Chapter 21: When Titans Fall Silent

The world had changed.

A few hours after the announcement I watched from the command bridge of the Sentinel as the planet below spiraled into chaos. My ultimatum had echoed across every screen, every radio, every satellite. And now, the leaders of Earth were forced to make a choice: kneel or perish.

The reactions varied. Some governments remained silent, their leaders too paralyzed by fear to respond. Others erupted in frantic military mobilization, their armies scrambling into formation, their war machines roaring to life. News broadcasts were flooded with speculation, panic, and desperate calls for unity. Protests surged through the streets of major cities—some demanding resistance, others begging for surrender.

It was… amusing.

They still believed they had a say in what happened next.

On a holographic display before me, multiple feeds flickered—live transmissions from Earth's most powerful nations.

The United States had activated DEFCON 1. Military bases buzzed with activity as warships mobilized in the Atlantic and Pacific. Air Force One had vanished into the skies, its destination classified. The Pentagon was issuing orders for immediate retaliation.

Russia had deployed its strategic bombers and nuclear submarines. Their generals stood grim-faced in war rooms, analyzing my fleet with cold calculation. They still clung to the illusion that brute force could change the inevitable.

China had sealed its borders and activated its cyber warfare divisions. Their satellite networks were probing my defenses, searching for a weakness. Futile.

Europe had unified its forces under a single command. NATO warships were converging, their combined firepower bracing for what they assumed would be the battle to reclaim their sovereignty.

And then there were the smaller nations, each responding in their own way—some preparing defenses, others seeking shelter, a few even trying to establish contact.

None of it mattered.

I turned to Jarvis. "Begin Phase Three."

"Understood, Sir. Deploying suppression forces."

Across the fleet, my command surged like a divine decree.

In high orbit, the massive carriers opened their launch bays. Sleek, black interceptors spilled forth in coordinated waves, descending toward the planet like a silent storm. Dropships followed in disciplined formations, their armored hulls reflecting the distant starlight. On the ground, mechanized warforms, towering bipedal machines armed with plasma cannons, emerged from the shadows, standing sentinel in the streets of Earth's greatest cities.

And yet… we did not fire a single shot.

Not yet.

I watched the illusion of free will unfold as Earth's mightiest forces retaliated.

China – Aboard the CNS Zheng He

The warship rocked slightly as the final set of long-range hypersonic missiles were loaded into their launch tubes. The Chinese fleet, a formidable wall of steel and firepower, had already unleashed waves of attacks. But none had struck their target.

Admiral Wei Zhang slammed his fist against the control panel. "Damn it! How are they still untouched? We fired everything!"

Lieutenant Wu hesitated, eyes glued to the radar screen. "Admiral, all missiles… they just vanish. There's no interception, no countermeasure. It's as if—"

Wei turned sharply. "Fire again. This time, launch all remaining YJ-21 anti-ship missiles and coordinate with the submarines."

"Sir, if they—"

"Do it!"

The order was given. The deck vibrated as another salvo of hypersonic missiles erupted into the sky, streaking toward the alien warships in high orbit. The room fell silent as they watched the attack's trajectory.

Then—nothing.

The missiles reached a certain altitude… and disappeared.

No explosion. No debris. Just—erased.

A cold dread settled over the bridge.

Wei Zhang whispered, voice hollow, "What… are we fighting?"

Japan – JASDF Fighter Squadron

The sky was burning with tracer rounds and missile contrails as Japan's ace pilots weaved through the air in their cutting-edge Mitsubishi F-3 stealth fighters. But the enemy did not engage. They simply… hovered above.

Captain Hiroshi Tanaka banked hard, locking onto a looming alien interceptor. "Fox Three!"

A missile streaked from his wing, spiraling toward the target. His wingmen followed, launching everything they had.

The missiles connected—only to detonate against an unseen barrier, their force dispersing into harmless light.

Lieutenant Kenta Sato, Hiroshi's wingman, swore. "It's not working! They're just absorbing our hits!"

"I can see that, damn it!" Hiroshi gritted his teeth, pulling his jet into a steep climb. "Switch to high-speed cannons! We'll rip through at close range!"

Their fighters dove toward the enemy fleet, autocannons blazing. Rounds slammed into the ships at point-blank range—only to disintegrate against the shields.

Then, the worst happened.

Cockpit screens flickered. Systems failed. One by one, jets lost power, their engines sputtering as if some unseen force had taken control.

Kenta's voice turned to panic. "I—I can't control it! It's shutting everything down!"

Hiroshi struggled, trying every emergency override, but nothing responded. His jet was plummeting, out of his control.

The last thing he saw before ejecting was the massive enemy fleet, untouched, unshaken, watching them fall.

United Nations – Nuclear Launch Command (Hidden Underground Facility, Location Classified)

Inside a heavily fortified bunker, the world's highest-ranking military officials gathered around a single screen displaying a live feed of the alien fleet. The tension in the room was suffocating.

General Samuel Carter (USAF), gripping the table, spoke first. "Every conventional attack has failed. If we wait any longer, they'll take the planet without a fight. We need to strike now."

A klaxon blared.

The room watched in tense silence as nuclear warheads launched, soaring beyond the atmosphere, homing in on the heart of the alien fleet.

Then—

The warheads… vanished.

Not intercepted. Not detonated. Simply gone, like dust in the wind.

The silence in the bunker was absolute.

General Carter swallowed hard. "...What just happened?"

A technician, pale as a ghost, stammered. "Th-They… erased them, sir. The nukes never reached their target."

The weight of the moment crashed over them. Their last resort had failed.

Prime Minister Harrington, voice barely above a whisper: "...We're already beaten."

U.S. Army (Outside Washington D.C.)

The streets of the capital were a warzone. Artillery batteries, tanks, and mobile missile platforms fired relentlessly into the sky at the descending alien forces.

Yet not a single shot connected.

Colonel James Mercer, watching from the command outpost, clenched his jaw. "Why aren't we hitting them?"

Sergeant Ruiz, monitoring the battlefield feed, shook his head. "Sir, they have some kind of—"

Before he could finish, the tanks' targeting systems flickered. Their sensors shut down. Guns jammed. Missiles failed to launch.

And then, the alien dropships simply landed—right in front of them.

Their troops disembarked, armored figures moving with eerie precision.

They didn't attack.

They just stood there.

Waiting.

Resistance POV

We just hadn't admitted it yet.

I stood in the war room beneath the ruins of an old government bunker, the dim light flickering as a generator hummed weakly in the background. Maps were spread across the steel table, marked with fading red lines—frontlines that had never truly existed.

There was no war.

There was only survival.

And we were running out of time.

The radio crackled.

"This is Captain Ayers of the 3rd Mechanized Division—our forces in Chicago engaged the enemy half an hour ago. Heavy artillery, tank columns, everything we had. Their shields absorbed it all. We didn't even slow them down."

I exhaled sharply. "And the air support?"

"Gone. They lost power the moment they got close. Our jets just fell out of the sky like birds shot from the wind."

The bunker was silent.

Elena Vasquez, my second-in-command, stood beside me, arms crossed. Her dark eyes burned with frustration.

She shook her head. "We can't fight them."

"We have to."

Elena exhaled. "Every battle ends the same. Moscow, Berlin, Beijing, New York. They didn't even fight back. They just let us waste everything. They want us to realize how powerless we are."

The bunker doors groaned open. Lieutenant Harris stumbled inside, uniform scorched, helmet dented.

"We lost Los Angeles." His voice was raw. "They walked in and just… took it."

Another city gone.

Another reminder we weren't fighting a war. We were watching an execution.

I slammed my fist against the table. "We're not surrendering."

Elena sighed. "And how do you suggest we fight gods?"

The radio crackled. A new voice came through.

Not military. Not resistance.

Them.

"We are waiting."

The voice was calm. Steady. Inhuman.

Resistance #2 POV

The city burned.

I crouched behind the remains of a collapsed overpass, my rifle clutched tightly in my hands. All around me, the streets of Tokyo were in chaos—military convoys in full retreat, civilians running for shelter, and towering enemy warforms marching through the ruins like silent gods.

We had thrown everything at them. The JGSDF, the Air Self-Defense Force, even underground militant groups. Our tanks had fired their last shells. Our jets had screamed through the sky, launching their deadliest payloads. Even our newest railgun emplacements had let loose their thunderous fury.

It hadn't mattered.

Nothing had.

"Lieutenant Saito!" a voice shouted through the comms. It was Captain Tanaka, the last surviving commander in the area. His voice was hoarse, ragged. "Fall back! We're regrouping at the Diet Building!"

Fall back? To what? There was no front line anymore. No safe zones. No hope.

I looked up just in time to see one of our F-15J fighters streak overhead, its afterburners glowing against the night sky. The pilot was still fighting. Still trying.

"Fox Three! Fox Three!" the pilot's voice crackled through my earpiece as he unleashed his missiles.

The warheads screamed toward one of the enemy warforms—giant bipedal machines that stood like metal titans in the heart of our city. The moment the missiles got close, the air shimmered, and they disintegrated into nothing. Not even an explosion. Just… erased.

The pilot screamed in frustration before his fighter's engines sputtered and died mid-flight. His aircraft twisted in the air, plunging toward the ground. I had to look away before the impact.

"Lieutenant!" Tanaka's voice snapped me back. "Do you copy?!"

I swallowed hard. "I copy."

"Then fall back!"

I didn't move.

Not because I refused. But because I realized something in that moment.

We weren't fighting to win anymore.

We were just fighting to matter.

I raised my rifle and took aim at the nearest warform. My bullets would do nothing. I knew that.

But I fired anyway.

Because I was still here. Because I was still breathing. Because we would not just disappear.

Resistance #3 Pov

The ocean was supposed to be safe.

At least, that's what we had thought when we submerged.

But now, at a depth of 300 meters, our sonar was painting a picture I didn't want to believe.

"Multiple contacts, Captain!" my sonar officer, Ensign Ramirez, called out. His voice was tight, strained. "They're all around us!"

I clenched my jaw. "Identify."

Ramirez hesitated. "They're… not submarines, sir. At least, not like anything we've seen before."

A deep hum vibrated through the USS Vengeance's hull. Not the sound of ocean currents. Not the sound of an approaching torpedo.

It was something else.

I gripped the command chair tightly. "Weapons status?"

"Fully armed, sir," my weapons officer, Lieutenant Parker, confirmed. "But if they're anything like their ships up top, we might as well be firing blanks."

I didn't care.

"Load torpedoes one through four," I ordered. "Set to active tracking."

"Aye, Captain."

Outside the submarine, the darkness of the deep was absolute. No light. No sound. Just the quiet pressure of the abyss.

Until the sonar pinged.

And we saw them.

Dozens of massive, sleek objects moving effortlessly through the water, surrounding us like predators circling prey. They made no noise. Left no wake. But they were there.

I didn't hesitate. "Fire torpedoes!"

The tubes hissed as our payload surged forward, cutting through the water like spears. For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we would land a hit.

Then—

Nothing.

The torpedoes vanished before impact. No explosion. No debris. They simply ceased to exist.

The crew was silent.

Then, a voice crackled through the speakers.

Not ours.

"You are out of time."

The words sent a chill through the war room. Every screen, every comm channel, every open frequency—hijacked.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then—

Alarms blared. Systems flickered. Satellites fell dark. A wave of static surged through global networks, swallowing communication in a deafening hush.

On the battlefield, jets lost power mid-flight, warships stalled in open waters, and missile silos locked themselves down. Soldiers screamed into their radios, only to be met with silence.