Chapter 84: Defiance
Two months had passed.
Night draped over the Hall of Mercenaries, bringing a bitter chill to the training grounds. A large stone platform sat at the center. Trainees usually used this space to challenge one another, but tonight, no duel would take place.
A massive crowd formed around the stone edges, waiting in the biting cold. They had not come to witness a grand battle or hear an instructor’s lecture. Instead, all eyes locked onto a thick wooden pole erected in the middle of the platform.
Tied tightly to it was Leo.
Stripped to the waist despite the freezing temperature, his bare skin shivered without pause. Countless scars marred his chest, back, and arms. Some wounds looked fresh and raw, while others had just started to scab over. The marks overlapped in a brutal pattern, silently telling the story of the torture he had survived over the last eight weeks.
In the quiet crowd, a trainee whispered,
"How many times has this been now?"
The boy beside him shook his head.
"I’ve lost count."
"But I’m sure of one thing."
"There’s definitely something wrong with that guy."
Another trainee sighed.
"He should’ve learned by now."
"Nothing good comes from challenging the authorities."
Heavy boots thudded against the stone. An instructor stepped onto the platform, gripping a long leather whip lined with vicious steel thorns. His cold gaze swept over the murmuring crowd.
"Silence."
The training ground went dead quiet. Trainees bowed their heads, terrified to meet the man’s eyes. The instructor waited for absolute stillness before he opened his mouth.
"It seems..."
"Some of you no longer fear the rules of the Hall of Mercenaries."
"Despite repeated warnings..."
"And repeated punishments..."
"Some of you still refuse to learn."
He raised a finger and pointed at Leo.
"So tonight..."
"I’ll let all of you witness exactly what happens..."
"...to those who break the rules."
The man’s focus shifted to the boy tied to the pole.
"What was the rule?"
Leo kept his mouth shut. The instructor answered for him.
"After finishing your training..."
"You are to return directly to your dormitory."
"Under no circumstances are you allowed to leave your room after curfew."
He narrowed his eyes.
"And yet..."
"You continue sneaking out."
"Again."
"And again."
"And again."
"It seems the punishments I’ve given you until now have been far too merciful."
His voice dropped to a freezing whisper.
"So tonight..."
"I’ll teach you the true meaning of pain."
"I’ll carve the consequences of disobedience into both your body..."
"...and your mind."
With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent the whip flying.
Crack!
The thorned tip struck the stone mere inches from Leo’s feet. The sharp noise rang through the silent training grounds.
Leo squeezed his eyes shut. A harsh shiver racked his frame. The memories of pain, his own screams, the feeling of flesh tearing apart—every punishment from the past two months rushed back into his mind. Fear had carved a deep home in his bones.
Yet, despite the absolute terror, he still sneaked out every single night. He did not do it because he liked breaking rules or challenging authority. He did it because, for two whole months, he had not caught a single glimpse of Lia or Selena.
He did not know if they were alive. He did not know if they were hurt, or if something worse had happened to them. That unknown gnawed at his sanity. The fear of losing them overshadowed any fear of the whip.
The instructor watched the boy shiver. A cruel smile stretched across the man’s face.
"So..."
"You finally know how to be afraid."
Deep inside, the man felt pure satisfaction. Over the years, he had broken countless trainees. Some cried. Some begged. Some lost all will to resist. In the end, everyone feared him.
Everyone, except Leo.
No matter how harsh the punishment, Leo broke the rules the very next day. To the instructor, this boy was a stain on a perfect record. Tonight, he planned to scrub that stain away forever.
Without another word—
Crack!
The whip slashed through the freezing night.
"Arghhh!"
Leo’s body arched in sheer agony. Fresh blood sprayed into the air. Steel thorns snagged and tore open old scars, carving fresh lines of fire across his back. His fingers gripped the wooden pole with such force that his nails split and bled.
The instructor did not pause.
Crack!
Another strike. Then another.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Each lash hit harder than the one before it. The whip bit deep into Leo’s flesh, peeling away strips of skin as it pulled back. Blood ran down his legs and pooled on the stone platform below.
Around the platform, the crowd stood mute. Some looked at the ground. Some balled their hands into tight fists. A few reached up to trace the hidden scars beneath their own clothes. Every trainee here knew the sting of punishment. But none of them had faced the whip as often, or suffered as much, as Leo.
The instructor halted only after delivering more than twenty lashes.
Leo hung limp against the ropes. His back was a ruined, bloody mess. He took shallow, ragged breaths. Drops of blood patted against the cold stone.
The instructor grabbed a handful of Leo’s hair and yanked his head back. Their eyes met. The man’s cold voice echoed over the platform.
"Will you break the rules again?"
Leo said nothing.
The instructor frowned.
"I asked you a question."
"Answer me."
Heavy seconds ticked by. A thin line of red leaked from the corner of Leo’s mouth. Then, the corners of his lips twitched upward. It was a weak smile. Tired. Strained with pain. Yet burning with defiance.
"...Yes."
Silence returned. The entire training ground seemed to freeze. Even the watching trainees stared with wide, disbelieving eyes.
The instructor’s smirk vanished. A thick vein pulsed on his forehead, and a furious red bled into the whites of his eyes.
"So..."
"You still refuse to learn."
He lifted the whip once more.
"Very well."
"I’ll keep going..."
"...until your body remembers what your mouth refuses to."
Crack!
The whip came down.
This time, Leo did not scream. He ground his teeth together until his bottom lip broke and bled. He trapped every cry inside his throat. He would not give this man the satisfaction.
The instructor’s expression grew murderous.
Again.
Crack!
Again.
Crack!
Again.
Crack!
Tears spilled down Leo’s cheeks. Searing agony wrecked his nerves, making his limbs shake and spasm. His eyes turned a fierce, pained red.
Yet, he held his silence.
The instructor took heavy, harsh breaths. Pure rage twisted his features.
"I refuse to believe..."
"...that you won’t scream."
He turned to a nearby guard.
"Bring me a sack of salt."
"Yes, Instructor."
A moment passed before the guard returned with a heavy cloth sack. The instructor took it and turned his attention back to the boy. That cruel smile crept back onto his face.
"Let’s see..."
"...how long you can endure this."
He dug his hand deep into the bag. Pulling out a massive fistful of coarse salt, he ground the rough crystals directly into the raw, open wounds covering Leo’s back.
"Hnnngh...!"
Leo’s back arched rigid against the pole. Every muscle in his body locked tight. The burning sensation eclipsed the sting of the whip. It felt like molten iron pouring straight into his flesh. The world blurred at the edges of his vision. He shook without pause.
But even through the blinding white pain, he refused to scream.
For the first time that night, disbelief flashed in the instructor’s eyes. How could a mere child possess such terrifying willpower?
Leo’s hold on the waking world slipped. His battered body reached its absolute limit. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the noisy training ground went completely dark.
But as the blackness swallowed him whole, dragging his mind into the void, a single thought anchored him.
Lia...
Selena...
Please...
Be alive.