Urged by Steve's ultimate order, [Colossus, Geo-Gravitational Star Cannon]—the final creation embodying human wisdom, planetary power, and the consensus of civilization—finally bared its true fangs.
This was no start-up in the traditional sense; there was no engine roar, no energy surge. The colossal steel ring encircling the moon, billions of modules, flashed simultaneously with such intensity that for a moment, it outshone even the sun.
On Avalon's bridge, all squinted instinctively, feeling as if their souls were being seared by power from a higher dimension.
"Singularity Reactor: 120% output!"
"Gravity lens stabilized—curvature normal!"
"Spacetime compression sequence—commence!"
Sion's voice trembled with excitement, but her hands never wavered.
Before all eyes, a miracle occured.
On the moon's far side, the void of space itself began to contort. As if an invisible god-hand grasped that patch of cosmos, slowly yet inexorably squeezing it tight. The starlight was pulled, twisted, and collapsed with the dark, into an infinitely tiny, purely "void" point—an artificially engineered, absolute "nothingness." That was the cannonball—a fragment of erasure. It was human anger, hope, the future.
The "point" was unleashed, soundless and without a trailing blaze, quietly slicing through space between Earth and the predator star faster than causality could follow—not a straight line, but with space itself bent for a shortcut.
As it delivered its maximal force, the surface of Earth's reality flayed away mercilessly, exposing chaos beneath—an imaginary sea of numbers.
But at the last instant, just as it tried to drag the planet to annihilation, the "point" arrived.
No spectacular explosion followed. Only utter, exact "erasure." The massive white calamity, even greater than planets, touched the "point" and vanished—like paper sucked into a black hole—its radiance, rewritten laws, and the surrounding imaginary-number sea all "swallowed" entirely.
The process was clean and complete, like erasing a stain with a rubber. The "dot" also disappeared. The wound in reality crudely stitched shut; the stars returned to eternal calm.
The Damocles' Sword that had hung over humanity for three days vanished utterly.
A suffocating silence covered the solar system: Avalon's bridge, surviving warship cockpits, the exhausted people of the colonies—all looked to the quiet sky, minds blank, unable to comprehend the miracle they had witnessed.
"…Did we… win?" A young bridge operator's dreamy voice broke the dead hush.
The words sparked an instant, planet-wide eruption. The first to roar was a surviving pilot on comms, spreading his cheer through every channel. Then came a second, a third… until a wave of jubilant shouts became a roaring victory anthem among the stars!
On the bridge, the once-stoic General Harold, veteran of hundreds of battles, could no longer restrain himself. The iron-blooded soldier removed his cap, hot tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. Others hugged and howled with joy in the most primal way.
On Side-3's square, even those left weakened by giving vitality felt suddenly re-energized. They leapt, cheered, embraced strangers, weeping with relief.
The entire colony, the world of humanity itself, became an ocean of celebration. Humanity had won.
Amid this tsunami of joy, Steve was overtaken by a strange, total silence. His mind processed the import of the victory at hyper-speed—it was nothing less than an upheaval in the world's foundations.
He had achieved it himself. But what he'd won was more than a simple victory in war:
He had engineered, through technology and collective will, a human-led victory that overturned the balance of "suppression." This world's main axis had always been "Tsukihime," dominated by [Planet (Gaia)]—with True Ancestors, Dead Apostles, and other primordial tendrils silently steering history, relegating human history to a fragile thing awaiting negation.
But now, everything had changed.
With a win so overwhelming that even the planet itself had to "cooperate," Steve proved the strength of the very concept of "humanity" to the universe. The power balance of suppression had irrevocably tipped to Alaya—Humanity.
From this day forth, this world was no longer that of "Tsukihime"—but rather, a world of "Fate."
A world where Heroic Spirits and Mankind fought to guard "Human Order."
Steve had rewritten history's script—from a lament of "nature and mystery" to an epic centering on "human nature and resistance."
More importantly, he had resolved the world-ending disaster posed by the predatory wandering star in a nearly perfect, unprecedented way. In countless parallel worlds, such threats had usually ended with humanity's doom—either total harvesting, or the ruler of another world seating themselves upon the lunar throne, sacrificing all surface civilization and exiling a scant few "seer" primates into deep space to barely preserve the species.
Steve, however, had not. He borrowed force from Earth, condensed the majority's will into victory rather than sacrificing humanity itself. He won it all.
Of course, the ORT slumbering beneath South America remained an unresolved threat. But with all humanity moving to space, the traces of civilization on the surface would be erased to the maximum. As for the original star of the Oort cloud, its awakening could now be postponed another century at least.
For Steve, master of "brilliant strategy," a century was time enough for new miracles.
Thinking thus, a genuine and unprecedented satisfaction filled his heart. He had completed his layout, claimed victory, saved everything he loved.
Finally, his gaze broke from vast history and cosmos, settling on the person smiling through tears—Sion, his lover and comrade, companion of thirty long years. Fatigued, but her violet eyes were brighter than ever before.
Steve could no longer restrain his feelings; he walked through the festival throng, embraced by the kind gazes and encouragement of his comrades, and held her tightly.
"…We did it, Steve…" Sion choked out, crying.
"Yeah, we really did." Steve buried his face in her hair, inhaling its familiar, reassuring scent, and softly replied.
He held her for a long time, then slowly let go, taking her hand and, with the most relaxed and radiant smile in thirty years, raised it high, turning to face the cheering masses—officially and wholeheartedly plunging into this celebration of humanity's total triumph!
PS: Bro, changed the story plot using science. Based.