Dawn came like a blade—sharp, cold, and unforgiving.

Liam stood at the head of three legions, approximately sixty thousand demons arrayed in assault formation behind him.

The enemy fortifications stretched across the horizon like a wound in the earth—wooden stakes, earthwork barriers, archer platforms, and the dull gleam of siege equipment positioned to turn the killing ground into exactly that.

Five thousand Radiant soldiers waited behind those defenses, and somewhere among them, battle-priests were already chanting prayers that made the air shimmer with consecrated power.

"Last chance to reconsider the suicide," Lilith said quietly from beside him.

She'd armored herself for war—proper battle plate that made her look every inch the Demon Queen she was. Her golden eyes were fixed on the fortifications, calculating angles of attack and death percentages with the same cold precision Liam had learned to employ.

"Can't," Liam said. "Already committed."

"Commitment and martyrdom aren't the same thing."

"They are when you're trying to be a god."

Lieutenant Zara approached on foot, her expression grimmer than usual. "Final scout reports, Lord Azra. The enemy has concentrated their battle-priests at three key positions—center, and both flanks. They're prepared to create overlapping fields of holy fire the moment we advance. Casualties in the first wave will be... significant."

"How significant?"

"Twenty to thirty percent before we even reach their lines."

Twelve thousand demons dead or dying in the first minutes of combat. The number should have made him hesitate. Should have made him reconsider.

Instead, Liam just nodded. "Then we make sure the second wave counts. Commander Koth?"

The scarred veteran stepped forward. "Three legions ready, Lord Azra. Assault groups organized as discussed. We'll hit them in waves—first wave draws their fire and tests their defenses, second wave exploits any gaps, third wave commits to the breakthrough."

"And I'll be in the first wave," Liam said.

"Right at the center," Koth confirmed, his tone suggesting he'd already given up trying to talk Liam out of suicidal positioning. "Where the fighting will be thickest."

"Where the enemy will see me," Liam corrected. "Where every Radiant soldier will have to confront the fact that the Primordial Demon is real and he's coming for them personally."

"Signal when ready," Liam said, his voice carrying across the command group. "And remember—we're not here to hold ground. We're here to break through and keep moving. Speed matters more than complete victory."

The officers dispersed, carrying orders to their respective units. Within minutes, the three legions were adjusting formation, preparing for an assault that would cost thousands of lives to buy hours of travel time.

The calculus was brutal.

The necessity was absolute.

"You really think this will work?" Lilith asked, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

"I think it has to work," Liam replied. "So I'm going to make it work."

"That's not an answer—"

"It's the only answer that matters."

A horn sounded from the forward scouts—three short blasts indicating final positioning complete. The assault could begin at Liam's command.

He drew a breath that tasted like rain and mud and the copper promise of imminent violence. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Liam Cross whispered that this was insane, that he was about to lead twelve thousand demons to their deaths for the sake of maintaining a marching schedule.

But Lord Azra just smiled coldly and began channeling Essence.

"All units," he said, his voice amplified by Sovereign's Dominion until it carried across the entire formation, "advance."

---

The first wave hit the killing ground at a dead run.

Liam was at the front, Phase Shift carrying him forward in stuttering bursts of speed that made him nearly impossible to target. Behind him, six thousand demons crashed toward the fortifications in a tide of dark steel and absolute faith.

The Radiant battle-priests responded immediately.

Light erupted from three positions simultaneously—concentrated beams of holy power that swept across the charging demons like scythes through wheat. Liam watched soldiers die by the dozens, their armor burning, their screams cut short as consecrated fire consumed flesh and bone with divine efficiency.

[Casualties: First Wave]

[+347 dead]

[+892 wounded]

The numbers scrolled past his consciousness, clinical and detached. Over a thousand demons down in the first thirty seconds of combat, and they hadn't even reached the fortifications yet.

"HOLD FORMATION!" Commander Koth's voice thundered across the battlefield. "MAINTAIN ADVANCE!"

The demons obeyed because they were professional soldiers and because Lord Azra commanded it. They ran through fire that melted armor and ignored the screaming of their dying comrades because stopping meant death anyway and at least forward movement had purpose.

Liam Phase Shifted again, closing the distance to the center fortification in three rapid jumps. A cluster of Radiant infantry saw him coming—saw a human face above demon power—and their formation wavered with religious confusion.

That moment of hesitation cost them everything.

Liam hit them with Sovereign's Dominion at full strength, the psychic weight of his false divinity crashing into their minds like a hammer. Three soldiers dropped their weapons immediately, overwhelmed by the cognitive dissonance of a human commanding demon authority. The rest tried to form a shield wall, but they were too slow.

Infernal Conflagration erupted from Liam's outstretched hands, black flames that howled with unnatural hunger. The fortifications caught fire, wood and earth burning with flames that holy wards couldn't fully suppress. Soldiers scattered, and the defensive line fractured.

"BREAKTHROUGH CENTER!" Koth's command was immediate. "SECOND WAVE, COMMIT!"

Twenty thousand more demons surged forward, exploiting the gap Liam had torn in the enemy defenses. The battle descended into chaos—close-quarters slaughter where formations dissolved into individual struggles for survival.

Liam moved through the carnage like a storm given purpose. Phase Shift kept him mobile, always appearing where the enemy was thickest, always visible enough that every Radiant soldier had to confront his existence. A battle-priest tried to target him with concentrated holy fire, and Liam simply shifted behind the man and drove Abyssal Plate-wrapped fists through consecrated armor.

[Essence Feast activated]

[+520 Essence]

The priest died screaming, and with him, another section of the defensive line collapsed.

But the Radiant forces were fighting back hard. These weren't conscripts or militia—these were professional soldiers who'd been positioned here specifically to slow the demon advance. They traded ground reluctantly, making the demon army pay for every foot in blood and broken bodies.

"LEFT FLANK COLLAPSING!" someone shouted through the chaos.

Liam's eyes snapped to the left where a concentrated group of battle-priests had created a killing field of overlapping holy fire. Demon soldiers were dying by the dozen, unable to advance through the consecrated flames, unable to retreat without abandoning the assault.

No time to coordinate. No time for elegant tactics.

Liam Phase Shifted directly into the center of the battle-priest formation.

The holy practitioners registered his presence a moment too late. Liam's Primordial Authority erupted outward in a sphere of absolute dominance, the psychic pressure so intense that three of the younger priests simply collapsed unconscious. The others staggered, their concentration breaking, their holy fires flickering.

"FOR LORD AZRA!" A demon officer's voice carried across the left flank. "BREAKTHROUGH NOW!"

The demons surged forward, exploiting the moment of weakness, and the left flank battle-priest formation shattered under sustained assault.

But the cost was mounting.

[Casualties: First Wave + Second Wave]

[+1,247 dead]

[+2,103 wounded]

Over three thousand casualties, and they'd only been fighting for fifteen minutes.

Liam felt each death as a distant pressure against his consciousness—Essence flowing in from the kills, faith burning bright from the Nameless Litany watching his performance, the synthesized identity of Lord Azra integrating each act of violence into the narrative of necessary brutality.

[Synchronization Index: + 2%]

Two percentage points in a single engagement. Two more pieces of Liam Cross consumed by the role he played.

He was fighting on instinct now, Phase Shift and Infernal Conflagration wielded with practiced efficiency, Sovereign's Dominion deployed in surgical strikes to break enemy morale at critical moments. His human face covered in blood and ash, his stolen magic burning through Essence reserves at an unsustainable rate.

And still he pushed forward.

Because stopping meant failure.

Because hesitation meant more casualties, not fewer.

Because Lord Azra didn't retreat.

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