The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 390: The Worst Torture (1)

Several more months passed since then. The changes that occurred during the end-of-month evaluations were not just temporary; they had become an expected occurrence.

1st place. Task completion rate 114%.

1st place. Task completion rate 121%.

1st place. Task completion rate 136%.

1st place. Task completion rate 142%.

1st place. Task completion rate 155%.

1st place. Task completion rate 161%.

1st place. Task completion rate 178%.

1st place. Task completion rate 185%.

.

.

With the steadily increasing records of exceeding targets, the lower-ranked supervisors could only stare in amazement. Now, there was no one among them who disregarded Garam’s achievements.

Treating each other as comrades became natural, and those who wanted to be friendly approached Garam first.

“Hey, Garam. You were first place again this month, huh?”

“It seems like every prisoner under your watch is as disciplined as can be.”

“What’s your secret, anyway?”

“Let’s play some poker after dinner.”

The first ones to act friendly were surprisingly the same ones who tried bullying Garam.

Gradually, more and more followed suit. However, there were still those who maintained a certain distance, then and now.

Kirko was one of them.

“……”

The one who always secured first place suddenly became perpetually second at some point. Since then, Kirko had been observing Garam.

Quietly eating her meal, Kirko recalled Garam’s methods from a few months ago.

“I can’t believe it. Could he really have been using such methods?”

Garam’s method of increasing the excess achievement rate was indeed simple. At first, it was nothing special. He would use his truncheon to strike the prisoners’ vital points, warning them not to slack off.

Garam (Vikir) knew… Like Santa Claus knowing who’s been naughty or nice, he knew exactly which part of the prisoners’ bodies to hit to maximize pain without hindering their labor.

The truncheon relentlessly struck like tenderizing meat for tonkatsu. When it hit, the prisoners who had previously disregarded Garam would suddenly transform, obeying his commands as if they would jump into a pit of fire without hesitation.

Even the intelligent criminals, who usually manipulated the guards with their intellect, were trembling when faced with Garam.

“But even so, I could’ve thought of that much.”

Until now, Kirko couldn’t find anything particularly remarkable. While Garam’s methods were efficient and conventional, they weren’t vastly different from Kirko’s own. If that was the case, Kirko must have been doing just as well.

…But. Was there something special about Garam’s approach?

Puk! Crack!

It was when Garam (Garam) himself began participating in the hard labor, wielding a shovel and pickaxe. As Kirko watched, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in confusion.

The fact that a guard was doing hard labor! It’s almost like they’re no different from the prisoners!

“No, why would a guard even be among the prisoners…?”

But regardless of that thought, Garam excelled at the labor as if he had been doing it his whole life. He lectured the prisoners as if he had personally experienced the labor himself, with decades of experience accumulated.

If anyone tried to slack off or work inefficiently, they would inevitably receive a beating. The prisoners had lost even the slightest bit of freedom they had to slack off, all under the watchful eye of Garam.

But that didn’t mean Garam was only bossing the prisoners around.

‘The rumors were true,’ Kirko thought.

Garam shared his meals with the prisoners, and despite not knowing what he ate to sustain himself, he showed no signs of malnutrition.

‘But it also seems a bit different from the rumors…’

According to rumors, Garam was supposed to be a pathetic guy who deprived prisoners of their meals. But was that the reality? The prisoners looked at Garam with a mixture of fear and awe, as if he were a monster. He exuded strength, dominance, and charisma. Whether they were burly thugs or cunning intellectuals, all prisoners became docile lambs in front of Garam.

Even if you knew the tricks, keeping up with him was impossible. Kirko shook her head as she finished reminiscing. “What if he decides to do the work himself? What guard would go to such lengths?”

However, Vikir had a completely different mindset. ‘Doing the labor myself would be much faster than bossing around the prisoners.’

The bottom line was results, and promotion. He needed to quickly obtain the authority to command high-level prisoners and activate Poseidon in the Level Ten zone. Even now, countless prisoners were digging the earth, and the resulting shockwaves were likely being absorbed by Poseidon’s roots.

‘But there’s nothing as effective as directly impacting the surface.’

So Vikir aimed to get promoted quickly, to handle bigger and stronger prisoners. If someone didn’t listen, he would starve them and beat them. With the skills he subtly honed and the torture techniques he learned in the era of destruction, he could subdue prisoners down to their very souls.

“Someday, D’ordume will surely give the order. He’ll say to get rid of that annoying explosive.”

That would probably be a major opportunity. The timing for the opening act of a full-fledged escape was then.

Just then.

“Everyone, attention!”

A guard burst into the mess hall. It was a mid-level Captain, the rank Vikir was currently aiming for.

“A riot has broken out! All guards currently on duty and those waiting to be deployed, gather! Even those who have just finished their shifts, assemble immediately!”

The atmosphere inside the mess hall tensed up at the alarming news. And sure enough, the Major delivered a shocking statement.

“A riot! Level 8!”

The riot caused by Level 8 inmates.

It was different from the riots instigated by lower-level guards on Level 1 or Level 2. The lower-ranked guards’ faces turned pale, and even the intermediate guards hardened their expressions.

The Captain spoke, his voice tinged with cold sweat. “The reason we’re gathering all guards, even the lower-ranked ones, is because of the tactical situation. With the high-ranking guards absent, it’s necessary.”

D’Ordume and Souare were gone to the surface. It was due to a shortage of escort personnel, as dictated by Prison Warden Orca.

“Lieutenant Colonel BDISSEM and Lieutenant Colonel Flubber are not here as well… Major Black tounge is too risky, as you all know. We’ll have to handle it ourselves somehow.”

Even the Captain-ranked guards were intimidated by the riot of Level 8 inmates. Naturally, the lower-ranked guards could only watch without daring to intervene.

Then, there was a sound of scraping chairs.

All eyes turned to see Garam walking out casually. It was an immediate and unworried response, without any hesitation or concern.

Then, there was a thud!

Someone grabbed Garam’s wrist. It was Kirko, who had been observing him from a diagonal table.

“Hey, are you insane?” she muttered softly. “It’s Level 8. Going there means certain death.”

“What do you suggest we do then? It’s an order.”

“…,” Kirko fell silent at Garam’s words. After all, one couldn’t refuse a command. Especially when the probability of certain death was over 98%.

“Let’s go see what the situation is for now.”

Garam walked with a calm demeanor. His attitude was so serene that he seemed like someone heading to a good place for a good reason.

Eventually, the other lower-ranked guards reluctantly rose from their seats. Orders were orders, and disobedience wasn’t an option in Nouvellebag.

Everyone walked through the corridors with anxiety and apprehension. And leading the group was Garam.

Unlike the others, whose eyes betrayed their unease, Vikir’s gaze remained calm and steady, flickering with anticipation.

‘Perhaps this will be a good opportunity.’

What could be as helpful for one’s career advancement as a riot among high-level inmates?