Chapter 28
Title: Gate 60
"You follow me because you do not know where you're going, I do." -unknown
• Basil's POV •
I made each group come at me two at a time.
The rules were simple: no surrender, no retreat. They would either collapse from exhaustion… or be knocked out.
I allowed them to use weapons and skills to keep things fair—or at least, to make them think it was fair. Most of them were light work. A few, though, made me put in actual effort.
Ivy, the silver-haired demihuman archer, and Juno, the mountain of a man wielding twin axes, were among the most impressive. Juno charged head-on with raw power, while Ivy supported him from a distance with relentless precision. Their coordination was tight—tight enough to land a hit on me. Ivy went down first, getting knocked out after a misstep and a well-placed counter. Juno held on longer, draining his mana reserves to fuel a berserker skill until he finally dropped to his knees, unconscious but still upright.
Nyx, the dark elf, and Varek, a middle-aged swordsman with a brutal scar down one eye, lasted the longest.
Varek kept me engaged with clean, practiced swordsmanship, while Nyx slithered through the shadows, using her stealth skills and twin daggers to exploit the gaps Varek created. They didn't manage to land a clean hit, but their strategy was solid—disciplined and dangerous. Varek eventually passed out mid-swing, standing frozen like a statue. Nyx tried to fight on alone, but without her partner's distractions, she was easy to knock out.
Lastly, Lisa and Thomas—by far the oddest matchup.
Lisa was a healer with no real combat ability, and Thomas, though skilled with a blade, had almost no magical talent.
I thought they'd fall apart quickly… until the fight began.
They didn't attack. They defended.
Like in a real battle.
I went for Lisa first, the obvious backline support. But Thomas blocked me each time, forcing me back. When I shifted my focus to him, Lisa used that window to start conjuring high-rank support spells.
She never finished a cast—the chant time was too long—but against a real enemy without my speed, they would've won.
Eventually, Lisa's mana ran dry and she passed out. Thomas, now without support, fell shortly after.
Once I'd knocked out every team, I gave them time to recover.
Then I gave the order:
"Go home. Pack for a month-long trip. We leave at dawn."
That left only one person standing in the arena with me.
Synn.
I approached him on the sideline.
"Greenie Synn, do you know why no one wanted to team with you?"
"Yes, Commander," he said without hesitation. "Though I have leadership potential, I'm still the weakest in the legion."
"Correct. And despite that... you still want to be a captain?"
"Yes, Commander."
I studied him.
"I see. Tell me something, Greenie. Would you do anything to become stronger—even if it meant killing someone you care about?"
He paused, reflecting.
"I would endure any pain or suffering to gain power I could use to protect others. But I would never harm someone I care about. I'd find another way."
"…A wise answer," I said, quietly. "Hold onto it. I've seen too many lose themselves once they gained the power they sought."
I reached into the weapons rack beside the arena and tossed him a short sword.
"I can make you stronger. But it won't be easy."
I leaned forward, eyes shadowed under the weight of memory, voice low—controlled—but you could hear the gravel of pain still caught in my throat.
"It's not like training. Not like getting stronger the hard way. No, this… this breaks you first."
"Imagine every bone in your body—every single one—shattering, not all at once, but slowly. Like a hammer tapping glass until it cracks just enough to collapse under its own weight. You feel each one go. You hear it too, inside your skull. Can't block it out."
"Your blood stops feeling like blood. It turns into something thick and hot, like molten iron, like you're being filled from the inside with raw fire. It flows through you, burning out everything weak—burning out you."
"And your muscles… fuck, your muscles twist. They don't just grow. They restring themselves like someone is pulling cords through your skin and trying to reweave you into something else. You don't move. You spasm. You don't breathe. You choke on air that suddenly feels too thick to fit in your lungs."
"You'll beg for it to stop. I did. Even after everything I swore, I begged."
I paused, eyes locked onto his.
"And then your heart stops. Literally. You go cold. Thought I was dying—part of me did. You feel empty. Like whatever version of you existed before just… burns away."
"Then it comes back. But not you. Not exactly. Something sharper. Harder. Stronger."
"And when it's done, when the pain finally dies down and you can stand again… you'll feel like you're wearing your own skin for the first time. Like you've only now stepped into the shape you were always meant to become."
He cracked his knuckles absently, eyes distant.
"But you don't forget the pain. You carry it. You wear it. Every time you lift your weapon, every time you stand against something that should be impossible, it reminds you—that pain made you."
"Still want it?"
"Yes, Commander. With everything I have."
"Good." I smiled faintly. "Let's see where you're at now."
He caught the blade and raised it. But before we began, he spoke again.
"Commander... earlier you said people lose themselves after gaining power. What did you mean by that?"
I paused. My father's words echoed in my mind.
"Imagine a wooden boat," I said. "Over time, its planks rot. You replace each one, little by little. Eventually, not a single original piece remains. Is it still the same boat?"
Synn frowned in thought.
"I… I believe it's still the same boat, Commander. Even if every panel's been replaced, the journey it's taken, the storms it's weathered—those things remain. It's been reforged, not replaced. Made to endure, not erased."
"Good answer," I said. Then I drew two crude boats in the dirt with my sword.
"Now suppose you saved the original wood, and built a second boat from it. Which one's the real one?"
He was silent. At first. "I believe the new one is the original, sir. The wood may be different, but it's still the boat that faced the waves, held the weight of every journey, and never stopped. The other… the other's just a reflection. An echo."
"what I'm asking is. If you change your body completely to grow stronger… will your mind remain your own after you get all that power?"
I gave him no time to answer.
"Let's begin."
I lunged. Jab. Slash.
He countered and swung upward. I dodged easily and kicked him in the side.
"Ugh!"
"What I'm trying to say is-" I said, stepping back. "you need both. The strength you gain, and the person you were that made you want it."
He charged again. I deflected, vanished with Shadow Step, reappeared behind him.
"You need both to stay whole."
He blocked just in time, but his form was off. I disarmed him in a heartbeat and held my blade at his throat.
"Understand?"
He panted. "I do. Thank you, Commander."
I stepped back. "Now sit. In a Meditation stance."
He looked confused, but obeyed. I placed my palms on his back and began feeding external mana into his body.
I crouched beside him, my tone low and steady. "What I'm going to teach you is a secret technique. Only you, me, and eventually Lace will know. Tell anyone else… and I'll kill you. Clear?"
"Yes, Commander," he said, eyes steady.
"Good. Then watch closely. I'll only explain this once."
I guided the flow—forcing his mana into new paths, carving a second core deep in his abdomen, then pushing that mana upward through a freshly forged channel to his heart.
I pulled his mana from his body over and over causing what happened to me in the cube, to now him. Forcing him to feel the control of mana.
His body bucked instantly.
"AGHHHHH!"
His scream tore through the arena. I didn't flinch.
"Good," I muttered. "Means it's working."
His skin paled, his veins bulged and turned an eerie blue. Blood began to drip from his nose. His eyes were glassy, red. He bit his lip hard enough to tear it open. Blood mixed with saliva and ran down his chin.
"Your body's fighting it," I said, standing up, arms folded, voice calm. "You're F-rank. That means every nerve is screaming as it reshapes—burning itself hollow to make room for more mana."
He gritted his teeth. Trembled. His hands clawed into the dirt like he was trying to hold himself to the ground, like it was the only thing keeping him from slipping into the void.
"I… I can't—!"
I stepped forward and slammed my boot into his face—not hard enough to break anything, but enough to rattle him.
He dropped flat into the dirt, gasping.
"You wanted this right? Well WAKE UP! Your right in the middle of it."
"You begged for strength," I growled. "You begged for power to protect people. But now that it hurts, you want to quit? Say the words—'I quit'—and I'll take your damn head off myself. You'll never disgrace this legion with cowardice."
His breath hitched. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, locked onto mine. And then—something inside him ignited.
A tremor passed through his body, not of fear—but resolve.
He grit his teeth, blood foaming at the corners of his mouth. "Y-Yes, Commander! Forgive my weakness!"
I watched as the raging cyclone of mana began to shift. It calmed.
The storm turned into a stream. Wild energy bent to discipline. Raw chaos shaped into structure. His flow aligned—not perfect, but enough.
He held it for a few minutes, shoulders shaking violently.
And then—he collapsed, blood pooling from his nose and mouth, eyes rolling back into his head.
I stood over him in silence, arms crossed, his chest still faintly rising and falling.
"…Not bad," I said, almost to myself. "Maybe you won't be so useless after all."
I sat down beside his unconscious body and closed my eyes.
Inspired by his pain. His grit.
I began to meditate.
A few hours passed.
Synn bolted upright like morning wood.
"AHHH! What happened?!"
I cracked an eye open, smirking.
"You passed out after six minutes of meditation. What a loser. HAHAHA!"
He bowed low.
"I'm sorry, Commander. Even after you shared something so important, I failed—please take my life in recompense—"
"What the hell are you talking about? You don't know what a joke is?"
I pulled him up and slapped his back.
"Kid, if you can't laugh now and then, the world'll eat you alive. Learn to lighten up."
He looked stunned, but nodded.
"You did well. Give it a week or two, you'll master the control and flow. Then come back. Don't ask me for help again until you master that part—you've got to get it yourself."
"Yes, Commander. Thank you again. It means more than you know."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you talentless idiot. Now go tell the others to be at the gate by 0600 sharp. Anyone late gets left behind—and will be removed."
I paused.
"And Synn?"
He stopped.
"For this next month of training, we're going to be doing my favorite thing in the world."
He gulped. "And… what's that, Commander?"
I grinned, voice low and dark.
"Torture.
And gate raids."
I laughed as I replayed the fond memories in my head.
He looked horrified as he saluted and walked off.
I chuckled to myself.
His swordsmanship? Absolutely terrible. I beat him in five seconds, using maybe six percent of my strength—and I left openings on purpose.
But Mana Tranquility? What I called the technique.
He has potential.
Strangely, the system doesn't register Mana Tranquility as a skill. Which leads me to believe something important:
Yes, I can create new skills now—but only those that directly alter the body's capabilities or interface with the system itself. Subtle, foundational things—like breathing, awareness, or thought—aren't tracked as "skills," even if they're essential. That would explain why Mana Tranquility, which is essentially breathing for mana, never showed up with a rank or title.
Not everything has to be labeled to be powerful.
Still… it makes me wonder just how much of this system is built on perception. What the goddesses define. What they allow. What they deliberately leave out.
After 600 years, I'm still finding contradictions—loopholes they either missed or hid. Maybe that's just the limits of my mortal mind trying to understand divine architecture. Or maybe… even the goddesses don't fully grasp the thing they made.
Whatever. It doesn't matter.
Right now, all I need to focus on is training. On turning these scraps of potential into weapons. The gates will be my forge. My whetstone. My anvil.
This next month?
It's going to be fun.
Guess I'll meditate until tomorrow morning.
As the morning sun met the horizon, the giant clock tower—shaped in the likeness of the Empress—rang out six thunderous chimes.
"Good morning, everyone," I said calmly.
"Good morning, Commander!" they responded in unison.
"I'm sure many of you have already speculated what today marks, and where we're going to achieve it."
I paused, then snapped my fingers.
Aidian stepped forward, leading a team of stablehands guiding an impressive line of horses.
"For the next month, we will be raiding four gates: 25, 45, 50, and—our final test—Gate 60. Whichever team scores the highest will receive a reward from me personally."
I walked forward and gave Aidian a nod. He handed me the reins to the horse I requested personally—jet black with glowing crimson eyes, built like a war-beast. Its lineage, apparently, traced back to the breeding lines my father cultivated in the Narciss Territory. A stallion born of blood and storm.
The rest of the horses were Stormstriders—a rare breed of mana-infused warhorses capable of reaching up to 50 mph (80 kph). I purchased them using the funds earned from selling the filled mana crystals our mages replenished during the entrance exam.
They weren't cheap. Which is why only elite ranks—captains and up—were being issued one.
"There should be one for all 85 of you," I said, mounting mine. "Each horse comes equipped with rations, a basic alchemy kit, a collapsible tent, and emergency potions. You are personally responsible for your mount and gear. If anything breaks or your horse gets sick, you'll cover the cost of repairs and replacements yourself."
They mounted up and circled around me, a sea of armored riders lined with glowing eyes and steel determination.
"Now, form into teams of five. Choose wisely—these are the people you'll raid with, eat with, sleep beside, and bleed next to for the next month. Learn their strengths. Learn their flaws. That knowledge will keep you alive in the Gates."
I gave them a few minutes. They broke off, forming alliances, weighing strengths, finalizing groupings. Then, one by one, the teams formed up in a single line behind me.
I looked them over.
"Is everyone ready to move out?"
"Yes, Commander!" they shouted.
We began our journey toward Gate 25.
At max speed, it would've taken about two hours to reach the gate, just east of the capital. But I slowed us down to four. I wanted them to talk, to bond, to start thinking like squads. By the time we arrived, they were already operating like miniature units.
We set up camp quickly and I gathered them near the gate for the briefing.
"I've already decided how this will work," I explained. "Each squad will raid the gate with me personally. I won't attack, and I won't interfere unless absolutely necessary. As long as I take no damage, deal no damage, and take no mana crystals—I can re-enter as many times as needed. You, however, will need to wait 24 hours between raids if you loot or fight."
That little trick was something I picked up in my younger years—exploiting the system's conditions. It made me an ideal observer.
"Questions?"
Thomas raised his hand. "Commander, how will we be graded as a party?"
"Good question, Sentinel," I replied. "You'll be scored out of ten points across four categories: teamwork, flexibility, efficiency, and completion time. However, if more than two members fall below 50% health, I will consider the run a failure, regardless of whether you finish. I'll know. Don't even think about lying to me."
The crowd was silent after that.
I nodded once. "Let's begin."
Team One went in first.
Thomas led the squad—Nyx at his flank, Ivy in the rear, and two middling captains filling out the ranks. One had just awakened. The other looked like he was still figuring out how to hold a blade.
Their target was a standard E-rank gargoyle. Predictable. Durable. Brutal in close quarters but nothing special—unless you were green.
Thomas handled it well.
His commands were sharp, efficient. Nyx slipped through the shadows like ink through water, reappearing behind the floor general with a dagger at its throat—clean kill. Ivy covered them both from a distance, loosing precise arrows that pinned stragglers and thinned the wave.
The dead weight slowed them, sure. The two rookies dragged behind, forced the squad to reposition a few times. But Thomas kept the team tight, and no one broke formation.
Final score: 9 out of 10.
They could've had a perfect run—if only their weakest links hadn't needed carrying.
Team Two followed. Lisa, Juno, Varek, and two other high-scoring captains. They had the cleanest run—no wasted movement, no hesitation. Varek led with surgical precision, Juno soaked damage like a wall, Lisa healed without delay.
Fastest finish of the day. Score: 10 out of 10.
Team Nine, led by Synn, was a mess. Every member besides him awakened as a Guardian as soon as they walked through the gate. Chaos followed. One nearly died—I nearly stepped in. But Synn held it together just long enough to stabilize the situation.
Score: 2 out of 10.
The rest? Below average. Mostly 4s and 5s. Most couldn't finish their run. But I expected that. Few had seen real demons before today. Many awakened just now. This gate was chosen for that reason—an E-rank, Gargoyle-based gate is ideal for breaking in new Guardians. They're tough, but not lethal. Just enough to teach
Yea, we'll be staying here tell each team can pass flawlessly. And when they're not raiding I'll push them to their limits and train each one more and more tell the cry to take a break.
By sunset, all seventeen squads had gone through. Campfires flickered around me as I made rounds.
The difference in atmosphere was like night and blood-soaked day.
This morning, they stood proud—chins high, eyes gleaming with the naïve confidence of those who'd never heard a demon's laugh echo off dungeon stone. Now?
Now they sat in silence. Bent. Not broken—but close.
Many clutched their weapons not like tools… but like lifelines. Anchors in a world that had just reminded them how fragile they really were. A few stared at their trembling hands like they belonged to strangers. Others whispered the same words shaking back and forth like a mad man over and over like a prayer… or a curse:
"I can't go back in."
But they would. They had no choice.
They'd come too far—bled too much to turn back now.
And I wouldn't let them run. Not after everything i went through to get them here. Not after what it cost to pick them out of the entire empire I'll show them what it meant to stand at the edge of Hell and keep walking. I need stronger tools and they are going to be just that when I'm finished with them.
Perfect- killing- machines.
Ill make them feared by the whole world.
They need a mission, and for there sins… I'll give them one.
Each one has potential—I'd seen it in the field, in their grit, in their screams.
Now it was my job to hammer that potential into something stronger than fear. Harder than doubt.
Unbreakable.
They would become Black Legion.
Or they will die trying.
Three weeks later
Hell's Gate 60 — Rank: (B+)
I stood before them once more, the gate looming behind me like a silent judge.
"Gentlemen," I said. "You've come far."
Their faces were harder now. Eyes colder. Shoulders straighter. No more boys in armor. These were killers.
"I know Gate 50 nearly broke some of you. But you came out alive. Every single one of you. You've earned more than just your uniforms—you've earned your titles."
I saluted them.
"You are no longer greenies. You are now captains of the Black Legion."
I raised my voice.
"CAPTAINS—WHAT IS OUR MOTTO?"
In unison, they roared:
"WE ARE THE END THAT WALKS.
THEY WILL LEARN FEAR BEFORE EXTINCTION!"
Their voices thundered across the plains like a death knell.
Even the wind paused to listen.
I smiled. A twisted, wolfish grin that would've made Raphelos himself flinch.
Eighty-five warriors stood before me—no, not warriors.
Weapons.
Forged in three weeks of blood, ash, and iron discipline.
Eighty-five men and women who could take down a thousand (C)-rank demons… and not even sweat.
I dropped the salute and walked down the path between their lines. One by one, as I passed, each column of captains dropped to one knee. A silent oath in action.
I reached the end, turned, and raised my voice.
"RISE—AS OFFICIAL CAPTAINS OF THE BLACK LEGION!
SLAUGHTERS OF HELL'S LEGION!"
They rose as one. Proud. Dangerous.
These were no longer students.
They were death in black.
"Good," I muttered, eyes glinting as I walked back to the front.
"Teams One, Two, and Nine—step forward."
They did so without hesitation.
"The rest of you—break down the camp and prepare to depart. This will be quick. Right, Teams One, Two, and Nine?"
"OORAH!"
They formed up in front of the gate. The others rushed to pack.
I turned to Team Two.
"You're with me. You hold the highest score—27 points. Let's see how you handle a (B+) gate." I paused "keep in mind this is no ordinary (B) rank gate, this is a (B+) rank gate. So be on your toes."
Juno was the first to step in, followed by Lisa, Varek, and the two other elites.
I entered last.
The scenery changed instantly.
We found ourselves standing in the middle of a desolate city.
The sky bled crimson.
Buildings loomed around us—abandoned, boarded, rotting.
The temperature dropped sharply. A biting, eerie chill drifted in the air.
Not natural. Not wind.
A cursed cold that whispered from the ruins like something dead but not yet buried.
I adjusted my cloak and gave them a grim smile.
"Welcome to Hell's Gate 60."