The war room was tense as Seraphine laid out the final battle plan on the large table. Maps of the Fallen Spires covered every surface, marked with defensive positions, evacuation routes, and chokepoints where they'd attempt to slow The Reaper's advance.

"So the plan is straightforward," Seraphine explained, her finger tracing routes on the map. "We evacuate all non-combatants to the deepest spires. Set up three defensive lines in the outer districts—first line to probe his abilities and slow him down, second line to separate him from any support forces, third line to create the opening for the final strike."

She looked up at Satou. "And you will be our last defense. When everything else has failed, when we've exhausted his attention and created an opening, that's when you strike with Void Fang. One decisive blow to end this."

"Wait, hold on," Satou interjected. "Last defense? That means I'm staying back while everyone else fights. That doesn't make sense tactically. If I'm the one with the weapon that can actually kill him, shouldn't I be engaging immediately?"

"No."

The word came from Veronica, one of Seraphine's council members—a tall succubus with six wings and eyes that glowed with magical intensity. She was Seraphine's military strategist, responsible for defensive planning.

"Absolutely not," Veronica continued, her voice firm and brooking no argument. "I was the one who suggested you remain as our final line. We can't have someone who isn't our people, who isn't a resident of the Fallen Spires, fighting on the frontlines. That's not how this works."

"That's exactly how it should work!" Satou protested. "I came here to help fight The Reaper. That means fighting, not sitting back while you throw yourselves at an enemy I'm supposed to be the counter for!"

"You're a guest here," Lilith interjected, the four-winged military commander crossing her arms. "An outsider, no matter how well-intentioned. The Fallen Spires has stood for three hundred years because we protect our own. We fight our own battles. We don't hide behind guests while sending them to die for our territory."

"I'm not some civilian who needs protecting!" Satou's frustration was clear in his voice. "I've fought heroes before. I've cleared the Dungeon of Eternal Nightmares. I marked Chronus himself! I'm not asking for protection—I'm offering to help!"

"And we appreciate that," Veronica said, her tone softening slightly but remaining firm. "Which is why we'll create the opening you need to land your killing blow. But we fight first. We risk ourselves first. That's what it means to defend your home—you don't ask visitors to bleed for it while you watch."

"This isn't about pride!" Satou slammed his hand on the table, making several maps jump. "This is about tactics! With the information Seraphine's spies provided, we know The Reaper is dangerous beyond measure. He adapts to everything thrown at him. Every attack you make just teaches him new abilities, makes him stronger! You're not just risking yourselves—you're making him more dangerous for when I finally do engage!"

"Then we'll make sure we exhaust every option before you have to," Lilith said coldly. "We'll learn his patterns, force him to show his abilities, wear him down. By the time you face him, we'll have mapped his capabilities and given you every advantage we can."

"At the cost of your lives!" Satou's voice rose. "You're talking about throwing yourselves at someone who's killed demon lords! Plural! This isn't a battle you can win through determination or sacrifice—it's a fight that requires specific counters, and I have one! Let me use it before you all die trying to soften him up!"

"Better we die as warriors defending our home than accept help from an outsider while cowering behind city walls!" Lilith snapped, her own temper flaring. "Better we fall fighting than live with the shame of asking a guest to sacrifice himself for our territory! We have pride, Satou! We have honor! And both demand that we stand between our home and the threat, regardless of the cost!"

"Honor won't stop The Reaper from killing you!" Satou turned desperately to Seraphine. "Please, talk some sense into your people! This plan gets everyone killed for the sake of pride! It's tactically insane!"

Seraphine met his eyes, and what Satou saw there made his protests die in his throat.

Sadness.

Deep, profound sadness mixed with resignation and something that looked almost like guilt. Her mismatched eyes held centuries of experience, of making impossible choices, of sacrificing what had to be sacrificed.

"Satou," Seraphine said quietly. "The plan stands. Veronica and Lilith are right. This is their home. Their fight. I can't ask you to be the first line when these are my people, my territory, my responsibility."

"But—"

"The plan stands," Seraphine repeated, more firmly this time. "You will be our last defense. Our final hope. When the time comes, you'll have your chance to use that weapon. Until then, you wait."

Satou looked around the war room at faces set with determination, pride, and fear. He saw it in their eyes—they knew they were probably going to die. They understood the odds. But they'd rather die standing than live with the shame of hiding behind someone else.

It was noble. Honorable. Brave.

And tactically stupid.

But looking at Seraphine's sad eyes, Satou realized he wasn't going to win this argument. This wasn't about logic or tactics. This was about something deeper—about what these people needed to do to live with themselves, regardless of whether they survived.

"Fine," Satou said, his voice tight with frustration and worry. "I'll wait. But when things get serious—when it becomes clear you can't handle this—you call me immediately. No heroic last stands, no pointless sacrifices. Promise me that when it becomes clear you need me, you'll actually ask."

"We won't need to," Veronica said, though her tone had lost some of its earlier certainty. "We'll handle the preliminary engagement. You'll have your chance when the moment's right."

"We won't call," Lilith said more bluntly. "Because calling you means admitting we failed. Means accepting that we couldn't protect our own home. So we'll fight until we've done everything possible. Then, and only then, will your moment come."

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