Day fourteen brought them within sight of what Fourth Order scouts called "The Scar."

A massive geological feature that ran for nearly eighty miles perpendicular to their line of march—a canyon system so deep and extensive that bypassing it would add a week to their timeline.

The only practical crossing was a series of ancient bridges that had been built centuries ago, before the current war had even begun.

Bridges that were currently held by Radiant Empire forces.

"Approximately three thousand troops," Zara reported, studying intelligence Fourth Order had compiled. "Fortified positions on both sides of the crossing. Artillery covering the bridges. They're not trying to hold no-man's land—they're trying to make us pay blood to cross into actual Radiant territory."

"Smart strategy," Torven acknowledged. "Defensive position with natural advantages. We have to funnel forces across limited crossing points while under fire. Casualties will be significant even with overwhelming numbers."

Liam studied the terrain reports and tactical assessments. The Scar was approximately three hundred feet deep at its narrowest crossing point, with sheer walls that made scaling impossible for large force. The bridges—five of them spanning different sections—were the only practical routes for an army of their size.

All five were defended. All five would cost blood to take.

"We need those bridges intact," he said. "Can't rebuild them if they're destroyed. Can't bypass without adding week we don't have. So we assault all five simultaneously, overwhelming their ability to defend multiple positions."

"That spreads our forces thin," Lilith cautioned. "Three thousand defenders with fortified positions and artillery against two hundred thousand attackers sounds favorable, until you factor in that we're attacking across bottlenecks while they're defending from prepared positions."

"Which is why we hit all five bridges at once. They can't concentrate defensive fire when every position is under simultaneous assault." Liam's tactical mind was calculating casualties versus strategic necessity. "We lose more troops than single-point assault, but we guarantee bridge capture."

"Projected casualties?" Kael'thra asked, her Fourth Order already preparing for covert operations that would support main assault.

"Conservative estimate: eight hundred to a thousand dead. Possibly fifteen hundred if defenses are more extensive than intelligence suggests." Zara's voice was flat. Numbers without emotion. "But we take all five bridges within three hours and continue march with minimal delay."

A thousand dead for three hours and five bridges.

The numbers were brutal but clear.

"We assault at dawn tomorrow," Liam decided. "Fourth Order eliminates sentries tonight, disrupts their communication, creates chaos before main assault begins. Legion One takes northern bridges. Legion Two and Three take central positions. Legion Four and Five assault southern bridges. Legion Six and Seven provide reserve and prepare to exploit breakthrough."

He looked at his commanders.

"This is first major engagement since Ashford. First time we're fighting force that's prepared for our assault and positioned to inflict significant casualties. Make sure your troops understand—this won't be easy victory. This is what real fighting looks like."

The commanders accepted orders and departed to prepare their legions. Within hours, two hundred thousand demons were repositioning for assault that would begin before sunrise.

---

Liam spent the evening walking through encampments, his presence among troops serving purpose he'd learned was essential for morale.

Soldiers needed to see the Primordial Demon before battle. Needed reminder of why they were fighting. Needed whatever reassurance his divinity—real or performed—could provide.

"Lord Azra." A grizzled veteran approached, his scarred face showing decades of warfare. "My unit will assault the central bridge tomorrow. We've been told casualties will be heavy."

"They will be. The bridges are well-defended. Some of you won't survive the crossing."

The blunt honesty seemed to surprise the veteran. "You're not going to tell us we'll definitely succeed? That our faith will protect us?"

"I'm going to tell you that success is achievable but costly. That faith doesn't stop arrows or artillery fire. That some of you will die and others will survive and I can't predict which will be which." Liam's grey eyes held the veteran's gaze. "But I can tell you that taking those bridges is necessary for reaching Sanctum Lux. That your sacrifice serves purpose beyond just dying. That the empire needs those crossings held by demon forces rather than enemy."

"That's..." The veteran processed this unusual approach from entity who was supposed to be divine. "That's more honest than most commanders provide."

"Most commanders aren't leading you toward assault on most fortified city in known world. You deserve honesty about what tomorrow costs."

The veteran nodded slowly. "Then I'll die honest. Better than dying while believing comfortable lies."

Similar conversations repeated throughout the evening. Demons who wanted blessings received them—words about courage and strength and purpose.

Demons who wanted tactical honesty received that instead—acknowledgment that tomorrow would be brutal and survival wasn't guaranteed.

Two different approaches for two different needs. Playing god for those who needed divine reassurance. Being commander for those who needed military honesty.

Constantly performing. Constantly calculating which role served which moment.

By the time Liam returned to his tent, exhaustion had settled into bones that felt heavier than they should.

Demon physiology handled physical demands well. The mental weight of constantly performing multiple identities was harder to manage.

He found Lilith waiting in his tent, which was becoming a pattern he was noticing more frequently than he should.

"Checking to make sure I sleep again?" he asked, more sharply than intended.

"Checking to make sure you're prepared for tomorrow." Her voice didn't react to his tone. "First major engagement. First time you'll command assault that costs significant casualties. Wanted to ensure you're mentally ready for that."

"I've commanded battles before. Ashard campaign had casualties."

"Ashard campaign had casualties spread across weeks and multiple engagements. Tomorrow you'll lose a thousand demons in three hours of concentrated violence." Lilith's golden eyes were serious. "That's different psychological experience. I've ordered engagements like that. Know what it does to leaders who aren't prepared."

"What does it do?"

"Makes them hesitate during future battles. Makes them question every tactical decision through lens of previous casualties. Makes them either too cautious or too reckless trying to avoid repeating the experience." She sat, familiar ease in the chair across from his field table.

"You need to process in advance that tomorrow's casualties are necessary cost of strategic objective. Grieve them, honor them, but don't let guilt paralyze your tactical decision-making."

"You're teaching me how to kill my own troops without psychological damage?"

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