Paraxis did not exist inside reality.
It floated outside of it.
A flat world suspended in absolute absence, drifting through a sea where causality did not apply and time did not flow forward or backward—because it did not flow at all. Distance had no meaning here. Direction was a suggestion. Space existed only because the Watchers allowed it to.
This was not a realm for mortals.
Nor gods.
Nor creators.
This was the home of the Watchers.
The Unobserved Eyes.
The librarians, archivists, and custodians of narrative itself.
And now—
A presence entered that should not have been able to.
There was no portal.
No tear.
No ripple.
Lucien Dreamveil simply was there.
The moment his foot touched Paraxis, the realm reacted—not violently, not loudly, but instantly. The flat horizon trembled. The invisible scaffolding that defined Paraxis' structure flexed, as if reality itself had inhaled sharply.
Eyes opened.
Not physical ones.
Eyes embedded in layers of existence.
Eyes woven into storylines.
Eyes observing from angles that should not exist.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every Watcher turned their attention toward him at once.
Lucien stopped.
He glanced around, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.
Then he smiled faintly.
"…You all should know," he said calmly, voice carrying without sound,
"that it's rude to stare."
And then—
He vanished.
Not teleportation.
Not concealment.
Lucien's presence itself disappeared.
Void energy collapsed inward, sealing perfectly. His existence did not diminish—rather, it withdrew so completely that Paraxis could no longer register him as an anomaly.
For the first time in its history—
Paraxis could not observe someone who was standing inside it.
The Watchers froze.
That alone was unprecedented.
The Watchers were not warriors.
They were not judges.
They were observers—custodians of continuity, keepers of narrative causality. They did not interfere with mortals. They did not interfere with gods. They documented, they preserved, and they ensured the story remained intact.
But this—
This was different.
Someone had entered Paraxis uninvited.
That granted them the right to engage.
And yet—
No Watcher moved.
Because the one who had entered was not simply a being.
He was Lucien Dreamveil.
The Sole Exception.
The one being who existed outside the narrative they maintained.
The one who did not belong to any cosmology they catalogued.
The one whose actions could not be predicted—even by them.
And worst of all—
He was growing.
Constantly.
Exponentially.
Lucien had once been unable to perceive Paraxis from the Merged Primordial and Metaphysical Plane.
That was no longer true.
He now wielded:
• Void Sovereignty
• Heaven-Void Techniques — Tian Quan
• Conceptual and Abstract Authority
• The Infinite Palace of the Heaven-Void Paradox, ruled by his clone
• Infinite Awareness
• Absolute Spatial Domination
He was not omnipotent in Paraxis—
—but he was more than enough.
Before the Watchers could even debate action—
A presence manifested between them and Lucien.
Elyndor.
The Watcher-King.
The Unobserved Eye of Paraxis.
He appeared as a tall, pale figure draped in layered robes of shifting text—sentences rewriting themselves endlessly across the fabric. His eyes were calm pools of infinite comprehension.
He raised one hand.
The Watchers halted.
Elyndor looked toward where Lucien stood—despite not being able to perceive him directly.
"…You may reveal yourself," Elyndor said evenly.
"I know you're there."
Lucien reappeared beside him, casually, as if he'd been standing there the entire time.
"Good," Lucien replied. "You're the one I wanted."
Elyndor studied him carefully.
The Götterdämmerung.
The Sole Exception.
The New Creator spoken of in whispers.
He had already reached the conclusion long ago.
There was only one being that prophecy could refer to.
"Why have you come to Paraxis?" Elyndor asked, calm and precise.
"You know this realm is not meant to be entered."
Lucien didn't dodge the question.
Didn't posture.
Didn't threaten—yet.
"I want my family back," he said simply.
The words landed heavier than any divine decree.
"Anyone with the name Dreamveil," Lucien continued, eyes sharpening,
"and anyone bound by that bloodline."
He smiled faintly.
"And I've heard that one of my precious family members happens to be sealed here."
Elyndor's expression didn't change—but internally, the Watchers stirred.
"That is… possible," Elyndor admitted.
"But those sealed in Paraxis committed acts too taboo to walk free."
Lucien tilted his head.
"Is that so."
The void stirred.
Not explosively.
Not violently.
It simply existed more intensely.
Lucien's presence expanded—not outward, but inward, compressing reality around him. Gravity warped. Space bent. Time jittered.
Several Watchers recoiled involuntarily.
Lucien spoke calmly.
"I don't ask twice."
His voice carried absolute certainty.
"I erase Paraxis," he continued casually,
"or you take me to them."
The statement wasn't arrogance.
It was fact.
Elyndor knew it.
The Watchers knew it.
Lucien was not omnipotent here—
—but he was the God of Void.
• He could trap beings within their own spatial definitions.
• He could manipulate gravity effortlessly.
• Nothing could harm him.
• He existed beyond immortality.
• His presence alone forced entities to experience the end of all things simultaneously.
• He possessed infinite awareness.
• His casual punch could crack reality and distort time.
• He wielded authorities such as Null, Dimensional Strike, Dimensional Slash.
• He knew all martial arts—and could invent new ones instantly.
• He had created the Multiverse of Aetherys by growing a branch of the World Tree and forming a new void with original laws.
• He controlled abstract and conceptual laws as easily as breathing.
To fight Lucien openly—
—even for Elyndor—
—was to court annihilation.
And worse still—
Lucien did not follow narrative causality.
The Watchers knew how stories were supposed to unfold.
Lucien existed outside that framework.
Unpredictable.
Uncontainable.
The only being who could threaten everything that exists… and everything that ever could.
Elyndor was silent for several seconds.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"…Very well," he said.
Lucien's gaze sharpened.
"I will take you," Elyndor continued,
"to the prison."
The place where the taboo-bound were sealed.
The place Paraxis never showed outsiders.
"But understand this," Elyndor added carefully.
"Once you see what is held there… nothing will be the same."
Lucien smiled.
"That's fine."
He stepped forward.
"Nothing's been the same since I was born."
Elyndor turned.
The flat world of Paraxis folded inward, revealing a descent into something far deeper—
A region where existence itself was restrained.
Where names were erased.
Where beings were not allowed to be remembered.
Where the taboo slept.
And Lucien Dreamveil—
The Sole Exception—
Walked toward it without hesitation.