Around the Bonfire I

Hamqua Fortress

Unnamed Continent

Planet Zorix 1I

January 18th

Year 9025

The night sky stretched like a vast canopy above the elven fortress, now conquered and teeming with unranked demons who relished in their victory.

In the heart of the fortress courtyard, a bonfire raged, its flames crackling and consuming the massive wooden bodies of the Treants the elves once commanded.

Their limbs, now reduced to firewood, fed the flames that licked the air, casting an eerie, orange glow over the demons who had gathered around it.

The scent of roasting meat filled the air, carried on the wind along with the laughter and murmured conversation of the victorious invaders. Elven provisions—delicate herbs and spices, along with freshly caught game—sizzled over the fire, filling the courtyard with the mouth-watering aroma of food that was being prepared for the weary but triumphant demons.

Among the figures at the bonfire, the major players of the invasion sat, resting after the long day of battle.

They were part of the detached force, the ones who had been dropped from the sky into the fortress compound.

Two groups had formed: one that stormed the broken fortress walls to reach the control room and open the gates from within, and the other who had held the elven forces at bay until those gates could be flung wide open, allowing the flood of demon soldiers to pour inside.

Xaren walked through the courtyard, his short figure casting a small shadow in the flickering light of the bonfire.

His grey skin, marked with faint scars from the day's battle that hadn't healed, blended with the dim lighting, making him almost a part of the darkness.

His red eyes, though, gleamed as he surveyed the demons gathered around the fire.

From the edge of the gathering, Carack, the tall fire demon with flames flickering at the tips of his horns, spotted Xaren and broke into a wide grin. He turned and shouted, his booming voice cutting through the chatter.

"Hey, Xaren! Come over here!"

Heads turned at the sound of Xaren's name, and before he could respond, another demon—a burly, red-skinned figure with dark, spiked hair—shouted out.

"Xaren, right?! You drink?"

Still not giving Xaren a chance to even get a word out, a third demon snorted.

"Come on, the guy's from the latest batch. I doubt his liver's strong enough yet."

Undeterred, the red-skinned demon tossed a flask in Xaren's direction.

"Catch!"

Xaren caught it mid-air, his reflexes quick despite the exhaustion weighing on his limbs. The flask was worn, likely scavenged from the elves' stores.

He uncapped it, and the sharp, sweet scent of elven wine hit his nose. He paused for a moment, then shrugged. Wine was wine, after all.

"Thanks."

He spoke with a nod, taking a swig of the potent drink before moving to join the group.

Carack grinned, his fiery eyes gleaming as he continued the tale he'd been telling when Xaren approached. The demons around the fire had clearly been enjoying his exaggerated storytelling, leaning in as he regaled them with his animated account.

"So, this guy right here," Carack started, clapping a hand on Xaren's shoulder before continuing. "He headed straight for the giant—and you won't believe this—he went for the balls!"

The other demons froze, their eyes wide with shock, and a collective groan of horror went up from the male demons. Instinctively, a few of them shifted uncomfortably, their legs tightening as though to shield themselves from the mental image.

"Y-you went for the—"

One of the demons stammered, his voice trailing off as he looked at Xaren with disbelief. Another demon shook his head slowly, his brows raised in awe.

"You're pretty brutal for how you look."

One muttered, his eyes tracing over Xaren's short, unassuming figure and this caused Xaren's brow to twitch in mild irritation as he glanced at Carack.

"Is that really the part you were explaining?"

Carack, clearly enjoying the reaction he had elicited, nodded solemnly, as though the story was of great importance.

"Of course, that's the best part! How could I not tell everyone? It's not every day you see someone go straight for the kill like that."

Xaren shook his head at Carack's words but shrugged.

"Come on, as long as you're a guy, that's definitely a weakness. It's a universal fact."

The demons around the fire chuckled in agreement, one of them pointing at Xaren with a smirk.

"He's got a point. Maybe I should get some sort of armour for that area—just in case we face some elves or humans who think the same way this guy does."

"I'm telling you. I might just start learning some Earth magic, fortify that area, you know?"

Carack chimed in, still grinning and the group erupted in laughter, the sound rising above the crackling of the fire as they imagined the absurdity of the situation.

Xaren, though still a bit miffed, couldn't help but smile. He was familiar with scenes like this from his human days, where he drank and chatted with other rank-and-file soldiers after big battles in which they were barely victorious.

The camaraderie, the shared exhaustion, and the triumph of victory after the bloody battle—they were intoxicating in their own way.

'But alas…how many of them lived long?'

Remembering those fun times also inadvertently reminded Xaren of the dark times, and how the members of his usual group died one by one.

At the time he died, they'd gone from 25 to 5.

Shaking his head, Xaren took a swig of the elven alcohol, as if trying to wash away the memories and then returned his focus to the demons in front of him.

As the laughter of the demons died down, the conversation shifted to the events of the day. Carack leaned back on his elbows, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames as he spoke.

"That fight against the Treants earlier? Damn, that was something. Those wooden bastards were tougher than I expected."

One of the demons who'd been part of the group to enter the fortress nodded, his face serious.

"Yeah, if it wasn't for Xaren here, we might've had more trouble picking out their leaders. Once they knew we were coming, they blended into the trees like shadows. Could've been a real pain."

Another demon added to his words.

"Yeah, but after Xaren and Captain Ilya marked them out for it, it was easy to spot 'em. Took 'em down fast after that."

Xaren listened quietly, sipping the elven wine as the others continued to speak. It wasn't often he heard himself praised in such a way, but he wasn't one for gloating.

His contributions to the battle were simply because he knew the Mid-Ranks were watching and like he'd experienced, more contributions yielded more special rewards.

Still, he appreciated the acknowledgement.

"Not to mention, a bunch of us really showed off today. That guy from the Western Wall—what's his name? —he went full berserk mode. Took down dozens of elves single-handedly."

One of the demons spoke, talking about another one of them who was part of the outside group and the others concurred.

"Yeah! Damn, he was something else today!"

As the fire continued to crackle, they continued talking and Xaren found himself easing into the atmosphere.

The other demons around the bonfire were raucous, full of energy after the day's conquest, and they happily recounted stories of their sides of the battle to the others.

One of the demons sitting across from him, a stocky figure with thick, muscular arms and dark grey skin, spoke with a rough and booming voice over the sounds of the fire.

"And then, just when the giant thought he'd crushed me, *bam*!"

The demon slammed his fist into his palm, mimicking the impact.

"Smashed his skull with my war hammer! Bastard didn't see it coming!"

The others around the fire chuckled, impressed. Xaren remembered this guy; The demon, who had introduced himself as Kravok, was the one who had bashed the giant's head with his hammer and had gotten it broken in the process.

Leaning forward slightly, Xaren couldn't help but ask, his curiosity piqued. "How're you planning to get a replacement for that hammer? I saw it shatter against the giant's head."

Kravok's grin widened as he reached to his side, pulling something from the shadows. He held it up for Xaren and the others to see—a rune hammer, its surface glowing faintly with elven inscriptions.

The handle was still clutched in a severed elven hand, the fingers frozen in a death grip.

"Already have one!" Kravok said, laughing as he shook the severed hand loose from the handle and tossed it into the fire.

"Took it off one of the elven commanders during the clean-up. Figured it was only fair, seeing as he wasn't using it anymore."