A Day Like Torture

Twenty-two teenage boys stood side by side in the wide field in the backyard of the Grape Barrel, the only inn in Lightleaf Town. Some had a wooden sword in their hand, some had a wooden spear, and some had a large slingshot. The eyes of all these youths were on a man who could be called a 'muscle mass', who was looking at them with his slightly scowled eyebrows.

This man was Harald Federick, the town's innkeeper and swordsman!

The man, who has a very muscular body, hit the wooden stick he was holding in his right hand in his left hand and shouted, "Where the hell is that little shit!?"

This shout caused the young people there to jump up and begin to tremble slightly. One of them, with a shaved head, stepped forward and said, "Please calm down, Master Harald, I'm sure he's coming here at full speed right now."

Harald squinted his eyes and thrust his stick into the ground, "I warned him last time not to skimp on his training. If that little idle misses today, I swear I'll send him to Deep Lime Cave to pick mushrooms!"

Hearing this, all the young boys swallowed.

Deep Lime Cave was a cave in the north of the town that contained many huge spiders. A single bite of those spiders could inflate a human leg twice as much. That's why it was the nightmare territory of all youngsters, they would even settle for hard training under the scorching sun to not go there.

"There!" One of the youths gestured forward with his hand.

Bastian was walking slowly towards them with the wooden sword in his hand.

"Do you still dare to move slowly like a turtle!" Harald shouted in exasperation.

Bastian then started running towards them. He had hoped not to stumble upon the nervousness of this over-muscled trainer; but that didn't seem like the case. The hard look in his eyes kept him under a mental strain.

"I sincerely greet my master, the strongest warrior in the universe!" When he approached Harald, he immediately bowed to him.

"Hmph! You can't fool me with your flattery, crook! You're going to do a hundred push-ups in no time!" Harald pointed a few yards away.

Bastian's eyes widened, "B-But... I carried wood today, I have no strength left... Please have pity on me, master!"

Harald looked at the sun overhead and sighed. He scratched his chin without saying a word for a few seconds, and finally shook his head, "Don't talk as if you're carrying wood on your back! Besides, it's entirely your fault that you left the blame for my training day by being mischievous. That's why you're going to do an extra hundred push-ups when training is over!"

"Uhh...Poor dude! He's probably going to die today, there's no way his skinny body will survive today." The shaved boy sighed and muttered in his mind.

Harald looked at the other youths, "You! Start jogging around the inn at once. I'll let you know when you need to speed up!"

In desperation, Bastian went to where his instructor had indicated and started doing push-ups. His weak arms trembled like a bird caught in a storm as he carried the weight of his body. He was already gritting his teeth when he was only on the tenth iteration.

While observing him, Harald sighed and thought, "This idle boy is superior to any young boy I have ever known in martial arts talent. He has learned and applied my teachings about footwork and sword skill many times over the others. However... He is so mischievous! What a shitty one! No matter how talented he is, if he doesn't have the work discipline, the only thing waiting for him all his life will be failure."

Bastian was known throughout the town for his mischief. The biggest reason for this was that his grandfather complained about his mischief everywhere he went. Actually, he was a smart and talented boy, but he was using his intelligence and talent only to get rid of his responsibilities.

Harald had recently noticed something about him that he didn't quite understand. The punishment he gave him, one of the times he had skipped reflex training, was to get rid of the thin woods that he had n't thrown very slowly. The boy, who at first could hardly get rid of any wood, was strangely starting to dodge all the last ten woods.

Harald was almost certain that he had a talent superior to the others, but that his mischief had set him back. He had given him many punishments to break this habit and aimed to discourage him from this bad habit, but unfortunately he was unsuccessful. He wasn't very obvious because of his tough temper and discipline, but he loved every boy in this town. Having experienced the brutality and chaos of the outside world, this man wanted these pure and clean youths in town to be able to defend themselves with at least basic skills.

Although he was very harsh with Bastian, he also loved him very much. That's why he often gave him punishments in order to train him properly.

When Bastian reached the fortieth iteration, his arms could no longer carry him, and he collapsed. His already tired arms were even more tired with push-ups. He was breathing rapidly and laying on the floor without moving in the slightest.

Harald walked slowly to her side and raised his wooden stick. When the young boy lying on the ground noticed this, his eyes widened, but before he could react, the stick hit him on the back.

"OWWAAAAAH!!" Bastian howled awkwardly at the sudden pain he felt in his lower back.

Harald shouted with all his might, "Who told you to stop!"

Bastian immediately took a deep breath and started doing push-ups. Every second that passed, his arms and shoulders were throbbing, sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. He literally felt like he was in the middle of hell.

For the rest of the day, all the young boys there practiced very hard strength training under the scorching sun.

Especially with the extra punishments Bastian was inflicted, he had spent much harder hours than the others. Fortunately, Harald had asked him to train with lighter weights considering his weaker body than the other youths. However, it was still a great torture for this young man.

When the training was over, Bastian lay on the ground like a dead man.

"Is he okay?" Two boys had come to him, exhausted. One of them was completely shaved and had a slightly masculine body structure, while the other most striking feature was the long, messy hair that looked like a bush.

These two people were his closest friends Oman Beywood and Harz Eshnam.

Bastian opened his eyes slightly and looked at the shaved boy, "Oman, I don't think I can move."

"Harz, help me lift him!" Oman sighed and looked at his long-haired friend.

The two of them took his arm and helped him walk. The three friends started walking towards their house with weary steps. The sun was slowly setting and it was starting to get dark. It was good news for them that the scorching sun was now gone, but the heat was still stifling in the area.

After a long walk, they reached the front of Elgon's house. Halfway through, Bastian had managed to gather some energy and was able to walk on his own.

"Looks like you better stay here tonight... Look at you, you can't seem to take one more step." As Bastian opened the door, he looked at the two friends standing next to him and grinned.

"Look who's talking…" Harz began to grumble.

When the door opened, an old man came into view of the three friends. This old man had a bald head and long white beard. If the wrinkles on this old man's face did not reveal his age, anyone who did not know him would certainly not be able to tell by looking at his body that this man was an old man; he had a really built body.

This old man was Bastian's grandfather, Elgon Renslow.

"Hello grandpa, I've brought guests." Bastian smiled wearily.

At that time, Elgon was carving a wood with his knife in the room opposite the door.

Elgon withdraw his glance from the wood and began to stare at the boys, "Young Beywood and Eshnam... You guys look pretty tired."

Bastian said, "I still don't know how I live."

Harz stretched and said, "I want to get through this day now and forget it forever."

"I brought some smoked steaks from downtown, so go reward yourself." Elgon laughed.

The boys put their tiredness aside for that second, prepared a good feast for themselves and enjoyed delicious steaks and beer. After they had completely filled their bellies, they slept like a hibernating bear with the weight descending on them.

When they woke up the next day, the sun had already taken its place in the sky. As Oman and Harz exercised their bodies regularly, their condition was only mild fatigue from training. However, Bastian had both incredible fatigue and muscle aches. Even if he thought about moving even a little bit, an uncomfortable pain stabbed into his muscles.

"I certainly wouldn't move even a little bit today if it weren't for the barrels I had to take to town…" Oman began to tense the muscles in his body. "I will soon have accumulated three hundred silver coins for the 'real' sword I want."

In all kingdoms and empires, the weight of which is fixed; wrought silver and gold were used as currency.

Units were divided into three according to their size: Coin, Levt and Ingot.

10 silver Coins was equal to 1 silver Levt, 10 silver Levt was equal to 1 silver Ingot.

Likewise, 10 gold coins equals 1 gold Levt, and ten gold Levts equals one gold Ingot.

Gold was counted as a hundred times more valuable unit than silver. With the simplest example: 100 Silver Coins were equal to 1 Gold Coin. This ratio was the same for all units.

"Guess when soon?" Bastian asked.

"In a few years." Oman replied with a grin.

Bastian grinned too.

In insignificant places like Lightleaf Town, even the worst iron-made sword was difficult to obtain.