“Preparations complete.

  Teleporting Humans to their Heartland.”

  The moment the system’s cold, emotionless voice echoed across the world, reality itself seemed to ripple. Then—like dust caught in a sudden breeze—every human on Earth vanished into a shimmering curtain of blue light.

  No matter where they stood—whether in a kitchen, on the battlefield, or beside loved ones—the world dissolved beneath their feet. Space twisted. Time folded.

  And then—

  They arrived.

  The Heartland of Humanity

  The place the system called the Heartland was far beyond anything Earth’s imagination could have produced.

  The first thing everyone noticed was the portal.

  A colossal circular gate stood in the exact center of the Heartland. Its surface was a shifting mirror of liquid light, swirling softly like the eye of an endless storm. The system had said this portal would lead directly to the battlefield—the place where the Trials would begin.

  Around the portal stretched a platform of polished stone large enough to fit several cities.

  But the Heartland wasn’t just a battlefield staging ground.

  It was humanity’s new sanctuary… or their waiting grave.

  The Supply Fortress

  Not far from the portal towered a structure so massive that newcomers instinctively tilted their heads back until their necks hurt.

  One hundred meters tall.

  One hundred kilometers by one hundred kilometers wide.

  A supply fortress gifted to every race by the system.

  Inside it were the desperate seven days of Earth’s preparations:

  Mountains of food stacked like artificial hills

  Weapons by the crate, by the container, by the shipload

  Entire forests’ worth of arrows and bolts

  Ores and raw materials from across the planet

  Tools, clothing, tents, generators

  Seed vaults

  Industrial machines

  Crates of medicine that filled vast aisles like mazes

  And endless rows of labeled storage units containing the hopes of eight billion people

  The sheer scale of the fortress was overwhelming. Entire nations’ reserves could be lost inside it and never be found again.

  Four Hundred Million Bodies

  Beyond the fortress lay a plain unlike any in the natural world.

  The system had arranged humanity in perfectly aligned rows—an impossible grid of people standing shoulder to shoulder.

  A 400 km × 400 km section of flat land, filled entirely with humans.

  From above, it looked like a tight weave of dark dots stretching to infinity.

  From the ground, all one could see was an endless forest of heads.

  The horizon was too close. The distance too great. Human eyes were never meant to understand such scale.

  There were no cries. No murmurs. No shuffling of feet.

  The sudden teleportation had stunned them all into silence.

  Only the faint wind moved, brushing over millions like a single breath.

  The Land Beyond

  Encircling the field of people was the untouched remainder of the Heartland:

  Rolling rivers glowing with rich mana

  Endless forests with ancient, towering trees

  Clear skies unmarred by pollution

  Fresh air that tasted almost sweet

  It was beautiful.

  Terrifyingly beautiful.

  This would be the safe zone—a sanctuary for farmers, craftsmen, and families while the armies fought at the front. If humanity succeeded, it would grow into a proud nation-state within the Trials.

  If they failed… it would be a monument to their extinction.

  The Platform of Leaders

  At the base of the central portal, a massive raised platform awaited, draped in banners representing all nations. World leaders stood upon it, looking down at their people.

  The system granted them the right to speak.

  Unfortunately.

  What followed was a universal human nightmare:

  a three-hour speech.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Every president, prime minister, chairman, king, queen, and dictator spoke one after another, reciting lines that were equal parts patriotic, political, and painfully long-winded.

  It felt like a school assembly, except instead of a boring principal, the entire United Nations had decided to talk at once.

  People stood rigidly—because appearing disrespectful in front of billions was social suicide—and bore the torture.

  Thankfully, the system projected tiny screens in front of everyone so they could see the stage clearly. Without them, the bodies in front would have blocked all view.

  At the edge of the platform stood the generals—the actual leaders of the legions. Their expressions remained carved in stone as they endured the leaders’ self-glorifying monologues.

  The moment the leaders finally stepped back, three hours later, a visible wave of relief passed through the crowd.

  Then the generals spoke.

  Their speech lasted barely thirty seconds.

  “You have been divided into legions of one million.

  Upon stepping through the portal, you will be teleported to your assigned legion and squad.

  Do not move until your general gives further orders.”

  Short. Sharp. Useful.

  The screens faded.

  The portal shimmered.

  And the first humans stepped into the battlefield.

  Legions and Political Rot

  Not all leaders were useless.

  Some were genuinely trying.

  But others—especially dictators—abused their position even now, their greed thinly veiled behind false encouragement.

  However, they still obeyed the system. They had to.

  Each nation earned points during the Trial. Those points were everything. They determined shop access, land rights, faction legitimacy, and future power.

  Because of this, the distribution of legions wasn’t based solely on population. It was based on global standing.

  Europe and North America: ~1,000 legions

  Asia: ~1,000 legions

  Rest of the world: ~1,000 legions

  Three thousand legions total—each with an army of one million.

  For example:

  The Netherlands, despite only 23 million people, received six legions because of economic weight.

  Algeria, with 60 million people, received two legions due to weaker political influence.

  The remaining billions were assigned to logistics—farming, building, production, crafting, and research.

  The Shop Emerges

  Once the Trial officially began, a translucent screen materialized before every human.

  The Shop Preview.

  Gasps rippled across the field.

  The items were almost divine:

  The right to create an independent faction, registered with the Earth System

  Tomes containing profession knowledge—blacksmithing, spellcasting, enchanting, alchemy

  Magical seeds and instructions for cultivation

  Schematics for enchanted weapons

  Blueprints for buildings that defied Earth’s engineering

  Unique abilities, class advancement paths, mana techniques

  Materials that didn’t exist on any known periodic table

  Each item’s price made even wealthy nations pale.

  But alongside the shop was the explanation of how to earn points:

  Killing monsters.

  Goblin defeated → 0.1 point to the killer

  Goblin defeated → 0.1 point to their faction

  Monsters equaled money.

  Money equaled survival.

  Economists across the Heartland began crying tears of joy.

  For the first time, they weren’t being forced into battle.

  Their expertise mattered again—crucial to managing Earth’s new mana-driven economy.

  Thus, a new profession was born, one destined to shape human history:

  Merchants.

  Reviled.

  Respected.

  Necessary.

  Humans had entered the Trials.

  The Heartland buzzed with tension.

  And the portal, glowing like a calm storm, awaited the billions who would soon step through it.

  A step that would decide the fate of the entire species.