The Return of the Ir Chapter 388: The Worst Torture (1)

Chapter 388: The Worst Torture (1)

Another few months have passed since then.

The anomaly in the monthly evaluation was not a single occurrence anymore, but had beco the norm.

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%.

.

.

The other junior guards could only gape at his ever-increasing record of overachievent.

By then, nobody among the junior guards looked down on him.

It was natural to be treated as a colleague by them, and it was crowded with people who approached first because they wanted to hang out with him.

"Hey, Garm. You were first place this month too."

"It seems like all of the prisoners in your charge are very disciplined."

"What's your secret?"

"Let's play poker after dinner."

The first ones to pretend to be friendly were surprisingly the first to be beaten by Garm.

After that, one by one, the number of guys who pretended to be friends increased.

But there were so who had always kept a certain distance.

Kirko was one of them.

"...."

She was always number one, but suddenly she was number two.

Ever since then, Kirko had been watching Garm.

As she ate her al in silence, she thought back to the scene she'd seen of Garm at work a few months earlier.

'I can't believe he was doing that.'

It turns out that Garm's thod of overachieving was actually quite simple.

Nothing much at first.

He beat the prisoners' vital parts with a triple baton, telling them not to be lazy.

Garm knew.

Like Santa Claus, who knew who was a good child and who was a bad child, Garm knew all too well which parts of the prisoners' bodies to hit to maximize the pain, but not interfere with their ability to perform their labor.

The three-tiered baton did not rest as if it was pounding at for pork cutlet.

With each swing of the three-tiered baton, the prisoners, who had defied him, turned 180 degrees and acted as if they would jump into the fire at his command.

These prisoners, all of them known for their temper and strong-will on Level 1 or Level 2, were transford into perfectly obedient workers after a month of working with Vikir, a.k.a. Garm.

Even the intelligent prisoners, who used to tease the guards not with strength but with brains, psychological warfare, and a sharp tongue, trembled at the sight of Garm.

'But up to that point, it was sothing I could think about.'

Up until this point, Kirko hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary.

Garm's thod, or as it was sotis called, the "Rotten Dog