Shattered Sanity

Over the next few days, Riven’s life settled into a constant rhythm of receiving an Aether Pill every morning and training mindlessly throughout the day, as what began as simple drills involving nothing more than punching a wooden dummy gradually evolved into increasingly complex full-body exercises that the recruits performed collectively under Garron’s supervision.

”Whoever comes last during the six-mile run will spend the night tied to a tree trunk without a fire source nearby.”

Garron warned, as he pushed the children to their absolute limits every single day, taking them on gruelling runs through the wilderness before making them perform countless body-strengthening exercises where they had no choice but to continuously channel Aether through their bodies if they wished to keep pace with the rest of the group.

”This is hell.... M-my mind is going numb.”

Some children complained, as the sheer intensity of Garron’s training caused many recruits to collapse from over-exertion long before the day was over.

Yet no matter how many fainted, vomited, or fell behind, Garron showed little sympathy toward the rest, as he continued driving them forward from sunrise until sunset, with the longest and most brutal training sessions always being reserved for the Ultra Trash group.

However, while Garron’s methods were undeniably cruel, the results they produced were equally miraculous, as within only three weeks of training, the physiques of the children began changing dramatically before everyone’s eyes.

Constant Aether circulation combined with regular meals gradually repaired years of malnutrition, as hollow cheeks slowly filled out, weak limbs became firmer, and children who once looked frail and unhealthy began looking like proper recruits once more.

Naturally, Riven was no exception to those changes, as although he remained smaller than most boys his age due to years of neglect and poor nutrition, even he could see visible differences whenever he caught his reflection in a puddle of water or a polished piece of metal.

His shoulders had broadened slightly.

His arms no longer looked quite as thin as before.

And while there was still very little bulk on his frame, lean muscle had begun forming beneath his skin where previously there had only been weakness.

Even his posture had changed noticeably, as years of instinctively hunching his shoulders and lowering his head had gradually begun disappearing, while the increased strength in his body allowed him to stand straighter without consciously trying to do so.

However, the changes that he underwent were not just physical but psychological as well, as the stronger Riven’s body became, the more his attitude gradually began changing alongside it.

Around the brothel, he no longer moved about with his head permanently lowered, nor did he instinctively avert his gaze whenever speaking to Tanya, as possessing a stronger body naturally brought with it a growing sense of confidence that made it easier for him to look people in the eyes while holding a conversation.

Thankfully, Riven remained smart enough to maintain the same timid facade whenever Hagrid was nearby, as he understood better than anyone that drawing the cripple’s attention toward his growth would only invite unnecessary trouble.

While outside of Hagrid’s presence, the fear that had once governed his every action gradually began to lose its grip.

However, while Riven possessed enough restraint to keep those changes under control, many of the other slaves undergoing Garron’s training did not, as the moment their strength increased even slightly, some began talking back, resisting orders, or creating trouble within the households that owned them, leading to harsher punishments, growing resentment, and increasing dissatisfaction among the village commoners who had originally supported the training program.

Every night, more and more dissatisfied slave owners found their way to Torak’s house, complaining that the slave training program needed to be halted until Garron took responsibility for the increasingly unruly behavior of the slaves under his supervision, as with every passing day, incidents of open defiance became more common throughout Ashfang Village.

Every few days, Torak visited Garron personally to voice those complaints, however while the recruiter listened patiently each time, he never seemed particularly concerned by the growing unrest.

However, that attitude finally changed roughly three weeks into the training program.

*BANG!*

The door to Garron’s residence flew open violently as Torak stormed inside without invitation, his expression darker than Garron had ever seen before.

”Do you know what one of your slave students did today?”

Torak demanded while punching the wall beside him hard enough to rattle the wooden structure.

Garron remained seated.

”No. What happened?”

He asked calmly, as Torak let out a frustrated growl.

”A slave caught his master’s belt.”

He said.

”The boy was being whipped and the little bastard actually caught the belt in his hand and refused to let go no matter how hard his master pulled.”

Torak spat angrily.

”Do you understand what that means?”

He continued while pacing around the room.

”Your slaves are growing a spine, Garron. It’s only been three weeks since you started training them and already they’re pushing back.”

His voice gradually rose.

”What happens a year from now when some of them become stronger than their masters?”

Torak asked.

”Because if a grown Ashfang warrior couldn’t yank a belt away from his own slave today, then I have every reason to worry about what happens tomorrow.”

He pointed directly at Garron.

”This is the last straw.”

Torak warned.

”Do something about disciplining your slaves, otherwise I will have no choice but to shut this entire program down.”

The threat lingered in the air for several moments before Torak turned around and stormed out of the house without waiting for a response.

*SLAM!*

The door shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Garron simply sat there quietly while staring at the closed entrance.

Personally, he felt absolutely no threat from Torak himself.

If it ever came down to violence, he could kill ten men like the village chief before any of them managed to draw a weapon.

However, while Torak himself did not concern him, the situation inside Ashfang Village certainly did.

Because the unrest had now reached a point where it threatened the continuation of the entire training program.

And that was something Garron could not afford.

After all, he did not actually care whether Ashfang Village relocated to the Valdrak Empire or not.

What he did care about was producing recruits.

Every child that successfully entered Imperial service represented money in his pocket, and the more talented those recruits were, the larger the rewards became at the end of the process.

Which was precisely why, as he sat alone inside the quiet house that night, Garron finally began considering a more drastic solution.

Because if the commoners of Ashfang Village could no longer be convinced through words, then perhaps it was time to change their tune through a demonstration they would never forget.