Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 389

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 389

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 389: The Wretched Dogs of Nouvellebag (5)

Another page was torn from the calendar.

Every month, the guards became subjects of the end-of-month evaluation.

Nouvellebag’s labor system was somewhat peculiar, with each guard overseeing 12 prisoners and directing their work.

For these prisoners, the guard was akin to a god.

They had discretion over whether to punish, how much to punish, how much work to assign, and how much rest to allow.

This arrangement changed every month.

After a month, both the prisoners and the guards scattered.

Thus, the guards had to task the prisoners under their charge with labor for the month, deciding whether to give punishment or reward, to make work rigorous or easy.

However, this didn’t mean the guards always favored the prisoners.

Just like the prisoners, the guards were also subject to the end-of-month evaluation.

Their score was based on how much work they got done with their 12 prisoners, which was then reflected in their performance appraisal for promotion.

To improve their scores, guards had to push the prisoners to work as much as possible, using their own discretion.

Some guards resorted to corporal punishment with knives or whips, imposed meal restrictions, limited sleep and rest, or put prisoners in solitary confinement, while others tried to persuade prisoners by giving them extra bread or tools.

Prisoners also had to work hard to ensure their guard didn’t receive a low score.

Otherwise, since guards held their fate in their hands, they could make life difficult for them.

…Well, anyway.

This month, notices were posted inside Nouvellebag again.

It was a chart ranking the guards based on their performance.

The guards competed with each other to achieve a higher rank on this chart.

There was constant tension, with guards resorting to various tactics such as cheating in the lottery to bring in prisoners who worked well and listened, bribing them with money or facilitating their transfer to another team, or even secretly stealing bread or tools from other teams to entice prisoners to join theirs.

Of course, resources within Nouvellebag were limited, so if someone had an extra meal, someone else had to go hungry.

Hence, the team led by a low-level guard, “Garam Nord,” was always talked about.

Garam’s team was always miserable.

No enthusiasm, no performance, no future.

True to its name, “Stupid Garam” or “The Pitifully Dog,” Garam’s team was always composed of wretched prisoners.

Since other guards often intercepted bread and tools, Garam had to sacrifice even his own meals to encourage the prisoners to work.

Naturally, the prisoners under Garam’s command didn’t work hard at all.

After all, achieving good results once they were assigned to Garam’s team was almost impossible, and Garam, being timid, rarely resorted to punishments.

Thus, Garam was always ignored even by the prisoners.

It goes without saying that he was also ostracized by his fellow guards.

His performance was always at the bottom, calculated based on factors such as the progress of construction in his assigned area, the number of prisoners sent to solitary confinement, and the frequency of riots he subdued.

However, despite all this…

An unprecedented change had occurred.

**

Grade Sheet

1. Garam Nord / ? / 108%

2. Kirko Grimm / ?? / 96%

3. … / … / 89%

4. …

Garam, who always ended up at the bottom, had achieved the top score in this month’s evaluation.

He had even surpassed the set work completion guidelines given by his superiors.

Achieving beyond 100%, reaching 108% – it was an exceptional feat among Low-level Lieutenants.

So, these Low-level Lieutenants always discussed the evaluation chart whenever they gathered.

“Wow, have you seen the grade sheet this time? Garam is absolutely insane.”

“I didn’t know work completion rate could exceed 100%.”

“Usually, the set completion rate from above is somewhat exaggerated, deliberately making it difficult to achieve.”

“Yeah, that’s why even Kirko usually stops at around 95% to 96%.”

“That’s still impressive. Did you see the gap with the third place? It’s 7%.”

“But the gap between first and second place is 12%. Does that make sense?”

“Was Garam always this good?”

“Impossible. He’s ‘Stupid Garam,’ always at the bottom with scores in the 40s.”

“What? So, was he hiding his strength and pretending to be a loser all this time? That’s really frustrating…”

At that moment, the atmosphere in the cafeteria where the Low-level Lieutenants were gathered suddenly quieted down.

Kirko, who usually held the top position and had achieved second place in this month’s evaluation, appeared.

*Clack!*

Kirko placed her tray on the table and sat alone, starting her meal.

The menu for today consisted of roasted bird, fermented sea bass, boiled beans, and a cup of sea cow milk.

Then, Kirko heard murmurs from the other Low-level Lieutenants who were quietly dining.

“Kirko seems upset today, doesn’t she?”

“Well, she got beaten for first place. And by that idiot Garam, of all people.”

“…Could Garam get promoted before her at this rate?”

Kirko stopped chewing her beans, her expression turning visibly uncomfortable.

And then, with a deeply unpleasant emotion, she turned her head.

At that moment…

“…”

Both Kirko and the Low-level Lieutenants gossiping also stopped what they were doing simultaneously.

Garam, the center of attention, had entered the dining hall.

* * *

Garam. No, Vikir, while chewing on boiled beans, pondered over his future plans.

‘To activate Poseidon, we need to maximize the mana at the critical point or apply otherworldly physical force.’

For that, it was much more convenient to operate as a guard rather than as a prisoner.

This was because he could freely observe the dynamics of Poseidon at any time.

However, to frequent the depths of the labor camp where Poseidon was stationed, it was impossible with the rank of a Low-level Lieutenant.

[Rank system: (Low, Mid, HIgh) Lieutenant -> (Low, mid, High) Captain -> Major (4 Pillars of Nouvellebag) -> Lieutenant Colonel (Bdissemn etc) -> Colonel (The warden).]

“At least becoming a captain, or safely, a major, would be advantageous.”

Either a captain adorned with three diamonds on his badge.

Or a major with a single mugunghwa flower on his badge.

This level was necessary to carry out activities without hindrance.

“I need to get to atleast mid level captain, they can roam around the entire work area without reporting. It might even be possible to secretly activate Poseidon at night.”

To achieve this, he needed to diligently accumulate achievements.

Fortunately, unlike regular units where promotion could take months to years, promotions based on performance were fast and certain in Nouvellebag.

That was because many guards either died or became incapacitated during their service.

As Vikir pondered over various thoughts…

*Clack!*

Something was placed on the table in front of him.

It was a powder contained in a paper envelope.

“Garam Nord. Today’s your birthday, right? Happy Birthday~”

A kitchen guard tapped Vikir’s shoulder once and left.

Vikir only realized today was Garam’s birthday.

“….?”

The paper envelope was filled with white powder.

Dipping his finger and tasting it, he felt sweetness.

“Is it sugar?”

Come to think of it, it seemed similar to what he had seen in Garam’s diary.

In Nouvellebag, guards celebrating their birthdays received a bag of sugar as a gift.

But there was also a faintly salty taste in the sugar inside the bag.

Though it was hard to see due to its white color, it seemed to contain a considerable amount of salt.

“What’s this?”

Vikir shook the envelope, tilting his head in confusion.

At that moment…

“Are you really that stupid?”

A cynical voice came from beside him.

Kirko had approached without Vikir noticing, her arms crossed.

“You have the same reaction every year on your birthday. No wonder others call you ‘Stupid Garam.'”

Kirko glanced into the sugar bag in Vikir’s hand and shook her head.

“Major D’Ordume must have had some. I heard he secretly likes sweet things. He probably felt embarrassed and added common salt.”

“I see. Turn a blind eye, huh?”

“Do you know why Major D’Ordume came to Nouvellebag in the first place? He was caught mixing sand and rice bran into the rice he gave to his subordinates while serving on the ground. He claims he was discriminated against because he is a Beastman, but it was actually because of the embezzlement of military supplies.”

Kirko muttered, “A leopard can’t change its spots,” shaking her head.

Seeing her freely insult her superior, it was clear her personality wasn’t exactly ordinary.

“…Anyway. Well, happy birthday.”

Kirko hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“And, uh, thanks for helping me last time.”

Her last words were spoken so softly that even Vikir, with his keen hearing, found it hard to understand.

‘It’s my birthday.’

Vikir pondered about the day he was born.

It was a date that held no significance to him, a day he didn’t remember, nor did he attach any meaning to it.

It was a commonality across all three of Vikir’s lives, from the time before reincarnation, to his time in the abyss tree, and in Baskerville.

A birthday in Nouvellebag was just another low point in the gloomy and damp timeline.

It remained the same even in the era of destruction, inside the Abyss tree, and within Baskerville.

The sugar quickly became sticky due to the clammy moisture.

The damp, musty smell from the boiled beans was suffocating.

*Clack!*

Vikir rose with his empty plate and headed towards the dishwashing area.

At that moment, Kirko glanced at Vikir’s retreating figure with a slightly bewildered expression.

“…He’s still weird.”

She muttered quietly to herself.

* * *

Kirko observed Vikir carefully.

“Was Garam always like this?” she wondered.

Being acquaintances, Kirko had occasionally observed him. While she always found Garam pathetic and foolish, she didn’t hold him in contempt as she did with others. He was simply someone who didn’t fit in Nouvellebag. That’s all.

When Kirko thought about how Garam had lived on the surface in his childhood, she couldn’t help but dislike him somehow. To her, who was born in Nouvellebag and had never seen the surface, Garam represented the surface world. He seemed idle, timid, slow, and somewhat naive. A boy who never showed any signs of ambition or competitiveness.

…But recently, his behavior had changed.

He led prisoners to achieve tasks considered impossible, and he scored remarkably high in physical fitness tests and written exams.

Gradually, the way his fellow guards looked at Garam began to change. Their usual indifference or disdainful attitudes slowly turned into a warm desire to become closer.

Yet, for some reason, Kirko didn’t want to acknowledge this change in Garam.

Inferiority complex.

Perhaps it was a manifestation of the complex that no matter how outstanding or talented one might be here, in the end, they were just frogs in a well.

Was that why? Kirko found herself igniting a feeling she had never felt before, a sense of competition, slowly burning within her towards Garam.

‘How on earth does he assign tasks? What should one do to achieve such a ridiculous figure?’ Kirko wondered, secretly following Garam and the 12 prisoners under his command to the labor site.

She was curious about how he managed to achieve such an unbelievable figure of 108%.

Then, she saw it.

Kirko witnessed Garam deploying the prisoners to the labor site.

And she was astonished.

“…!?”

What was happening right before her eyes was something she could never have imagined.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]