The first scream did not come from a demon.
It came from a human scout.
He burst through the morning fog with his horse foaming at the mouth, eyes wild, armor dented as if clawed by something that did not care for steel. He barely made it to the front line before collapsing at Adam's feet.
"They're coming," the scout gasped. "All of them."
Adam did not ask how many.
He already knew.
The ground began to tremble—not like thunder, but like something massive breathing beneath the earth. The air thickened. The sky dimmed, though the sun had barely risen. Across the open plains, the fog parted, revealing them.
Demons.
Thousands upon thousands of them, stretching so far that the horizon itself seemed to rot. Horns twisted in unnatural directions. Eyes glowed red, yellow, black. Some walked. Some crawled. Some flew low enough that their shadows brushed the grass.
Ten thousand human soldiers stood silently.
Someone laughed nervously.
Someone prayed.
Adam raised his sword.
"Hold the line," he said—not loudly, but clearly.
His voice carried.
Arrows flew first, darkening the sky. Screams followed—human and demon alike—as bodies fell. Then the distance vanished, and the world became noise and steel and blood.
Adam moved like a man who had done this too many times to be afraid.
His sword cut clean. Left. Right. Thrust. Withdraw.
Demons fell, but for every one that died, three more took its place.
They were being pushed back.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
A horn blasted from the demon ranks—deep, mocking.
Adam felt it then.
A shift.
The wind stilled. The noise faded for just a heartbeat.
High above the battlefield, the Tree of Faith stirred.
A single leaf—golden and glowing—tore free from its branch and drifted downward like a promise.
When it touched the earth, power exploded.
Human soldiers screamed—not in pain, but shock—as strength flooded their limbs. Wounds sealed. Fatigue vanished. Swords felt lighter. Adam felt it most of all—his heartbeat steadying, his vision sharpening, his muscles burning with purpose.
"Push forward!" he roared.
The humans surged.
Demons began to fall in numbers that mattered.
For the first time that day, Adam allowed himself a single thought.
We might survive this.
Far away, in the safety of the palace, Queen Seraphine closed her eyes and smiled.
The first leaf had chosen.
And the game had truly begun.
If you're ready, I can continue with Chapter Five, where:
The second leaf falls
Andrew dies
The war turns brutal and personal.