The North Outpost wasn't just a camp anymore. In the weeks leading up to the grand tournament organized by the world powers, it had evolved into a makeshift city of tents.
Thousands of tents covered the barren plains like a patchwork quilt. Banners from every major power in the continent fluttered in the dusty wind.
There were the crimson flags of the Seven Kingdom Alliance and the imposing sigils of the Apocalyptic Guild.
Flanking them were the distinct crests of the Dragon and Phoenix Riders Alliance, the Beastfolk Alliance, the Elven and Dwarf Alliance, and the Beast Masters Alliance.
Merchants shouted over the noise of blacksmith hammers. The smell of roasting meat mixed with the stench of unwashed bodies and latrines.
It was a place of opportunity, where fortunes could be made selling potions to desperate youngsters from the world powers, whose recruitment to the three major academies now depended entirely on their performance inside the Rift.
