EARTH CYBERTRONIAN BASE
The morning sun rose slowly over the reconstructed stone courtyard, casting long golden shadows across the metallic walls of the headquarters.
After a night of suffocating dread, a brief, fragile quiet had settled over the united Cybertronians stationed on Earth.
Near the eastern perimeter wall, where stacks of heavy alloy crates and shattered concrete slabs had been piled aside during the cleanup, three smaller frames were supposed to be running perimeter diagnostics.
Instead, five massive tons of reinforced steel plating were currently floating twenty feet in the air, spinning slowly like weightless feathers.
At the center of the floating debris stood Mohawk, his tall silver head spike gleaming in the sunlight as his optics glowed with a sharp violet hue.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, Mohawk intensified his Reverse Gravity field, causing a ten ton armored transport container to lift smoothly off the pavement and hover upside down above his head.
Wheelie stepped back warily, tilting his small helm up as the shadow of the floating container passed over his optical sensors.
Wheelie: Hey, watch where you are pointing that gravitational field, Mohawk. Ratchet spent half the night aligning our structural struts, and I do not feel like getting launched into the thermosphere before my morning fuel cycle.
Mohawk let out a sharp, cackling laugh, spinning a pair of heavy iron girders around his fingers as if they were made of paper.
Mohawk: Relax, little bro. You know I got total precision over this Reverse Gravity power. If an enemy steps within my range, I can invert their personal gravitational pull so violently that their joints short out and they get shot straight into deep space at escape velocity.
Bumblebee walked over with two energon cubes in his hands, his yellow armor plating catching the morning light as he looked up at the floating steel slabs.
Bumblebee: We know how strong your gravity inversion is, Mohawk. The problem is that you get carried away every time you turn it on. Put the crates down before Galvatron or Optimus Prime walks out here and thinks we are under orbital bombardment again.
Mohawk grinned, immediately dialing back his violet energy signature.
Mohawk: Alright, alright, I hear you, Bee. You know I would never use this power on my own fellow Cybertronians. You guys are family now.
With a careful, controlled downward motion of both palms, Mohawk restored normal planetary gravity to the area in gentle increments, lowering the multi ton crates and steel girders back onto the stone pavement without making a single loud clang.
Wheelie hopped onto the nearest crate, tapping his metal knuckles against the cool steel.
Wheelie: I have to admit, that control is getting terrifying. Whoever Lockdown sends next is going to have a real bad time trying to fight upside down in the clouds.
Across the wide courtyard, standing far away from the main command doors near the edge of the cliffside, Master Wheeljack watched the young warriors with a quiet chuckle before turning his attention back to Drift.
Drift stood beside him in silence, his gaze fixed on the ground as the lingering shame of his past continued to weigh heavily on his processor.
Master Wheeljack tapped the end of his staff against the stone, opening a shimmering, translucent doorway of pure blue frost that led nowhere on Earth.
Wheeljack: Come on, kid. Walk with me for a second. We are stepping away from the base and far away from the sanctuary. I need to show you my private quarters.
Drift looked up at the ancient guardian his master with deep respect, bowing his head slightly.
Drift: Your private quarters, Master Wheeljack. Should we not remain here to guard the perimeter alongside the other Cybertronians.
Wheeljack stepped through the frost threshold first, looking back over his shoulder as the green blindfold across his optical visor rustled in the cold breeze.
Wheeljack: Wing and Grandmaster Bludgeon have the perimeter handled. What you need right now cannot be taught in a crowded courtyard. Step inside, Drift.
OUTER DIMENSIONAL CONSTRUCT
THE ONE
Drift stepped across the threshold, and the stone walls of Earth vanished instantly.
Around them stretched an infinite, blinding expanse of crystalline white snow and towering glacial spires suspended in an endless void where neither sun nor stars existed.
The moment the frost door sealed shut behind Drift, the ambient silence became so absolute that the hum of his own internal cooling fans sounded like thunder.
Master Wheeljack spun his staff lazily in one hand, a playful, joking grin spreading across his faceplate as he looked at the stunned swordsman.
Wheeljack: Welcome to my private quarters, kid. I call this dimension The One. Make yourself comfortable, because you are not leaving until we burn that pathetic hesitation out of your spark.
Drift looked around at the boundless horizon of ice, his optical sensors struggling to calculate the spatial coordinates of the realm.
Drift: Master Wheeljack, the war with Lockdown is about to begin at any moment. If we stay inside your quarters for too long, the battles on Earth will be over before we return.
Master Wheeljack let out a soft, amused laugh, leaning casually against his staff.
Wheeljack: No matter if we outlive existence itself, which we definitely will if you stay that stubborn, we will not miss a single second out there. Time inside this realm and outside of it bends to my will. As long as we are in here and I want time on the outside to not exist, it simply will not exist at all. I just hit the pause button on the entire outside universe for our training session, so boy, you better start learning fast.
THE HOLY SHRINE
LOWER ICE DUNGEONS
Far beneath the volcanic rock and frozen peaks of the island sanctuary, a cavernous abyss of black ice stretched out in total darkness.
There were no iron bars or conventional cells in the lower dungeons of the shrine.
Instead, suspended thirty feet above the jagged glacier floor, five separate, spherical Ice Bubble prisons floated in a silent row.
Inside each translucent crystalline sphere, absolute subzero stasis locked the occupants in place, suppressing their energy output and keeping their C DNA abilities completely dormant.
In the first Ice Bubble floated Ion Storm, his severed arms and legs held in frozen suspension around his torso while blue coolant hung frozen like solid sapphires around his joints.
Beside him, sealed inside their own individual Ice Bubble prisons, hung Sunstorm, Acid Storm, Thundercracker, and Thrust, their optical sensors dim and their frames still bearing the surgical, half millimeter deep cuts left by the willpower of Grandmaster Bludgeon.
At the far end of the frozen cavern, the heavy stone archway parted, and Wing walked silently down the icy ramp.
In his right palm rested the miniature frozen marble Master Wheeljack had created back at the Earth courtyard.
Wing stopped before three empty pedestals of black ice, raised his hand, and released the spatial compression of the marble.
Three new, separate Ice Bubble prisons expanded rapidly in mid air, locking Scourge, Battletrap, and Nightbird into their own isolated spheres of unbreakable glacial ice alongside the five defeated vanguard destroyers.
Inside his spherical cage, Scourge slammed his fists futilely against the curved inner wall, his smokestacks sputtering cold grey ash as the subzero atmosphere drained the heat from his furnace.
Battletrap thrashed violently inside the adjacent bubble, his heavy actuators groaning and threatening to short out against the unyielding frost.
Yet in the eighth Ice Bubble at the end of the row, Nightbird did not thrash or waste her energy.
She floated in a calm kneeling posture, her crimson optical sensors fixed steadily on Wing as he walked across the narrow ice bridge and stopped directly in front of her sphere.
Wing studied the silent ninja warrior for a long moment before speaking, his voice echoing softly off the frozen walls.
Wing: Even in defeat, your processor remains disciplined, Nightbird. Unlike the brutes beside you, you do not fight for cruelty or arrogance. You fight because Lockdown forged you into a blade and pointed you at a target.
Inside the Ice Bubble, the vocal processor of Nightbird transmitted faintly through the crystalline wall.
Nightbird: If you have come down here to make my spark non functional, swordsman, then draw your weapon and finish it. I have no interest in rotting inside a sphere of ice.
Wing placed his hand gently against the outer surface of her Ice Bubble prison.
Wing: Grandmaster Bludgeon teaches us that even the sharpest enemy blade can be reforged if the metal beneath the rust is strong. The war that is coming will tear the cosmos apart. I am offering you a choice today. Leave the service of Lockdown, cast away his chains, and become one of the Swordsmen of this sanctuary.
Nightbird narrowed her optical sensors, searching his face for deception.
Nightbird: You would free an assassin who just tried to infiltrate your allies on Earth. What stops me from driving my katana straight through your back the moment this ice melts.
Wing reached over his shoulder and rested his fingers lightly on the hilt of the Sword of the Heavens.
Wing: We will make a binding pact right here in the dark. I will release you from this prison, and I will personally train you to awaken the true, hidden depth of your powers that Lockdown was too afraid to unlock. You will become faster and deadlier than you have ever imagined.
Wing leaned an inch closer, his tranquil optics glowing with absolute cosmic authority.
Wing: However, know this law before you answer. My blade carries the Weight of the Heavens and commands the threads of probability across all space. If you ever betray the Cybertronians, or if you ever attempt to stab us in the back, you will not need to look for me. My sword will cross any distance, bend every law of chance, and find your spark on its own to render it permanently non functional.
For several seconds, only the creaking of the ancient glacier filled the dungeon.
Slowly, inside the glowing blue sphere, Nightbird inclined her helm in a deep, solemn bow of submission.
Nightbird: Lockdown treated us as expendable tools. If you can show me the true peak of the blade, Master Wing, my katanas belong to the sanctuary.
Wing nodded once and tapped the surface of her sphere with the pommel of his scabbard.
The eighth Ice Bubble shattered into harmless frost, dropping Nightbird lightly onto the stone bridge beside him as Wing turned toward the upper training halls to begin her awakening.
THE HOLY SHRINE MAIN HALL
High above the dungeons, the atmosphere inside the grand hall of the sanctuary was grim and heavy with the weight of an approaching storm.
Grandmaster Bludgeon stood near the edge of the raised stone platform, his skeletal helm turned toward the open archway where dark ocean clouds gathered on the horizon.
Below the platform stood Master Sunstreaker, Windblade, and Slipstream.
Not a single warrior spoke out of turn, and every posture in the chamber reflected absolute reverence toward the ancient leader and Master Sunstreaker.
Windblade stepped forward and bowed her head respectfully.
Windblade: Grandmaster Bludgeon, Master Wing has secured the three invaders from Earth inside the lower Ice Bubble prisons alongside the Storm brothers, Thundercracker, and Thrust. All eight signatures are completely suppressed.
Grandmaster Bludgeon folded his hands behind his back, his deep voice resonating through the cold stone columns.
Bludgeon: Holding eight of his vanguard warriors in our dungeons means the quiet phase of this conflict has ended. Lockdown will not send scouts next time. He will bring the full weight of his warship and his remaining Supremes to erase both this mountain and the Cybertronians on Earth.
Slipstream kept her gaze lowered in respect as she addressed the platform.
Slipstream: My probability vectors are already shifting violently, Sire. The casualties approaching Earth will be catastrophic if Optimus Prime and Megatron Prime are caught unprepared by the true strength of the Supremes.
Grandmaster Bludgeon stepped down from the platform, the sheer density of his suppressed presence making the frost along the floor crystallize into sharper patterns.
Bludgeon: Then we will not leave them blind. Windblade, you will accompany me to the Earth base immediately. We will brief their leaders and prepare their defenses for the first wave. Master Sunstreaker, you and Slipstream will hold the sanctuary until my return.
Master Sunstreaker offered a calm, respectful nod to the grandmaster, resting one hand on his sword
Sunstreaker: Understood, Grandmaster Bludgeon. The shrine will remain untouched.
With a single sweep of his hand, Grandmaster Bludgeon parted the air in the center of the hall, stepping through the spatial corridor alongside Windblade as the rift closed silently behind them.
For ten seconds, the main hall remained completely still.
Then, Master Sunstreaker walked slowly toward the open balcony overlooking the churning sea, rolling his shoulder actuators with a quiet sigh.
Slipstream watched him carefully from the center of the floor, her optical sensors immediately detecting the shift in his energy output.
Slipstream: Master Sunstreaker, your thrusters are spooling for long range orbital flight. Grandmaster Bludgeon instructed us to hold the mountain.
Master Sunstreaker looked back at her from the balcony ledge, his expression calm and entirely unbothered despite the deadly seriousness in his optics.
Sunstreaker: Sitting on a balcony waiting for arrogant invaders to drop out of the sky is bad for my mood, Slipstream. Lockdown thinks he can park his warship in our solar system and send executioners to our doorstep. I am going up there to thin out his ranks myself before the real war even starts.
Before Slipstream could utter another word, Master Sunstreaker kicked off the marble balustrade, his frame igniting in a streak of golden light that tore straight through the upper cloud layer toward deep space.
Slipstream stood alone in the quiet hall for a brief moment, watching the golden trail fade into the stratosphere.
Slipstream: Even for someone on your dimensional plane, walking into the nest of the Supremes alone is reckless, Master Sunstreaker.
Making sure none of the shrine guards were watching the upper terrace, Slipstream quietly engaged her own flight thrusters, masking her thermal signature as she secretly launched into the sky to follow Master Sunstreaker from a safe distance.
Ten minutes later, a spatial rift flickered open near the lower courtyard steps as Windblade returned alone from delivering the initial perimeter schematics to Earth.
Stepping onto the balcony, Windblade immediately noticed that both Master Sunstreaker and Slipstream were gone, their faint residual energy trails leading straight toward the orbital coordinates of the enemy fleet.
Windblade: Those two actually went ahead without telling Grandmaster Bludgeon. I cannot let Slipstream walk into that warship alone.
Without making a sound, Windblade transformed her turbines for high altitude pursuit and secretly shot up into the dark clouds after them, leaving the silent mountain behind.
LOCKDOWN WARSHIP
COMMAND BRIDGE
Far beyond the orbit of the Moon, the colossal, jagged warship of Lockdown hung in the pitch black void like a metallic continent of spikes and dark furnaces.
Inside the cavernous command bridge, holographic monitors displayed eight extinguished tracking beacons corresponding to the captives sealed beneath the Glacier Shrine.
Lockdown stood at the center of the elevated walkway, his green visor glowing coldly as he studied the data without a trace of panic.
Around the shadowy perimeter of the vast chamber stood the remaining figures of his Thirteen Supremes.
Near the back pillar leaned Jazz, the second strongest warrior in the entire fleet, his visor dimmed as he tapped his metal fingers against his leg in a slow, rhythmic musical beat.
Further in the dark recesses stood Shatter and Dropkick side by side, while at the very back of the room, completely isolated from the others, rested the cold, single optic of Shockwave.
Standing directly below Lockdown at the main console was the massive, heavily armored frame of Tarn, his colossal knight sword strapped across his back as he let out a booming, arrogant laugh.
Tarn: Eight of our hunters locked in ice in a single afternoon. That fool Knightmare Tarn wasted his spark playing god with stolen relics, and now the Storm brothers have embarrassed themselves against an old swordsman.
Lockdown turned his helm slowly toward the towering juggernaut.
Lockdown: You talk quite loudly for someone who has been sitting on my bridge drinking high grade fuel since we entered this sector.
The Cybertronians on Earth have united under Optimus Prime and the alternate Megatron who carries the restored Matrix of Leadership.
Tarn slammed his heavy gauntlet onto the console, cracking the reinforced glass as his crimson optics blazed beneath his masked faceplate.
Tarn: That pretender wearing the face of Megatron only survived my counterpart because the illusionist bailed them out. The illusionist is gone now. Let me drop to Earth alone, Lockdown. I do not need an army, and I do not need backup. I will rip that Matrix out of Megatron Prime with my bare hands and crush his spark chamber into scrap metal in front of his entire alliance.
From the back pillar, Jazz stopped tapping his fingers for a second, a quiet, unreadable smirk crossing his faceplate.
Jazz: Try not to take all day down there, big guy. If you make a mess of the rhythm, I might have to come down and clean up the stage myself.
Tarn scoffed, turning toward the orbital drop bay.
Tarn: Save your music for their funeral, Jazz. This will not take ten minutes.
EARTH CYBERTRONIAN BASE
Back on Earth, the united Cybertronians stood assembled across the wide stone expanse outside the main blast doors.
Grandmaster Bludgeon stood near the rear archway alongside them, having delivered his warning to the commanders that the war had officially begun.
At the front of the formation stood Optimus Prime, Megatron Prime, Original Megatron, and Galvatron, flanked by Ratchet, Hound, Crosshairs, Bumblebee, Hot Rod, Stinger, Brawl, Blackout, Bonecrusher, Barricade, Nitro Zeus, Mohawk, Wheelie, and Brains.
High above the clouds, the sky split open in a roaring cone of purple plasma and sonic fury as a single massive frame plummeted straight into the barren wasteland beyond the courtyard gates.
The Cybertronians stood tense as they felt the violent shockwave of their enemy landing.
Brains looked down at his scanner, his optics widening as he read the frequency.
Brains: His energy signals match the demon we faced before. He is a version of the Tarn we fought.
Original Megatron folded his arms, eyeing the rising plume of dust in the distance.
Megatron: The guy who took Mirage down with him. I am good. Where are our heavy hitters.
Optimus Prime narrowed his optics, keeping his hand near his weapon.
Optimus Prime: Stay sharp.
Out in the scorched crater, as the wall of dust settled, Tarn slowly walked toward a massive slab of shattered debris and sat down upon it, his colossal knight sword resting planted in the ground near him.
Mohawk tilted his helm, squinting across the valley.
Mohawk: What is he doing.
Ratchet frowned, scanning the stationary juggernaut.
Ratchet: Absolutely nothing.
Galvatron stared coldly at the figure sitting on the rubble.
Galvatron: He is the exact same monster without those stolen powers.
Brains shook his head rapidly, adjusting his sensor readings.
Brains: Technically yes, he is, but no. That Knightmare Tarn is dead.
At the rear of the formation, Grandmaster Bludgeon took a single calm step forward, his hand resting near his sword
Bludgeon: I will end this in an instant.
Megatron Prime raised his hand, and Grandmaster Bludgeon paused.
Megatron Prime: No. He is mine. I will finally get the chance to fulfill my purpose of defeating him. Everyone stand down, this is my battle.
Original Megatron glanced sideways at his counterpart.
Megatron: Kill him properly this time.
Megatron Prime stepped past the courtyard gates and started walking alone toward the crater.
Sitting atop the debris, Tarn watched the silver and gold warrior approach, his deep vocal processor rumbling across the stone valley.
Tarn: In my world, you did not become a Prime, but you were my first victim because you tried to chain me.
Megatron Prime stopped twenty paces away, his posture unshakeable.
Megatron Prime: I do not care what you did, but I will not allow you to proceed any further with killing more people.
With a fluid motion, Megatron Prime drew his heavy knight sword and engaged his battle mask over his faceplate.
Tarn looked at the gleaming blade, a dark laugh echoing from beneath his mask.
Tarn: Your failures brought you back here. I will fight you and see if you are any more than your other Prime counterpart who died by my hands.
Tarn stood up from the debris and gripped the hilt of his weapon, pulling his massive sword out of the earth with a piercing metallic SCHINGGG sound that echoed across the valley.
Megatron Prime: You have left me no choice.
Megatron Prime lowered his center of gravity and took his combat stance.
.....
BOOM SUPRISE, thought you would never get volume 5 ?? You all are in for a big wild ride,Kinda constantly changing my plans by the way but don't worry i will complete this Volume really fast it will only have 4 chapters or maybe 3, then 6 will also have around the same chapters and then 7, and then 8 (maybe 🌚). Or maybe more, just wait and watch 😅.
Next chapter will be dropped soon very soon maybe Within this week, also i am working my ass off for concept arts and i will update pintrest links for the characters arts so you have more like a comic vibe, on the second book this chapter will be updated in 2-3 days.
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