The power did not fade quickly.
That was the cruel part.
For a while, the battlefield belonged to the living.
Human soldiers moved with a strength they did not recognize as their own. Blades cut deeper. Shields held longer. Men who should have fallen kept standing, breath ragged but unbroken. Adam fought at the front, his sword singing through demon flesh, his body answering every command without delay.
Andrew was at his side.
As he always had been.
Andrew laughed as he drove his spear into a demon's chest, breathless and wild. "You see?" he shouted over the noise. "They bleed like anything else!"
Adam allowed himself a tight smile. "Stay close."
"I always do."
For a moment—just a moment—it felt possible. The demon ranks thinned. The ground was littered with bodies that did not rise again. The sky lightened, as if the world itself dared to hope.
Then Adam felt it.
A pressure behind his eyes.
A tightening in his chest.
A warning without words.
The air shifted.
The demons began to howl.
Not in pain—
in celebration.
Adam turned just as the second leaf fell.
This one was darker.
Not red. Not black.
Something in between, like dying embers.
It struck the ground, and the world screamed.
The demons changed.
Bones cracked and reformed. Muscles swelled. Eyes burned brighter. Their movements sharpened, faster and more precise, as if the battlefield had suddenly become familiar ground.
They surged.
The human line bent.
Then broke.
Adam shouted orders, dragging men back into formation, his voice raw with strain. "Hold! Stay together!"
But the demons did not fight wildly anymore.
They hunted.
Andrew went down first.
It happened too fast.
A demon slipped past Adam's guard, blade flashing low. Andrew shoved Adam aside without thinking. The blade caught him beneath the ribs, tearing through armor and flesh alike.
Andrew fell to his knees.
Adam killed the demon before it could pull free, then dropped beside his friend, hands already pressing against the wound.
"No," Adam said, voice breaking before he could stop it. "No—stay with me."
Andrew laughed weakly, blood on his lips. "Looks like… you'll finally have to listen to someone else shouting at you."
Adam shook his head. "You don't get to leave first."
Andrew's fingers tightened around Adam's wrist. "You promised… we'd see the end of this."
Adam swallowed. "We will."
Andrew's gaze drifted past him, toward the smoke, the sky, the place where the Tree of Faith stood unseen. "Then make sure… it was worth it."
His grip loosened.
Adam stayed there a second too long.
The battlefield did not care.
A roar tore through the air. Adam stood just in time to block a strike meant for his head, rage burning cold in his chest. He fought differently now—harder, sharper, every movement fueled by loss.
Around him, human soldiers fell in growing numbers.
The second leaf had chosen.
And hope, once bright, began to rot under the weight of blood.
Still, Adam did not retreat.
He could not.
Not while Andrew lay dead at his feet.
Not while faith still breathed.
Not while the Tree had one more leaf left to fall.