The grassland stretched endlessly beneath an open sky, its gentle slopes rolling onward until even the horizon seemed to give up trying to contain it. Two hundred figures ran across that sea of green, their breaths steady, their movements practiced. Even with enhanced bodies and strengthened stats, the journey had been brutal—weeks of constant motion, broken only by brief rests and careful rationing.

  Then the land ahead changed.

  A wall rose from the earth like a scar across the world.

  It stretched so far in both directions that it vanished into the distance, its sheer scale dwarfing the approaching scouts. From afar it looked like a mountain range made by human hands—cold, gray, and unyielding.

  “Wow…” Bertho muttered, slowing slightly as he stared upward. “That’s… impressive. They’re more prepared than I thought. We were gone for, what, a month? And they raised something like that? And this isn’t even the only fortification around the portal.”

  “You’re right,” Bill said, eyes narrowing as his strategist’s mind kicked in. “After that speech disaster back in the heartland, I didn’t expect this level of coordination. But they do have motivation. Winning the Trial means their country’s landmass will expand so much that all those wars over territory and resources will look childish in comparison. First, they’ll need to properly secure and claim everything they gain.”

  Arin ran in silence, gaze fixed on the wall as it grew larger with every step. The stone radiated permanence, as if it had always been there—waiting.

  “Well,” Arin said, “does anyone know why we weren’t given horses for this scouting run? I asked around with the other teams, and none of them had mounts either. Even just for carrying food, horses would’ve doubled our range.”

  “When you say asked,” Bill said with a grin, “do you mean you actually spoke to someone?”

  “…No,” Arin replied honestly.

  Bill laughed. “You didn’t talk to anyone, did you?”

  “I checked thoroughly,” Arin protested. “From far away. And up close.”

  Tom’s voice cut in from behind them. “The army confiscated all horses with potential as war mounts. They’re trying to form a proper cavalry.”

  “That explains it,” Bertho said slowly.

  “Unfortunately,” Tom continued, “there weren’t enough. Globally, they barely gathered enough suitable horses for a single legion. Cavalry will exist—but not at the scale anyone hoped for. And since horses likely don’t respawn, every charge costs them permanently.”

  “That’s grim,” Bill muttered.

  “The rest of the horses were assigned as pack animals,” Tom added. “Logistics comes first.”

  Bertho nodded. “Makes sense. A standard carriage takes two horses just to move at a decent pace, and the load capacity is limited. And considering where the next major fortress will likely be…” He paused, calculating. “We ran for two weeks toward the river—about a hundred kilometers per day. That’s at least fourteen hundred kilometers.”

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  “…That’s hell,” someone whispered.

  Tom broke the silence. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to let the goblins come to us? They’d starve long before reaching the wall. Karl said we weren’t even halfway to their portal.”

  Arin shook his head. “We don’t understand the Trials well enough. Giving up that much territory could trigger some twisted rule we don’t know about. I’d rather not gamble with something like that.”

  As he spoke, he tilted his head upward.

  “Speaking of twisted designs… where’s the entrance? I’m almost tempted to just climb the wall.”

  The structure towered twenty meters high, built entirely from stone. They had been walking alongside it for over an hour, yet no gate had appeared. At regular intervals, massive bulges jutted outward—defensive towers designed for crossfire, allowing defenders to rain arrows without exposing themselves. Ballista platforms were embedded directly into the wall’s spine.

  “I’m going to ask Grandpa if we can climb it,” Arin said. “We haven’t even been spotted, and we’re not exactly being quiet. That alone is worth reporting.”

  “I heard my name,” Karl said calmly.

  Arin winced. “I was going to ask if we could climb the wall. Searching for an entrance might take another full day, and we wouldn’t even know if we’re going the right way. Plus, no one up there noticed us.”

  Karl studied the wall, then nodded. “Not a bad idea.”

  He raised his voice. “Alright! We’re climbing over! This is taking too long!”

  He spoke in English—the agreed-upon international language, even after the collapse of the United States. Chinese, though widely spoken, was considered too complex for coordinated military use.

  Five minutes later, they stood atop the wall.

  “…No one’s here,” Karl said quietly.

  Up close, the structure was even more imposing—ten meters of solid stone, topped with another ten meters of compacted earth reinforced by heavy timber.

  “What’s the dirt layer for?” Karl muttered.

  Dennis pointed. “Found the marker, Dad.”

  Karl stepped closer. The sign read:

  Pakistan West – 23.5 km

  “…I knew they had internal issues with how the religions are stripping people away,” Karl sighed. “But I didn’t think it was this bad.”

  “India’s still pressuring them,” Dennis added.

  Karl shook his head. “Not our concern.”

  He turned to the group. “Let’s find our legion. Dennis—what number?”

  “Legion Twenty-Three.”

  “Right. Move out.”

  They descended the wall as the sun sank below the horizon, shadows stretching across a battlefield far larger than anybody had expected.

  And beyond that vast land, unseen and waiting, the true Trial drew closer.