"Captain, the Teleportation Magic Formation has activated."
"Prepare to receive."
Dingneson took off his gloves and ordered the young Clerics under him to take their positions. They began working through the procedures they had rehearsed countless times according to the manual.
Soon, an old man emerged from the teleportation formation's halo.
The old man wore very ordinary Order Clerical Robes and had short white hair. Standing there, he was like a mountain.
The young Clerics gathered around curiously. They had been transferred to Heitaer Checkpoint last year, and this was the first time in their year of service that they had seen anyone emerge from the Teleportation Magic Formation.
There were few people at the Checkpoint. Including their captain, Dingneson, there were only seven Clerics in total.
One Priest monitored the squad's health, one Formation Master handled routine maintenance of the Checkpoint's formations, three warriors accompanied the captain on regular patrols, and the last was a cook.
Here, the cook held the highest status. Without the comfort of food that was at least passable, people could easily go mad facing the loneliness of that unbroken expanse of white outside.
It was said that many years ago, Heitaer Checkpoint had been enormous, with nearly three thousand resident Clerics and large numbers of others passing busily through the teleportation formation every day. Later, however, it had gradually fallen into disuse.
Clerics who came to serve here afterward could only imagine its former glory from the scale of the Checkpoint's buildings and the absurd number of chamber pots lined up in rows in the bathrooms.
Looking at the old man, Dingneson stepped forward to greet him. "You've come."
"Yes, I've come again."
Dis smiled at Dingneson. The last time he had come here, he had taken a look around, then gone back and