Around the Bonfire III

"…Like, they could be good at making weapons or potions…hell, even rune blades like mine or the hammer Kravok's wielding now."

Kravok, still holding his new elven hammer, let out a short laugh but gave a nod, silently urging Xaren to continue.

Xaren looked around the fire as he asked, "What happened to those guys? Did they get thrown into the battlefield, too? Would they even survive?"

Carack leaned forward, his expression far more serious now as he responded.

"You've got a point. I also came to learn that not everyone's born to fight.

Back in my newborn zone, I saw a few demons who never lifted a weapon. All they did was make stuff—armour, weapons, you name it—for the bigger, stronger demons."

Xaren wondered how they'd been able to source materials for weapons and armour, but he kept that on hold and tilted his head, intrigued with Carack's words.

"So, what about them? Did they get dumped in the battlefield too?"

Carack shook his head slowly, taking a moment to choose his words.

"Nah, they didn't. See, the fact that you don't know about this probably means you never ran into one of them.

Here's the thing—a few days, maybe a week before the vortex hit, some mid-rank demons started flying overhead, scanning the area."

The others nodded, some with knowing expressions and Carack continued.

"At first, none of us knew what they were doing.

But I figured it out after they took notice of me and the other guys here. Turns out, they weren't looking for combatants like us.

They were looking for demons with non-combat skills. Alchemists, blacksmiths, enchanters—anyone whose skills aren't meant for fighting but could still be useful.

Those demons got taken out of the newborn zone early, way before the vortex hit."

Xaren raised an eyebrow, his mind piecing things together.

"So… they just take them out of the fight?"

"Yeah. And they do more than that. Those guys get relocated somewhere else—probably to a place where they can properly train and use their skills.

It's not like the higher-ups are blind to the fact that not everyone's cut out for battle. Those demons end up in special zones where they hone their craft. Eventually, they come back as low-rank demons responsible for making the weapons and gear we all use."

After Carack's response, there was a hum of understanding from the others around the fire, and Xaren nodded slowly.

"So, they acknowledge those types of demons early on and take them out before things get rough."

"Exactly," Carack said, taking a sip from his flask.

"The demons left behind for the vortex are the ones who either don't specialize or have combat-related skills.

If you're good with a hammer, sword, or spells, you stay.

But if you've got the hands to forge a blade or brew a potion, they pull you out. Makes sense when you think about it—the war effort needs more than just front-line soldiers. Someone's gotta make the gear we use."

Xaren thought back to the swords and enchanted clothes that the Mid-Rank demons distributed when he first arrived.

He leaned back, his gaze shifting between the demons at the bonfire as he asked, "So, all the standard weapons we got when we first arrived…?"

"Made by those demons." Carack finished for him before continuing.

"By the time they get done training, they're producing the weapons and armour we rely on. It's all part of the bigger system."

Finally getting an explanation, Xaren could finally put the matter out of his mind.

It was easy to assume demons were all about brute force, but it was clear that there was a method to the madness, a structure that went beyond raw power.

"Guess we owe a lot to those non-combat demons."

Carack chuckled, raising his flask and responded to Xaren.

"Exactly. So, don't go thinking we're all just muscle heads smashing through everything. It's apparently a big, big world out there, and it takes more than just fighters to keep it running."

The rest of the demons around the fire nodded in agreement, and Xaren found himself thinking about the broader scope of the demonic hierarchy.

There was more to it than fighting—entire worlds built on the foundation of all sorts of skills and talents, each one playing a role in the demonic war machine.

Xaren turned his gaze back to the flickering flames as the demon who had taken on the role of chef began serving slices of roasted meat, its rich aroma filling the air. The first bite surprised him—the taste was far better than he had anticipated.

Judging by the satisfied murmurs around him, the others agreed.

As they dug in, the burly, red-skinned demon with dark, spiked hair puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his culinary skills.

"From now on, call me Super-Ultimate Chef Drogror!"

The group exchanged amused glances. One of the demons, chuckling as he chewed, shook his head.

"Drogror is long. I'd just call you Drog."

"Yeah, Drog rolls off the tongue better," another added.

"Definitely. Chef Drog it is."

Drogror's face fell, visibly deflated by the unceremonious shortening of his self-imposed title. He opened his mouth to protest but was quickly drowned out by laughter as the group continued bantering, clearly more entertained by their new nickname for him than anything else.

For the next few minutes, they busied themselves with trying out the various elven delicacies they had scavenged.

Kravok bit into something fiery red and instantly regretted it. His face contorted as the spice hit him like a punch, and he scrambled for his flask, chugging down a full serving of wine to quench the burn.

Laughter erupted around the bonfire as Kravok wiped his mouth, still gasping.

Carack laughed so hard he was clutching his sides—until he suddenly froze, mid-laugh, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifted to something behind Xaren.

"Captain Ilya's out."

Xaren turned around, following Carack's gaze to see Ilya, their squad captain, emerging from the darkened path leading back to the fort.

The brown-skinned demon had a distant look in her eyes as she glanced around the camp, and her posture radiated the kind of tension that came after dealing with superiors in the army.

Carack didn't waste a moment. He waved a hand to get her attention.

"Oi, Captain! Over here!"

Ilya's eyes settled on them, and with a small nod, she made her way over to the group. Xaren noticed how the other demons naturally shifted, subtly making space for her as she approached.

When she arrived, she gave them a curt nod before plopping down beside Carack, who grinned at her like an old friend.

"Where were you, Captain?"

Xaren's curiosity was piqued, but Carack answered before she could. "All the captains were called in by the Mid-rank demons for a meeting. Guess they're handing down orders for the next few days."

Ilya nodded in confirmation, rubbing her forehead as if to ward off an impending headache. She was clearly exhausted, her muscles taut with the weight of whatever information she'd just received.

"Yeah, they're preparing for the next phase."

The other demons all leaned forward, eager to get more details and Carack took the liberty of asking.

"So, when are we hitting the city?"

The air around the fire grew still as everyone waited for her answer. Ilya let out a deep breath, resting her elbows on her knees.

"The day after tomorrow. By dawn. That's when we'll begin."

The Fortress they'd just taken down today was built to protect the city, and now they were going to take it down next.

Or rather, they took down the fortress first so they didn't get pincered when trying to take down the city.

The Low-Rank Demons had already scouted the city and the reports from their scouting made the Mid-Ranks choose the 20th to attack.

"They'll be giving us more detailed orders tomorrow, but we're expected to be ready to strike the day after."

A murmur went through the group after her words. They'd all known a big battle was coming soon, but hearing it confirmed made the looming battle feel more real.

The elves and giants in that city surely knew this fortress had fallen and they knew they were the next targets, so they were definitely fortifying the city in preparation.

Although the Mid-Rank demons knew this, they still chose to wait a day before attacking, and that wait would increase the difficulty of the battle as the elves could even call in reinforcements.

Thinking about the impending fight, Kravok spoke with a grin, though the edge of nervous energy in his voice was hard to miss.

"So, we've got a day to get ready, huh? Guess I'll be making sure my new hammer's sharp."