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As the scouts returned to deliver their bleak report to the Demon Rat Leaders, a heavy silence fell over the gathering. The leaders, their expressions grim, convened to discuss their next moves.

With the recent influx of reinforcements—brought back to life by System magic—there was a renewed sense of purpose among their ranks. The mission perimeter was to remain intact, a fortified line that would hold as they prepared for the next phase of their cold dark campaign.

Over the following two days, the relentless search and destroy mission continued, a grim rotation that saw the Demon Rats moving relentlessly against the beleaguered citizens of Trin. With each passing hour, the echoes of destruction reverberated through the streets, leaving nothing but ashen remnants of what once was.

The Inner Quarters stood indifferent, even as its citizens desperately fended themselves in an increasingly desperate battle against encroaching despair. Amid this chaos, the Demon Horde, having lurked in the literal shadows of the outer walls for what felt like an eternity, finally made their move.

They surged into the Outer Quarters of Trin, climbing walls and occupying rooftops in a show of overwhelming numbers. It was a chilling display, as they watched the ongoing struggle below with an air of malicious anticipation.

To the Horde, it was a game; to the defenders, they were harbingers of doom. The sight of their former homes being ravaged by the Demon Rats only deepened the despair within the Inner Quarters. The survivors could feel the weight of hopelessness pressing down on them, a palpable force that gnawed at their spirits.

The reality was becoming all too clear: no military aid was on the way to save them. They were utterly alone, trapped in a fortress that was slowly turning into a tomb. Each day brought more destruction, and the defenders found themselves oscillating between the urge to fight and the instinct for self-preservation.

The haunting memories of the young general's rash attempt to break free from their confinement lingered like ghosts among the defenders. They recalled how his rash boldness had led to the slaughter of his men, a merciless ambush where the nimble Demon Rats danced around their attacks, leaving nothing but carnage in their wake. It wasn't even a battle—it was a massacre, a testament to the cunning and brutality of their foes.

Desperation clawed at the hearts of the defenders, and they began to turn their hopes toward the mages and scholars who had sealed themselves within the Inner Quarters. These individuals were their last beacon of hope, the remaining spark that could ignite a counteroffensive. The knowledge they held was of utmost importance; spells and ancient wisdom lay dormant, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. The defenders could only pray that the scholars would find a way to turn the tide before it was too late. As the days crawled on, the defenders steeled themselves for a confrontation inevitable. They knew time was running out, and their survival hinged on both strategy and unity. Away from the chaos, deep within the Inner Quarters, the mages began to stir. Whispers of ancient incantations filled the air, and the once-muted hope began to flicker.

The air was heavy with the scent of burnt candles as they flipped through page after page of incantations and the palpable tension of impending conflict. They believed their offensive spells would be sufficient to clear any obstacles that loomed in the city's outer walls, making way for their strategic counterattack against the relentless Demon Horde.

The past few days afforded them of inaction from the horde a necessary respite to refine their magic. They had crafted wide-scale offensive spells, designed to unleash devastation upon the encroaching enemy. With every passing moment, they were reminded of the heavy toll this battle would exact upon the land.

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The destruction of the outer quarters weighed heavily on their hearts, yet the King had given the command. The grim reality was that the Demon Rats, merciless and relentless, had already executed a systematic purge of the area, leaving behind an eerie silence where once there had been life.

This knowledge brought a twisted sense of relief; they were aware that their spells would not inadvertently harm any innocent souls, for the streets were devoid of life. The mages exchanged glances filled with grim resolve, for they knew the Demon Horde had decided to concentrate their dark energies within the Outer Quarters. This decision played into their hands, allowing for greater precision in their spellcasting.

Not to mention, with the enemy's formation within striking distance, they could now calculate trajectories and trajectories with a precision that was previously beyond reach. The thrill of potential victory surged through the ranks, even as they steeled their hearts for the devastation to come.

Yet, as the mages prepared for the battle, a chilling realisation began to seep into their consciousness: the Demon Horde was not merely a mindless force of destruction. The Demon Rats, savage and cunning, had proven to be a calculated adversary.

They had not only brought raw power to the field but also a strategic acumen that was unsettling. It became increasingly clear that the foes they faced were not simply brutish marauders, driven only by instinct; they possessed intelligence, and that intelligence could pose a dire threat to their carefully laid plans.

The mages convened to discuss the unexpected complexity of the situation. The inner quarters, which had sheltered them from the chaos outside, now felt like a fragile sanctuary. They were aware that the enemy could adapt, plot, and counter their actions. A chilling thought lingered in the air: what if the Demon Horde was aware of their preparations?

What if they were concocting a plan of their own, one that could turn the tide of battle in ways the mages had not foreseen? As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the city, the mages resolved to remain vigilant.

But the mages did not know that the Demon Horde was already well and aware of the infernal underhanded tricks they were about to do. It wasn't merely the strategic leaked information from the Star Foxes that guided the Horde's knowledge; rather, it was the instinctual awareness of those sensitive to mana that informed their plans of the mages' plans.

Thus, a request had been submitted to the System, seeking an anti-magic barrier to neutralize any spells that could turn the tide against them. The very essence of the invasion was to ensure that, when Ress reinforcements swoop in after the Southern Kingdom Alliance begged them to do so, had arrived, the Demon Horde could seize the moment to unleash chaos. ṙâŊȮΒËs

But as discussions unfolded, the Orc Leaders grappled with a pressing question: was it time to decrease the size of the Demon Horde? That thought lingered in the air like a chilling breeze, but it was quickly overshadowed by a more pressing development. The System had granted the Orcs access to an advanced anti-isolation barrier similar to the one used by Jin, enhanced with anti-magical properties. This would ensure that the citizens of Trin could not escape their fate, leaving nothing behind but ruin and devastation—a grim reminder of the consequences of crossing the Demon Horde.

Seeing that there was no plans to spare Trin or to the indication to artificially 'dwindle' their Horde, it had been set in motion that the Orc Leaders aimed to synchronize the deployment of the anti-isolation barrier with the mage's massive attack and also lead the charge into the Inner Quarters.

However, just as confidence surged through their ranks, the Demon Rat Leaders interjected with a critical concern. The air thickened with tension as one of the Rat Leaders posed a crucial question: "We are still on time, are we not?" This inquiry sparked a flurry of quick assessments and calculations among the Orc Leaders, revealing a discord in their timing.

The Orc Leader, responsible for orchestrating the entire siege, scrutinized the situation. "According to the intelligence from our allies within the Demon Horde, we may be premature in our assault. Is your intention to delay until our timing aligns?" His voice held a blend of authority and curiosity, eager to uncover the Demon Rats' strategy.

"Precisely," the Demon Rat Leader replied, his eyes glinting with cunning. "We have a secure route into the Inner Quarters, and with the anti-isolation barrier in place, it would seem we could dismantle their defenses with ease. But why not let the humans wallow in their despair a little longer? After all, didn't Master Jin instruct us to embrace our villainous roles for the upcoming confrontation with the Mecha World?" His words hung in the air, igniting a spark of malevolence within the Orc Leaders.

The prospect of prolonging the siege, allowing the humans to wallow in dread before the onslaught, began to take hold of their imaginations. The notion of playing the role of the villain was intoxicating, providing not just a tactical advantage but a psychological edge over the beleaguered citizens of Trin.

The Orc Leader, massive and imposing, cracked his knuckles as he considered the implications the Demon Rat Leader's suggestion as well as the initial Star Foxes' report once they made contact with her.

It was a bitter pill to swallow: the nobles, those pampered elites who had long exploited the weaker factions, appeared to be walking free despite their transgressions. He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the thought of them living in fear, an emotion both foreign and exhilarating. In his mind, the idea of letting them starve was a fitting punishment for their arrogance.

The Orc Leader had always believed in the code of the strong; only those who could fend for themselves deserved to thrive. With the other Demon Hordes sharing the same sentiment, it was clear that a reckoning was coming, and the nobles would have nowhere to hide.

"Then to pass the time, shall we spar?" the Demon Rat leader suggested, his beady eyes glinting with excitement. The Orc Leader grinned, the notion of physical confrontation stirring the warrior spirit within him. This wasn't merely a friendly bout; it was a fierce training exercise designed to sharpen their skills for the inevitable battle against the humans of Mecha World.

As the two leaders squared off, the surrounding warriors of both factions gathered to watch, eager to learn from their leaders' movements. The Orc swung his massive axe, each strike creating a gust of wind that sent shivers down the spines of onlookers. His agility was surprising for his size, and each motion echoed years of experience in combat.

The Demon Rat, smaller but no less fierce, darted around the Orc with a cunning agility. He utilised his speed while deactivating his 5D mobility gear to test his limits in evading the powerful swings, waiting for the perfect moment to counterattack. The clash of their styles was a dance of brute force against nimble finesse, each leader pushing the other to their limits.

As they sparred, the implications of their tactics lingered in the air. The Orc Leader's mind was consumed with thoughts of strategy. The citizens of Mecha World was no ordinary enemy; it was a technologically advanced domain, a realm rich in resources but filled with danger. The nobles had already begun to fortify their strongholds, preparing for whatever retaliation was to come.

But here, in the dirt and sweat of the makeshift arena, the leaders of the Demon Horde were not just preparing for an external threat—they were solidifying their own bonds of trust and strength. Every swing of the club and dart of the Demon Rat reinforced the idea that together, they could forge a path to victory. With each clash, the spectators could feel the energy building, a sense of unity and purpose swelling within the ranks as they committed to their plan to starve the nobles by demonstrating a portion of their strength as a show for them to watch from their high seats.

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