The Council dreadnoughts began to reposition, adjusting for a second strike. Inside their command bridge, cold strategists barked orders—but uncertainty haunted their eyes.
Titan hovered above the ruins, arms outstretched, surrounded by a radiant sphere of hybrid energy. His voice boomed across all open frequencies, transmitted through Lira's amplified systems.
"This is AP Titan. The war ends today. Not by your surrender. Not by my wrath. But by the truth."
He gestured to the sky.
A brilliant beam of controlled light shot from his chest—pure Vaelari fusion tempered by human will. It passed through the first dreadnought without contact… and yet, the ship deactivated mid-flight. No explosions. No fire. Just silence.
Titan had severed its power—gently, precisely.
Kaela watched from the hillside, eyes wide. "He's rewriting how war works."
Merek whispered, "He's rewriting us."
The second and third dreadnoughts opened fire—but the energy curved around Titan as if space itself bent to shield him.
Titan soared upward, directly between the Council ships.
"I'm not your enemy. But I won't let you rule with fear any longer."
And with a single burst, he disabled both ships simultaneously.
No lives lost. No deaths. Just… quiet.
Across the galaxy, millions watched the broadcast in stunned silence. Rebels wept. Colonists stood tall. Council sympathizers faltered.
The myth of AP Titan had just become something more.
A symbol.