GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 16.2: Breakpoint Behemoth

"This place feels like it's always preparing for something," Vel observed as they passed a blacksmith's forge where three apprentices hammered in synchronized rhythm, creating a thunderous percussion that echoed through the street.

Hileya nodded. "Everfront was established specifically as a military outpost after the Warlord Rebellions two centuries ago. It's grown since then, but its purpose never changed."

A squad of soldiers marched past them in perfect formation, their boots striking the cobblestones with mechanical precision. Not a single head turned to observe the visitors—their discipline was absolute.

"Do they ever relax?" Celia whispered after the squad had passed.

"I imagine they must," Vel replied, though he couldn't help but notice how even the children playing nearby organized themselves into neat rows for their games.

They continued down the street, passing armories, training yards, and supply depots. Even the taverns seemed regimented, with signs displaying military crests rather than the colorful names common in Elnor.

Suddenly, the flow of pedestrian traffic halted ahead. People gathered in a widening circle, voices rising in excitement.

"What's happening?" Celia asked, standing on tiptoes to see over the crowd.

Vel nudged his companions toward a side alley that offered a better vantage point. The crowd had formed around two officers in ornate uniforms, their insignia marking them as high-ranking. They circled each other with drawn swords while onlookers maintained a respectful distance.

"A duel," Hileya whispered, her eyes widening with recognition. "I've read about this in my studies. Officers sometimes duel for promotions or to settle disagreements about tactical approaches."

"They're fighting for a job?" Celia asked incredulously.

"It demonstrates their combat prowess and leadership qualities," Hileya explained. "The military values strength and skill above all. In Everfront, this is considered a more honest assessment than political maneuvering."

Vel watched intently as the two officers exchanged lightning-fast strikes, their blades catching the afternoon sun. Neither showed any hesitation or fear—only calculated precision and years of training.

The crowd gasped as the shorter officer executed a perfect disarming maneuver, sending his opponent's sword clattering to the cobblestones. The defeated man immediately dropped to one knee, accepting his loss with dignity.

Vel's stomach rumbled, pulling his focus away from the duel's aftermath and reminding him they hadn't eaten proper food since before yesterday's behemoth attack.

"Let's find something to eat," he suggested, glancing at Celia and Hileya.

"I could use some real food," Celia agreed. "Those travel rations taste like leather and salt had an unfortunate child."

Hileya nodded. "There should be a reputable establishment nearby. Military towns often maintain strict standards for their food services."

They followed the flow of off-duty soldiers and locals until they reached a sturdy two-story building with a wrought-iron sign depicting a shield and tankard. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through its open doors.

"The Iron Shield Inn," Hileya read from the sign. "It seems popular."

"Even their dinning is disciplined," Celia whispered as they navigated toward an empty spot at the end of a long table.