Midnight was six hours away.

Liam stood alone on Dra'kul's eastern wall, watching the sun bleed out behind the mountains. The volcanic landscape looked beautiful in the fading light—all amber and crimson and shadow. Almost peaceful, if you ignored the scorch marks on the stones and the smell of old death drifting up from the valley below.

Almost.

[Current Time: 18:47]

[Operation Commencement: 00:00]

[Time Remaining: 5 Hours, 13 Minutes]

The System's countdown was precise. It didn't account for fear or second-guessing or the cold knot forming in his stomach that had nothing to do with tactical concerns.

Twelve percent chance of success.

He'd fought at worse odds before. Survived a demon queen's test. Survived a Paladin Commander's blessed steel.

But those had been reactive. Survival situations where the only choice was win or die.

This was different.

This was a choice he was making. Forty demons would follow him into a ravine that might become their grave, all because he'd decided the twelve percent chance was better than the certainty of slow death.

And if he was wrong...

"Doubting yourself?"

Liam didn't turn. He'd heard Zara's approach—the slight scrape of boot on stone that she'd left audible deliberately, a courtesy from an assassin who could move in perfect silence when she chose.

"Calculating," he said instead.

She joined him at the wall, her silver eyes scanning the same landscape his were. "And what do the calculations say?"

"That this might be stupid. That we're going to lose soldiers we can't afford to lose. That there are a dozen ways this fails and maybe one way it succeeds." He paused. "That I'm gambling with lives."

"Mmm, mine aswell."

He glanced at her.

Zara's expression was unbetraying, but there was something in her voice, like acknowledgment.

"If you weren't doubting, you'd be delusional," she said. "Delusion is dangerous. Doubt..." She tilted her head slightly. "Doubt means you're still thinking. Still grounded enough to question whether the cost is worth it."

"Do you think it is?"

"Ask me tomorrow." She turned to leave, then paused. "For what it's worth, even if we did fail...what other choice did we have?"

Her silver eyes studied him for a moment, the she turned and walked away.

Alone again, Liam watched the last of the daylight fade.

His hand found the Focusing Crystal in his pocket. Just to feel its weight. To know it was there if everything went wrong.

Insurance. Or desperation.

The line between the two was getting harder to see.

---

[Time Remaining: 4 Hours, 47 Minutes]

The armory was chaos.

Demons moved selecting weapons, checking armor, preparing for the kind of night where every piece of equipment might mean the difference between life and death.

Liam found Varg overseeing the preparations, the lieutenant's usual sarcastic energy channeled into something focused and dangerous.

"The demonstration force," Liam said.

"Picking them now." Varg gestured to a group of ten demons. "Loud. Aggressive. Expendable enough that if things go wrong, it won't cripple us, but skilled enough to sell the deception."

"They know it's a suicide mission?"

"They know it's a maybe suicide mission." Varg's grin was sharp. "I told them if they do it right, they get to kill paladins and then run away. If they do it wrong, they die heroically buying time for the real assault. Either way, they get to hurt the things that have been hurting us."

One of the selected demons - a scarred veteran missing half a horn - looked up. "My lord. Permission to speak?"

"Granted."

"Is it true what they're saying? That you killed three hundred humans at Krazax?" The demon's voice carried hope and something darker. "That you executed prisoners? That you burned them all?"

The other demons had stopped working, listening.

"It's true," Liam said flatly. No embellishment or justification.

"Good." The scarred demon's grip tightened on his weapon. "Then maybe you understand, how much we hate those bastards...how badly we want to see them burn."

Liam met those eyes—saw himself reflected in them.

"I understand," he said quietly.

"Then we'll make them scream, my lord." The demon's smile was broken glass. "We'll make them scream so loud they won't hear you coming until it's too late."

Varg clasped the demon's shoulder. "That's the spirit. Now get your team ready. We leave in four hours."

As Liam turned to go, Varg caught his arm. "You know I'm not coming back, right?"

"What?"

"From the demonstration. Oh, the plan says we retreat once the real assault begins. But that ravine..." Varg's eyes were distant. "There's no clean retreat from there if they commit to pursuit. Which they will, because they'll think they've finally broken us."

Liam studied the lieutenant's face. Saw no fear there. Just cold acceptance.

"Then why volunteer?"

"Because someone has to make them believe it's real. Someone they've seen before. Someone who fights like he's been doing it forever." Varg's grin returned, but it was sad around the edges. "I was a gladiator once. Before the wars. Did you know that? Two hundred and forty-seven fights. Never lost. Not once."

"And you think you'll lose this one?"

"I think this is the first fight that matters." He released Liam's arm. "Win or lose doesn't matter anymore. Just that I was here. That I fought. That when the paladins dream tonight—if any survive—they'll remember the demon who made them bleed."

"Varg—"

"Don't." The lieutenant's voice was firm. "Don't make promises you can't keep or offer comfort I don't need. Just..." He paused, searching for words. "Just make sure it's worth it. Whatever happens tonight. Make sure forty demons don't die for nothing."

He walked away before Liam could respond.

[Varg - Emotional State: Resigned Determination. Acceptance of Mortality.]

[Belief: 31% → 67%]

[Loyalty: 89%]

The belief spike was massive. Varg believed now—not because of miracles or promises, but because he'd decided the lie was worth dying for.

Liam wasn't sure if that made him a god or a monster.

Maybe both.

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