(Execution Livestream Commencement, 'The Pit')

The moment the livestream went live, the atmosphere across The Pit shifted palpably, as dormant amplification arrays flared to life beneath the execution platform, carrying sound, image, and intent outward across the planet and far beyond it, as trillions of screens across the universe synchronized to the same feed in perfect unison.

At the center of the platform, a lone figure stepped forward.

He was not a warrior.

He was not a God.

He was something far more practiced.

A mouthpiece.

Draped in ceremonial black and gold, sigils of the Universal Government woven into his robes, the Speaker stood tall beneath the gaze of Gods and mortals alike, his posture rigid with purpose as he spread his arms wide, allowing the roar of the assembled masses to wash over him before slowly raising a single hand.

The noise ebbed.

Not fully.

But enough.

"Citizens of the universe."

His voice boomed outward, magnified and sharpened, layered with authority as it rolled across the execution grounds and through every connected broadcast channel.

"For many millennia, peace has been stolen from us."

He paused deliberately, as the camera swept across the sea of soldiers and spectators, catching clenched fists, burning eyes, and trembling anticipation.

"For many millennia, our worlds have suffered beneath the shadow of an evil that refused to die."

He stepped forward one pace, as the runes beneath the platform pulsed faintly in response.

"The Evil Cult."

A wave of boos erupted instantly, raw and furious, as the Speaker allowed it to crest before continuing.

"A cancer that embedded itself into the fabric of civilization, that fed on chaos, rebellion, and bloodshed, that glorified murder and called it freedom."

His voice sharpened.

"That called terror 'balance'."

Images flared behind him, massive projections tearing open the sky above the platform as footage flooded the feed.

Burning cities.

Shattered orbital stations.

Families running through smoke-choked streets.

The ruins of Planet Nemo.

"For generations, Cult Dragons have walked among us lawful citizens like Gods."

He said, as the camera lingered on the image of a colossal silhouette wreathed in flame.

"They slaughtered our people."

"They destabilized our systems."

"They raised entire civilizations only to tear them down again in their twisted pursuit of legacy."

He clenched his fist.

"And every time we tried to bury them, every time we pursued justice, they crawled back out of the ashes."

The crowd roared.

Anger.

Vindication.

Relief.

"Tell me."

He demanded, sweeping his gaze across the masses.

"How many more centuries were we supposed to endure this?"

"How many more children were we supposed to lose?"

"How many more planets were we supposed to watch burn before we said enough was enough?"

His voice dropped slightly.

Cold.

Measured.

"We learned a painful truth."

He said, as silence gradually reclaimed the air.

"That evil does not disappear when hidden."

"That monsters do not stop when ignored."

"And that if we allow symbols of terror to persist, then terror itself will always find a way to return."

He straightened.

"That is why today is not just an execution."

A beat.

"This is a declaration."

The crowd leaned in.

"With the death of this Dragon, a new era begins."

He proclaimed, as the projections behind him shifted to images of rebuilt cities, peaceful trade lanes, and children laughing beneath unbroken skies.

"An era of order."

"An era of safety."

"An era where the Cult is no longer allowed to poison the universe from the shadows."

His gaze hardened.

"So today, on behalf of the Universal Government."

He said, as the camera panned upward, briefly capturing the seated Gods, Kaelith's calm nod, Helmuth's indifferent stillness, Mauriss' amused grin.

"I promise you this."

"This will be the last Cult Dragon."

A thunderous cheer erupted.

"This will be the last time a Cult Messiah dares to rise."

The sound became deafening.

"This will be the last generation forced to grow up in fear of their return."

The chant began even before he finished speaking.

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

The sound rolled outward like a tidal wave, shaking the air itself as the camera pulled back, capturing the scale of the moment, billions of voices aligning into a single demand, as the Speaker raised his hand once more.

"So without further delay."

He said, voice slicing cleanly through the roar.

"Bring forth the criminal."

The platform trembled slightly as mechanisms beneath it shifted.

"The Evil Cult's false messiah."

His tone dripped with disdain.

"The butcher of Planet Nemo."

He turned toward the execution gate.

"AEGON VEYR."

The chant exploded anew.

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

The camera cut sharply.

The holding gates groaned open.

Chains rattled.

And from the shadowed corridor beneath the platform, a figure emerged.

Veyr.

His wrists bound in heavy suppressive shackles, his body thin and worn from captivity, yet his spine remained straight as Raymond hauled him forward without ceremony, the Demi-God's grip tight around the chain, his grin wide and unrestrained as though this were a celebration rather than a procession.

Raymond leaned closer.

"Smile for the universe."

He murmured, as he gave the chain a sharp tug.

Veyr stumbled once.

Then steadied himself.

The chant did not falter.

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

"EXECUTE!"

The crowd demanded, as he was dragged into full view, the camera zooming in as it captured every detail.

The hollowed cheeks.

The bruises.

The dried blood.

And the smile.

Thin.

Defiant.

Unbroken.

The crowd roared louder.

Most in hatred.

Some in irritation.

Some simply to be heard, as Raymond laughed openly now, lifting the chain slightly as if presenting a trophy, his eyes gleaming as he angled Veyr's face toward the main camera.

"BEHOLD, THE EVIL DRAGON!"

He declared, as Veyr's eyes met the lens directly.

"BOOOO!"

"DIE YOU BASTARD DIE!"

The crowd roared, as the noise washed over him, the majority of the universe screaming for his death.

Yet, despite their hatred, he moved his lips slowly, deliberately, his voice unheard by the broadcast, yet unmistakable to anyone who knew him.

"Long live the Cult."

He mouthed, eyes burning.

"Long live the legend of the Timeless Assassin."

He said, as the camera lingered just long enough to transmit the message to all watching before pulling the feed back, as it cut away to the execution platform, the Gods and the roaring masses, as if afraid to show Veyr's face anymore.

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