As the sun dipped low over the Trial Continent, painting the sky in streaks of amber and bruised purple, a long column of figures approached the massive gates of Sea Fortress N3. From a distance, they looked almost comical—roughly a hundred people in mismatched gear, some armored, some not, all coated in dust and fatigue. If not for the disciplined way they walked, one might have mistaken them for refugees or wandering villagers.
Up close, however, it was clear they were something else entirely.
The fortress loomed above them like a mountain carved by human hands. Walls of pale stone rose dozens of meters into the air. Massive iron gates stood open, revealing the inner structure beyond—layer upon layer of battlements, towers, and corridors that stretched inward like the ribs of some ancient beast.
As the group passed through the gates, several soldiers stationed there glanced their way with poorly hidden curiosity.
“Wow…” Bill muttered, his mouth hanging open.
Tom noticed immediately and elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“Hey, Bill. Why is your mouth wide open? Never seen anything like this before?” he asked with a grin, clearly enjoying himself.
Bill didn’t answer right away. His eyes traced the vaulted ceilings above them, where banners hung in neat rows—deep blues, whites, and golds, each embroidered with symbols that spoke of old victories and older traditions.
“This place…” Bill finally said. “It feels… heavy.”
The corridor they were being led through was both imposing and strangely beautiful. Polished stone floors reflected the soft glow of oil-lamps embedded in the walls. Display cases lined the halls, holding ancient weapons, preserved armor, and scrolls sealed behind reinforced glass. Each artifact carried with it a fragment of history, a reminder that the military was not just a force of the present, but a continuation of countless generations before it.
Arin walked quietly near the middle of the group, his gaze drifting from one display to another. Unlike Bill, he didn’t feel overwhelmed—if anything, he felt thoughtful.
The military of today was strong, yes. But what truly stood out was how deeply it had begun to reconnect with its past.
Europe and Asia, especially, had revived ancient martial traditions with frightening efficiency. Long-forgotten techniques were being practiced again, refined with modern understanding and enhanced by stats and professions. Sword forms that once relied purely on muscle were now paired with Dexterity bonuses and mana reinforcement. Archery styles passed down through centuries were finding new life in the hands of soldiers who could now loose arrows with superhuman precision.
The contrast with the United States was stark.
Despite being a cultural melting pot with access to countless traditions, the U.S. lacked something essential—living masters. Techniques could be recorded, replicated, and taught from manuals, but without those who truly understood them, the knowledge remained shallow. Wide as an ocean, yet shallow enough to wade through.
Arin thought briefly of the soldiers who had trained under him and his group for just a month. Back then, they’d been clumsy, unsure, almost embarrassed to use bows.
Now, those same soldiers stood out in their units as elite archers.
“Hey, Arin.”
Bertho’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The man walked beside him, hands folded behind his head as usual, eyes sharp despite the long march.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Bertho said. “Staring into space like you’re about to fall asleep standing up.”
Arin snorted softly. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Sure you weren’t. So what’s on your mind this time?”
Arin hesitated, then spoke quietly.
“I was just thinking… about the river.”
Bertho raised an eyebrow. “The river?”
“Yeah. From what was discussed yesterday at the outpost,” Arin continued, “all the bridges are blocked by goblins. And even if we are good with stealth… we’re not exactly gods if we have to wade through them we will be found.”
Bertho frowned. “That’s true. I don’t like that part either.”
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“So how do you think we’re supposed to cross it?” Arin asked.
Bertho shrugged. “No idea. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
They reached a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. Two guards pushed it open, revealing what looked less like a command center and more like an old-fashioned meeting room.
Stone walls. A long solid table carved from dark oak. Heavy chairs built for endurance rather than comfort.
No screens. No holograms. No electricity.
Karl stepped forward and clapped his hands once.
“Alright. Sit down.”
The casual chatter vanished immediately as everyone took their seats.
Moments later, the door opened again.
Marshal Herman Merz entered the room. he was personly responcible as he was sitting in his current posision based on past achievements so he needed a propper victory to show the world that he was suited for this posision because there were many perks and certain people in the goverments wanted their own people in the military because of the sheer power it holds wich was even more aplifide since the importance of the shop began to show. and a stubber old fool who did not listen was not good for their business, so if he messed up, they would begin to try to relieve him of his duties, which was not threatening but annoying, so he would rather do without. As he was thinking, the rest of the room was sizing him up, and they were impressed.
The man was older, his hair silver and cut short, but his posture was straight and commanding. His presence alone seemed to thicken the air. This wasn’t just a politician or a desk general—this was someone who had earned his position through blood, loss, and experience.
Herman didn’t sit right away. He looked over the group carefully, his sharp eyes lingering briefly on Karl before moving on.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Herman said. “You already know why you’re here.”
He placed a large hand-drawn map onto the table and motioned for everyone to gather closer.
“Normally, I’d be pointing at a screen right now,” he continued dryly. “But as you all know, electricity and advanced machinery are unreliable out here. So we’ll be doing this the old way.”
The map showed a massive lake system, rivers branching out like veins.
“We have confirmed that goblin forces somehow managed to get behind our lines,” Herman said, his voice tight with controlled irritation. “That alone is unacceptable.”
He tapped the map with his finger.
“Due to the distorted environment, navigation has been… difficult. The stars don’t align properly. The sun’s path shifts daily. Even magnetic fields are unreliable.”
Several people exchanged uneasy looks.
“Modern navigation tools don’t work,” Herman continued. “And even older methods—like the Chinese war compass—fail unless they’re manually crafted by specialists.”
He exhaled slowly.
“In short, we were blind.”
Herman’s finger moved to a specific area on the map.
“Based on early reports, we’ve narrowed the possible breach point to this river—on the right side of the eastern lake. If scouts had moved out fifty kilometers from Sea Fortress N5, they should have noticed activity.”
He paused.
“They didn’t. That’s on us.”
The room was silent.
“So that’s where you come in,” Herman said. “Your mission is to scout the area and determine how the goblins crossed.”
Karl crossed his arms. “And the river?”
Herman nodded. “That’s the problem.”
“The bridges are blocked,” Herman continued. “And forcing a crossing would draw attention we can’t afford.”
He straightened.
“We have another route. It’s… dangerous.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
“That’s why this mission is not mandatory,” Herman said firmly. “No one will be punished for refusing.”
He turned and gestured toward the door.
“Come with me. I’ll show you.”
As they stood and followed him, Arin felt a familiar tightening in his chest.
Whatever waited beyond that door, he knew one thing for certain—
The Trial wasn’t done with them yet.
