a drink and cursed under her breath while staring at the kneeling student. She got to her feet and left, while continuing to spew a string of inaudible curses.
Another group of boys made scornful remarks while pointing at the kneeling student and left once the punishment had ended. Two things remained consistent here, whether it be a boy, girl, teacher, or student: First was their scorn towards the kneeling student.
Second, was their baldness. They were bald, every last one of them.
Staring at the sunlight reflecting off the bald heads from the stands, the kneeling student couldn't help but burst into laughter, "Bald, they are all BALD!"
"So," His eyes grew moist in realisation, "The regression was a success."
"And," He eyed his kneeling self, "I've successfully reincarnated at my first destination."
"Then, I guess I should start." He closed his eyes and spontaneously activated his cultivation technique, accepting the memories dormant within the individual he had reincarnated into. A few minutes later, bearing a mild headache, the student opened his eyes, "...what kind of fuckery is this?"
The individual he had reincarnated into was named Boiboi, which in the local language meant…
Why was this Ewworm born?
The Ewworm was a creature unique to the region, famous for having an exclusive diet of shit.
The Clan had named him Boiboi only because they couldn't find a better derogatory term. He was as desired in the place as a piece of turd that had left the rectum. The reason was intrinsically tied to the root foundation of worship that held up the place.
His actions, moreover, didn't help him either. As Boiboi was a maniac with itchy fingers who couldn't help himself but peel off facial skin. He was literally being whipped for peeling the facial skin of a student an hour earlier. 'And it's not even the first time this has happened.'
A subtle groan leaked out of him as Torq came to terms with his situation, 'I'll figure out this mess later. For now,'
He sensed his wounds, noticing that the bleeding had mostly stopped, with the flesh showing signs of regeneration. In this world, everyone could regenerate, and their speed of regeneration was directly in proportion to their strength.
Prana!
It was the energy formed by the fusion of the energies of the body, mind, and soul. This energy was ever-present in its healing efforts. From the moment the first strike landed on Boiboi, his Prana got to work on the wounds.
And in response, the bald middle-aged man had whipped him exactly to the extent the quantity of Prana remaining in his body was enough to ensure he wouldn't bleed out and die from the wounds. 'They truly wish to punish me as much as possible, huh?'
At a glance, reincarnating into the body of such a hated individual felt hopeless. However, despite the horribility of the situation, all Torq did was break into a chuckle, "Huh! Haha…haha!"
'Based on the memories, I've arrived exactly an hour after the Seat has been claimed. Perfect!' The fact that he had nailed the timing of regression meant he wouldn't have to worry about his subsequent regressions messing up the timeline of things. After all, in every regression, he would be reincarnating at prime locations of chaos and importance.
His reincarnation focused on individuals who wouldn't have achieved much in life, but were closely connected to the individual that would be the focus of events happening around. And Boiboi's case wasn't any different.
Tch!
"Punishments aren't meant to be happy about! Fucking psychopath!" Interjected a snarky voice which sounded pretty similar to Boiboi. At his every steep, the floor seemed to turn into powder for an instant before recovering to its original texture, fully dampening the sounds of his footsteps.
Approaching in silence, holding the fancy, crystalline bottle that had just been used by the bald middle-aged man, was a lean, bald boy. The world seemed to swirl around him, as if he was capable of dominating any region he strutted into. With eyes seething in hatred, he glared down upon Boiboi.
'And, he's here.' Torq lifted his head, only to receive a knee face-first. 'The existence worshipped by this region.'
As his head flailed around, groggy from the knee-hit to the face, his lips curled up to the ears, revealing his entire set of teeth. It was possible because he had widened them enough until the cheeks tore off, forming a rumbustious smile, "Hello,"
"My unfortunate Brother."