The Last Front

After three days of hard riding, they finally reached the city's portal network to reach the northern part of the empire.

A shimmer of blue light swallowed them, and by the end of the next day's ride, 

"We've arrived," the carriage rider said flatly, the first and only words he had spoken the entire trip. Baines didn't care. He had spent years in silence. What were a few more days?

Before them stood a massive fortress; its towering double doors were wide open, a steady stream of people moving in and out.

After a short word with the guards, they were allowed to pass. This was the Last Front.

One would think this place would be in current danger or only see the army moving around in hurry or dreary, however it was anything but. 

 In fact, it looked more like a thriving border town. Markets bustled with activity. Children laughed as they played in the snow, hurling it at one another. Women carried baskets. Soldiers lounged about, some training, some drinking, and others simply watching it all with quiet disinterest.

The only thing truly remarkable about the place, besides the fortress, was the cold. Ice clung to everything: rooftops, carts, and uniforms.

'This?' This is what Vole called dangerous? Baines wondered. He had expected tension in the air, urgent alarms, and walls under siege. Not... this.

However, he said nothing and kept a watchful eye as they moved past a second set of gates.

Then, it hit him immediately.

The stench.

The sharp tang of blood, metal, and smoke clung to the wind. It seemed as if the second gate blocked everything from the sight of those in the outer region. Well, it was certainly possible with magic, however, the main point was this, 

This was the true Last Front.

Ahead, he saw them: two colossal ice-covered mountains stretching across the horizon like slumbering giants. Nestled between them was a dark, sprawling castle, fortified, imposing, and ancient. Though there were other buildings here and there, this was the most eye-catching.

An army unlike any he'd ever seen filled the space. Soldiers of all levels milled about: from green 1-stars to rare 4-stars. Occasionally, a 5-star passed by their presence, commanding respect without a word.

Eventually, the carriage stopped near a row of others, and they got down.

"The recruitment building is there," the driver pointed to a structure on the left. Without another word, he turned and left.

Baines also wordlessly approached the building and joined the long line of new entrants.

"Hey," a voice called beside him after hours of standing and waiting.

He turned.

A young man, probably no older than nineteen, stood beside him. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Same height.

"You look my age. How are you already a Sword Master?" he asked, eyeing the blade on Baines's hip with curiosity.

The question drew attention. Murmurs rose among the line. He was, after all, the only sword master here.

"What do you want?" Baines asked, his voice detached, his expression unreadable.

"Whoa, chill. Just making conversation. Since we'll probably end up in the same squad, figured we should talk." The boy expressed no ill intention as he tried to continue the conversation.

However, Baines turned back to face forward, ignoring him.

"H-Hey—" the boy tried again but was cut off by a voice from inside.

"Number 243."

That was him.

Without another glance, Baines stepped forward and disappeared into the recruitment office.

Inside, five officers sat behind a long desk. All wore the official military garb of the Sun Empire, each marked with the insignia of a six-star general.

They looked up.

A sword master? Here?

It was shocking. Most sword masters either joined noble houses, became mercenaries, or sold their skills to the highest bidder. Rarely did they enlist in the military—especially not on the frontlines.

"I'm Jin. Recommended by Vole Malakar," Baines said, offering a small bow and placing a sealed letter on the table.

They read it. Some raised eyebrows. Others said nothing.

'They'll accept me,' Baines concluded. He had also not seen any other 5th star on the line, so he was eager to step our when, 

"Jin, is it?" the panel head—an older man with sharp eyes and white hair—looked up.

"Why do you want to join the army?" His tone was cold, probing. One wrong word and Baines could feel the threat of rejection—or worse.

Yet, Baines didn't flinch.

His mindset on the empire was already good enough because of Vole, and if they thought they could just threaten him for answers, what was adding one other empire on his list?

However, he replied with the truth. It was the first time since he descended: "I'm looking for some people."

Silence fell over the room.

They understood.

It wasn't just a vague goal—it was a motive forged in fire.

What would drive a young swordmaster to volunteer for one of the deadliest posts in the empire?

Revenge? Justice? Desperation?

It didn't matter. They had all felt that rage before.

"Very well," the older man said, gesturing to a stone block at the center of the room. It resembled a stool for seating, and if one looked closely, it was worn smooth with deep cuts from countless trials.

"Show us your strike."

Baines stepped forward.

The room was quiet as he drew his sword. A soft shng echoed in the space.

He raised the blade.

'Cut.' He envisioned it. Not the motion—the result. Then he brought the blade down.

Crack.

The stone split in two—clean, effortless, silent.

Gasps.

"What was that?" one officer muttered.

"How?"

"You…"

"W-What?"

Even the head panel raised his brows slightly before regaining composure.

"What technique was that?" another officer asked, aura flaring slightly as if to test Baines's resolve.

"I cut it," Baines replied.

"I know that—but how?" They were probing again.

Suspicious. Eager. Nervous.

'Of course,' Baines sighed internally. He had just used the Will of Absolute Cut and Destruction—a manifestation of his sheer resolve. It was meant for higher levels- certainly not for his level. But he didn't have time for slow progression.

He wanted to get revenge NOW, not later. He wanted to meet his family NOW, and not later.

"Enough," the panel head raised a hand. The tension died instantly. 'The boy is already disappointed by our attitude, yet he still doesn't care. How deep is his rage?' The head panel mused as he glanced deeply at Baines.

"You'll be assigned to a vanguard squad, as requested. Due to your level and skill, you'll be provided with private quarters, a uniform, and military technique access."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Welcome to the Last Front."