Infernal fire erupted from Liam's hand—not a stream, not a sphere, but a wave of concentrated destruction amplified beyond anything he'd produced before.

The flames roared across the courtyard with heat that made stone crack and metal run like water.

Orin's eyes widened fractionally.

Then he moved.

The Grand Commander didn't try to block. Didn't try to deflect.

He just moved, and his speed finally showed what he'd been holding back.

He crossed fifteen feet in a blink, cleared the flame-wave by inches, and his greatsword was already descending toward Liam's position—

[Sovereign's Presence] - Active

The demonic aura hit like a physical wave. Worse than fear. Worse than intimidation. Pure presence. The weight of something ancient and terrible declaring its existence to the world.

Orin's strike faltered. Not much. Just a fraction of a second hesitation as his divine training warred with the primal recognition that something wrong was in front of him.

A fraction was enough.

Liam phased left, the greatsword missing by inches, and drove Igar's Shard toward Orin's knee joint with every ounce of strength he possessed.

The black blade bit armor.

Actually bit.

Drew a line of gold-flecked blood before Orin pivoted and the blade skittered off.

First blood.

The Grand Commander looked down at the shallow cut on his knee. Then up at Liam. And for the first time since arriving, something changed in his expression.

Interest.

"There you are," Orin said softly. His scarred face split into a genuine smile. "I was starting to think the reports were wrong. That you were just lucky and clever."

He settled into a different stance. Lower. More centered. The greatsword held with both hands now instead of casually in one.

"But you actually have teeth."

The temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop despite the flames still burning around them.

"Good," Orin continued. "I was worried this would be boring."

Then he moved—really moved, not the restrained testing from before—and Liam barely got Igar's Shard up in time to block a strike that sent him sliding ten feet backward, boots carving furrows in stone.

[Health: 83%]

The Grand Commander pressed forward, and suddenly the fight wasn't a test anymore.

It was barely controlled murder.

Orin's blade sang through the air in patterns that seemed impossible—too fast, too precise, too perfectly chained.

Liam blocked what he could, used [Blink] to escape what he couldn't, and felt his body screaming under the assault.

Each impact sent shockwaves through his arms.

Each near-miss drew blood from cuts he didn't see coming.

His enhanced strength, his demonic evolution, his skills—all of it just barely enough to stay alive.

"Better!" Orin's voice carried genuine approval even as he tried to cut Liam in half. "You're adapting. Learning my patterns. Most demons just keep doing the same thing until they die."

His boot lashed out. Liam twisted, took it on the thigh instead of the knee. Pain exploded but nothing broke.

"But you're still thinking. Still calculating." The greatsword reversed, became a thrust aimed at Liam's chest. "Still fighting like a human!"

Liam parried desperately, felt Igar's Shard nearly torn from his grip by the impact, and countered with [Hell's Flame] point-blank.

Orin's off-hand blazed with golden light.

Divine energy met infernal fire, and they cancelled. Just negated each other in a burst of steam and ozone.

"Good instinct," the Grand Commander said, not even breathing hard. "But predictable. You default to fire when pressed. It's becoming a pattern."

He lunged. Liam phased right. The greatsword followed like Orin had known exactly where he'd appear.

Only a desperate block saved Liam from losing his head. The impact drove him to one knee, stone cracking beneath him.

[Health: 71%]

Orin loomed above, greatsword pressed against Igar's Shard, and his golden eyes studied Liam with something like scientific curiosity.

"You're good," he said quietly. "Really good. Better than the weakling human I expected."

The pressure increased. Liam's arms trembled.

"But you're no demon god."

The greatsword lifted. Came down.

Liam rolled left, the blade missing by inches and cratering the stone where he'd been kneeling. He came up swinging, Igar's Shard aimed for Orin's exposed side—

The Grand Commander's armored elbow caught him in the ribs.

Something cracked. Liam flew backward, hit the ground, skidded fifteen feet before managing to arrest his momentum.

[Health: 58%]

[Warning: Rib fractures detected - reduced mobility and combat effectiveness]

He pushed himself up. Had to. Staying down meant dying.

Orin was already there, greatsword rising for a finishing blow, and Liam had nowhere left to phase, no tricks remaining, nothing except—

"LORD AZRA!"

Koth's massive form crashed into Orin from the side. The impact would have shattered a normal human. Would have killed most demons.

It made Orin stumble one step.

Just one.

Then the Grand Commander's off-hand caught Koth by the throat, lifted the massive demon off his feet with one arm, and looked at him with something like disappointment.

"Interference," Orin said flatly. "I was testing him. This was between—"

Koth's blade scraped across Orin's helmet, found a gap, drew blood from the Grand Commander's temple.

Orin's expression went cold.

"Mistake."

He slammed Koth into the ground hard enough to crack stone. The massive demon's body bounced, and Orin's boot came down on his chest with crushing force.

"STOP!" Liam was moving before thinking, Igar's Shard seeking any opening, any gap, any way to stop what was about to happen.

Orin's greatsword intercepted his blade. Held it frozen. And with his other hand still pinning Koth to the ground, the Grand Commander looked at Liam with those cold, analytical eyes.

"This is what separates us," Orin said quietly. "I can fight both of you. Kill both of you. And barely feel the strain."

He pressed down harder on Koth's chest. The demon's ribs groaned.

"You're talented, human. But talent without power is just interesting failure."

Around them, the fortress burned. The survivors watched in horror. And Liam Cross, the college dropout pretending to be a demon god, realized something terrible.

Orin was right.

He wasn't enough.

Not even close.

[Health: 58%]

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