Hello, my loyal readers!

Thank you so much for still being here and accompanying me on this journey until now. TROC started three years ago, and it was the first project I truly dedicated myself to as a serious author. As a new writer back then, I am well aware that there were many flaws in the early Chapters, but your unwavering support is what allowed me to learn and grow over time.

Finally, we have reached the turning point: The Final Volume — Set of Demon War.

Just like the previous volumes, I expect this one to reach 200+ Chapters, or perhaps even more. My goal is to complete Volume 3 within this year, God willing.

A few technical notes:

Encyclopedia of Species: Information regarding the Warbeast Species and other Mana Species will not be included in this volume. Instead, I will be compiling them into a dedicated Side Story collection, formatted like a world-building manual.

The "Definitive" Edit: Once Volume 3 is concluded, I plan to conduct a massive overhaul and edit starting from Chapter 1 to ensure the entire series meets the quality standards I’ve developed today.

Without further ado, let us witness the conclusion of Wilwatikta’s struggle. Welcome to the first Chapter of Volume 3!

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The morning mist crept in from the direction of the Bog Forest, swathing a city that was slowly stirring from its slumber. The leaves of the banyan trees shimmered, occasionally dripping residual crystalline water onto the damp earth.

The morning breeze blowing across the city’s stone walls no longer carried the scent of pine or wet soil as it had five months ago. Now, the air was thick—heavy with the metallic tang of dried blood, the sulfur of magic, and the acrid black smoke from the forging chimneys that never slept in the heart of the building city.

Heles had been transformed. The city that was once the pride of humanity had been flayed and rebuilt into a giant war machine—a fortress and a staging ground for new slaughterhouses stretching all the way to Bitter Maja.

The city of Heles had officially been renamed Progenitor City. It was an homage to Nevare, who had conquered it, and a proclamation that this was merely the beginning of their expansion. The face of the city had changed completely. The luxurious estates that were once symbols of noble decadence had been repurposed into the kingdom’s administrative hubs.

The military bases remained, but they had been relocated underground—a habitat far more natural for monster-kind. Aided by technology from the Vivid Dream faction, their weaponry had become truly monstrous. The city walls were now reinforced by batteries of energy cannons capable of unleashing destruction equivalent to a Level 4 Constellation Mage’s spell.

Even civilian housing had evolved into subterranean settlements known as Burrows. The principle was simple: every inch of living space had to function as a defensive fortification and a counter-attack point should the enemy breach the city walls. Much like Bitter Maja with its ant-nest complexity of underground labyrinths, similar construction was being fast-tracked in Progenitor City.

The Wilwatikta leadership targeted this city as their primary defensive pillar for when the Human Alliance eventually sought vengeance. However, with the opening of the Bog Forest paths, the Alliance was now trapped in a two-front war against the Demons, leaving Wilwatikta with the upper hand.

In the midst of the morning silence, two dozen Asuras stood in perfect formation before hundreds of Hobgoblins. They had been frozen there like statues for the last half hour. The freezing air should have made their bodies—clad only in functional armor—shiver, yet not one of them flinched. Their eyes were sharp, alert, and devoid of any trace of drowsiness, despite being forced awake long before dawn.

On the grounds of the main barracks, where the floor still bore the stains of past battles, Diru stood tall like an obsidian monolith. He allowed the fine ash from the industrial furnaces to settle upon his grey shoulder spaulders.

Diru cast a fleeting glance at the Asura beside him. His comrade’s shoulders were squared, his back perfectly straight. A tremor of pride flowed through Diru’s veins—the same collective pulse that bound these warriors together. They were Third Generation Asuras, now considered "veterans" as the Fourth and Fifth Generation began to emerge. With an abundance of nutrients and the high intensity of constant war, the Orcs possessed the perfect fuel and forge to trigger their evolution into Asuras.

He was no longer an Orc. That fact still struck him during silent moments. His once-bulky and coarse frame had densified, tapering into a terrifying bipedal form that possessed its own brutal beauty. His muscles were layered like bundles of steel cable beneath skin that had turned darker, almost the color of clotted blood. As an Asura who had successfully breached the Third Gate of Evolution, Diru’s bone structure had shifted drastically; his jaw was firmer, his eyes radiated the cold glow of predatory intelligence, and an astral sense within him began to throb, granting him a spatial awareness far beyond the five ordinary senses.

And right now, he could feel it. A pressure in his chest—an invisible wall within his soul that was slowly beginning to crack. He was at the Fourth Gate of Evolution. He was so close. He just needed one more push, one proper near-death experience, one surge of Dragon Prana from a powerful foe, and he would break through. If he succeeded, he would finally be able to use Vivid Dream and join the elite ranks of the Wilwatikta Kingdom fighting on the front lines alongside the Demons.

Nevertheless, the high command was well aware that the Demons were not true allies. No one knew when those bloodthirsty entities would turn on them. Because of this, Wilwatikta had to grow stronger as quickly as possible. They were racing against time.

Fortunately, the battlefield provided abundant resources. The carcasses of Demons, humans, and Elves left on the killing fields were immediately hauled back to Progenitor City or Bitter Maja for processing. The R-18 Division had discovered an efficient method to extract biological energy from the bodies of mana species and mutated beasts.

Moku called it the EXP Potion.

Diru didn’t understand what the name meant, but if the Ku said it, then it was the truth. With the aid of that liquid, the absorption of Dragon Prana became manifold faster, allowing Asuras to climb the evolutionary ladder with absurd acceleration. Now, it took only one to two weeks for a young Orc to evolve into an Asura, and less than a month to break through to their Third Evolution.

"Tighten the ranks!"

A hoarse, heavy voice echoed across the courtyard. Diru didn’t need to look to know who was shouting. He merely tightened his grip on the handle of his long-barreled axe, ensuring he stood in a perfect military posture alongside dozens of other Asuras. They stood in a deadly silence—a stark contrast to the days when they were an unruly horde of Orcs relying solely on instinct and rage. Wilwatikta had educated them. War had sharpened them.

However, in front of this elite Asura line, the view presented was the bitter reality of Wilwatikta’s new foundation.

Hundreds of Hobgoblins stood with restless postures. Unlike the Asuras, who were clad in precision-forged armor, these Hobgoblins wore only worn-out leather chest pieces and carried weapons that resembled scrap metal more than swords. The Hobgoblins’ eyes were wild, twitching with fear, staring toward the main gates of Heles as if looking into the gates of hell.

Diru stared at their backs coldly. There was no mercy in his eyes. In Wilwatikta’s latest military tactics, architected by the kingdom’s strategist team, these Hobgoblins served one definitive purpose: Bait-Meat.

Wilwatikta’s strategy was now simple and cruel: Unleash the Hobgoblins onto the front lines. Let the human knights and mages deplete their mana and stamina slaughtering the green tide. When the enemy grew weary, when their formations broke because they were too preoccupied with the massacre, only then would Diru and the other Asura units emerge from the shadows as ambushers.

Alternatively, if the enemy numbers were too great, the Hobgoblin squads were tasked with attacking blindly and then retreating in scattered directions before being wiped out. The enemy would split up to pursue, and subsequently be picked off one by one by Asura squads waiting at pre-agreed points. This tactic provided the Asuras with combat experience and a wealth of Dragon Prana with a risk of death that was near zero.

Diru had no problem with this tactic. Even though the number of Asuras grew daily—nearly equaling the population of the other monster races—they were still few compared to the sheer number of enemies. It was only because the Demon race was bearing the brunt of the Human Alliance forces that they were not currently overwhelmed or besieged.

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Hey everyone! Are you ready for next month? 🔥

The conflict in TROC is reaching a boiling point, and I know many of you are dying to see what happens next. To keep the momentum going, I’ll be opening up a massive Privilege access of up to 30 Chapters next month!

Privilege will be opened starting on May 1, at 18:05 GMT +8