Dawn broke over Eldhar with the kind of perfect clarity that felt like mockery.
Clear skies. Gentle breeze. Temperature mild enough that even demon physiology found it comfortable. The kind of beautiful morning that should have accompanied celebrations or festivals.
Not the beginning of suicide war.
Liam stood at the marshaling grounds' edge, watching two hundred thousand demons organize into formation with precision that would have seemed impossible three months ago.
Seven legions, each twenty-eight thousand strong, arranged in columns that stretched for miles.
Supply wagons interspersed throughout. Medical units positioned for rapid deployment. Command structures clearly designated with banners that marked hierarchy even from distance.
It was magnificent. Terrifying. A demonstration of military power that the Demon Empire hadn't mustered in living memory.
And he was leading it toward probable catastrophic defeat.
