It was only fitting to reward its denizens in the currency they understood best.

Besides, it wasn’t complicated. All Bidalun had to do was copy the system his father used in his own territory. Orion could then tweak it to fit his specific needs, and a provisional rewards structure would be up and running in no time. The finer details could be ironed out and revised after each battle.

"As you command, my lord. I will see it done," Bidalun affirmed. He understood the task was basically asking him to copy his father’s homework. The immediate goal was to stabilize the morale of his followers, to show them that effort would be tangibly rewarded with spoils.

That was how you cultivated motivation and loyalty. More than that, a well-defined system would be a beacon for talented and discerning recruits—individuals like Bidalun’s own father, who had sent his son to serve Orion only after recognizing the true nature of the Scourge Wardens. Different followers valued different things.

"My lord."

Having received his orders, Bidalun didn’t immediately depart. He remained in place, his posture indicating he had more to say.

"Is there something else?" Orion asked, looking up from his thoughts.

"My lord, we have no logistics train. The army’s food stores are running low." Bidalun’s voice was grave. "While it’s true that most of us can subsist on Abyssal energy for long periods, flesh and blood still require sustenance to grow. We can go without it for a short time, but if this continues, the troops will be fighting on empty stomachs. Their energy will flag, and their progress will stall."

In his haste to conquer the Abyss, Bidalun had brought only the elite of his thirty thousand regulars. There were no camp followers, no women or children, and no supply lines back to their home territory. It was painfully clear that Orion’s forces lacked not only powerful warriors but also a logistical backbone.

Orion was silent for a moment. He hadn’t even considered it. In his mind, the law of the Abyss was simple: if you were hungry, you hunted. It was how he and his abyssal dragons had survived the journey here. He was now realizing, however, that was the lifestyle of a lone wolf, not the reality of a commanding officer.

"Your thoughts," Orion said simply. Bidalun was sharp; Orion was willing to bet he wasn’t the type to just point out a problem without having a solution in mind.

"My lord, there’s an unspoken rule in the Abyss. Whether they’re slaves or beasts, any troops you use as a vanguard must be fed, and fed well, before a battle."

Orion raised an eyebrow. There was a deeper meaning to Bidalun’s words, and it piqued his interest. The commander was more than just a brute.

"Continue."

The single word was all Bidalun needed. His eyes lit up with relief. His lord wasn’t some pig-headed tyrant who refused to listen.

"My lord, our problem isn’t just a lack of food. It’s a lack of a proper vanguard—a force to absorb the initial shock of battle and reduce our own casualties."

Orion said nothing, his gaze fixed intently on Bidalun. The commander met his eyes for a second before lowering his head, the words spilling out of him.

"The food shortage is a symptom, my lord. The real disease is our lack of a supply chain. Only with a functioning logistics corps can the army be fed. Only then can they focus on training, on growing stronger, on following you single-mindedly in your conquest."

Orion had to admit, Bidalun had hit the nail on the head. "On the third layer, how did you establish your supply corps?" His tone was even, a genuine inquiry.

The more open Orion was, the more careful Bidalun became. He held nothing back. "My lord, in the early stages, all Abyssal lords build their logistics through one method: plunder."

"We raid wherever we go. Equipment, minerals, and rare resources go into the lord’s treasury, to be stored or distributed. All other assets—living assets—are brought back to the territory and managed by the captured women and their young."

He let that sink in. "My lord, the women and the young are our most basic logistics team."

Orion’s eyes narrowed. It was only now that he was truly beginning to understand the ruthless nature of this world. His own origins, outside the Abyss, had created a blind spot. He thought of logistics as a department, a group of non-combat specialists.

Bidalun’s words shattered that naive assumption.

Connecting that to his earlier point about a vanguard, the entire brutal picture snapped into focus. Through raiding, you acquired not just territory and supplies, but people. The captured adult males became slaves, cannon fodder to be thrown into the meat grinder in the first wave of any assault. A "vanguard," as Bidalun had so delicately put it.

The women served a dual purpose: performing logistical work and serving the sex needs of the troops. As for the young, they were put to work, their ultimate fate determined by their potential. The weak would grow up to be more cannon fodder. The talented might become true warriors, a chance to change their destiny. And if things got desperate, everyone—slaves, women, children—became emergency rations.

He wasn’t just building a supply chain. He was building a disposable frontline and a support structure from the same pool of subjugated people. The two tasks were one and the same, accomplished through conquest.

A cold self-assessment followed. I’ve been too soft. He hadn’t fully grasped the operational logic of the Abyss.

But it wasn’t too late.

"Bidalun."

"My lord!" The commander dropped to one knee, his head bowed but his eyes gleaming. This was the moment of truth. Would his lord prove to be a naive idealist, or a true conqueror?

"You have three days," Orion’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Draft one hundred thousand troops from the First Army and form a Resource Acquisition Division."

"For the next three months, you will strip the Isle of Embers bare. When that time is up, I want every living thing on this island that is not already our follower to be our slave."

The command was so cold it was almost serene. To Bidalun, it was the sound of victory.

"Furthermore," Orion added, "as commander of the First Army, I expect you to establish a formal structure. An Equipment and Logistics department. An Armory. A Slave Vanguard. A Beast Vanguard. When this campaign of plunder is complete, I want the First Army to have all its vital organs, operating by its own set of established rules."