The Coat of Arms of the Grand Duchy of Granica stared down at Rob from the dusty corner of a mold-ridden stables turned barracks. A Land Serpent woven around a sword, and a ring of jewels all around it. A proud and massive beast with a snake-like form, four diminutive legs and a fire-spewing maw. Awe inspiring and mighty, but... 

How come great things fall so easily?

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Rob Road?! Seriously? Hey cap, get a load of this guy, can you believe this?!"

"We don't have time for humour, sargeant."

"Ugh, fine, Kaptain Killjoy, whatever... Ack!"

"Chain of command, sargeant. I will be waiting outside."

'SIR YES SIR!"

Rob flinched at the sonic boom produced by the feudal lord's hand, as he slapped the soldier upside the head. A hit like that would send him flying, but the man only scratched his head, and went about filling in a heavy ledger. Had the sergeant been normal, like Rob, he would've talked back and showed him the "chain of command" himself. The soldier was a good deal scrawnier at first glance, which only made his minimal reaction all the more unusual. But the strangely named recruit knew full well that he had no business talking back to a man with formal military training and double his worth in levels. It would be the equivalent of a little child arguing with a feral animal. Life threateningly dangerous for the former, and only mildly annoying for the latter. He sighed, leaned back against his seat, and looked around idly, scanning the rows upon rows of bored, shifty-eyed recruits.

"You must be used to this by now. I was surprised the first time around, too."

"Who wouldn't be? It's all 'cuz pappy dearest thought it would be hilarious to call a kid left by the roadside "Road". I guess it is."

"You say that, but these days you're his spitting image. Maybe he just has a wicked sense of humor."

"If it's like that, I'll punch him when we're out of that hellhole... Well, what's with that expression? Aren't you glad? This might spell another promotion for Mr. Functioning Member of Society."

A tense pause. Rob looked down as if to catch a short break, and then back up. He didn't quite know why he had such a hard time looking that man in the eyes. To compensate, he just stared harder. A young, courteous and well built, gentlemanly warrior with sufficient pedigree to join the honor guard of a backwater noble, and an intense, unwavering gaze that more suited a king. The epitome of what Robert, who had only been called by his full name jokingly, was not. Maybe it stung to acknowledge envy? Or was it something left unsaid? Regardless, Samuel-

"Sam, listen-"

"Oh my, Robert, you've been staring at me so intensely~ How could you play with a young maiden's heart~"

"Oh, shut up, you! Read the room, Samuel Rook, we're going to be diving into hell. Literally."

"Hahahahaha! You've always been like this. It really takes me back. You know, I'm glad we can go out on a dumb and reckless adventure again. Maybe without the others this time, but, it's all much more exciting than guard duty."

"..."

"But, still, those benefits make it all worth it. Have I told you about the benefits? You should really try to join the guard, it's-"

"Sam. You're changing the subject."

"..."

"Listen to me, Sam. I really mean this. Don't die no matter what. Promise you will never march into an early grave for something stupid like heroics, or to save someone else."

"Well, what are the odds, I mean, we have the Hero of Providence! And a sage that can bring the dead back to life, too. What's there to fear? The Hero has hunted down a Land Serpent just the other week, you know?"

"Sam, look around you. Look at the number of us all. Are we the Hero's Band of Merry Men, or a militia? An army? The answer is cannon fodder, Sam. We'll be in the vanguard, in the melee, what do you think will happen to us with a bunch of demons and guys over level 10 leaping around?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"The Duchy is fielding a militia of Skill Holders, and why? If we can't stop the tide, at least our bodies will clog up the entrance. At least we won't turn to banditry and plunder small hamlets near The Chasm when things turn for the worst. Promise me, Samuel. Promise you won't die."

"Fine! I swear, you're such a worrywart... I promise I-"

"HOW UNPATRIOTIC. I WILL NOT HEAR YOU SPEAKING SUCH VILLAINY UNDER THE LIGHT OF THE HALLOWED LORDS"

"Y-Yes sire! Terribly sorry, sire!" x2

Halfway through the conversation, the brothers in arms had started to speak in hushed tones. It was a terrible fright, then, when the bellowing voice of one of the dreaded Fell Scholars, who must've spent no less than half an hour breathing down their necks, interrupted the conversation. Sam was completely petrified and broke out in cold sweat. Rob, meanwhile, dared to look behind him as he sputtered out an apology.

A disquieting visage. It had dark priestly robes befitting an ascetic monk, and it's face was obscured by a brass plate. Several small openings around the eyes and mouth revealed a slight glimpse at the scholar's face. It's eyes bulged, and it's mouth quivered with anger. Rob wasn't sure whether something with an appearance so profane could express righteous indignation honestly. But he was smarter than to question the words of a student of the fearsome Sage of Disaster. Visibly upset by Rob's staring, the ghastly being shook its feeble, bony fist in the air, before uttering an incantation.

With a crackle and a pop, the robed menace was displaced to another location, leaving behind the smell of ozone and nauseating patterns in the air where it stood a moment ago. A good hundred or two of conscripts sighed in relief and bickered amongst themselves, deciding on how to punish the two for drawing the ire of a gods-damned magician.

"You've done it now, chucklefucks! What are we gonna do now that everyone in eyeshot of that blind bat is on the Sage Company's shit list?! Huh?!"

"Yeah, what now?  It's always the bloody vagrants messing with the brass! Why'd they bring you people in? That's asking for trouble..."

"What'd you say city rat?!"

In the matter of seconds the makeshift barracks was on the verge of descending into complete pandemonium. They were, after all, explorers, vagrants and hirelings, not soldiers. In a squabble between over a hundred undisciplined superhumans, something awful is bound to happen. Rob and Sam exchanged worried looks at the sight of the growing unrest. And it would've gone far past fistfight and and well into manslaughter and grievous harm, if it hadn't been for the appearance of the feudal lord. He entered the repurposed barn through the main door, and the whole building shook and creaked at his appearance. An indomitable figure with the presence of a natural disaster. He spoke with a voice like thunder. 

"STAAAAAAAAND AAAAAAAAT ATTENTIOOOOOOOOON RECRUITS!"

Rob leapt to his feet faster than he could process what had happened, standing ram-rod straight with his eyes on the lord commander. Would they be led by a veteran Skill Holder? His anxiety about the upcoming expedition let up somewhat. Generals that fight in the front lines, and live long enough to gain such a powerful skill, ought to be smart enough to consider the lives of their men. Or at least, pretend to care. In the corner of his vision he saw Sam's overly dramatic dejected expressions. "Smug prick!" was the only thought on his mind, then. 

"We will now move out and rendezvous with the Sage Company and the Warlord Company. We are to arrive at midday. Then, you will hear the Hero's address, and we will enter the Great Chasm. Gather your things and prepare to march. Show your utmost devotion to Crown and Country. You are dismissed."

"..."

A good three quarters of the recruits collapsed back down when the feudal lord exited the building, huffing and glassy-eyed. On his way to have an intimate moment with the grimy dirt floor, Rob was pulled up by a mysterious force.

"You know, the demons we're going to fight later today have all sorts of mind altering skills. I heard all about it from my employer's more... eccentric guests."

"O-oh, do they really?"

"Yes, so, maybe you should stand up on your own. You're way too heavy."

Rob struggled to his feet and looked up at Samuel's unreadable expression. Was he annoyed? Was he smiling? Was he really unaffected by that [FEAR] skill? Leaning up against the wall of the barn, Rob caught his breath and muttered a quiet "Thanks, man".

What's that grin for, Samuel Rook? He can be so annoying sometimes, I swear...

Before long, all sense of joy was wiped off their faces. The feudal lord, his trusted men, and a handful of soldiers met and corralled them into three squads. After a full headcount, five men turned up missing, and a runner was sent with their names scratched on a menacing piece of parchment. Soon after, they left for the long march towards The Great Chasm.

The Hero's Companions. Every able bodied fighter with a skill, recruited, or rather, snatched off the street by a student of the Fell Scholar and coerced into service. They were a gloomy ragtag bunch, marching through open grassland still painted black from a recent bush fire. In the distance, what seemed a mirage, was in fact the mind-boggling vastness of the Great Chasm. From miles upon miles away it already appeared far too large to bear. Someone had vomited at the sight of it. And beside it, a veritable army, framed by small squadrons of black robes on legs. Robert felt an eerie sense of deja vu.

It's just like that time, isn't it? No, no, no, this time, this time it has to be different. If it's what those magicians call Celestial Fiat, maybe I will have some peace of mind, but... Should I pray? If Samuel doesn't come back, won't that make two bereaved families and nothing to keep them afloat? If it's just me, it'll hardly make a dent, so, maybe...

"Ow."

"And after you've told me to look out for my life, you look like you're already giving up yours. Hmmmm... What's the matter Mr. Road? Are you unnerved by all these potholes? Hahahahahahaha!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right."

"So you are, sir? How unusual indeed."

"Why'd you have to talk that way, man, it's weird. Did you get like that after living in a mansion?"

"Hahaha!"

A punch to the shoulder and some banter snapped Rob. Before they knew it the conversation was cut short, as the edges of the Great Chasm loomed ahead. A deeply unnerving thing to behold. It was a round, oddly distorted hole in the ground. Almost as though it was formed by stabbing the ground with a stake as wide as the royal capital. It was deceptively smooth, with stairs-like rock formations leading down towards the bottom. Somehow, just facing it made the whole world look painfully tiny. And a deafening wind bellowed from within.

"Haunting isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

The Warlord Company, veteran elites in their prime, camped by the entrance. Seldom, a black shape would crawl out of the pit, and one of the warriors would kick it back in with the force of a battering ram. The Great Warlord, a tactician from the Southern Provinces, Semien Lougove. An old, old man. The battle hadn't even begun, but he had already put on his arms and armor. Under a coif and a helmet, his face was hidden completely, but his voice boomed in a large area regardless, unlike that of regular people. He wore a tabard over his chainmail, with the image of a red dove. And his thirty two trusted warriors did likewise, only their doves were yellow instead.

The Sage Company didn't bother to put down tents or make any fortifications as they waited. The scholars slinked back and forth, never sitting down, on their wiry, weak little legs. Common sense dictated they should have keeled over from exhaustion the moment they took a step. However, in truth, they were constantly using a [SKILL] instead of their muscles. The Fell Scholar, Sage of Disaster, Haudemaril, snapped in and out of existence as he moved from place to place, consulting with his students and making notes in a massive grimoire. Unlike his students, the brass plate was driven into his head with spikes. But much like them, his entire form was wrapped in dark cloth, and his limbs were atrophied. Such a creature seemed ill suited for heroics, but perhaps because of that fact, the Fell Scholar might've been the most suited to delve into the Chasm and return victorious. After all, it takes a monster to know one, and knowing an enemy gets you one step closer to defeating it.

And, of course, there was him. A single figure standing at the edge of the Great Chasm. His arms and legs were like tree trunks, and his armor and arms were all but a gambeson, pants, boots and a sword. He radiated a sort of power that caused awe, fear and admiration all at once, and when he turned to face the so-called Hero's Companions that had been delivered to him, his eyes looked like a pair of stars that'd been forcefully stuffed into a human body.

The Hero of Providence. If he had spoken more often, his name would've been spread far and wide. A messiah, sent by the Gods, both Upper and Lower, to battle evil and the darkness in people's hearts. His features, among other things, were unheard of and unusual to the eye of an average Granican, and so, the Hero was remembered all across the land. And his limited speech suggested divine origins. Rob couldn't help but stare.

So this... This is a human that conquered the realm beyond lvl15...

Rob shuddered uncontrollably as the Hero of Providence instantaneously observed the levels, attributes and skills of every recruit before him. A man capable of seeing the true nature of living beings without the appropriate ritual and material components surely carried the blood of the Gods in his veins. The last time Rob saw his own characteristics was some one and a half years ago, when he visited a temple to the Lower God of Judgement and Observation, Auciel, and touched the black stone tablet therein. He faintly remembered his stats, all average except for one.

They could've well changed, especially after dealing with a handful aggressive beasts for a land noble, and clearing out a granary infested with giant rodents, but unless he aged faster than his peers, his stats should've stayed unaltered. Rob prided himself in his 10 points of RES, or Resistance. For a normal, healthy human being, a stat range of 7 to 9 was the norm, with some sickly or stunted individuals dropping all the way down to 5 or even 4. Of course, these attributes were subject to change by disease, curses, aging or magical effects. A 10 in Resistance meant he had an edge in any survival situation, or when afflicted with illness and age-related diseases, so as far as he was aware, Rob was blessed from the word go. But compared to the hero, or noblemen, he was nothing.

If he can use an ability like this, his Intelligence has got to be over 30...

The lord commander walked up to the Hero and shook his hand before whispering something into his ear. The sun above had already passed it's zenith. 

"ATTENTION RECRUITS. THE HERO OF PROVIDENCE WILL NOW MAKE HIS ADDRESS. LISTEN WELL."

"..."

A deathly quiet enveloped the rendezvous point. The draftees all held their breaths and even the other companies paused, listening in.

"This is a fight. For our lives. Give it your all. And don't despair. This is the only way we will win. That is all."

Just as Rob had expected, his heart was immediately swayed by the Hero's words. There was a roughness and a breathy tone to his voice, and upon closer inspection, the recruit found out why. The Hero's neck had a massive, disfiguring scar running across it, like someone had attempted to cut off his head a long time ago. Every word had to be painfully forced out. Knowing that he is just a mook, just cannon fodder, and if they succeed, part of the cleanup crew, Rob appreciated the fact this man endured the pain of speaking just to ease their worries and improve morale. Most of the others seemed to think the same: it was evident from their expressions. That, and the fact they had seen the Warlord Company hard at work, knocking level 2-3 demons back into the hole: two or three of them, every five minutes. There's simply not enough battle worthy people to do such a thing from dusk till dawn. Even if they work in shifts, its not something that is possible. And even if it was, assuming the demons were coming from... Somewhere, it would only be a matter of time until this tactic stops being useful.

Eventually, they'd be able to casually walk up the ramp they're making with their own corpses. 

At the feudal lord's directions, several officers organized the recruits into three teams: the Front, Back and Support units. Rob and Samuel were assigned to the Support unit, and ordered to follow the Hero of Providence and aid him however they could.  The Front unit would fight alongside the Warlord Company to clear a path forward, and battle against the main forces of the demons. The Back unit, and a third of the Warlord Company, would defend the Sage Company, and watch the back line, as well as ensuring a means of organized retreat.

And so, at the Hero's word, they descended the Great Chasm. Walking, creeping across narrow portions of the rocky stairs down, climbing down ledges, or in the case of the hero and elites, casually taking ten foot drops. The demons drew nearer. A river of chattering teeth and bulging eyes, moving slowly up the ledges. The recruits steeled themselves. And Robert muttered a quiet prayer, clutching the shaft of his spear like a safety line.

"Please, watch over us, Auciel"