The remnants of Vorynthax's essence faded like smoke in water, its dissolution coloring the skies of Nax in phantom hues of red and black. The metaphysical air hummed softly in Lucien's wake. He floated there for a moment — silent, wings folded, gaze fixed on the cosmic horizon where stars pulsed like slow heartbeats.
"One Herald gone," he murmured, tone calm but edged with satisfaction. "Five remain loyal, one gap to fill."
Below, the ground shuddered as if the Metaphysical Plane itself exhaled. In the deep reaches of that infinite expanse, his call stirred something ancient. Something forgotten.
Lucien closed his eyes.
For a heartbeat, everything — sound, space, light — stopped. His mind reached beyond the fabric of Nax, into the skeletal veins of the metaphysical continuum itself, where energies old as existence coiled in eternal slumber. He whispered only one word:
"Rise."
The void shivered. Space tore open like a wound, and out of it came breath. A cold, spiraling wind so dense that it fractured constellations. The void birthed fire.
From that fire, a form emerged — not serpentine, not beastly — but abstract, as though reality itself were trying to imagine it and failing miserably.
It took a thousand shapes before it finally decided on one: a creature forged of crystalline shadows, tendrils of light orbiting its form like orbiting moons. Its presence was enough to make Azrell, the Sun Devourer, twitch its tail warily.
Lucien's eyes narrowed, intrigued.
"So you answered my call…," he said, voice carrying authority wrapped in amusement. "Tell me your name, remnant of the forgotten era."
The creature's voice was a chorus — male, female, countless others interwoven.
"I am Zha'thoryn, the Abyssal Cipher — born when equations learned to dream and chaos learned to reason."
Lucien chuckled lowly.
"So the metaphysical plane kept one secret even from me."
Zha'thoryn tilted its head, orbiting Lucien slowly.
"You killed Vorynthax. Its essence was loud… obnoxious. You called, and I heard silence. I am here to replace the noise."
The irony made Lucien laugh — a quiet, deadly laugh that echoed across galaxies.
"A replacement who volunteers. I like you already."
He snapped his fingers. The stars blinked once, realigning, and the mark of the Void appeared on Zha'thoryn's forehead. In that instant, every creature across the metaphysical plane felt the shift — the birth of a new Mythical Beast of Dominion.
Azrell and the others appeared beside him, each radiating restrained power. The plane quaked under their collective presence.
Lucien turned to them — the Six assembled once again:
Azrell, Devourer of Ten Thousand Suns. Serynthia, the Temporal Serpent. Thalyon, the Cosmic Wolf. Kytherion, the Reality Moth. Oblithar, the Endless Maw. Zha'thoryn, the Abyssal Cipher.
He raised his hand and a translucent throne manifested behind him, the Throne of Null, pulsing with layered dimensions and threads of energy that bled from one color to the next.
"You are my six pillars," Lucien said, his tone soft but absolute. "The metaphysical plane's natural order is rewritten through you. Devour the anomalies. Guard the balance. And when I call, come."
The six bowed — a sight so immense it warped the metaphysical currents, bending light like water.
Azrell's eyes gleamed, voice rumbling:
"The void grows restless, my master. The higher planes have begun to stir."
Lucien leaned forward on his throne, resting his chin on one hand. A playful smile ghosted his lips.
"Then let them. If they tremble, it's because they've finally realized the void has a voice."
Kytherion fluttered closer, wings shedding illusions like shards of dreams.
"You're amused."
Lucien chuckled, eyes glinting.
"Of course I am. Fear is entertaining when it's mutual."
The beasts shared a glance. They had seen countless gods, worlds, and creators — but never one who spoke of omnipotence as though it were a game.
Lucien rose slowly from his throne, his presence pressing down on existence like gravity incarnate. His tone shifted — still calm, but layered with something dangerous, something hungry.
"Each of you will resume your domains. But stay alert. There's something beyond this plane… watching. The same whisper that lingered when Vorynthax fell."
The moment he said it, space trembled — faintly, like a warning breath.
Azrell's body tensed.
"The Watcher?"
Lucien's smile returned — the kind that never reached his eyes.
"Oh, the Watcher beyond the veil? Yes. Let him watch."
He spread his wings wide, a ripple of dark, prismatic light expanding from his form — rippling through the metaphysical plane, reasserting his dominion. Stars rearranged, nebulas folded, and across countless dimensions, the name Lucien Dreamveil resonated through creation like a forbidden echo.
Far beyond the metaphysical edge — where reality was only an echo and law had no meaning — the Watcher turned a page in his endless manuscript. His long, dark hair obscured his expression as he murmured softly, voice a whisper of ink:
"Six beasts and one Sovereign. And yet… there will come a seventh."
He dipped his quill in shimmering blood and wrote a single line across the parchment:
'The day Lucien Dreamveil meets the Seventh, the boundaries of creation will collapse… and the author will be forced to intervene.'
The ink hissed, alive, as though even the words themselves feared what they implied.
Back on Nax, Lucien glanced upward suddenly, eyes narrowing. He couldn't see the Watcher — not yet — but he could feel a gaze older than narrative resting on him.
"So you do exist," he whispered, tone almost delighted. "Good. I was getting bored."
He turned to Azrell, Serynthia, and the rest, smirking as he folded his arms.
"We're about to have visitors."
The metaphysical winds howled in response — reality shifting, cracks of light snaking across the sky as if the cosmos itself were nervous.
And Lucien Dreamveil — the Sole Exception, God of the Void — laughed quietly to himself.
"Let them come."
The throne of Null pulsed once, and the light of ten thousand realities bowed before him.