The world bent, and then Leon's squad materialized on solid ground. The faint shimmer of summoning light died around them, leaving only the rough stone and weathered pillars of the settlement's summoning station.
This was the mortal zone of the trial world, the first foothold carved out by the earliest humans who had ever set foot here. Ever since, every new arrival to the trial world spawned in this same place, as if the land itself had chosen it to be the doorway.
The settlement stretched out before them, alive with movement. Merchants barked out prices, smiths worked steel that rang sharp in the air, and squads of trial takers gathered in tight circles, some preparing for expeditions, others limping back from blood-soaked hunts. Compared to the strict precision of the Federation bases, this place carried a raw, unsettled energy. It wasn't disorder, but it wasn't order either. It was survival.
