(Execution Livestream Continuation, The Righteous Commoner’s POV)
Across the universe, trillions watched the execution livestream with rapt attention, their faces illuminated by holographic projections as the image of Soron standing against Helmuth burned into public consciousness.
For most within the Righteous Faction, there was no ambiguity in what they were witnessing.
This was justice.
Or at least, that was what they had been taught to believe.
From crowded city plazas to private estate halls, from warships stationed in distant systems to backwater settlements where the signal arrived seconds late, voices rose in unison, spitting curses and venom toward the image of the Cult God, insults flowing freely as fear masqueraded as righteousness and hatred found comfort in numbers.
"Look at him," someone sneered, their voice amplified across a communal hall.
"That monster finally looks cornered."
"Good," another scoffed. "Let Helmuth tear him apart. Let the whole galaxy watch."
There was laughter, sharp and ugly, as Soron weaved through another impossibly close exchange, because to the common viewer, his survival only deepened the conviction that he was a devil clinging desperately to existence, a parasite refusing to die when the universe had already judged him guilty.
"He’s stalling," someone said confidently.
"They always do that at the end."
The belief spread easily.
After all, the Chakravyuh formation was flawless.
A divine prison reinforced by the Righteous Alliance’s greatest minds and strongest forces, designed explicitly to prevent interference, to prevent escape, and most importantly, to prevent salvation, as the execution platform sat at its center like the heart of a beast that had already closed its jaws.
Nothing could enter.
Nothing could leave.
That certainty was as comforting as it was absolute.
Until the livestream stuttered.
At first, many assumed it was a transmission error, the image tearing sideways as the camera feed juddered and pulled away from the execution platform, dragged outward past the inner rings and the observing Monarchs, the angle shifting so abruptly that confusion rippled through every viewing audience at once.
"What’s happening?" someone asked.
"Why did the camera move?"
For a brief, unsettling heartbeat, the image stabilized on the outermost boundary of the Chakravyuh formation, its vast lattice filling the screen in perfect symmetry, sigils rotating in precise harmony as they bound space, time, and divinity into a single suffocating construct that had never once failed since its creation.
Then reality peeled open.
Space itself split just beyond the outer edge of the formation, depth collapsing and reforming as a massive Dimensional Tunnel forced its way into existence where no passage should have been possible, colors bleeding into one another as the fourth dimension pressed violently into three-dimensional space.
*FSSHHHH—*
The rupture did not form inside the Chakravyuh, but beyond it, tearing open space where nothing should have been able to intrude, and for a brief, unnerving stretch of time, no one quite knew how to react to what they were seeing.
Across the universe, conversations died mid-sentence as shock spread faster than sound, billions leaning closer to their screens while disbelief took root, watching as the tunnel widened and stabilized, its edges screaming under unbearable strain as Righteous Faction soldiers stationed nearest to it stared on in mounting unease.
"What even is that?"
"Is that... a threat? Or was something like this expected?"
The questions passed between them in low, uncertain voices, helmets turning and grips tightening as confusion gave way to instinctive caution, until that uncertainty curdled into something far worse, because from within the heart of the distortion, a single figure stepped forward.
A most-wanted criminal.
And the universe recognized him instantly.
*Step*
*Step*
Leo Skyshard emerged alone.
No fanfare announced him, no declaration preceded his arrival, as his boots touched the stone of The Pit with quiet finality, his presence anchoring the unstable space around him while the Dimensional Tunnel roared behind his back like a wound that refused to close.
For a fraction of a second, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath.
And then his killing intent rolled outward.
It did not explode, nor did it take the form of a visible attack, but instead spread as a dense, suffocating wave infused with Moltherak’s condensed aura, redirected and compressed until it ceased to resemble emotion at all, washing across the outer rings of the Chakravyuh in silence.
Twenty million soldiers died instantly.
They fell without screams, without resistance, bodies collapsing where they stood as armor clattered uselessly against stone, entire sections of the formation’s manning force extinguished as if life itself had been revoked, sigils flickering violently before failing outright as the Chakravyuh buckled under a loss it had never been meant to endure.
Above Leo, the tunnel widened further.
Cult destroyers tore through in rapid succession, sleek warcraft surging out of distorted space and fanning outward in precise formation as engines screamed to life, weapons charging and firing almost immediately, energy lances carving into Righteous positions with merciless efficiency as command nodes vanished and defensive lines disintegrated under concentrated fire.
Panic spread.
What had been a controlled execution shattered into chaos as soldiers scrambled to reorient, formations collapsing under an assault that had not existed moments ago, while the battlefield itself reeled from the sudden expansion of the conflict.
On the livestream, the commentators faltered.
Training failed them.
Certainty evaporated.
Then one voice broke through, stripped of composure and trembling despite every ounce of preparation.
"T-the... the Evil Shadow Dragon of the Cult is here..."
The words echoed across a dozen galaxies as Leo lifted his gaze toward the heart of The Pit, his aura continuing to bleed death into the stone beneath his feet while the Cult fleet poured through the breach behind him, transforming what had been an execution into something far more dangerous.
A war.
As for the first time since the livestream began, the common citizens of the Righteous Faction fell silent, staring at their screens as the unthinkable settled into grim clarity.
They had believed this execution to be a simple affair, however, little did they know that the devil had not come to watch.
He had come to win.