Served on a platter

"What's going on, guys?!" Persin shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

Luke's mind raced, trying to piece together the strange events unfolding before him. Some kind of mind erosion technique? he wondered, his thoughts frantic as he assessed the situation.

He understood what had to be done. Despite his desire to avoid attracting too much attention, he had no choice. If he simply ran, he would soon find himself facing other groups with most of his teammates incapacitated. He had to address their immediate crisis first.

Suddenly, the teammates on Luke's team who had been frenzied and erratic collapsed, unconscious.

"What the...!" Persin exclaimed, staring at the fallen figures in disbelief.

Persin let out a heavy sigh as he sank to the ground, visibly exhausted. "What happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

"I don't know," Luke said, his face a mask of calm despite the turmoil. "They just suddenly collapsed."

The attack had been so swift and subtle that Persin hadn't even seen it coming. It was clear that Luke's ability to execute such a technique was concealed, leaving Persin struggling to grasp the full picture.

"Should we leave them and continue?" Luke asked, his voice steady but urgent.

"Hmmm…" Persin pondered, still seated on the ground. He wrestled with the thought. Carrying them with us will be a burden. Should we just leave them behind?

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Luke's hands moved with decisive precision as he slapped Geld, Tael, and Cell, one after another. It was a blunt and jarring method, but Luke's hidden ability had left them in a state where such measures were necessary.

Persin watched in astonishment as the boys snapped back to consciousness, their confusion giving way to agitation. "I don't think slapping them would get them to wa—" Persin began, but his words faltered as the boys sat up abruptly, their minds clearing from the haze.

"Wo…rk," Persin finished, his voice trailing off in confusion.

"What the?" Cell roared, his voice filled with disbelief.

"How dare you touch my handsome face!" Tael protested, his vanity momentarily overriding his confusion.

"I feel sick!" Geld groaned, his head spinning.

"What… happened?" Cell asked shyly, trying to make sense of the sudden shift.

"It actually worked!" Persin shouted, a note of relief breaking through his frustration.

"Now do the same to the girls," Persin directed with renewed urgency.

"No can do," Luke replied with a mischievous grin. "I'm not quite interested in getting slapped."

"Who will do it then?!" Persin demanded, his frustration evident.

As if on cue, everyone turned their gaze toward Persin, their collective expectation clear.

Persin took a deep breath, approached the nearest girl, and, with a resigned look, began the process. He slapped Mira first, then finally Bridget. Each slap was met with a mix of surprise and indignation.

When he finished, Persin's face bore the unmistakable mark of Bridget's slap— a bright red imprint that stood out starkly against his skin. He rubbed his stinging cheek, his expression a blend of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

A few moments later, as the girls began to wake up, the team gathered their bearings and prepared to move.