The cosmos trembled as Malthior, Seraphyx, and Thariel advanced through the shattered star systems of Universe H-421. Veyrath, the Unbroken Throne, hovered above the largest planet, a storm of corrupted suns and serrated void energy spiraling around him.
"Stay close," Malthior instructed, his knightly presence radiating calm authority. "Do not underestimate him, Thariel. Precision, discipline, obedience. That is your shield."
Thariel's immense form shimmered as he stepped forward. "Yes… I will follow." His chains thrummed faintly, a reminder that he was no longer free—but alive—and, for now, that was enough.
Seraphyx flitted around the battlefield, silently scanning Veyrath's energy nodes and army formations. "Commanders disabled, reinforcements en route… but the core will be tricky. Focus is critical."
Malthior nodded once. "Then we strike in coordination. Thariel, flank right. Seraphyx, take the shadows and disable the energy conduits. I will engage him directly."
The army of Veyrath surged forward, constructs and soldiers forming walls of energy. But Malthior's blade cleaved through them with surgical precision. Seraphyx's shadow strikes dismantled their command nodes before reinforcements could react. Thariel smashed through soldiers with restrained force, careful not to destroy more than necessary, each movement echoing both power and obedience.
Finally, the moment came. Veyrath's enormous form descended, black suns spinning around him. His voice was thunder, vibrating across the system:
"You dare enter my throne-world?!"
Malthior raised his crystalline blade, voice unwavering. "By the will of the Sole Exception, your dominion ends."
The clash was immense. Each strike of Malthior's blade twisted space itself. Veyrath retaliated with bursts of energy that could have destroyed stars, but Malthior parried every strike, Seraphyx dismantled support constructs, and Thariel executed coordinated blows at key pressure points.
Despite the overwhelming power, Veyrath faltered. The synchronization of Lucien's generals, paired with Thariel's enforced obedience, was flawless. Each attack neutralized one of his maneuvers, and every defensive barrier collapsed before it could react.
Veyrath roared, spinning corrupted suns into walls, attempting to crush his attackers. But Malthior's disciplined strikes and Seraphyx's silent eradication tore holes through his defenses. Thariel, for his part, began to anticipate patterns, hitting weak points as directed—a once-proud Outer God now functioning as a cog in Lucien's machine.
Finally, Malthior landed a strike that staggered Veyrath, forcing him to hover defensively. Seraphyx's claws shredded the remaining conduits powering his protective aura. Thariel struck a coordinated blow from the flank, massive fists shattering a portion of Veyrath's void core.
Veyrath's energy roared, threatening to obliterate them all, but then—silence.
A faint ripple across the dimension: Lucien's presence, subtle yet infinite, pressing on the battle like inevitability itself.
"Enough," Lucien's voice carried across dimensions, casual, teasing. "You're doing well, my little generals… but let's not exhaust ourselves. Veyrath, you're not being erased today. Instead…"
Chains of void erupted around Veyrath, binding him as tightly as Thariel had once been. The massive god struggled, energy flaring, but the chains held firm.
"…you will serve," Lucien continued, tone faintly amused. "And if you value existence, you will obey."
Veyrath's immense form twisted, a storm of fury, pride, and disbelief. "I… will… never serve—!"
Lucien's pale eyes glimmered. "You will. And you will enjoy it… eventually."
Malthior and Seraphyx exchanged glances, barely suppressing faint amusement at their master's casual cruelty.
Seraphyx muttered, voice dripping with mock horror: "Lord, sometimes I think you enjoy breaking these gods more than anything else."
Lucien smirked faintly. "Perhaps. But only because they make it so entertaining. You two, be quiet, or you'll find yourselves… useful in ways you don't like."
Thariel, watching silently, felt a strange sense of reassurance. This was power, order, and inevitability combined. Resistance was pointless, survival depended on obedience, and Lucien… was absolute.
As the chains of void stabilized around Veyrath, the generals readied to return. The battle was won—but the war, across Outer God universes, was only beginning.
And far beyond, in the Round Table, the remaining Outer Gods sensed the ripple: another of their own had fallen under the Sole Exception's will.
Nytheris's voice, calm and dangerous, echoed through their chamber: "So it begins… The one outside all has taken another pawn. And soon… he will come for all of us."