The pool had an ethereal glow.

Liam stood submerged to his waist in water still with a soft, blue luminescence that wasn't natural light.

Something that predated the current age and would likely outlast it.

The liquid felt cool against his skin, carrying a healing sensation that felt like it seeped into bones.

This chamber was hidden deep within the castle's foundation, carved from rock and protected.

Only the Queen was usually allowed to use the pool. And now, apparently, the demon god she'd summoned.

Liam didn't need the healing.

His wounds from Vor'esh had already closed, the regenerative properties of his evolved demon body working faster than any medicine. The cuts, the bruises, the broken ribs from Orin's assault—all of it had knitted back together within days.

But Lilith had insisted.

Had told him the waters would help with something deeper than physical wounds. Would soothe the parts of him that hurt in ways flesh couldn't measure.

She'd been right.

The water eased something in his chest. Not pain exactly, more so weight. The constant pressure of being watched, judged, needed.

It didn't remove it - nothing could - but it made it bearable for a few stolen moments.

His grey eyes, no longer flickering crimson in this quiet space, studied the interface hovering at the edge of his vision.

[Evolution Points: 110 EVP]

[Available Skills: 21]

The numbers represented power. Potential. The currency of transformation that would let him become whatever was necessary to survive the coming war.

He had more now than when he'd left for Ashard.

He would need far more before the end.

The sound of armored footsteps echoed from the chamber entrance, breaking his contemplation. Liam didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the approaching presence.

Just continued staring at numbers that defined what he'd become.

The earless guard - one of the Lilith's trusted - stepped into the chamber's dim light. Behind him walked a demon in ornate armor that marked him as nobility.

House colors worked into the metal. A crest on his chest plate that Liam recognized from the Council.

House Kraz'gul. The legion's hammer.

The armored demon entered, and the guard retreated, leaving them alone except for shadows that moved wrong in the glowing water's light.

The demon bowed his head, the gesture precise and practiced.

"My lord."

Liam didn't answer right away. Just studied the water's surface, watching patterns that seemed almost meaningful before dissolving into randomness.

"Who are you?" he asked finally.

The armored demon's confusion was subtle but present. "You... summoned me, my lord. I came as requested."

"That's not what I asked."

A pause. Recalculation. The demon straightened slightly, recognizing this was a test of some kind even if he didn't understand the parameters.

"I am Valorix Kraz'gul, third son of Patriarch Mordain, commander of the eastern legions under House Kraz'gul's banner." His voice carried the confidence of someone raised to command. "I serve the Demon Empire with distinction and honor."

"Mmm." Liam's acknowledgment was noncommittal. He turned slightly, not quite facing Valorix but no longer completely ignoring him. "Answer me honestly from here forward."

"Of course, my lord."

"House Kraz'gul controls a high percentage of the Empire's legions?"

"Yes, my lord. Approximately forty percent of active military forces operate under our command structure, with additional reserve forces that can be mobilized within—"

"Where does their loyalty lie?"

The question cut through Valorix's tactical briefing like a knife. The demon hesitated, choosing words carefully.

"To the Empire, my lord. Every legionary swears an oath to defend demon-kind and serve the sovereign's will."

"Cut the bullshit."

The command carried weight that made the water around Liam ripple despite his stillness. Valorix's jaw tightened, recognizing he'd been caught in a politically convenient lie.

"They are loyal to House Kraz'gul first," he admitted. His voice was steady, not apologetic. "The oath to the Empire is real, but practical loyalty follows the chain of command. And that chain leads to my father before it reaches the throne."

"At least you're honest about being dishonest." Liam finally turned to face Valorix fully.

His grey eyes studied the noble demon with the kind of assessment that felt like being weighed. "Do you believe?"

Valorix's confusion returned. "In what, my lord?"

"In me."

The question hung in the air like the sky waiting to fall. Valorix's expression cycled through several responses before settling on careful neutrality.

"That depends on what you mean by believe, my lord."

"Do you believe I'm your god?"

The hesitation was answer enough before words came.

"No, my lord."

Liam's expression didn't change. No anger or disappointment. Just continued assessment.

"Then what do you believe?"

"That you're strong. Capable." Valorix chose his words with the precision of someone walking through a minefield. "That you've accomplished what many thought impossible. That you've secured Ashard and made the Radiant Empire retreat."

"And is that enough for your loyalty?"

Valorix paused, genuinely considering the question. When he answered, his voice carried something that might have been respect.

"Yes."

Liam stared at the interface that appeared beside Valorix's head, numbers scrolling that only he could see.

[Valorix Kraz'gul - House Noble, Legion Commander]

[Belief: 37%]

[Loyalty: 40%]

[Emotional State: Cautious. Calculating. Genuine in his pragmatism.]

Liam sighed, the sound carrying more exhaustion than disappointment.

"I told you to answer me honestly."

He turned to face Valorix fully for the first time, grey eyes holding the demon's crimson ones with intensity that made the temperature seem to drop.

"It seems I might have to do things the hard way. You may leave."

Valorix hesitated. The dismissal had come without explanation, without indication whether he'd passed or failed whatever test this had been.

His training warred with his instinct to demand clarity.

Training won.

He bowed. "My lord."

Then turned and left, his armored footsteps echoing as he departed the chamber with the same precision he'd arrived with.

Silence fell, broken only by the soft sound of water lapping against stone.

Liam stared at the chamber entrance for a long moment. Then spoke to the darkness that filled the far corners of the room.

"What do you think? Can he eventually be trusted?"

Movement in the shadows. Not dramatic—Lilith didn't need theatrics in private. Just the rustle of fabric as she stepped into the pool's blue luminescence.

She'd been there the entire time. Listening. Observing. A ghost in her own castle watching the weapon she'd created navigate politics he barely understood.

"Who knows." Her voice was carefully neutral. "But I'd advise against anyone from the Houses. They will never be more loyal to anyone than their own bloodline. It's bred into them over generations. Trusting a House noble is like trusting a scorpion not to sting—it goes against their fundamental nature."

"So I take control of the legions through force." Liam's tone suggested he'd already run those calculations. "Break House Kraz'gul's command structure. Install new leadership loyal to me directly."

"Not necessarily."

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