"Do not worry, I’m here to save you now..."
The words carried effortlessly through the execution grounds and beyond them, amplified by the livestream arrays until they spilled into every connected world at once, as trillions of screens across the universe displayed Soron’s calm expression and the kneeling Dragon at his feet, the declaration settling like a stone dropped into still water.
Across distant systems, reactions fractured instantly.
On some worlds, outrage erupted as citizens began slamming fists against tables and screaming at projected images as they could not handle the disrespect that Soron showed towards the Universal Government.
While on others, anxiety spread instead, quieter but deeper, as people leaned closer to their screens with tight expressions, sensing something wrong in the way he spoke, not desperate, not defiant, but assured, as though the execution were a temporary inconvenience rather than a final sentence.
However, while most worlds were outraged or slightly concerned by his words, there remained a few worlds—
World’s that had once been ruled by the Cult not many centuries ago, where unease turned into fear, as Soron’s words were not heard as a threat or a boast on those planets, but rather as a promise, one spoken by someone who believed completely in his ability to keep it.
*Gulp*
Billions across the universe gulped nervously at once, as the livestream continued rolling.
Back on The Pit, Soron finally shifted his attention away from Veyr, his head turning slowly as his gaze swept across the execution platform, first settling briefly on Helmuth, whose grin sharpened in anticipation, then drifting toward Mauriss, who watched him with open amusement, fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his throne.
Mauriss raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained, yet Soron offered him no reaction, his eyes passing over him without pause as though the Chaos God were no more than background noise, as he turned fully and locked eyes with Kaelith once more.
The moment stretched.
The pressure between them did not spike, yet the silence carried weight all the same, as Kaelith’s lips curved upward slowly, not into a smile of warmth, but into something colder, something knowing, as he finally began to speak.
"Father always loved you more than me."
Kaelith said evenly, his voice calm and unhurried as it carried through the sealed space and out across the livestream, the words landing with deliberate precision rather than anger.
"And look where that love has brought you today.... Brother."
His gaze sharpened slightly as he tilted his head, eyes tracing Soron’s form without urgency.
"Your aura has more green than red."
He continued, the observation clinical rather than mocking.
"You can stare me down all you want, but we both know the truth.
You no longer have the strength to beat me in a fight, brother.
Your body is rotten to its core."
Kaelith said with a smirk, as he hit Soron psychologically on the one point that bothered the Cult God the most.
Soron knew better than anyone the state of his own flesh and circuits, the compromises he had made and the decay he carried, yet he did not expect the enemy to arrive at the same conclusion so fast, for he had hoped to conceal it for as long as possible before it came to light.
Yet, now that it had, he tried to remain stoic, as he absolutely refused to let Kaelith see that he had reached the correct conclusion, as he instead tried to pretend like the words had bounced off him harmlessly.
"You lost the right to call me brother the moment you stabbed our father in the back."
Soron said coldly, his words cutting across the platform as his gaze never wavered.
"O great betrayer, Kaelith.
Yes, the past two thousand two hundred and fifty years have been hard on my body."
Soron continued, as he did not deny the state of his body, nor tried to soften its consequence.
"But they have not been heavy on my conscience."
He declared before taking a single step forward, not threatening, but deliberate.
"Unlike you.
I can look into a mirror and be proud of the life I lived."
He exhaled slowly.
"And that to me.... Is worth more than any empty throne or hollow title—
O Eternal Sovereign."
Soron said, as he straightened fully, his gaze unwavering as he spoke the final words.
However, unlike what he expected, Kaelith did not react outwardly to his taunts, the Eternal Sovereign’s expression remaining unchanged as though words of that weight had long since lost their ability to reach him, while the livestream captured everything in merciless clarity.
"Did I just hear the Evil Cult God accuse Lord Kaelith of wrongdoing?"
The question echoed across countless worlds as the livestream continued uninterrupted, as homes, plazas, transit hubs, and military outposts across the universe fell into uneasy silence, citizens staring at their screens with furrowed brows as the exchange they had just witnessed refused to fit neatly into the narrative they had been fed since childhood.
"That has to be a trick."
Another voice followed quickly, sharper and more certain, as if repeating a lesson memorized long ago rather than a thought truly examined.
"Cult leaders always lie. They twist the truth. They plant unnecessary doubt and discord. We must not listen to them."
The reassurance spread fast, passed from one viewer to another, as commentators on state-approved channels nodded gravely and echoed the sentiment, reminding everyone that deception was the Cult’s greatest weapon, as though repetition alone could smother the discomfort blooming in their chests.
"He’s trying to provoke sympathy."
A middle-aged man muttered on a trade world broadcast, as he shook his head with forced conviction.
"That’s how they work."
"They rewrite history."
"They make monsters look like victims."
Others agreed quickly, relief evident in their voices, as clinging to familiar explanations felt safer than sitting with the possibility that something was off, that the exchange they had just seen carried a weight that propaganda alone struggled to fully bury.
Yet not everyone spoke so confidently.
Some viewers stayed silent, eyes fixed on the frozen image of two Gods staring one another down, as Kaelith’s calm dismissal and Soron’s unflinching certainty replayed again and again in their minds.
"Why didn’t Lord Kaelith deny it?"
A young woman whispered on a civilian channel before quickly lowering her voice, as though afraid the question itself might be overheard.
"He didn’t even look angry."
"He looked... annoyed."
That observation lingered uncomfortably, as others shifted in their seats and glanced around before responding.
"Because he doesn’t need to justify himself."
Someone replied quickly.
"He’s the Eternal Sovereign."
"Only fools question the Gods."
The answer was accepted outwardly, repeated aloud, reinforced with nods and practiced certainty.
Yet beneath the surface, something had cracked.
Not belief.
Not loyalty.
But ease.
And as the livestream continued to roll forward, showing Soron standing unbroken within the trap meant to end him, trillions across the universe watched with hearts that beat just a little faster than they had moments before, unsettled not by fear of the Cult—
But by the realization that this execution was no longer as simple as what they had been initially promised.