277: Garrison at the Edge of the World (Patreon)

Vir was no stranger to hardship. Having endured years in the Ashen Realm, having fought day in, day out against hordes of beasts, each powerful enough to decimate a city, his mental limits had soared beyond most mortals. Yet even he eagerly awaited the caravan’s arrival at the Ash Boundary two days later.

To say the conditions within their cage were squalid would be a disservice to the truth, and while Vir required far less food and sleep than most demons thanks to the prana that surged within his body, the cramped confines and the stench of unwashed bodies was starting to get to him.

Not even Balagra’s transformation could alleviate that. True, the naga suddenly shifting into a bipedal purple demon had simultaneously shocked Vir and freed up significant room within the cage, but ruminating about how impossible such a feat ought to have been only kept Vir occupied for a day before he came to terms with it.

There was much, it seemed, that Vir didn’t know about the Demon Realm. Nagas apparently had three forms. The half-serpentine one Vir had seen, a fully bipedal form, and a fully serpentine form resembling an Ash Beast.

Because of these unique abilities, some thought them closest to the gods—hailing from divinity.

Vir was thinking about naga physiology when the caravan approached the Boundary. Vir felt it well before he saw it.

Prana density increased steadily, and for the first time since entering the demon Realm, Vir no longer felt like he was in the middle of a barren desert of prana.

While it was nowhere near the levels he was used to within the Ashen Realm, plants flourished, and the land looked overall more alive. Vir used the opportunity to bolster his Prana Armor.

To his surprise, however, the caravan stopped well short of the shimmering Boundary wall itself. So far, in fact, that Vir had to strain his eyes to make out the details.

The Boundary here was somewhat different from the human realm. There, it had spanned flat plains, rising like a wall into the sky. Here it bisected great mountains, as though a grand curtain had been draped on top of—or rather, through—them. To enter the Boundary, one had to either scale the peaks, or find a suitable pass, which, judging by the rocky, steep terrain, was easier said than done.

Vir guessed the Garrison was set so far back to buy them a measure of safety—as dense as the prana was, it’d be incomparable to the levels right next to the Boundary. Ash Beasts would’ve lost a good deal of their bodies’ prana by the time they made it there. A good strategy for dealing with the beasts, though at the cost of some of the most bountiful land in the realm.

The garrison itself was well built, and if Vir hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed it was constructed and maintained by a different clan than those who occupied Samar Patag. Then again, it had to be sturdy to have any hope of withstanding attacks from Ash beasts this close to the Boundary.

Its wooden palisade walls were constructed of thick trunks, easily a pace in diameter, and over twenty in height. Unlike Samar Patag, whose walls were bare and exposed, the garrison boasted a line of pikes dug deep and pointed out, ready to secure any Ash beasts that tried to attack. Furthermore, a dry moat surrounded the wall, with a drawbridge spanning the gap. The moat also boasted pikes that were embedded into the ground, ready to skewer any Ash Beast unfortunate enough to fall inside.

The blood that stained the pikes and the gashes in the timbers spoke to their sturdiness—they’d withstood Ash Beast attacks, and survived. If there was a silver lining to the prisoners’ plight, it was that they’d be safe within those walls.

If they remained within those walls, of course. As they neared the Garrison, Vir found hundreds of demons, lying or sitting outside. Most carried weapons, though only some were armored, and many suffered from injuries that went untended.

The rabble, Vir thought darkly. Likely prisoners themselves, or those who’d contributed the least to the defense of the Boundary.

Peeking over the bridge as they passed, Vir spotted work crews lighting fires to burn the corpses of Ash Beasts that had fallen in. The bodies look fresh, which meant the garrison had only recently suffered an attack. Whether a common occurrence, or a result of the stampede that attacked Samar Patag, Vir couldn’t say.

Vir’s eyes passed over his fellow cagemates as they entered the Garrison. The morale among his fellow prisoners had been low to start, but now, it had hit rock bottom. Not a single conversation could be heard, and most gazed lifelessly into the horizon. The rest muttered prayers under their breath or wept silently.

At least Vir had a mindscape he could retreat to, where he either meditated in the peace of the Godshollow, or fought against Ekanai, training his Life Chakra. The others weren’t so lucky.

The garrison itself was packed. Wooden buildings ringed the wall on the inside, followed by rows upon rows of canvas tents, scarcely even a pace’s gap between them.

Only a single area within the Garrison remained unoccupied—a diamond at the very center. Likely used for gatherings, training… and prisoner deliveries.

“Out! All of you out!” a Kothi slaver shouted.

Vir shuffled out after the others in his cage, his body aching from days of being squashed against the others.

The prisoners were made to assemble before a Kothi Warrior—a demon with two large scars adorning his face. One ran vertically, through his left eye and split his lips, while the other raked the bridge of his wide primate nose. He walked down the line, stick in hand, inspecting each of them in detail.

The look of disgust he wore told them exactly what the monkey man thought of them.

“Trash,” he said, clapping the stick against his open palm repeatedly. “Utter trash.”

His eyes came to rest on Vir, but quickly dismissed his compact frame, well hidden under his too-large robe.

As a precaution, Vir had covered his chest tattoo with a semi-permanent paint Cirayus had procured. They were still working on a way to hide Vir’s prana signature, but until then, the paint would keep Vir hidden, should he ever be strip searched.

A distinct possibility, given his current environment.

“Only that Naga, and maybe one or two others, are fit for combat.” the Chitran said to the slaver. “What are you trying to pull, selling us these dregs?”

Vir gnashed his teeth. The Chit wasn’t even bothering to hide the clandestine nature of this dealing, speaking loudly and openly. Which meant such practices were both common and sanctioned here, in Chitran territory.

The very existence of such a system was an affront to all that Maion had stood for. While some of the other clans practiced slavery, Maion and Shari had been staunch proponents of its eradication throughout the realm.

If they saw what’s become of their clan now…

Vir shook his head. There was no use brooding over it. When the rebellion finally did happen, Vir would be making some sweeping changes. Of that, he was certain.

“What do you mean, ‘trying to pull?’” the slaver retorted. “You’re gonna train them. Isn’t that the point? If you want me to bring you trained warriors, you can expect to pay a lot more than the pittance you people give me.”

“Waste your breath haggling with the superintendent. I have troops to train.”

The slaver left for a wooden building in a huff, slinging curses under his breath.

Paying the demon no mind, the Kothi stood on top of a raised platform and cast his stone-faced gaze across the prisoners.

“Welcome to Boundary Garrison Atnu. I am the Overseer, and I will be responsible for you sorry chals. Here, you will learn to fight.” The Overseer’s voice, while not loud, carried with it the voice of authority. All eyes were locked on him, Vir’s included.

He’s strong, Vir thought. Both his attitude and his prana spoke to his power as a warrior. Vir suspected he’d find few imposters here, at the Boundary. Only veteran warriors, tempered by battle, made it out here.

“You will learn to survive,” the Overseer continued. “Or you will die. Perform well, and you will be rewarded. Better clothing. Better armament. Better training. And yes, better food and accommodations. Excel, and you might even find a spot for yourself within the safety of this Garrison’s walls.”

The prisoners stole glances at each other. Some had already come to the same conclusion as Vir, while others looked about, confused.

“You heard me right,” the Overseer continued. “I hope you didn’t think you’d be sleeping in here, did you?” he swept his arm across the garrison. “That privilege is earned. No, you’ll start outside, with the others. If you survive your training, you’ll be granted tents, and you oughta thank us for that. Perform well on your Guardian Rankings, and you can earn even more.”

“But what of the beasts?” a prisoner asked. “Won’t they attack us?”

The kothi cracked a nasty grin. “I’m glad you asked. Consider it an opportunity. You all get first blood when they attack. And yes, they will attack. Fight well, and you’ll be promoted to patrol duty. Do well there, and we might even send you into the Ash!”

“That’s suicide!” another prisoner shouted. “I’d rather die by hanging than take my chances in there.”

The Overseer eld up a finger. A flash of prana arced out from the prisoner’s collar. He twitched for a single moment, then crumpled to the ground.

His corpse was being hauled away before anyone could even react.

“Insolence will not be tolerated,” the Oversees said. “There’s always one I need to teach the hard way. Do learn. Killing you costs us a good deal of coin, you know?”

The crowd was deathly still.

“Good! To answer the demon’s question, yes. Survive in the Ash, and you’ll be granted a Chitran Laborer Calling. Your criminal records will be wiped, and you can return to living whatever sorry lives you used to lead.”

“What a load of Ash’va dung,” Balagra muttered from beside Vir.

“They’re lying?” Vir asked, eyes darting around to see if any of their guards had heard Balagra’s slander.

“Who knows? I’ve never heard of anyone surviving long enough to take them up on it. They talk of ‘earning’ weapons and armor, but I saw what they dole out. Useless pig iron. The rejects of their forges and foundries, most like. With such equipment, we have no chance in the Ash. Even if we survive the prana poisoning.”

“Quiet!” the Chit Overseer barked, silencing the prisoners. “Now, all of that’s only if you perform. Fail, and you die. Run away, and your collars activate. we’ll hunt you down.”

Vir agreed with Balagra. The Chits might dangle the carrot of freedom before these prisoners’ eyes, but what sense did it make to allow their convicts back into society where they’d cause more harm? It was just a ruse—one designed to get the prisoners to work themselves to the bone on the dim hope of a better life.

In reality, they’d perish, fighting an endless war against the onslaught of beasts from the Ashen Realm. Why let the unwanted rot in a jail cell, when they could be made to fulfill a far more useful purpose before they die?

Vir thought he was going to be sick.

“Now, listen up!” The Overseer said. “I’m going to tell you what will happen. You pathetic chals are going to follow me outside, where you’ll be assigned your berths. Then, six hours from now, you’ll assemble.”

“For what?” a prisoner asked.

“Evaluation! Excel, and you’ll be awarded. Fail, and you will be punished. And may Yuma help those who do.”