The Ecliptic Citadel stirred as though the dimension itself could sense its master's intent. For days—if time could even be measured in this place—Lucien had remained still, watching, planning, letting his army grow under the stewardship of his generals. But now, his pale eyes opened with a faint gleam.
"It's time," he said.
Malthior was already kneeling, void-crystal armor glittering with restrained energy. Seraphyx rose from Lucien's shadow, her form flickering with anticipation, sharp as a predator on the hunt.
Lucien stood, the movement so casual yet so absolute that the Citadel itself bent slightly in acknowledgment. "The nearest Outer God grows bold," he said softly, as if remarking on the weather. "His whispers reach into the weaker worlds, clawing at their faith. That cannot be allowed. We'll cut him from existence."
Neither Malthior nor Seraphyx questioned. They never did. Orders from the Sole Exception were not commands—they were inevitabilities.
With a step, the three of them were gone.
They emerged at the edge of a foreign cosmos, a universe swollen and pulsing with the influence of an Outer God. Stars bent unnaturally toward a central presence, their light drained and twisted into grotesque spirals. Worlds circled in broken orbits, civilizations enslaved by the will of something vast and malignant at the core.
Malthior's crystalline body hummed as he drew his stance, knightly discipline radiating from him like a banner. "My lord, their corruption runs deep. If left unchecked, this place will collapse into nothing but servitude."
Lucien's expression was faintly amused. "Then we'll unmake it."
The Outer God stirred. Its presence was a weight, oppressive and vast, pressing down on the intruders with all the arrogance of an ancient being that had ruled over countless mortals. Its army appeared first—creatures of warped flesh and starlight, echoing mockeries of divinity. Their eyes burned with blind devotion.
Seraphyx tilted her head, voice calm, almost clinical. "Their faith makes them reckless. They'll rush to die."
Lucien stepped forward, smile faint but sharp, voice carrying as if spoken across the entire universe:
"Your god will not save you. He cannot even save himself."
The soldiers hesitated, the arrogance of their faith faltering for a single heartbeat. That was all it took.
Malthior surged forward, every swing of his jagged limbs cleaving through soldiers like a knight cutting grass at harvest. Each strike was measured, precise, the perfect embodiment of his discipline. Entire battalions broke against him like waves against a cliff.
Seraphyx vanished, reappearing in the midst of their commanders. Her strikes were silent, merciless, dismantling their formations before they could even grasp what had happened. She moved like inevitability given form—every attack clean, efficient, final.
And Lucien?
He did not lift a hand. He merely watched, pale eyes gleaming, aura radiating. Every soldier who dared glance at him felt their existence tremble, as though reality itself whispered: you are not meant to exist before him.
The Outer God finally manifested, its form vast, writhing, incomprehensible. Stars bent around it, and its voice was thunder made thought:
"YOU DARE STEP INTO MY DOMAIN?"
Lucien tilted his head, smiling faintly, as though amused by a child's tantrum. "Domain? This isn't a domain. It's a grave you've been digging for yourself."
The words carried weight beyond speech, and for a moment, even the god hesitated.
Malthior raised his crystalline blade-arm high, voice like a knight on the battlefield. "By the will of the Sole Exception, your reign ends!" His strike shattered through layers of corrupted space, severing a tendril of the god's form.
Seraphyx struck next, her claws severing energy conduits that bound the god's power to its enslaved worlds. With every cut, chains broke, light returned, and the army weakened.
The Outer God roared, vast and furious, trying to crush them under its infinite weight. Yet Lucien simply lifted his hand—not to attack, but to still the cosmos itself. Space froze, time buckled, the god's assault halted mid-motion.
Lucien's voice was soft, but it carried through every atom of that universe:
"You were born in arrogance, and you'll die in irrelevance. Remember this—your kind is not eternal. I am."
He let his hand fall. And with it, the god's universe shuddered, cracked, and began to collapse.
Malthior and Seraphyx did not look back. They fought until the last fragments of resistance were erased, standing tall as the corrupted stars fell silent.
And Lucien? He simply turned, cloak of void trailing, leaving behind a collapsing cosmos where once an Outer God had ruled.
The Sole Exception had spoken. And another universe had learned the truth.