Through the narrow slits in the side panel, Raith finally got a clear look at it—the South Gate of Haven Bastion.
It was massive and no matter how many times he passed it, it always impressed him.
Two colossal doors loomed ahead, taller than anything he'd ever seen up close, their surfaces etched with faint glowing lines that pulsed with energy and Force-conductive metal woven into every inch.
A soft hum came from the metal frame—energy coils built inside the structure, keeping the protective shield active. The sound wasn't loud.
But somehow, it was deep enough that it could be felt in the chest. It was like a second heartbeat.
Raith could see rotating turrets perched above the gate. Their barrels gleamed under the morning sun. It was an advanced technology where it could track automatically.
Layers of defenses—old and new, mechanical and Force-based—woven together into one towering wall of 'stay out' or 'stay in,' depending on which side you stood on.
This wasn't just a gate.
It was a reminder.
A reminder of everything that lived inside—and everything that wasn't allowed to.
The truck eased to a stop just short of the checkpoint.
Through the narrow slats, Raith saw a patrol soldier approach, uniform crisp, visor reflecting the faint shimmer of the Field Stabilizers.
The driver rolled down the window. His tone was firm but respectful. "Transport unit from Outer Ward 70. Reporting for a scheduled operation."
The soldier glanced at the driver. "Destination?"
"Extraction Sector 7-C," the driver answered. "Mining operation inside the Shatterveil Field."
The soldier's eyes narrowed slightly behind the visor. "Shatterveil? That's an active multi-Force Field, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," the driver said. "Confirmed F-grade. Entry is limited to Safe Zones only. Perimeter assignments."
The soldier nodded slowly. "Understood. Group's records?"
"Clean, sir. No bad records."
There was a pause—just a beat—where the soldier seemed to study the truck, the faint silhouettes of the passengers behind the slits. Looking for any abnormalities.
"Risk factors noted," the soldier said. "Proceed with caution."
The driver gave a crisp nod. "Thank you, sir."
The soldier turned, signaling the gate crew.
Heavy clamps disengaged with a deep metallic clunk, and the South Gate's heavy doors split open with a low rumble.
"Good luck in there," the soldier added, quieter this time.
The driver didn't answer. He just shifted gears and rolled the truck forward, engines humming steadily past the gate.
'We're really leaving the Bastion again...'
Raith tightened his grip on the bench as the truck rumbled forward.
Normally, Untuned weren't sent outside the walls more than twice a month unless it was absolutely necessary. They didn't have the protections a Tuner did—not in the Force Field.
The energy inside a Force Field wasn't just dangerous. It was alive, unstable. Too much exposure for too long, and it became toxic to normal humans.
Like breathing in something your body was never meant to handle. It could tear you apart from the inside without ever leaving a mark on the outside.
Still, no matter how much he was worried about this, the truck wasn't slowing down. It was heading straight for the said Shatterveil Field.
After another thirty minutes, they came to a stop in a canyon—beyond the Bastion's borders but still under its shadow.
Inside, the Untuned stirred. No one spoke. They just waited—breath low, hands clenched—until the rear doors creaked open and blinding daylight poured in.
"Let's go, rejects," a voice barked. "Off the truck."
Raith didn't notice the heat first.
It was the hum.
Low and steady, like something massive and invisible was breathing just beneath the cracked earth.
That was when Raith noticed that the truck had stopped at a checkpoint a few hundred meters from the portal—the Shatterveil's entrance.
Raith gulped at the thought of setting foot into another Force Field.
The entrance wasn't a gate, not in the way Haven Bastion's gates were.
There were no steel doors, no heavy locks. It was a tear in the world itself—a portal of distorted light, stretched wide between two massive Field Stabilizers.
It looked almost beautiful from a distance.
Up close, it buzzed against the skin, leaving a prickling sensation that made Raith's stomach twist.
The checkpoint itself was little more than a few prefabricated shelters, supply crates stacked haphazardly, and soldiers leaning behind portable shield posts.
Drones buzzed overhead, scanning the boundary line. Following the drones, his eyes caught the sight of a grizzled Enforcer with a gray beard and sun-creased skin standing.
"Move it!" he barked. "Gear up and listen close."
No one hesitated. They filed down the ramps in a line—silent, head low.
Crates were kicked open in front of them, spilling out the regulation gear for Force Crystal's shards mining.
"Kid. Take this!"
Raith caught the gear set tossed in his direction without even thinking. A mining suit with a dull Bastion logo stamped on the back. A cracked helmet with a low-grade mini rebreather clipped to the side.
Despite the quality, the advanced technology of the time was far ahead of the Old Earth's. All of the equipment would never get in the way when mining.
Raith looked around for boots. When he got his hand on a pair, it was too stiff and a size too big.
"Better than nothing," he muttered.
"Kid. Come here," a soldier called him.
Raith was given a blinking wrist monitor, fastened around his arm by one of the soldiers with mechanical indifference.
Raith adjusted his helmet automatically, trying not to think about how many others had worn it before him.
Pickaxes were thrown out next—blunt, heavy, and already dented from past use.
"Your job's simple," the Enforcer said. "Safe Zones' mining only. You scrape for shards, find loose crystals, and you dump them in the marked carts. That's it. No heroics. No wandering. No excuses."
A few soldiers chuckled from behind the checkpoint fences.
The Enforcer didn't.
"You Untuned have one job here. Bring back something useful before you drop dead."
He turned and pointed at the Field.
"Move."
Raith tightened his grip on the pickaxe handle. His boots were heavy. His helmet felt like it might crack in two if he breathed too hard.
The others shifted nervously, casting glances at the destination ahead.
Still, no one said anything. Because everyone understood what wasn't being said.
They were expendable. And the Shatterveil Field didn't care who remembered their names.
The group continued to advance, followed closely by four soldiers.
Raith looked around. Wherever he was dragged, marched, or dumped, he forced himself to memorize every turn, every checkpoint, every landmark.
If something ever went wrong—if an opportunity ever came—he wanted to know the way back. Or at least... the way out.
No one really watched Untuned like him. No one cared enough to question a stray laborer, as long as the wrist monitor stayed green.
They'd probably just toss him into another group. Another shift. Another kind of work no one else wanted to do.
They came to a stop just before the entrance to the Shatterveil. Another Enforcer in a high-grade combat suit stepped forward, and paced the line slowly, voice sharp.
"You are entering a Force Field. Stay within the Safe Zones at all times. You see a marker post? You do not cross it. If you do—"
She stopped in front of a kid who couldn't have been older than fifteen.
"—you'll cook from the inside out," the Enforcer finished coldly.
The kid swallowed hard and nodded.
"But, you guys are lucky," the Enforcer said flatly. "The Tuners cleared five hundred meters inside. That's your Safe Zones."
She jabbed a gloved finger toward the distortion. "You won't see anything worse than a Feral Crawler. Probably."
She raised her voice to reach the line. "You'll be collecting Force Crystal shards. Look for the fractures—roots, ridges, split rock."
Her gaze swept over them. "Carts are stationed along the perimeter line. Mine. Haul. Dump. Repeat. If the warning sirens sound, you drop your tools and run. That's not a metaphor."
A hand went up.
"What are the crystals used for?" a boy asked. Raith believed that this must be his first time mining.
A soldier exhaled hard, but the Enforcer waved him off.
"It's fine."
The Enforcer added, "Power. Weapons. Armor. Tuning research. The Force Division would grind them into pills if it gave someone a stronger Mark."
Then, another male Enforcer chimed in. He said, "You name it. Everything you and your kind will never get to use."
Then he smiled. Thin. Cold. "But we appreciate your contribution."
The female Enforcer seemed to dislike his words and actions. She continued with another important reminder.
"About your wrist monitor," the Enforcer called out. "Green means safe. Red means overexposure. Black means you're already dead. We don't pull you out."
She looked at everyone present and said, "Now, move."
Raith moved in silence as they herded the line toward the field. Beside him, the girl from the truck stood again—helmet on, face hidden. She was trembling.
Just slightly.
The kind of shake you don't notice unless you've seen it in yourself.
"You'll be fine," he murmured.
She didn't respond. But she walked forward when he did.
No fanfare. No countdown. Just a hand signal. And then they stepped through the entrance.
The moment Raith crossed the portal, the world bent sideways.