“…Like, they could be good at making ons or potions…hell, even rune bdes like mine or the hammer Kravok’s wielding now.”

  Kravok, still holding his new elven hammer, let out a shh but gave a nod, silently urging Xaren to tinue.

  Xaren looked around the fire as he asked, “What happeo 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.

  Ba my newborn zone, I saw a few demons who never lifted a on. All they did was make stuff—armour, ons, you —for the bigger, stronger demons.”

  Xaren wondered how they’d been able to source materials for ons 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 itlefield 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, sing the area.”

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

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

  But I figured it out after they took notie and the uys here. Turns out, they weren’t looking for batants like us.

  They were looking for demons with non-bat skills. Alchemists, bcksmiths, enters—anyone whose skills aren’t meant fhting 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 pieg 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 pce where they 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 hoheir craft. Eventually, they e back as low-rank demons responsible for making the ons and gear we all use.”

  After Carack’s respohere was a hum of uanding from the others around the fire, and Xaren nodded slowly.

  “So, they aowledge those types of demons early on and take them out before things get rough.”

  “Exactly,” Carack said, taking a sip from his fsk.

  “The demo behind for the vortex are the ones who either don’t specialize or have bat-reted skills.

  If yood with a hammer, sword, or spells, you stay.

  But if you’ve got the hands te a bde or breotion, 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 ented clothes that the Mid-Rank demons distributed when he first arrived.

  He leaned back, his gaze shiftiween the demons at the bonfire as he asked, “So, all the standard o when we first arrived…?”

  “Made by those demons.” Carack finished for him before tinuing.

  “By the time they get doraining, they’re produg the ons and armour we rely on. It’s all part of the bigger system.”

  Finally getting an expnation, 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-bat demons.”

  Carack chuckled, raising his fsk and respoo 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 fightiire worlds built on the foundation of all sorts of skills and talents, eae pying a role in the demonic war mae.

  Xaren turned his gaze back to the flickering fmes 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 reed.

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

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

  The group exged amused gnces. One of the demons, chug as he chewed, shook his head.

  “Drogror is long. I’d just call y.”

  “Yeah, Drog rolls off the toter,” another added.

  “Definitely. Chef Drog it is.”

  Drogror’s face fell, visibly defted by the unceremonious shortening of his self-imposed title. He opened his mouth to protest but was quickly drowned out by ughter as the group tinued bantering, clearly more eained by their new niame for him than anything else.

  For the few mihey busied themselves with trying out the various elven delicacies they had sged.

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

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

  Carack ughed so hard he was clutg his sides—until he suddenly froze, mid-ugh, 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 gnced 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 gri her like an old friend.

  “Where were you, Captain?”

  Xaren’s curiosity iqued, but Caraswered 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 few days.”

  Ilya nodded in firmation, 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 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 dow.

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

  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 ing soon, but hearing it firmed made the looming battle feel more real.

  The elves and giants in that city surely khis fortress had fallen and they khey were the argets, so they were definitely fortifying the city in preparation.

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

  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.”