The Ecliptic Citadel stirred with new tension. The chains of void still bound Thariel, the Maw of Stars, who now knelt at the center of the grand arena. Soldiers of Lucien's legions stood at the edges, watching in silence, their eyes fixed on the god who once devoured civilizations.
Lucien reclined lazily on a throne of fractal crystal, legs crossed, pale eyes glowing faintly. "Let's see if you're worth keeping, Thariel," he said. His voice was casual, but it cut like inevitability. "A servant without loyalty is just another corpse."
Thariel lowered its colossal form, now condensed into something humanoid, though still flickering with remnants of stellar hunger. "I… obey," it rumbled, though the words cracked with lingering pride.
Before Lucien could even speak again, Malthior stepped forward, crystal body gleaming, posture as upright as a knight before his king. "My lord," he said, voice steady, "allow me to test his worth. If he falters, I'll erase him myself."
Lucien tilted his head, a faint smile curving his lips. "Very well, First Knight. Don't bore me."
The arena shifted instantly, reshaping into a cosmic battlefield contained within the Citadel's walls. Soldiers cheered softly as the duel began.
Malthior struck first—precise, measured, every swing of his crystal blade cutting reality itself. Thariel staggered under the blows but retaliated, summoning miniature singularities and flares of starfire. The clash shook the Citadel, void-light cracking across the arena.
For a moment, it seemed Thariel would fall easily. But then, the Outer God surged, its pride roaring back. It caught Malthior with a blast of stellar chains, driving him backward into a wall of void-crystal. Gasps echoed through the soldiers.
Lucien only smirked.
Malthior rose slowly, cracks shimmering across his armor, but his stance never wavered. With one final, disciplined strike, he severed Thariel's chains and forced the Outer God to his knees again. Victory—but barely.
Lucien clapped once, slowly. "Not bad. You held back less than I expected, Malthior. I almost thought you'd embarrass yourself."
Malthior bowed, voice unwavering despite the faint glow of damage on his body. "Your expectations are all I live to meet, my lord."
Before Lucien could reply, Seraphyx burst forward, eyes gleaming with excitement. "My lord! Let me fight him next!"
Lucien blinked at her, then arched a brow. "Did you hit your head?"
"I won't lose!" Seraphyx insisted, her form flickering eagerly. "If Malthior only barely won, then—"
Lucien cut her off, laughing under his breath. "No. Absolutely not. Sit."
Seraphyx froze. "…But—"
Lucien leaned forward, smirking. "Noo!" he mocked in an exaggerated whine. "If Malthior almost lost, how are you going to win? You're staying right there."
The soldiers chuckled nervously, while Malthior turned his head slightly, voice calm but carrying the faintest pride. "It seems even our lord acknowledges who among us stands higher."
Seraphyx snapped her gaze toward him, sparks of irritation dancing across her form. "Don't get cocky, rock-head. If I fought you seriously, you wouldn't last a—"
Lucien snapped his fingers, and both fell silent instantly, their voices cut off mid-argument. He leaned back on his throne, smiling faintly. "You two are going to drive me insane one day."
Malthior bowed, dignified. Seraphyx pouted silently like a sulking predator.
Lucien sighed, shaking his head. "I enslave an Outer God, and my top commanders still act like bickering children. Perhaps you're the real test of my patience."
The arena erupted with laughter—not cruel, but genuine, the kind that echoed even in the void. And for a fleeting moment, even the Sole Exception seemed less like inevitability incarnate and more like a man surrounded by his strange, loyal, irritating family.
Thariel knelt lower, shame burning across his vast form. For the first time, he understood what it meant to serve not just a ruler—but a reality that could laugh in the face of gods.
Lucien waved his hand dismissively, smirk still on his lips. "Enough. Train him. If he falters again, I'll erase him myself. Now get out of my sight before you say something dumber."
The generals bowed. The soldiers dispersed. And Lucien sat back on his throne, pale eyes flickering with amusement and inevitability alike.