Army Guy Transformers Novels & Stories

asked Liem “Andy and I are already at Gold Spiritual Strength Level 4,” Roberto said. "Yes, it is true that soon we will move up to class 2 in the Pro Level and can start operating as Zeon soldiers," said Andy Lau. "Yes, let's go" said Roberto ... Liem was seen walking in the forest filled with giant trees with Roberto, Andy and Khan. When walking Liem remembered the words of the Chairman of Tesla about the potion in his ring.

I immediately step back when I realise that my chest is brushing against the guy’s. I can’t deny. He is damn hot and handsome. He is wearing a long sleeves black shirt with white pants and classy black leather shoes. The first button of his shirt is opened enough to exhibit his tough bronze chest. He looks like he just got out from a tired day at work. But what is he doing here? “Mom.” Eren tugs on my dress. “Who is that?” He asks curiously. “Mom?” The man repeats in disbelief and my heart throbs on hearing his voice. It’s either me who is turning crazy or that voice really sounds like Eren’s.

His eyes widened, realization dawning on him that his end was near. He let out a weak laugh. "This...this isn’t over.” With one last burst of energy, he shifted back to human form, collapsing in defeat beneath me. Suddenly, a blast of dark energy erupted from the far edge of the field, and I caught a glimpse of Tiffany herself, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light when she pushed forward, his aura radiating with an ominous power. Behind her, more shadows emerged—rogues, humans, and mutated hybrids—a twisted army under her control.

The once serene forest was transformed into a battleground, the air thick with the stench of fear and decay. Liam and Xal'dar stood side by side, their bodies humming with the residual energy of their transformation. They were no longer just men; they were guardians, protectors of a world on the brink. With a grim determination, they raised their hands, their bodies beginning to glow with a soft, ethereal light.

I could sense it, the terror growing in someone's chest. Good. Five minutes have elapsed. Then. One of the younger guys stepped forward, swallowing deeply. “Boss…” he said cautiously, “I... I saw something.” Everyone looked to him. “What did you see?” I questioned without moving. A guy. I think he is from the armed men. Behind the armoury, I saw him calling quickly but it felt like a secret. "And who is this person?" I asked, flatly. He pointed at Lucas, a broad-shouldered soldier close to the rear.

Marcus Vale, my old guardian, stepped through a dimensional portal wearing impossible armor made of crystallized memories. "Marcus?" I gasped. "But you are mortal. You cannot travel dimensions." "Was mortal," he corrected. "Until Luna's mother offered me a choice. Stay mortal and safe, or transform into something that could help when you needed it most." He gestured to the portal behind him. "I brought friends." Through the opening came an army that defied description. Not just warriors, but concepts given form. Justice, Mercy, Courage, Hope—abstract forces that had chosen to manifest as defenders.

“So, I’m a bomb?” “No,” Sarah said quickly. “You’re a Creator. But the world can’t handle this. It’s too much life for one person.” “She’s right. That’s too much power for a girl.” A man stepped out from behind a boulder. No armor, no suit—just faded farmer’s clothes. The Auditor. Dante sprang up, grabbing a heavy rock. “You! You brought the army here!”

Leo (Tank) roared, his voice carrying over the ringing in everyone's ears. The giant man stepped forward, clad in the matte-black "Juggernaut" heavy assault armor they had looted from the Mobile Command Center. The armor made him look like a walking monolith. He reached out and snatched the smoking rifle from the hands of a trembling Ironhead ganger who looked barely out of his teens.

If I can take just one of them with me, I'll consider that a victory. The door to the roof opened, and six men step onto the roof, all holding a weapon of some kind. They're all different ages, and all dressed in different shabby outfits. If someone had told me that they were a dangerous post-apocalyptic army unit, I would have laughed. One is wearing blood-stained khakis, another is wearing cutoff jeans. The one in the very back caught my attention most. He's wearing faded jeans, boots, and a black sleeveless shirt. A barbed wire tattoo circles his right bicep, and there's another on his left, but I can't tell what it is from here. They definitely don't look like killers. But, as they look