The battle transformed from desperate assault to organized advance. What had been slaughter became warfare. Demons with foothold fought with efficiency that steady ground enabled.

Artillery positions that had been devastating distant targets became vulnerable to close assault.

Liam didn't stop moving.

[Phase Shift] carried him toward artillery installations, his presence alone forcing their attention away from bridges where demons continued crossing. [Abyssal Scream] projected into clusters of defenders, psychic terror creating openings that conventional soldiers exploited.

An hour of sustained violence.

Hour of killing and being wounded and killing more. Hour of proving that sometimes tactical stupidity became tactical brilliance through sheer refusal to accept mathematics that said assault was too costly.

By the time all five bridges were secured, the Radiant Empire defenders were routed.

Three thousand had become three hundred survivors fleeing toward actual Radiant border. The artillery positions were captured or destroyed. The bridges were held by demon forces that had paid blood for every foot of stone.

"Final casualty report," Zara's voice was tight with something between professional respect and horrified calculation. "One thousand two hundred thirty-seven dead. Eighteen hundred wounded. All five bridges secured. Far side fortifications captured. Artillery neutralized."

More than projected. Within acceptable parameters. Absolutely catastrophic in human terms.

Liam stood on the northern bridge, his armor charred and smoking from multiple artillery impacts, his essence depleted ever so slightly from sustained combat use, surrounded by evidence of demons who'd died following his lead.

The bridge stones were slick with blood that was already drying in the morning heat.

Bodies lay where they'd fallen—some reduced to ash by blessed artillery, others showing conventional wounds, a few who'd simply been crushed in the press of assault.

"My lord." A Legion commander approached, his arm hanging useless but his eyes showing fervent devotion. "You fought beside them. Led the crossing personally. I saw you step onto bridge when artillery was at maximum fire. Saw you create path through smoke that saved hundreds."

"I watched a thousand demons die taking bridges I ordered them to capture." Liam's voice was flat. "Don't congratulate me for participating in slaughter I commanded."

"You participated in victory you commanded," the commander corrected. "We expected you to lead from command position. Instead you led from front. That matters, my lord. That makes the dying feel like it served purpose."

The commander departed, and Liam was left alone with bridges that were now demon-held at cost of twelve hundred lives.

---

"That was tactically idiotic," Lilith said when he returned to command position hours later.

She'd been managing overall coordination while he'd been leading assault. Now she stood in command tent with expression that mixed fury and relief in equal measure.

"Necessary," Liam countered, too exhausted to engage with her anger fully.

"Necessary?" Her voice rose slightly—unusual for her controlled demeanor. "You're the supreme military commander. You're the entity this entire offensive depends on. And you decided charging into artillery fire was appropriate tactical decision?"

"I decided that soldiers dying for bridges I commanded them to take deserved to see me willing to die beside them." His voice was steady despite exhaustion. "Morale matters. Showing I'm not commanding from safety while they face death matters."

"Morale doesn't matter if you die stupidly during preliminary engagement." Lilith moved closer, her golden eyes blazing with emotion that was more than just professional concern. "Do you understand what happens if you'd been killed on those bridges? The entire offensive collapses. Two hundred thousand demons become leaderless force that fragments and dies. Everything—the march, the strategy, the sacrifice—becomes meaningless."

"I wasn't going to die on those bridges."

"You don't know that! Artillery was targeting you directly once they realized what you were. I watched from command position as blessed rounds came within feet of killing you. As your armor cracked from near-misses. As you led assault that was supposed to be managed by legion commanders, not directed personally by supreme commander who's—"

She cut herself off. Took visible breath to regain composure.

"Who's what?" Liam asked.

"Who's too valuable to risk unnecessarily." Her voice had returned to controlled tone, but her eyes still showed the emotion underneath. "You're not just commander. You're symbol. You're entity that unified this empire and gave soldiers reason to believe survival is possible. Losing you doesn't just cost one life—it costs everything."

"Then maybe I shouldn't be irreplaceable. Maybe the offensive shouldn't depend entirely on one entity's survival."

"It's too late for that consideration. You consolidated absolute authority. Made yourself central to every strategic decision. Created situation where your death means catastrophic failure." Lilith's voice carried frustration born from caring about survival of person who'd just taken unnecessary risk. "So you don't get to charge into artillery fire for morale purposes. You survive. You lead from positions that don't involve personally testing whether blessed ordinance can kill Primordial Demons."

They stood close now—closer than professional discussion required.

Liam could feel heat radiating from her, demon physiology running hot with emotion she was trying to control.

"You were worried," he observed.

"Yeah no shit I was worried. You're—" She paused, choosing words carefully. "You're strategically essential. Your death creates complications I can't easily manage."

"That's very practical concern that doesn't explain why you're still angry now that I've survived."

"I'm angry because you took unnecessary risk for dramatic effect when tactical patience would have achieved same objective with less danger to irreplaceable commander." But her voice suggested the anger was covering something else. "You're too important to lose to... to stupid heroics."

"Too important strategically?"

Lilith's expression shifted. "Does it matter? Either way, you don't get to die stupidly."

"It might matter if personal concern is affecting tactical judgment." Liam's voice was careful. "If you're making decisions based on anything other than strategic necessity."

"Are you?" She countered. "Because charging into artillery fire when legion commanders could have managed assault suggests personal need to prove something rather than tactical requirement."

She wasn't wrong. Some of his decision to lead assault personally had been tactical—morale, inspiration, proving divine commitment.

Some had been something else. Need to feel violence directly rather than commanding it from distance. Need to share risk that soldiers faced on his orders.

Need to act instead of just calculating.

"The bridges are taken," he said, deflecting from uncomfortable accuracy of her observation. "Twelve hundred dead. Eighteen hundred wounded. We continue march tomorrow once wounded are stabilized."

"Don't deflect. We're discussing why you decided personal heroics were appropriate during assault that could have been managed without risking supreme commander."

"We're discussing why you're more angry than situation warrants if your concern is purely strategic." Liam's counter was equally pointed. "Commanders take calculated risks. You've done the same during your reign. But when I take risk, you react with emotion that seems disproportionate to tactical implications."

They were very close now. Close enough that the space between them felt charged with more than just strategic disagreement.

Close enough that Liam could see the way her breathing had accelerated slightly, the flush of emotion on her skin.

"My reaction is proportionate to stupidity of charging into artillery fire." But her voice had lost some of its sharp edge. "You survived. That's what matters strategically."

"And personally?"

"Personally..." Lilith trailed off, her golden eyes holding his. "Personally, I'd prefer not to watch you die dramatically while I'm coordinating assault from command position. It would be... inconvenient."

"Inconvenient."

"Tactically complicated."

"That's not what you were going to say."

"It's what I'm saying now." She stepped back, breaking whatever tension had been building. "You survived. The bridges are taken. We continue march. That's what's strategically relevant."

But the way she'd been standing close. The emotion in her voice. The relief mixed with fury. All of it suggested that strategic relevance wasn't the only thing affecting her response.

"We should review casualty reports," Liam said, letting her retreat from conversation that was getting too personal.

"We should." Her voice had returned to professional tone. "And Liam? Don't charge into artillery fire again."

She left before he could reply.

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