Chapter 42
Morning of the second day of inspection.
A tea table had been prepared for the guests in the courtyard in front of the main building.
Kren, who had come out for a morning walk, took a single sip.
Then immediately frowned.
Clack.
He set the cup down roughly.
"You served this to me as tea?"
Berton stiffened.
"The water tastes like dirt."
Kren's face twisted with disgust.
"Even servants on the continent wouldn't drink this."
"M-My apologies."
Berton bowed.
"The island's well water is not in good condition..."
"Condition?"
Kren gave a dry laugh.
"That doesn't sound like something the person managing the Master's base should say."
"..."
Berton's expression hardened.
Kren continued without caring.
"There are countless people in the central authorities waiting for the chance to sit in your seat."
He tapped the cup with one finger.
"Even if that seat serves muddy water."
"...I will have new tea prepared immediately."
Berton lowered his head.
The trainees watching nearby widened their eyes.
Berton.
Head Instructor of Hell Island.
To them...
He was absolute.
One look from him could freeze trainees where they stood.
Even instructors rarely dared open their mouths carelessly around him.
And yet...
That same Berton...
Was now bowing before one thin official.
"What are you staring at?!"
A nearby instructor shouted at the trainees.
"Move your hands!"
"Now!"
The brooms that had stopped immediately started moving again.
But the trainees' gazes kept drifting toward the courtyard.
Ever since yesterday...
They had continued seeing sights that had never existed on this island before.
The same instructors who kicked trainees in the shins...
Were removing the officials' wet boots.
One instructor known as the Grim Reaper of the training ground...
Spent all day crouched beside a furnace heating bathwater for the guests.
When night came...
The smell of roasting meat and alcohol filled the main building.
The officials' laughter continued late into the night.
"...So those people crawl before someone too."
"Shh. They'll hear you."
Whispers like that moved throughout the dormitories after dark.
The instructors who had crushed them.
The people who acted as though they could do anything they wanted on this island...
Even they lowered their heads before someone else.
And...
There was another existence above them.
The Master.
A person none of the trainees had ever even seen.
Interesting.
Theron continued sweeping beneath a wall and quietly lowered his gaze.
Berton had bowed his head.
That one fact told Theron everything he needed.
There was a power behind these officials...
One even Berton could not resist.
And at the center of that power...
Was the being mentioned at the dock yesterday.
The Master.
Scratch. Scratch.
Theron's broom moved across the ground.
This place isn't a kingdom.
It was more like a giant private territory.
And the true owner...
Was someone else entirely.
Theron's eyes narrowed.
The plan he had constructed throughout the previous night...
Slowly gained more information.
Piece by piece.
Morning training ground.
Trainees from each section had been summoned in groups and were sparring with wooden swords.
"Next pair."
At the instructor's shout...
Two trainees stepped forward.
Clack!
Wooden swords collided.
As the two boys attacked one another and rolled across the ground...
The inspectors sitting on the raised platform watched with interested expressions.
"The boy on the left has decent legs."
"The right one has a better build, doesn't he?"
"Someone like that would probably be useful in a mine."
"Hmm."
They were not looking at people.
While the trainees sweated and bled...
The inspectors were placing prices on them.
After all...
Their job was to decide how the trainees produced here would be used.
Of course...
Those with higher skill would likely be used directly for the Master.
After the demonstrations...
Some inspectors even walked among the trainees personally.
"Open your mouth."
One official grabbed a Section Seven trainee's jaw.
He forced the boy's mouth open and inspected his teeth.
"Strong teeth."
He nodded.
"Let me see your arms."
Then he rolled up the boy's sleeves.
The stranger squeezed the trainee's arms and shoulders.
Then his gaze moved down.
Without warning...
He grabbed him between the legs.
"Ugh!"
"Heh."
The official smiled.
"A very healthy one."
The trainee's face turned bright red.
His clenched fists shook.
Watching from a short distance away...
Theron's eyes narrowed.
Endure it.
Not yet.
The boy seemed to understand too.
A moment later...
He forced his fists open.
The inspectors continued examining the trainees.
Just as the reports had stated...
This generation was clearly different from the previous ones.
They continued turning the children around like slaves in a market.
Then...
Clap!
"All right."
Kren lightly clapped his hands and stood.
"That's enough of these boys."
Then his gaze shifted.
"Now I'd like to properly see the child mentioned in the report."
Berton immediately shouted toward the training ground.
"Theron! Forward!"
The entire training ground became quiet.
Theron slowly stepped out of the row.
Every inspector on the platform focused on him.
"That's him?"
"He looks smaller than I expected."
"He's really Three-Star at that age?"
Whispers spread.
Berton slightly puffed out his chest.
"This child reached Three-Star at only twelve."
He smiled proudly.
"Since the training facility was founded..."
"No."
"Even across the continent, you'd struggle to find talent like his."
"Hard to find..."
Kren rubbed his chin.
Then suddenly smiled.
"I'm getting tired of watching children play with wooden swords."
His eyes shifted sideways.
"Valtz."
"Step forward."
"Yes."
A man standing behind Kren walked down from the platform.
He wore a black uniform.
But his presence was completely different from the Executioners on Hell Island.
His footsteps were nearly silent.
