The Architects did not strike with weapons. They had no need for crude fire.
A single pulse of light rippled from their vast forms, and the battlefield convulsed. Entire Dominion cruisers folded inward, their hulls crumpling like paper under unseen pressure. Harbinger beasts—those that had survived the earlier clash—screamed once and then disintegrated into ash, their souls unspooling into the void. Even the Seers' vessels cracked apart, their crystal spires imploding as if time itself had rejected them.
Kaelen and Lyra were thrown to the ground, their ship screaming under the cosmic tremor. Kaelen forced himself up, blood in his mouth, eyes locked on the devastation.
"This isn't war…" he whispered. "It's execution."
Lyra clutched her chest as the Seed burned within her, threads of power unraveling against her will. She felt every death—millions of voices crying out at once, then vanishing into silence. Tears blurred her vision, but she did not collapse.
"No," she said softly, voice trembling but resolute. "It's a trial."
The Architects' voices returned, echoing across every comm, every mind:
"Strength alone will not endure. Dominion crumbles. Rage consumes. Sight fails. Yet the Seed still listens. Will you rise, or be erased?"
The Harbinger, half his forces annihilated in an instant, roared with a madness that defied even despair. He hurled himself at the nearest Architect, axe raised, his body a comet of fury. "COME AND END ME, GODS!"
The blow struck true—or should have. The Architect did not move. The axe shattered on its radiant surface, fragments scattering into nothing. A single gesture sent the Harbinger hurtling back, his monstrous form broken, though not yet dead.
Admiral Veyric rallied what was left of his fleet, desperate to form ranks. His voice cracked across the channels:
"All ships—fire everything you have! For the Dominion!"
The void lit with brilliance as torpedoes, cannons, and beams of raw energy tore into the Architects. For a heartbeat, the stars themselves seemed to ignite.
And then the Architects simply absorbed it.
The light vanished into their vast bodies as though swallowed by oceans. In reply, they exhaled. A wave of force swept outward, and with it, entire fleets were scoured away—obliterated as though they had never existed.
Lyra screamed, the Seed burning her veins, trying to shield what remained. Around her, pockets of survivors clung to life only because her presence bent the Architects' wrath. Kaelen knelt at her side, his sword glowing with fractured light, his hand steadying hers.
"They're not fighting us," he said. "They're weighing us."
Lyra's eyes glowed with painful radiance. "Then we can't just survive, Kaelen… we have to prove ourselves."
And for the first time, one of the Architects leaned closer—not to destroy, but to watch.