Primordial Awakening: I Breathe Skill Points!-Chapter 29: The Northern Bastion. (1)

Chapter 29: The Northern Bastion. (1)
The Northern Wildlands. 05:18 PM
Three Days Later...
.....
The Northern Bastion announced itself from three kilometers away.
Zeph crested a ridge of broken highway, three days of hard travel through the Wildlands behind him, and stopped dead.
The walls rose like a second horizon—twenty meters of reinforced construction that made the word "fortification" seem inadequate.
They stretched in both directions farther than his enhanced vision could track, curving gently with the geography, creating a barrier between the chaos of the Wildlands and whatever civilization existed beyond.
But it wasn’t just the height that made him stare.
The walls moved.
Not in any obvious way, but Zeph’s Enhanced Hearing picked up the constant low hum of active systems—power flowing through embedded formations, defensive arrays cycling through detection patterns, automated turrets tracking movement across the approach zones.
The surface itself seemed to shimmer slightly, as if the stone and metal were coated in something that bent light at the edges.
Technology and magic fused at a scale he’d never seen.
’Holy shit.’
Zeph stood on that ridge for a full minute, just processing. Three years in the ruins had given him a warped sense of what "impressive" meant. The Seattle ruins were massive—collapsed skyscrapers, broken infrastructure, entire districts swallowed by dungeons. But that was destruction. Entropy. The inevitable result of civilization losing.
This was civilization refusing to lose.
This was humanity building a fortress large enough to house forty-five million people and saying: Nothing gets through these walls unless we allow it.
He adjusted his hood and started walking again, his long legs eating distance with steady efficiency despite the exhaustion pulling at his bones. Three days of travel with minimal rest and even less food. His Vitality kept him functional, but even 161 VIT couldn’t make sleep deprivation comfortable.
As he got closer, more details resolved.
The walls weren’t uniform stone—they were segmented, each section a modular unit that could presumably be replaced or reinforced independently.
Massive formation arrays were visible at regular intervals, glowing with soft blue light that pulsed in synchronization like a heartbeat. Guard towers rose at hundred-meter intervals, each one equipped with what looked like heavy weapons platforms that tracked movement across the approach with mechanical precision.
And above it all, flying patrols.
Awakened humans on various mounts—some riding creatures that looked like oversized hawks, others on platforms that flew through pure mana manipulation, a few that seemed to just fly on their own power. They moved in coordinated patterns, overlapping coverage zones, maintaining constant vigilance.
’They’re not taking any chances,’ Zeph observed, his analytical mind cataloging the defensive depth. ’Three layers visible from here: automated systems, ground forces, aerial patrols. Probably more I can’t see—underground sensors, spiritual detection arrays, maybe even spatial anchors to prevent teleportation.’
’Getting IN is going to be harder than I thought.’
’Getting OUT if things go wrong? Might be impossible.’
The thought should have made him reconsider. Instead, it just made him more determined.
He’d survived three years in the ruins. He’d killed B-rank awakened. He’d survived being the target of a whole region!
If he couldn’t walk through one gate, he didn’t deserve to call himself a survivor.
-----
The approach took another hour of walking. The gates were spaced far apart—Zeph’s sharp eyesight picked up at least a dozen along this section of wall alone, each one processing its own flow of traffic. Probably thousands around the entire perimeter.
He chose one at random, following a well-worn path that suggested regular traffic, and joined the back of a line that stretched a hundred meters from the gate itself.
People.
So many people!
Zeph had been alone for so long that the sheer *density* of humanity made his skin crawl. Families with children. Merchant caravans with loaded trucks. Adventuring parties returning from dungeon expeditions, their equipment showing fresh damage. Refugees with everything they owned on their backs, hoping for citizenship or at least temporary shelter.
All of them pressed together in a shuffling queue, waiting their turn to be processed.
Zeph hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood lower, trying to make himself smaller despite being literally a head taller than everyone around him. People gave him space anyway—whether from his height, his obvious exhaustion, or something in his body language that said don’t, he didn’t know and didn’t care.
The line moved slowly but steadily. Every ten minutes, another group passed through the gate checkpoint. The efficiency was impressive—bureaucracy optimized to the point where even masses of people could be processed without creating bottlenecks.
As he got closer, Zeph studied the gate structure itself.
Two massive doors, currently open but clearly capable of sealing completely. Each door was thick enough to hide a small apartment inside, reinforced with visible runic inscriptions that glowed faintly. Guard posts on either side, elevated positions giving clear sightlines down the approach and into the gate tunnel.
And the guards themselves.
They wore armor that was clearly standardized military issue—not the scavenged, mismatched gear he’d seen on ruin survivors, but proper uniform equipment. Dark gray with blue accents, formation arrays integrated into the breastplates, weapons that hummed with the distinctive resonance of active enchantments.
Professionals. Trained, equipped, organized.
The kind of force that would have steamrolled any gang in the Seattle ruins without breaking a sweat.
But that wasn’t what made Zeph’s instincts scream danger.
-----
There was a man standing slightly apart from the regular guards.
He wore the same uniform, but there was something about him that made every survival instinct Zeph had developed over three years of kill-or-be-killed existence start firing alarm bells.
The man wasn’t doing anything threatening. He was just... standing there. Casual posture, arms crossed, watching the flow of traffic with the bored expression of someone who’d been on guard duty too long.
But he was wrong!
Not in any way Zeph could articulate. The man emitted no aura, no pressure, no visible indication of power. If anything, he felt like a completely normal human—the kind of baseline unawakened civilian that populated cities by the millions.
Except no baseline human could be that still!
It was the kind of stillness that came from absolute confidence. From knowing, with bone-deep certainty, that nothing in your environment posed even the slightest threat. The relaxation of an apex predator watching mice scurry beneath its notice.
Zeph’s Enhanced Hearing tracked the man’s breathing—slow, steady, perfectly controlled. His heartbeat was barely audible in the subtle movement of his armor, and it was calm. Not elevated at all despite being surrounded by hundreds of unknown awakened passing through the gate.
’That’s not a regular guard,’ Zeph realized with cold certainty. ’That’s something else entirely.’
He let his senses expand slightly, trying to get a read on the man’s level, his power, anything that would explain the wrongness.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
It was like looking at a blank space in reality. No soul signature, no mana fluctuations, no spiritual pressure. Just... absence.
And that absence was more terrifying than any aura could have been.
Because Zeph had felt genuine power before. He’d felt the might of an S-rank awakened whose Inferno Sovereign Physique made the air itself burn. That had been overwhelming—pressure so intense it was physical, presence that couldn’t be ignored.
This was the opposite.
This was someone who’d gone so far beyond needing to demonstrate power that they’d looped back around to seeming powerless!
’If I fought him,’ Zeph thought with the analytical detachment he used to keep fear from paralyzing his decision-making, ’even in my anomaly form with 999 stats, I think he’d kill me before I finished my first move!’
’And he wouldn’t even need to try very hard!’