The Ecliptic Citadel shimmered with silent energy, towers of void-crystal stretching into infinity. Lucien reclined in his throne, pale eyes faintly glowing, observing Thariel and Veyrath kneeling before him. Both Outer Gods were immense, still radiating raw power, yet utterly contained under chains of his making.
"Stand," Lucien said softly. The words rippled like gravity through the arena.
Both obeyed instantly. Thariel's form shimmered, massive but precise, like a weapon tempered by discipline. Veyrath's energy swirled violently, a storm restrained, yet his pride was evident even in subjugation.
Malthior stepped forward, voice calm and measured. "My lord, shall we begin the first phase of training? I suggest a controlled combat exercise to test their obedience and integration."
Lucien tilted his head, smirking faintly. "Yes. But no one is allowed to die. I want them… malleable, not ashes." He paused, eyes flicking to Seraphyx. "And you—try to keep your enthusiasm from accidentally killing them. I would hate to be responsible for overachieving generals."
Seraphyx's shadow form shimmered indignantly. "I work efficiently. If anyone dies, it's their own fault."
Lucien raised a brow, a ghost of amusement on his lips. "Yes, yes… we'll see about that."
The arena expanded instantly, a void-space filled with shifting terrain, floating asteroids, and fractured realities—perfect for testing both obedience and combat capability.
"First exercise," Lucien said casually, "Malthior, you will simulate an attack. Seraphyx, provide oversight. Thariel and Veyrath, you will counter, following my instructions precisely. Mistakes… are painful."
Thariel flinched slightly, while Veyrath's pride flared, but both kept their posture. Lucien's chains hummed faintly, reinforcing obedience and ensuring compliance.
Malthior advanced with precision, jagged crystal blade slicing through the simulated battlefield. Each strike tested the limits of Thariel and Veyrath's reactions.
"Now," Lucien's voice carried, light but sharp, "Thariel—respond here. Veyrath—you cover flank. Timing and coordination matter more than brute strength."
The Outer Gods moved, staggering at first, then gradually syncing. Thariel's massive fists struck where he was instructed. Veyrath's void energy flared, cutting obstacles without reckless bursts.
Seraphyx watched, voice flat but carrying subtle amusement. "Not bad. For gods who used to think themselves unstoppable, you're… surprisingly obedient."
Lucien leaned back, smirking faintly. "Yes, yes. Keep that tone up, Seraphyx. It entertains me immensely when she insults someone vastly more powerful than herself and survives."
Malthior gave a faint sigh, voice calm but annoyed. "You two amuse him endlessly. I do not envy your patience."
Lucien tilted his head, eyes glimmering. "Patience is a virtue… for mortals. For gods, it's an art. You should see how fun it is when they try to argue."
The exercise continued, Thariel and Veyrath gradually adapting, learning to obey commands, integrate into the tactical flow, and act under supervision rather than prideful instinct. Each minor failure elicited Lucien's teasing, Seraphyx's reprimands, and Malthior's corrections, forming a strange, dysfunctional classroom of cosmic power.
By the end, both Outer Gods were exhausted—not from being defeated, but from learning obedience, discipline, and restraint under the Sole Exception.
Lucien reclined, pale eyes glowing faintly. "Well… that was satisfactory. They may yet be useful tools. Perhaps even enjoyable." He smirked faintly, glancing at his generals. "And you two… try not to make this too easy, or I'll start questioning your usefulness as well."
Seraphyx and Malthior exchanged exasperated glances, but even they could not hide faint amusement.
In the background, far beyond the Citadel, the Outer Gods' Round Table stirred, sensing the shift. One by one, whispers and murmurs echoed: Thariel and now Veyrath, both bound… and serving the one outside all.
Nytheris, Crownless Sovereign, watched with measured fury. "So he grows his army… so he molds our kind into tools. This changes everything. We must prepare."
And in the Citadel, Lucien smiled faintly, aware of every ripple, every fear spreading across the Outer God pantheon. The game had begun—and he was already several moves ahead.