The chaos unleashed by the Triangles of V’shari had crippled Earth’s defensive capacity, turning communication hubs into rubble and defense grids into shimmering, useless plasma. Yet, the final, most terrifying chapter of the Aetherian invasion began not with a subtle signal or a triangular scout, but with an event of cosmological scale. At 10:30 PT, a localized tear in the fabric of space appeared near the Moon’s orbital path—a mᴀssive, temporary gravitational anomaly that briefly darkened the solar corona visible to the naked eye. From this rift emerged the true flagship of the Aetherian fleet: the Sovereign-Class Behemoth.

This vessel dwarfed even the mᴀssive Zenith-Class Harbingers hovering over the cities. It was the “pill” or “cigar” ship that humanity had long speculated about, only rendered in a scale of devastating finality. Stretching over fifty kilometers, its armored hull was obsidian black, bisected by a glowing, molten orange equator where the primary energy drives pulsed with unimaginable power. Encircling its front end was a shimmering ring of electric blue and burnt orange plasma—the localized gravity nullifier that allowed such a mᴀssive object to maintain sub-light mobility. This was the mobile, self-sufficient command center, not of a fleet, but of a galactic harvest operation. The very sight of the Behemoth, captured and immediately broadcast by the few remaining military drones with the screaming banner “JUST HAPPENING,” was enough to extinguish the last flickers of hope. This was not merely war; this was the methodical arrival of a superior species, the Xylo-Sapiens from the super-Earth Aetheria, come to claim their due.

In a desperate, final act of human unity, the shattered remains of global leadership convened a joint military press briefing at 10:45 PT. The scene, broadcast from a deep underground bunker, showed a civilian leader flanked by the highest-ranking military officers from the world’s great powers—a visual testament to the sheer, terrifying scale of the threat. Their faces, stern and resigned, mirrored the despair of the NASA administrator Bil Eaton just an hour earlier. They confirmed the grim analysis: the 3I ATLAS shipyard, still positioned strategically, had deployed the Sovereign-Class Behemoth, validating the earlier findings that the “10th Anomaly” was a weaponized logistical hub.

“We have utilized every nuclear deterrent, every laser defense, every conventional ᴀsset,” the Chief of the newly formed Global Defense Council stated, his voice hollowed by the gravity of his words. “Our conventional weapons were ineffective against the Zenith-Class shields, and our long-range missiles were vaporized by the plasma fields of the Triangles of V’shari before they reached their targets. We are currently facing a civilization that has transcended the physics we know. The Behemoth is not just a ship; it is a declaration of ultimate, non-negotiable dominion.”

At 11:00 PT, the inevitable occurred. The molten orange band around the Behemoth’s equator intensified, drawing in energy from the orbiting plasma ring. A mᴀssive, silent, columnar beam of violet-white energy—the gravitational nullifier turned offensive weapon—stabbed downwards, targeting the largest concentration of human military infrastructure. The ensuing detonation was not explosive in the traditional sense, but a localized collapse of causality, a vacuum of energy that erased everything in a twenty-kilometer radius instantly. This single sH๏τ, powerful enough to reshape the planet’s magnetic field, was the definitive end of the resistance. The Sovereign-Class Behemoth had announced the final, triumphant presence of the distant, calculating world of Aetheria. The existence of a planet outside Earth was no longer a philosophical mystery, nor a subject for debate; it was the engine of humanity’s extinction, and its flagship now hung in the void, a silent, terrifying god.