MM - Chapter 254 - THE DIVIDE BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL

Raine led his guilders through the narrow streets of West Base Town. The passage of armed soldiers was familiar enough that residents did not panic. Still, the sight of seventeen thousand marching in disciplined cohorts was rare enough to bring the town to a halt. Children stopped their games to point. Shopkeepers and laborers swept unamused gazes over the trotting ranks, searching for the familiar insignia of a kingdom regiment or a noble house. They found none. The legion bore no banners, no sigils, only the grim determination etched onto their faces. The townfolks’ curiosity curdled into suspicion. Frowns deepened, and whispers turned to open hostility.

“Get lost, filthy outsiders!” A woman shouted from a second-story window, shaking a fist.

“We don’t need your kind here, leeching off our ancestors’ wall!” Another man yelled from his forge, face slick with sweat and contempt.

A group of off-duty soldiers jeered from the steps of a tavern. “Not even level 10?! Coming to steal Superiority from the real Warriors? Shameless bastards, the lot of yah!”

Raine’s interface flickered into view. He typed a swift, unyielding command into the sub-officer guild chat. “Maintain order. Anyone who falls for their provocations will be punished. We are not here to cause a scene.” A raid check-box materialized beside the message, a feature that forced the notification to the center of his battlemasters’ vision, leaving no room for excuses that they had not seen it.

Only a few harsh reminders were required for the regulars to maintain their forward-fixed gazes. They were men and women who had spent their lives as martial outcasts, their skin thickened by a lifetime of scorn worse than this reception. They were Astra Infernum, forged by the recent war, their confidence a shield more resilient than steel.

They left the cramped town behind, the streets opening into a vast, fenced-off staging area aside the keep. The edifice itself was a marvel of military engineering—a heavily fortified castle fused into the base of Celendine’s Shield. Despite its glory, the keep did not rise even a tenth of the way up the colossal wall. The open yard was a field of packed soil, large enough to muster a hundred thousand soldiers. Two other raids, led by Vaaterran nobles, gathered there as well, their members trickling in to form neat, disciplined rows.

The muttering Astra’s regulars endured in the town was a whisper compared to the scathing contempt they faced here. Soldiers spat as they passed, not polite enough to aim for the ground. They raised fists with a sharp jerk of the elbow, meant to imply his people were all bastards from broken bloodlines. The disdain was thick, suffocating.

A runner from the gate guards stood near the front of the yard. He was engaged in a heated discussion with five other men, one of whom wore the crest of a family Raine couldn't recall. The noble gestured wildly, his face a mask of indignation. Raine motioned for his cohorts to halt, then marched toward the small group alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel the only sound that followed him.

The five fell silent as he approached. The guard was the only one to snap a salute. Two of the others were adjutants, their crisp, liveried uniforms marking them as direct subordinates of a Grand Marshal—the very height of military authority. They stood with an air of detached importance, their expressions unreadable.

The last three wore their hostility like a badge of honor. The youthful noble was flanked by two sycophants, their chins lifted at the same haughty angle. Raine’s Eyes of Amanesh swept over the trio before centering on the only one who mattered.

[Pyroplasmancer (Noble): Level 66 (HP 13,780)]

[Highest Attribute: Elemental Power 6,923]

[Average Attribute Score: 1,355]

[Unique Skill Type: Elemental Enhancement]

Glass cannon caster. Typical build for a snotty kid who never intends to get punched in his life. High attributes; he’s got good gear. But not good enough to come from a family that I should be worried about.

Raine shook his head, amending the thought.

What am I thinking? This is a perfect opportunity. Exactly what we need to make sure the local guilds never intend to help us. Worst thing I can do here is make friends; nobody will earn Superiority.

A small measure of relief eased the breath in his lungs. It was good that their animosity was so openly displayed. Had he seen a covetous glance at his gear, there might have been room for actual concern. The ambient glow from his equipment was disabled, but a powerful investigation skill would have no issue sussing out their quality. For the first time, he was in public without an item to disguise his status. Yet, the Queen's Favor should prove shield enough among these people—the kingdom’s defenders.

Raine’s salute was a perfectly executed gesture in the Silvergate style, right fist over his heart and left to the side of his head—a symbol of loyalty to the crown in both heart and mind. “Baron Alaric of the Earth Realm, reporting for duty in service of Her Majesty, Queen Analice Celendine,” he announced, voice clear and steady.

“Baron?” The noble caster drawled, his lips curling into a sneer. “How soft is your head, simpleton?”

The attempted bait was ignored. Raine’s gaze remained fixed on the head adjutant. All three youths bristled at the dismissal, and the noble stepped forward to plant himself directly in Raine’s line of sight, jabbing a finger toward his chest. “I am speaking to you, peasant! An interim title does not give you the right to besmirch Her Majesty’s peerage by pretending to be more than you are!”

Raine held back a sigh, eyes narrowing on the boy. “I suppose you’re a much better judge of character, deed, and merit than Her Majesty. How daft of me not to realize that a sun far more brilliant than our monarch has already risen in this very yard.”

The smirks on the lackeys’ faces vanished, replaced by venomous glares. Insinuating that the insult questioned the queen’s judgment was a cowardly escape from the verbal jousting, but Raine did not care. It was the fastest way to end a confrontation that would otherwise devolve into a morning of traded barbs, ending only when he was forced to kill the brat and trigger a chain of unwanted reprisals.

As expected, the minions leaped to their master’s defense.

“Have you no shame?” One of them spat.

The other seethed, spittle flying. “Shouldn’t have expected more from an outsider!”

Before the situation could escalate further, the head adjutant stepped forward, executing a low bow toward the fuming noble. “Heir apparent of Bastion Peak, Sir Lucius Slade, if there is nothing more that I can assist you with…”

Raine’s eyebrows rose in appreciation at the adjutant’s cleverness. There was no need to state the boy’s full title; the man was testing Raine’s knowledge of the kingdom's political landscape. Bastion Peak was a minor barony tucked away in the Recluse Mountains. If he knew the lay of the houses, he would also realize that Lucius, as a mere heir, was technically lower on the hierarchical ladder than himself.

A slow smirk spread across Raine’s face as he chose to confirm that he did indeed know the lay of the land. “Interesting. Baron apparent, if you wouldn’t mind, I have business with the adjutant.”

Lucius’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. Then, a sudden, vicious smile transformed his features. He took a step back, sweeping his arm out in a regal, mocking gesture. “By all means, Interim Baron Alaric. My business can wait.”

“B-but, boss!” One of the sycophants practically molted in protest.

Lucius cut him off with a sharp hiss. He motioned for them to follow, and the trio moved just far enough away to be out of earshot, their heads bent together in hushed, conspiratorial whispers.

Raine fixed his attention on the official, dipping his head in a nod. “Thank you, adjutant.”

The wiry-haired man offered a weary smile in return. “You are quite welcome, Baron Alaric. Now, how may we assist you?”

Hoping to avoid further delays, Raine got straight to the point. “I am officially requesting a two-day field placement for my forces, seventeen thousand strong.”

“The field, you say?” The adjutant’s head cocked in thought, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Well, that certainly clears up my concerns. You wouldn’t happen to be the very same… Traveler who appeared a few hands past and kicked up such a storm?”

Raine maintained perfect eye contact, his expression a mask of polite ignorance. “I can’t say that I know what you’re referring to, adjutant. Sounds like a tale best shared over a mug. Unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule.”

The adjutant had the decency to look embarrassed, clearing his throat with a cough into his fist. “Uhh, right you are, my lord. As no other forces are willing, your men may occupy the field anywhere along the fifth region. Queen protect.”

“Thank you, adjutant,” Raine turned to leave.

Before he could take a single step, Lucius and his entourage returned. The vicious smile was still plastered on the young noble’s face. He addressed the adjutant but stared directly at Raine. “I have decided that my forces will occupy the blast slits in the fifth region.” He gave the adjutant no chance to protest, immediately turning toward the wall. “Move out!”

“But, my lord, the others—”

“I said move out!” Lucius’s voice turned shrill with rage, echoing across the yard. “They can catch up when they sober up! If they don’t, they can rot in a cell! We have beasts to judge, for Her Majesty!” He threw the last words over his shoulder, eyes locking with Raine’s in a clear promise that their encounter was far from over. Lucius’s forces began to move, trailing behind him as he sauntered into the wall through a wide set of double doors marked with a stylized number five.

The adjutant sighed, shaking his head with a sad resignation. “My apologies, Lord Alaric. I fear Young Master Slade does not have your best interests at heart.”

“You don’t say…” Raine trailed off, already heading back to his waiting guild. Without a word, he guided them toward the same set of doors. 

His guilders became a long column that snaked through the staging area behind him. For each and every one of them, stepping through the gates was like entering the heart of a mountain. Darkness enveloped them, chased away only by glowing runes set into the stone tunnel at long intervals. The air was cool and still; breathing became hard under a thousand meters of solid mass poised overhead. Bone-jarring booms of distant explosions vibrated beneath their feet. 

The same thoughts were in all their heads: How could something so gargantuan be rattled with such frequency and strength? What kind of battlefield were they about to march into this time?

The causeway was broad enough for a siege engine, its ceiling lost in the shadows above. Lucius had halted his fifty casters along the side of the tunnel, forcing Astra Infernum to file past a gauntlet of sneering faces and jeering insults, each one made more personal by the echoing confines pressing in around them.

“Hope you’re ready to die, outsiders!”

“Yeah! Can’t wait to see how many times you lot can taste death before your minds shatter!”

“Useless!”

One of Lucius’s men spat near Fizgore's feet. “Useless is an understatement. The lot of 'em look like something a Bilespinner would slop right past and leave to rot.”

Raine waded past the raucous laughter and taunts as if they didn’t exist. So did his people. Not a single guilder glanced to the side. Most of the insults, if anything, were so nonsensical they inspired quiet laughter in the Earthlings, a reaction that only infuriated their aggressors further.

Upon passing him, Lucius made one final attempt to get under Raine’s skin. “Father told me about the lies you used to cozy up to the princess. I look forward to watching you fail spectacularly. The kingdom will soon know you for the fraud you are.”

So that’s what all this is about. 

A baron was the lowest of the hereditary noble ranks in the kingdom. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that Lucius Slade—the son of one, not yet holding a title of his own—would ever so much as meet the princess's gaze. The jealousy at Alaric's relationship with Selena must be driving the boy mad.

Still, at least he’s out here grinding levels, working toward his dream, no matter how impossible it seems. Plenty of nobles grew fat and happy right up until the Dantinians put them to the sword.

Just beyond Lucius's position, stairs on either side of the passage spiraled up into the darkness, leading to the many upper levels of blast slits. Raine led his people right past them, soon reaching the end of the long tunnel. He passed through the final defensive station and stepped out into the divide—a battlefield of pure, unrestrained mayhem.

The light of day was a painful, blinding shock after the tunnel's gloom. Streaks of elemental energy shot from the blast slits high above, screaming across the scarred landscape to detonate in deafening explosions that rocked the very foundations of The Wall. A thin arcane barrier, projected a dozen meters in front of Celendine’s Shield, flickered ominously under the relentless assault of suicidal Rabinoids. Far in the distance, on the far side of The Divide, stood a hazy silhouette against the horizon—the matching wall of the Dantinian Empire.

The World Restoration Patch had done more than increase the intelligence and numbers of the Vaaterrans. Nowhere on Vaateaire were the changes more visible than here. The once-chaotic swarms of Rabinoids now moved as tightly compacted, specialized units. Streaking flyers broke from the formations, diving with purpose into the path of Empowered Blasts before they could decimate entire conrois of the bugs. Heavily armored Behemoth Rabinoids with dense wing plates maintained a solid, mobile wall against arrows and javelins, protecting the more vulnerable Kamikaze Rabinoids until they were close enough to unleash their payloads directly against the beleaguered shieldwall.

Wherever the beasts were successful, massive flashfires of deadly heat washed between the wall and the arcane barrier, devastating everything within that fifty-meter cushion. Already, the stones of the once-pristine wall were charred black all along its length. This was the battlefield Raine remembered so well. Upon stepping into the light, even the most veteran members of his guild stopped in their tracks, jaws slack with awe at the sheer scale of the destruction.

They were given no time to gawk.

“Form ranks! Backs to the wall!” His orders cracked like whips. Boots scraped dirt as bodies pressed against Celendine’s Shield. Eyes fell on their guild leader, the only thing between them and the meat-grinder beyond. Suddenly, The Wall’s vast presence was pushing them into the churn, rather than protecting them from it.

Raine’s voice tumbled into their ears, louder than the too-near thunder of battle. “Welcome to your crucible! Here, in The Divide, you will be tested until you break. You will suffer. You will die. You will learn, and overcome, or you will be left behind. The core groups march with me deeper into the field. We will not come back for you. For the first time since stepping into ZionLine, you are on your own.”

His pause was deliberate, brutal. The reality of what they would soon face crushed them with the finality of life and death.

“But you are not alone,” his softly spoken words reached them just as clearly. “Trust in your battlemasters. Obey without question. Cohorts that reach and hold level twelve by nightfall will have earned the first of Astra Infernum’s martial stances. Grasp it, and you will finally stand among the martials you have only ever watched from the dirt.

Fail, and you stay in the dirt forever. This is the chance you joined for. Take it, or drown.”

One by one, he kicked the battlemasters from the main raid, effectively isolating the individual cohorts into their own raids. They were the very battlemasters Celeste had championed—good hearts, honest people, loyal. Raine had seen their mistakes too, most of them would not succeed.

That was the entire point.

Only fire reveals what is steel and what is slag. By removing the safety net of the core group, the truth would be revealed. And if they could not overcome this little test, then they were unworthy of the time investment of personal training.

Those who couldn't dig deep enough now, would only later come to realize that this place—the divide between heaven and hell—marked the end of their martial path.