Souls decide what the soil will bear.
You claimed a crater in a human country. You do not lead an army. You grow one.
Sow hellseed on black glass. Only demon feet blacken soil — and soldier feet wash it clean again. Press F and the horde keeps killing until you rally them home with Space. The Ossuary, once the mill stands or the ash hits thirty percent, raises skeleton soldiers who hold a line. Nothing ends while a structure still stands. The Hearth Hall and your Portal are the last hearts. If the Portal falls, you are mortal.
Every human structure is down. Nothing of theirs still stands.