Nightwing Titan Novels & Stories

Something that didn't belong in a "Real World." A **Titan** stepped out of the shadows. It was thirty feet tall, its body made of rusted iron and pulsing violet tubes. It had the face of a man, but the eyes were giant searchlights. On its chest, a large silver logo was etched into the metal: **AETHEL-GROUP: ASSET RECOVERY**. "Subject 01 and Donor 04," the Titan’s voice boomed, sounding like a thousand speakers blowing out at once. "You have exceeded your 'Independence' quota. Please remain still while your 'Conflict Data' is harvested."

Sparks flew along conduits, showering the trio with arcs of electric fire. Luca shouted over the chaos, “Riven! What the hell do we do? That thing—whatever it is—it’s huge!” “I don’t know!” Riven snapped, panic threatening to swallow him. But he forced himself to breathe, to think. “Focus! The Warden—it can fight it. But I need to sync completely. I need… time!” Wolf stepped forward, drawing his weapons. “Then I’ll buy you that time.” He took position at the entrance, scanning for the mechanical titan, which had now gone completely rogue. Its red sensors glowed as it tore down a city block, steam and sparks spraying everywhere.

In the Primordial’s wing, silence stretched thick across Titan’s study. The room was expansive, dimly lit by a few burning candles inside iron sconces along the tiled walls. Ancient runes pulsed faintly beneath the marble floor like veins beneath skin. Titan stood by the towering glass ceiling window, hands clasped behind his back as he overlooked the winding staircases below and beyond them—the ancient forest. Even from here, it felt restless tonight. His silver eyes narrow slightly. “Did the forest react to her presence?” he asks at last.

CRUNCH. A massive Titan-Class Droid stepped through the breach. It was twelve feet of reinforced steel and hydraulic rage, armed with a rotary cannon. "Target: The Hackers," The Titan’s synthesized voice boomed. "No!" Aurora threw a telekinetic shield up, but the Titan’s mass was too great. It smashed through her shield with a casual backhand, sending Aurora flying into a server rack. "Aurora!" Kael screamed. He charged the Titan, risking his life to jam his electrified baton into its knee joint.

It wasn't a drone. It was a man. Dante Thorne stood at the edge of the courtyard, his "Void-Titan" armor completely gone, his body covered in the gray ash of the unmade world. He didn't have his wings, and his red eye was gone—but in his right hand, he held a massive, jagged piece of the Vane-Absolute’s steering column. A piece of rusted iron from the old world. He didn't look at my father. He didn't look at the towers. His grey eye locked onto me, and for the first time in this reset reality, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

He let out a guttural, metallic roar that shook the dust from the high black prism towers and lunged through the smoke directly at Vane’s throat. "Lyra! The control lines!" Natalia shouted, her voice cutting through the rising cacophony of the awakening titans. Across the cavernous vault, the thousands of black crystalline containment pods were actively grinding open. The three-eyed obsidian vanguards inside were shifting, their massive armored limbs twitching as the green nutrient fluid drained into the lower sluices.

Hilarion invited with eager eyes. Snow White looked at each of them. The seven Titans were so different. Vanguard was decisive and commanding. Grimm was fierce. Hilarion was bright. Storm wore glasses and had an elegant air—Vanguard mentioned he was a doctor. Slake always looked sleepy but was their best hunter. Bane looked terrifying with his tattoos but had a kind smile. And the youngest, Draven, was the quietest. They were all massive, muscular, and ready to protect her. "Princess..."

We drove closer. It was a small mining town. Or it had been. Now it was a ruin. The buildings were smashed. Cars were overturned. And in the center of the town standing in the middle of the road was a figure. It was huge. It was at least eight feet tall. It was covered in metal armor. It held a massive hammer. It turned as we approached. It had no face. Just a smooth steel visor. "What is that?" I whispered. "A Titan," Kaelen said. "Project Titan. The heavy infantry."

Their Alpha, a massive beast named Titan, stepped forward on hydraulic hind legs that hissed with every movement. "You carry the scent of the organic," Titan rasped: his voice a distorted, metallic growl that lacked any melodic resonance. "But the organic is weak. The 'Clockwork Necrosis' takes the flesh, but the iron endures." Even as he spoke, Titan’s metallic chest plate buckled, and a thick, black fluid—a mixture of oil and infected blood—leaked from a seam in his shoulder. He collapsed: his hydraulic limbs locking up as the mechanical components began to reject the remaining, dying marrow in a systemic meltdown.

“PLEASE DON’T DIE!” Rian threw glowing pellets. “WHY ARE THEY GETTING BIGGER?!” Selene sighed. “Because the Architect is panicking.” Kael flung a slash of shadow so powerful the titan reeled backward. “GOOD.” He planted his feet at the Rift’s edge, shadow-wings flaring like blades. “You’re not getting through,” he growled. The titan lunged—Kael met it head-on. The battlefield shook violently as their clash sent shockwaves across the valley.