He gestured to the carnage around them.

"You have twelve soldiers left. I have forty. You can hold for a while. Maybe even until dawn. But your reinforcements aren't coming. Because your supply line is cut. Your forward base is destroyed. And even if you survive tonight, you'll die alone in hostile territory with no support."

The commander's jaw clenched. "Then we die holding our position. It's what paladins do."

"No." Liam's voice carried something like regret. "It's what you were trained to do. But training doesn't account for this. For the thing standing in front of you that looks human. That can smell your fear. That can tell you with absolute certainty—"

He raised Igar's Shard.

"—that I'm not going to give you a glorious death. I'm going to have my demons collapse that light circle inch by inch. I'm going to let you watch your brothers die. One by one. Until you're standing alone in the dark. And then - only then - will I let you die."

[Echo of the Abyss Activated: -150 Essence]

The psychic scream lanced out, not at the commander, but at the twelve soldiers holding formation. A targeted burst of pure, distilled terror.

They felt it. The abyss opening beneath them. The certainty that they would fall forever. That their god wasn't watching. That the light would fail.

One broke. Stumbled back from the formation, his blessed sword shaking.

The demons pounced.

Four of them, coordinated, efficient. The paladin went down screaming.

Eleven left.

"HOLD!" the commander roared, but his voice cracked.

Liam struck again.

[Echo of the Abyss Activated: -150 Essence]

Another paladin broke. Then another.

The formation collapsed.

And the demons, who'd learned patience through three months of slow death, taught the remaining paladins what that patience cost.

---

[Current Time: 00:47]

Forty-seven minutes.

That's how long the assault had taken from first strike to final death.

Liam stood in the center of what had been the Radiant Empire's forward operating base. Now it was ruins and corpses and the smell of blood mixing with volcanic sulfur.

Fifty paladins had garrisoned this position.

Fifty paladins had died tonight.

The demons moved through the camp with grim efficiency. Collecting blessed weapons. Stripping armor. Setting fires that would consume supplies and send smoke signals visible for miles.

[Fear Detected: 0 Entities (All Terminated)]

[Essence Conversion: +1,847 EP]

[Sin Acknowledged: Massacre of Isolated Garrison]

[Evolution Points Gained: +15 EVP]

The numbers flickered past. Rewarding him for what he'd become.

Koth approached, his armor splattered with blood—red and black mixed together. His expression was complicated.

"We lost six," he reported. "Three in the initial assault. Two to blessed fire during the fighting. One fell during the retreat down the ledge." He paused. "Varg made it back to the outpost. He and eight of his ten survived."

Six demons lost. Fifty paladins killed.

Favorable ratios. Acceptable casualties. A tactical victory by any measure.

So why did it feel like ash in Liam's mouth?

One demon, the youngest Liam had seen, stood among the ruins, staring at a dead paladin who looked barely older than twenty. The young demon's sword hung loose in his grip, blood dripping from its edge.

"I killed three tonight," he said quietly, not to anyone in particular. "Three human soldiers who were just following orders. Just doing their duty." He looked at Liam. "Does it get easier? The killing?"

Liam thought about the executions at Krazax. About the hundred and sixteen who'd surrendered. About the paladins tonight who'd died because he'd made terror into a weapon.

"No," he said honestly. "It gets harder. You just get better at not feeling it. Also, do not pity them...they will extend no such pity to a monster like you, like us."

The young demon nodded slowly. "I guess you're right, My Lord."

He walked away, leaving Liam alone among the dead.

Zara materialized from shadow. Her weapons were clean - she'd wiped them during the killing, a professional's habit.

"The message has been sent," she said, gesturing to the burning camp. "By dawn, every Radiant Empire position within fifty miles will know this base fell. They'll pull back. Consolidate. Become cautious."

"And Dra'kul?"

"Stops bleeding. At least for a while." She studied his face. "You were right. The twelve percent chance was better than the certainty of slow death."

"Tell that to the six demons who won't see sunrise."

"They knew the odds. They came anyway." Her silver eyes were unreadable. "That's not on you. That's on them for believing you were worth following."

She walked away, leaving him with that thought.

[Collective Belief - Outpost Dra'kul: -23% → +41%]

The garrison believed now. Not in a god. But in something that could win. Something that could turn desperation into victory.

Liam looked down at Igar's Shard.

The blade was clean - Hell's Flame burned away the blood - but he could still feel the weight of what it had taken tonight.

Seven souls. Maybe more. He'd lost count during the chaos.

[Humanity Index: 31% → 27%]

The number dropped. Slowly. Inexorably. Like water draining from a vessel with a crack in its base.

At some point, the vessel would be empty.

At some point, Liam Cross would be gone completely, and only the Demon God would remain.

He wondered if he'd notice when it happened.

Or if the transition would be so gradual that he'd never know the exact moment he stopped being human.

"My lord," Koth called. "We should return to the outpost. Dawn is coming, and we're exposed here."

Liam sheathed his blade and turned toward the eastern approach.

Behind him, the camp burned. Fifty lives converted into smoke and strategy.

Ahead of him, Five more outposts waited. Five more desperate gambles. Five more chances to prove he was the monster they needed.

One down.

Five to go.

[Mission Complete: Forward Operating Base Destroyed]

[Outpost Dra'kul Status: Stabilized]

[Casualties: 6 Demons, 50 Paladins]

[Humanity Index: 27%]

[Warning: Threshold imminent]

[Next Objective: Outpost Vor'esh - The Meat Grinder]

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