Morglith had been a god for four hundred and twelve years, and in those four centuries he had learned exactly one thing that mattered: survival was arithmetic.
Territories held. Believers fed. FP generated. FP spent. The distance between those numbers and zero was the distance between existence and permanent death. Every other consideration — honor, ambition, legacy, the mortal concepts that believers projected onto their deities — was noise. A distraction from the only calculation that kept the divine fire burning.
The arithmetic of the Frostmarch front was not good.
[MORGLITH — DIVINE STATUS]
[Rank: 5 (Lesser God)]
[Domains: Stone (primary), Decay (secondary)]
[Believer Count: 3,000]
[FP Reserves: 180,000]
[FP Daily Generation: ~12,000]
[Territorial Status: 2 grids (Blight Wastes), all under contested control]
[Military Assets: 5,800 Blightkin infantry + decay constructs (reserves depleted)]
[FROSTMARCH FRONT — DAY 21 ASSESSMENT]
