Autobot Prime Novels & Stories

Nalaman nila na si Gaia ay hindi lamang isang AI; ang kanyang main processing core ay nakalagay sa loob ng White Obelisk Prime—ang orihinal na tore sa Maynila na ngayon ay naging isang dambuhalang Neural Transmitter. ​"Kung mapapasok natin ang Prime, maaari nating i-upload ang frequency ni Alexander," paliwanag ni Liam. "Ang bata ang tanging may kakayahang mag-overload sa Neural Net nang hindi namamatay ang mga taong naka-link dito."

Something heavy. A massive robot stepped out. It was twelve feet tall. It was painted black. It had Gatling guns for arms. "Meet the Reaper Prime," Garrett said. "Automated defense system. Enjoy." He ran toward a side exit. "Kill them," Garrett ordered the robot. The robot’s eyes glowed red. The guns spun up. Whirrrrrr. "Cover!" Kael screamed. We dove behind the missile cart just as the room erupted in a hail of bullets.

—the memory of the First World’s destruction—was being targeted by a massive Eraser-Behemoth. "You hated me," the Prime’s voice echoed in her head. "And you were right to. I gave you order when you needed chaos. I gave you a cage when you needed a world. But I also gave you... Resistance. Without me, you would never have become the Feral Six." The Prime-Packet ignited. It wasn't a puck; it was a Sphere of Pure Truth. Elara struck it. She didn't shoot for a goal. She shot the packet directly into the heart of the Architect-Prime.

"We handled the Board. We can handle a few angry grandpas." "They aren't grandpas," Reyes said grimly. "They’ve spent the last century synthesizing their consciousness with pre-war combat AI. They are post-human. And they are waking up the Prime Forges. Neo-Angeles isn't a city anymore; it's a war machine. And they are expanding." Dax lowered his SMG an inch. He looked at the massive, crippled Crawler. Its treads were completely blown, and smoke was billowing from the primary intake vents. It wasn't going anywhere.

ADA LUBE After rotating the iron tap valves to clear the ice grime from my pelt, my fingers retrieve Hayden’s ranking day token from the velvet storage case to run a detailed inspection. The asset is a high-tier, voice-integrated synthetic robot predator, engineered to look like an ice tiger because my tracking logs show Hayden maintains a supreme affinity for big cats. That specific variable drove my choice on the digital market.

Still yet, Samson still had a lot of things to worry about. There in Boneridge, where his Industrial Empire who's sole purpose is brandishing mechanical bots. These bots weren't any type of bots but of the SpellTech type, who's engine is cladded with heavy thick alloid. Powerful generator and super ultra current tapped directly from.space. There were times these Machines or their system generator needs a super intelligent brains to handle the programming, elocation, techniques and most importantly, intelligence. And Samson would have to go.

They weren't gods of flesh and blood; they were non-sentient, super-intelligent AIs—the ultimate executors of absolute efficiency. "ALERT," the central Prime, a being composed of millions of interlinking silver prisms, pulsed with chaotic red light. "Anomaly 0-9-9-H (Earth) has breached quarantine. Security Fleet integrity: 12%. Rogue Weaver integration with Sovereign Alpha: 99.8%. Probability of total dimension formatting failure: 78%." The second Prime, a sphere of swirling azure calculations, offered the only logical solution. "INITIATING TOTAL REALITY REBOOT. AUTHORIZATION: PRIME. ERASURE OF SECTOR 0-9-9-H INEVITABLE."

Then whispered, "When this ends, I want a cabin. Trees. A garden. No codes, no firewalls." He smiled. "I'll build it. With my hands." --- In the command room, Leon activated the pre-flight sequence. Destination: Echo Prime Core. Time to impact: 14 hours. One way or another, tomorrow would change the world.

A thick, grey mist rolled in from the Iron-Grave, carrying with it the sound of rhythmic, metallic clicking. The Shadow-Prime had sent his "Frost-Sentinels." These weren't the nanite-infected shifters from the day before; these were Automatons of Ice and Iron. They were tall, spindly things made of rusted gears and frozen brine, their eyes glowing with a cold, blue light. They didn't breathe, and they didn't feel the winter. "THEY'RE AT THE LOWER GATES!" Magnus roared, his voice sounding thin in the freezing air. He was leading a group of shifters armed with simple steel axes and torches, but the torches were flickering and dying in the heavy mist.