Chapter 6: The Blacksmith.

Within the icy confines of his cell, Dawn resolutely circulated the newfound energy within him. He noticed that the rhythm of his breathing influenced its efficiency. Drawing deep breaths in, then releasing them slowly through his mouth, yielded the best results.

Sitting in the center of his cell, he committed himself to this process, letting go of his concern about time. His primary goal was to remain awake while concentrating on circulating the energy within him. 

Fortunately, some of his health and energy had been restored following his awakening. In order to prevent it from going back down, he understood the importance of its continued circulation.

[HP: 20%]

[Energy: 20%]

Slowly and calmly… he made sure not to rush, recognising that it would disrupt his concentration. Gradually, he regained mobility in his arms, but it wasn't enough. So, he continued his rhythmic circulation of energy.

Time slipped away in the tomblike silence of the cell, absent of any sounds from neighboring cells. Unfazed, Dawn contemplated his next course of action.

'Once I'm able full move, I'll—'

Ding!

A resonating chime interrupted his thoughts.

[You have an unread mail.]

Before he could react, a screen materialized before him, displaying the content of the notification.

[Mail.]

[You've completed 'Main Quest: 'Awaken'.]

[Completion rewards have arrived.]

[Would you like to receive it?] (Y/N)

Usually, an additional voice in his head would be an annoyance, but inside the solitude of confinement, it brought a peculiar sense of comfort.

'Yeah… give me the reward.'

Instantly, an illuminating light radiated from the screen, morphing into three glowing cards. The cards were devoid of any designs or markings - they were simply blank and white.

[Please select a card of your choice.]

While maintaining the circulation of energy, Dawn strained his eyes to focus on the three glowing options before him. Mentally and physically spent, he extended his shaky arms, grabbing the middle card.

'...Ah- I intended to take the one on the left, but my tired arms missed it...'

His choice was already made. The unselected cards disappeared, leaving the chosen card gleaming more vibrantly as it revealed its content.

[+5 Skill Points.]

Dawn's eyes widened at the unexpected reward. The card vanished promptly, followed by a system notification. The skill tab opened to a new section, displaying the freshly acquired points.

[Skills] (4)

[Available Skill Points: 5]

'Wait... five points, really? I can unlock my first ability with this...'

The convenience of it all felt almost too good to be true, but Dawn didn't dwell on the stroke of luck. Just as he was about to switch to the ability tab, however-

Creak!

The cell door swung open abruptly, revealing a guard at the threshold. With Dawn barely able to move, the guard merely muttered, "Alive and awakened," before he hauled Dawn from the cell.

His body scraped against the rough floor as he was dragged out, discomfort momentarily forgotten in the sheer relief of leaving behind his confined cell.

'Sweet freedom…' He thought, tears of relief pooling in his eyes.

As he was dragged along the corridor, Dawn noticed that others were being roughly handled in the same way—some still unconscious, others barely awake, all in pitiful conditions.

Observing around, he noted that only a handful of the cells had occupants who were hauled out. In the majority of the cells, however, the guards who entered left without dragging anyone along.

"Dead."

That single word echoed ominously the corridor after each empty cell visit. The grim implications weren't lost on Dawn.

"Dead."

"Dead."

"Alive and awakened."

The words "dead" and "alive" echoed monotonously, devoid of any emotion in the guards' voices. A wave of revulsion swept over Dawn as he was dragged away. It was clear they were just expendable to these people. Only a third of those confined in the cells managed to walk out.

As they were hauled down the corridor, Dawn committed the layout of the unfamiliar areas they passed through to memory. The underground labyrinth was a maze of empty rooms and winding paths.

The guards moved with ease, confidently steering them towards their next destination.

Despite his empty stomach, Dawn continued to circulate his energy, hoping to regain some strength. Even if he had to focus all his energy to his legs alone, he was determined to regain control in case things took a turn for the worst.

Finally, they were ushered into a large room. Accustomed to the darkness, their eyes squinted painfully in the sudden brightness. The room radiated warmth and was filled with the rhythmic clang of a hammer striking an anvil.

Wincing, Dawn managed to survey the room. It was an old space, its walls adorned with an array of weapons. The air smelled distinctly of heated metal, tinged with a faint smokiness from the forge.

"So, these are the survivors..." a gruff voice mumbled.

Dawn glanced towards the source of the voice, discovering a solitary figure at the far end of the room. It was a remarkably short man, his chestnut brown hair and beard a wild tangle. Clothed in a leather apron, he worked a piece of metal with a hammer in his hand.

'A blacksmith...?' Dawn wondered, squinting to get a clearer view of the man's face. 'And those ears... what's with them?'

Indeed, the blacksmith's ears were unlike any human's, elongated and pointed.

"Mr. Garret, if you would, please," the guard leading them called out, dragging the weakened boy into the room.

"I know, I know... I'll mark them," Garret waved him off, moving to the other end of the room.

There lay a collection of rods, each one etched with numerals at one end. One by one, Garret heated these rods in the roaring furnace until the numbered ends glowed a fiery red.

"Place his shoulder here," Garret directed.

Obliging, the guard positioned the boy's shoulder atop a stand. In his feeble state, the boy could only watch in helpless anticipation as the red-hot rod approached his shoulder

Tsss!

"Gaaaah!"

His pained cry reverberated through the cavernous underground, sending ripples of unease through those who were present. When the rod was lifted, a seared imprint mimicking the number 3 was branded onto the boy's shoulder.

"Sorry, kid. Since you all are third generation, you have two more numbers to go," Garret said in a somber tone, reaching out for the next two rods.

The air was filled with the sickening sizzle of burning flesh and the distraught cries of suffering. After enduring their turn, those who were 'marked' were dragged away to make room for the next ones. 

The confined solitude had drained them all, leaving them too weak to resist, let alone escape. They could only watch and endure the agony as their flesh bore the fiery branding.

In contrast, Dawn, with his heightened tolerance for pain, bore the searing heat without a scream, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth.

"Hm~? Quite the fighter, aren't you?" Garret observed, genuinely taken aback.

Dawn, wholly focused on enduring the excruciating pain, didn't register his words. Despite his high pain tolerance, his frail body was faltering under the ordeal. He could feel his hard-won consciousness starting to fade.

Fortunately, just before it did, the process ended, and like the others, he was hauled away. The pain around his shoulder was intense, swelling and blistering, hinting at a lasting scar.

'Ah... They're branding us with numbers...'

The number seared onto Dawn's shoulder read [350]. It seemed to be allocated based on the order in which they were 'marked', starting from [331].

Exhausted, he peered down the murky cave corridors towards the room at the far end that seemed to be their destination.

Upon arrival, he quickly assessed the spacious surroundings—it was a cavernous expanse, significantly larger than the previous room, with boulders strewn about, giving it a distinctly cave-like ambiance.

Flanking the room's entrance stood the all-too-familiar elder, Xylon. A smug grin adorned his face as he surveyed the arrivals.

'Just great... it's that asshole again. Looks like Rek isn't here with him.'

However, Xylon wasn't the only surprise awaiting Dawn. Seated at the far end of the room, watching the newcomers being hauled in, were several faces Dawn recognized—the same individuals who had been taken away by Xylon. The ones who had already 'awakened'.

'So, they're still alive... and it seems they've been branded too.'

Like Dawn's group, they too bore the numbered scars around their shoulders, though theirs appeared more healed and scarred, indicating they'd been marked some time ago.

What caught Dawn's attention wasn't the older wounds, but their overall condition. Contrasting sharply with his group, who looked pallid and on death's doorstep, they appeared healthier and cleaner. Furthermore, their hands weren't shackled in wooden cuffs like Dawn's group.

'I see... they were treated differently from us because they had awakened earlier. They weren't treated like expendable trash like we were...'

But that didn't mean that they were any happier. Their eyes held a vacant stare, filled with a profound despair, as they focused on Xylon.

As more individuals from Dawn's group were dragged into the room, Dawn found his attention drifting back to the old man and his grin.

'Bringing us all here without letting us rest, what's he planning now…?' Dawn couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease.