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"So this is the Gate of Hell?"
It was the dead of winter in the Northern Hemisphere, and in this secret city near the Arctic Circle, the outdoor temperature had plummeted to minus sixty degrees Celsius. Every breath turned instantly to ice. As Cedric spoke, he reached out in front of him, and the words he had just uttered formed into a shimmering line of frost crystals, drifting slowly past like a floating banner.
"But… why does it look no different from an ordinary little city?"
Cho chimed in curiously, mimicking Cedric by reaching out to poke the white mist from her breath, shaping it into her own line of floating text.
"Maybe you should ask the professor."
Marcus yawned as he spoke, clad in nothing but a tight-fitting tank top. He was the only one on the team who didn't get motion sickness from riding rockets but would somehow get dizzy on a plane—a rather unlucky contradiction. The frigid temperature didn't seem to bother him. If anything, the cold wind had woken him up a bit.
"After staying at Durmstrang for so long, I almost forgot I can just ask the professor instead of figuring things out myself."
That was the Durmstrang way—do it yourself first. Only when you were absolutely certain that you couldn't handle it on your own were you allowed to seek a professor's help. It was a sharp contrast to Hogwarts.
"Professor Carlyle! Are we at the Gate of Hell?"
Cedric called out to a group of people about ten meters away. The Durmstrang delegation had split into two teams—one was Harry's warband squad, and the other consisted of trainees from the Super Wizard Program. Technically speaking, it was the latter that made up Durmstrang's official delegation, while Harry's group were more like unofficial passengers tagging along.
"Of course we are, Cedric."
Professor Carlyle, with her striking auburn curls, answered with a smile. Though at the moment, her hair had partially frozen from the cold and no longer bounced in that familiar duang~duang~ way. She was the leading professor in charge of this mission and also the youngest of the chief designers behind Durmstrang's Super Wizard Program. Her role was to assess how well the modified implants functioned on the battlefield and evaluate the reliability of various integrated systems.
"But to be more precise, the Gate of Hell lies even farther north, deep within the Arctic Circle. This place is the Outpost City, a supply base constructed later on. The entrance area itself has such a strong magical magnetic field that no technological equipment can function, and even magical constructs are heavily affected. Our aircraft wouldn't be able to make it there—it would just fall out of the sky."
"So how do we get there?" Marcus asked in his usual straightforward tone.
"Why, by running, of course," Professor Carlyle replied with a smile. "It's only 200 kilometers on foot—you'll be there in no time."
"In the past, that might've been a real hassle. But now that all of you have had your implants installed, your embedded magical armor will offer strong resistance to interference. It was specifically designed for use on the Abyssal Battlefield. You'll find it extremely helpful."
"Still, I'm very curious to see how your set—modified by Nicolas Flamel himself—differs from the version I designed and adjusted."
There was no denying the implants were incredibly powerful and impressive. But having to undergo nineteen separate enhancement surgeries? Just thinking about it made everyone's scalp tingle. The group collectively gave Harry a vicious glare, then forced awkward smiles at Professor Carlyle, falling silent as they struggled to find the right words.
Their odd behavior left Carlyle a bit confused. "Is there a confidentiality clause in effect?"
"No," Cedric said, grimacing. "We were just suddenly reminded of the not-so-fond memory of being pinned to an operating table… like pigs waiting to be butchered."
"In any case, Professor Carlyle," he added, "you'll see for yourself soon enough."
Cho, also feeling somewhat downcast, added in a small voice.
"Alright." Not knowing what these kids had gone through, Carlyle simply shrugged and decided not to press the issue any further.
While they were chatting idly, a sleek, futuristic maglev bus pulled up beside them. It didn't look magical in the slightest—instead, its high-tech design stood out starkly. Though not yet available for civilian use, military versions of this vehicle had been in service for over a decade. Thanks to the development of crystalline energy storage—unique to this world's misaligned tech tree—a number of borderline black-tech innovations had emerged. These crystals, when properly processed, became an exceptionally efficient conductive material, second only to the legendary room-temperature superconductors. Rated two classes above gold in performance, they remained prohibitively expensive, which is why such tech had never entered mainstream civilian life.
The Outpost City near the Gate of Hell was run under strict military administration. Here, wizards were treated no differently than ordinary people. Though they were undeniably the core combat force at the Gate, logistical support and base operations were handled entirely by the Outpost itself—even the smelting and preliminary processing of demon corpses relied more on mechanical industry than magical furnaces.
After undergoing routine security checks, the Durmstrang delegation was granted entry. In all honesty, the architecture of the Outpost lacked any aesthetic appeal—it was built purely for utility. Still, entertainment facilities were plentiful. Battle-weary wizards returning from the front lines needed rest, and the base served as a crucial transition zone before they were deployed again.
The Outpost City was bustling, yet astonishingly orderly.
Their transport vehicle traveled along the city's massive 24-lane main road toward the front lines. But as soon as they left the city limits, the brutal polar storm of the Arctic winter struck with full force. They didn't ride far—just over twenty kilometers—before the bus stopped at a remote checkpoint buried in snow and ice.
Here, a stark red line had been drawn across the landscape—so vivid it seemed to divide two worlds.
"Beyond this line lies the Gate of Hell. Please remember—once you step across, there's no turning back. Even if you wish to return, you must reach the frontline base first and apply for return authorization there," said Professor Carlyle after gathering everyone around.
"Those who try to turn back midway will only find themselves lost in the blizzard. When the Gate of Hell was sealed, the creators intentionally designed this path as a one-way route to prevent any chance of abyssal corruption. Only those with an authorized return sigil from the frontline base can safely leave."
Her tone turned grave. "I do not joke about things like this. And I ask that none of you treat your lives like jokes either."
"Now, all squads: gear up. Target—due north. We march 220 kilometers at combat pace. If we don't make it to the base before dark, we won't even get hot soup."
The students participating in this implant field test quickly moved into action. Their black-silver bio-implanted suits emerged from within their bodies as though they were being grown, encasing each of them fully. On their chests, the golden Durmstrang emblem—a double-headed eagle mounted with a stag's head—glinted in the dim light. The school's standard-issue bio-armor followed Durmstrang's traditional design philosophy: clean, minimalistic, and highly functional. Sharp, angular contours lent it a futuristic, almost sci-fi look.
In contrast, however…
The special frost-resistant pavement—hardened by Arctic weather to be tougher than steel—was pressed into shallow dents as an entirely different team marched forward. Their footsteps landed with a deep, resonant weight that made the air vibrate and ears ring.
The Warband, once ordinary-sized teenagers, now stood transformed into towering humanoid tanks nearly 2.5 meters tall. The elegant curves of their shoulder plates did nothing to mask the overwhelming aura of aggression that radiated from their presence.
Their armor gleamed sky-blue, outlined with golden wheat patterns etched along the plating. A luminous mana-reactor was strapped to their backs, humming with magical power. The moment these ultra-heavy bio-armors made their entrance, every eye was drawn to them—unable to look away from this brutal and beautiful display of martial engineering.
(End of Chapter)