The moment the button illuminated— Every person in the room froze.
Zyla’s eyes widened.
Jarrick’s stomach dropped.
Blaze stopped smiling.
Blizzard immediately recognized the device.
“Please, sir—” The Savant ignored her.
His finger pressed down.
BLEEP.
Pain exploded through the room.
SSSSSTTT–KRKRK!
Blaze screamed.
Blizzard screamed.
The Vents convulsed violently as crimson energy surged through their holographic forms.
“AAAAHHHH!!” The sound echoed off the concrete walls.
Jarrick doubled over.
His hands clenched against the armrests of his chair.
Zyla gritted her teeth.
The shock wasn’t being delivered to them directly.
But the pain their Vents experienced traveled through every neural link connecting them.
It felt like somebody was driving knives through their skulls.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The punishment lasted only seconds.
It felt like hours.
Then— The Savant released the button.
The electricity vanished.
Silence returned.
Blaze struggled to remain upright.
Blizzard’s holographic form flickered repeatedly.
Neither looked capable of speaking.
For several moments— Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Nobody dared look directly at the man behind the desk.
The Savant calmly folded his hands.
As though nothing unusual had happened.
“If there are any more mishaps…” The Savant’s voice remained calm.
Professional.
Controlled.
Which somehow made it worse.
“The power stays on until your Vents cease to function.” The room went completely silent.
Jarrick felt something cold settle in his chest.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something closer to helplessness.
Because everyone in the room knew the truth.
The Vents weren’t equipment.
They weren’t software.
They weren’t tools.
They were family.
The Savant leaned forward slightly.
A small smile crossed his face.
Not warm.
Not kind.
The opposite.
“Then…” His eyes settled on Jarrick.
“You’ll be less than a cripple.” The words struck harder than the electricity ever could.
Jarrick stared at the floor.
For once— He had no sarcastic response.
No joke.
No comeback.
Nothing.
Zyla slowly placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder.
Not because she had anything to say.
But because she knew exactly how much that had hurt.
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
No speeches.
No encouragement.
No second chances.
The Savant simply returned to his work.
As if the punishment had been nothing more than routine maintenance.
As if none of them mattered.
The office doors closed behind the siblings.
The corridor beyond felt strangely quiet.
Blaze floated beside Jarrick.
Blizzard hovered beside Zyla.
Nobody spoke.
For a while.
Then Blaze finally broke the silence.
“Well.” Jarrick looked up.
“Yeah?” “We’ve had better days.” For the first time all evening— A tiny smile appeared.
Just a tiny one.
“Yeah.” “We have.”