The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows over the shattered battleground surrounding the Devil King's palace gates. The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the acrid tang of scorched stone, yet the human forces pressed on, teeth gritted, swords raised. Every step forward was a battle, every movement calculated. But the devils had learned quickly from the human tactics, and their counterattacks had grown fiercer, sharper, almost prescient.
Kaelion's eyes swept over the frontline like a hawk, noting each minor falter, each hesitant footfall. Soldiers were shouting orders, their voices barely cutting through the chaos, but the elite vanguard held. For now.
"They're testing us," Kaelion muttered under his breath. "Every surge is measured. Every counter, calculated. They know we can't hold forever if we break formation."
