For the next hour, the training ground remained filled with the sounds of children screaming, vomiting, coughing, and repeatedly striking the wooden practice dummies while the smell of blood, sweat, and melted medicine gradually spread across the freezing morning air.
"I can’t take it anymore.... I need rest, someone please fetch me water."
"Mother, I want my mother. MA—"
"You! Slave! Go bring me some water!"
The privileged children screamed, as although there were a few among the Ultra Trash group who eventually collapsed after failing to endure the strain placed upon their bodies, the true disaster unfolded among the children belonging to the higher categories instead.
"Was this a conspiracy to burn my tongue off? I’ll make sure to tell my father what happened here today."
"Could you not have made the medicine taste any better? Maybe mix it with sugar or jaggery?"
"THAT medicine tasted worse than actual shit...."
Some of the privileged children complained, as after failing to keep the medicine inside their mouths long enough for it to fully dissolve, many immediately began blaming the taste of the pill itself instead of admitting that they simply could not endure the pain long enough to withstand its effects, while Garron ignored every single complaint without reacting at all.
By the end of the first hour, nearly one out of every two children assigned to the Trash category had ultimately failed to hold the medicine inside their mouths long enough for their Soul Vessels to absorb any meaningful quantity of Aether.
And strangely enough, that result genuinely shocked many among them.
Because before training began, most had naturally assumed that talented individuals such as themselves would outperform the slaves and bastards easily.
"How is this even possible...?
Why are they still enduring while we have already failed?"
The village chief’s eldest son muttered while glancing toward Riven, as he simply could not understand how somebody could continue enduring such horrifying pain without screaming even once.
"Maybe they can tolerate suffering better because they’re more used to living through abhorrent conditions...."
Another boy whispered uneasily while watching, as several members of the Ultra Trash group continued to punch their practice dummies despite bloodied knuckles and trembling limbs.
As throughout all the chaos unfolding across the field, Garron quietly continued to observe every child who still remained standing.
To ordinary people, the children before him still looked mostly the same as before.
However, to a Flame rank ascendant such as himself, who had long since become sensitive toward fluctuations in Aether, the difference was already becoming painfully obvious.
Every child who had successfully endured the medicine long enough now had a small reserve of Aether stored within their soul vessels, with the total amount stored indicative of their natural talent.
’Most of them are nothing special....’
Garron thought while slowly sweeping his gaze across the exhausted children still standing near the practice dummies.
’However, there are roughly seven among them that might possess some actual potential.’
He concluded internally, as even among those who had survived the first round without fainting or spitting out the medicine, only seven children had absorbed enough Aether for Garron to become mildly interested in their future growth.
’However, since three among those seven cannot realistically be turned over to the army in the future...
I only have four genuine talents in my hands.’
Garron reflected regretfully, as despite publicly claiming earlier that he had separated the children into Trash, Super Trash, and Ultra Trash categories according to talent and physical potential, what he had actually done was divide them based almost entirely around whether or not they could eventually be recruited into the Imperial Army.
The children assigned to the Trash category were mostly those belonging to influential or affluent households whose families would never willingly allow them to be shipped away toward distant battlefields, and hence, Garron intentionally placed them inside the lowest intensity training group so that he could spend as little time and effort nurturing them as possible.
Meanwhile, those belonging to the Super Trash category were children whose futures still remained uncertain depending on circumstance, quotas, and family negotiations, as although some among them might not join the army, there was a chance that a few could as well.
Finally, the Ultra Trash group consisted almost entirely of bastards, slaves, servants, and unwanted children whom Chief Torak had already quietly promised over for military recruitment from the very beginning, as in the end, those were the only children Garron genuinely cared about spending real time training, because all things considered, those were the only ones who were going to actually earn him money.
’Two healthy girls with braided hair... one broad shouldered brute with a mole near his neck... and one scrawny looking girl wearing those filthy servant clothes....’
Garron noted internally while committing their appearances carefully to memory, as those four were the only children present whom he genuinely considered talented enough to possess meaningful potential.
However, although those children had managed to capture Garron’s attention because of their talent and natural compatibility with Aether, there was another figure among the crowd whom he found himself observing for an entirely different reason.
A short and scrawny looking boy with an almost abnormal tolerance toward pain.
As even long after the medicine inside his mouth had fully dissolved and most children around him had either collapsed onto the frozen ground or stopped punching their practice dummies entirely from exhaustion, Riven somehow continued striking the dummy before him over and over again without pause.
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*
His breathing had already become ragged.
Blood covered his torn knuckles.
His thin arms visibly trembled from exhaustion with every movement.
And yet despite all of that, he still refused to stop.
’Bruised knuckles... unstable breathing... almost no stamina remaining....’
Garron observed silently while watching Riven continue punching through pure stubbornness alone.
’Yet somehow he still keeps going.’
He judged, as for the very first time since arriving at Ashfang Village, Garron felt the faintest trace of respect emerge within him toward one of the children under his supervision.
However, unfortunately for Riven, that respect only lasted briefly before practicality ultimately overtook it once more.
’Still... his Aether absorption remains mediocre.’
Garron concluded while sensing the weak fluctuations coming from Riven’s newly awakened Soul Vessel.
’Common talent despite that mentality of his.
Definitely not one of the finest.’
Garron thought regretfully, as throwing Riven one last glance, he finally clapped his hands and yelled the word—
"STOP!"
Almost immediately, all the children paused whatever it was they were doing and looked towards Garron, who in return, cast an indifferent glance towards all of them.
"I will now teach you how to pull the Aether you have absorbed from your soul vessel into your limbs to strengthen them.
Pay close attention, because physical strengthening is a key step towards becoming an Ember rank awakener."
He said, as regardless of how tired and pitiful the kids looked, he continued training them mercilessly.