CHAPTER 99: FINAL MONTH

The war room had become Liam’s second home.

Maps covered every surface—tactical projections, supply routes, defensive positions, intelligence reports that updated daily with information from sources he was still learning to track.

Colored markers represented demon forces, red pins showed Radiant Empire strongholds, and an ominous cluster of black markers indicated Sanctum Lux itself.

One month.

Thirty days until seven legion commanders, forty-three brigade commanders, and approximately two hundred thousand demon soldiers began the march that would either save the empire or end it.

Thirty days to finalize strategy that currently had more holes than certainty.

"The logistics are nightmare," Commander Torven said, his finger tracing supply routes on the main map.

He’d recovered from the Malzeth execution—mostly—and had thrown himself into operational planning with intensity that suggested he needed purpose to avoid processing trauma.

"Moving two hundred thousand troops requires essence expenditure we’re barely equipped to handle. Food, equipment, medical supplies—all of it needs transport infrastructure we don’t currently possess."

"House Morwen is increasing soul-forge production," Lord Arcturus interjected.

He’d been present at every planning session, his economic expertise essential despite the Fourth Order’s suspicions.

"We’ve diverted forty percent of civilian essence allocation to military operations. It’s causing shortages, but manageable ones."

"Manageable shortages meaning what?" Zara’s analytical mind immediately questioned. "Food riots? Infrastructure failures? Economic collapse?"

"Manageable shortages meaning civilians are uncomfortable but not starving. Prices are elevated but not prohibitive. Infrastructure is strained but functional."

Arcturus’s voice carried weariness of someone managing impossible equations.

"Could it be better? Yes. Could it be worse? Absolutely. We’re walking edge of sustainability."

Liam studied the maps, his mind processing tactical considerations that kept multiplying. "What’s our intelligence on Sanctum Lux defenses?"

"Extensive and terrifying." Zara pulled forward detailed schematics. "Three concentric walls, each blessed with wards that cause physical pain to demons. Guard rotations are disciplined. Artillery positions cover all major approaches. And that’s just external defenses—we have minimal intelligence on internal city layout or defensive capabilities."

"The Fourth Order is working on that," Liam said carefully.

The mention of his covert operations force caused subtle tension in the room.

Most commanders knew the Fourth Order existed now—hard to hide two hundred thirty-seven militant faithful operating in Eldhar.

But their exact capabilities and operations remained deliberately opaque.

"The Fourth Order," Lilith said from her position at the head of the table, "has been gathering intelligence through unconventional means. They’ve infiltrated several Radiant Empire merchant operations and obtained partial city layouts."

She gestured to Kael’thra, who’d been invited to planning sessions specifically to coordinate Fourth Order operations with military strategy.

"We’ve confirmed the Cathedral of Divine Light occupies the city’s central district," Kael’thra reported, her scarred face serious.

"That’s where the hero summoning rituals occur. Destroying that infrastructure is primary objective."

"How do we destroy blessed cathedral protected by divine wards and defended by forces that have never been breached?" Patriarch Mordain’s rumbling voice carried skepticism that bordered on defeatism. "This entire offensive assumes we can overcome defenses that have existed for centuries."

"We overcome them through overwhelming force, tactical surprise, and willingness to accept casualties that defensive warfare doesn’t permit." Liam’s voice was flat.

"We’re not trying to hold territory. We’re trying to destroy summoning infrastructure and break their capacity to threaten us. That’s surgical strike, not conventional siege."

"Surgical strike with two hundred thousand troops?" Veridia Zarthus’s venomous beauty was on full display. "I find that to be more dangerous commitment with minimal retreat options."

"Yes." Liam met her amber eyes. "Because half-measures guarantee failure. We attack with everything or we don’t attack at all."

The assembled commanders absorbed this. Some with resignation, others with grim determination, a few with what looked like actual enthusiasm for apocalyptic violence.

"What’s the timeline?" Legion Commander Kael’dris asked.

She’d also recovered from the execution trauma—mostly—and had redirected that experience into professional military focus.

"March begins in thirty days. How long to reach Sanctum Lux?"

"Seventeen days forced march," Zara answered immediately. "Longer if we maintain supply trains. Shorter if we abandon logistics and rely on essence reserves."

"We maintain supply trains," Liam decided. "Arriving at Sanctum Lux with exhausted troops who’ve burned mana reserves just reaching the city is tactically stupid."

"So seventeen to twenty days march. Then assault on most fortified position in Radiant Empire. Estimated duration of siege?" Veridia’s question was pointed.

"We’re not sieging. We’re breaching." Liam pulled forward assault plans that had been refined over weeks. "Three-pronged attack. Eastern, western, and southern approaches simultaneously. Force them to divide defensive attention while we concentrate on breakthrough at weakest point."

"And if there is no weak point?" Mordain asked. "If all three approaches are equally fortified?"

"Then we create weak point through overwhelming one position with superior numbers." Liam’s finger traced the eastern approach. "This becomes primary assault vector. Full legion commitment. Break through first wall within six hours or withdraw entirely."

"Six hours to breach defenses that have held for centuries." Arcturus’s voice carried doubt. "That’s optimistic."

"It is. Prolonged siege works against us. Radiant Empire can summon reinforcements, forces can be deployed, our supply situation becomes untenable." Liam looked at the assembled commanders. "We win fast or we don’t win at all."

Silence fell as military leadership processed the brutal calculus.

Fast assault meant high casualties. Meant committing everything to single breakthrough attempt. Meant if the plan failed, there was no fallback position.

"The projections suggest sixty percent casualties in first wave," Torven said quietly. "Maybe seventy percent if defenses are stronger than intelligence indicates. We’re talking about losing potentially one hundred forty thousand troops attempting to breach first wall."

"I know." Liam’s voice was steady despite the horror of those numbers. "I know what I’m asking. But defensive war guarantees our extinction. This offensive gives us chance—however brutal—to prevent that outcome."

"And if we fail?" Veridia asked. "If we lose one hundred forty thousand demons attacking walls we can’t breach? What happens to the empire then?"

"Then we fail having tried." Liam’s grey eyes swept the room. "But we don’t operate from assumption of failure. We operate from understanding that success requires sacrifice. That survival costs blood. That the alternative to apocalyptic offensive is waiting for our destruction to fulfill itself through our inaction."

He pulled forward casualty projections, supply calculations, tactical analyses that had consumed weeks of planning.

"I’m not going to lie and say this will be easy. Or that casualties will be minimal. Or that success is guaranteed. What I will say is that every alternative I’ve calculated results in worse outcomes. Defensive warfare against heroes we can’t match. Economic collapse from prolonged conflict. Political fragmentation as Houses prioritize survival over unity."

His voice carried absolute certainty.

"This offensive—brutal, risky, apocalyptic as it is—represents our best probability of survival. Not good probability. Just best available option."

The commanders exchanged glances. Some convinced, others skeptical, all recognizing that debate was over.

Liam had committed the empire to this course. Their role now was execution rather than questioning.