In the wake of that moment, the Universe did not rejoice.
It did not tremble with triumph, nor did it echo with victory.
It breathed.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
As if uncertain whether it had been permitted to continue.
The erasures ceased.
Not abruptly, not with declaration, but with absence of further loss. Where once entire systems had vanished like thoughts forgotten mid sentence, now there was stillness. A fragile stillness, held together by something unseen, something that had no name within the language of gods or men.
Astralis endured.
Its corridors stabilized. Its laws regained their clarity. Its borders no longer flickered at the edge of perception. The Empire did not expand in that moment. It did not conquer. It did not advance.
It simply remained.
And in remaining, it understood that something immeasurable had been given.
Within the Core World, silence fell like a veil.
There were no proclamations.
No imperial announcements.
No declarations of salvation.
