M Prime Warframe Novels & Stories

Ray POV:- I have everything's in this world which a man can only dream and which everyone wants like money,name, respect and a beautiful wife what else a man wants I am doing my PHD in engineering and I am future leader of XO gang now you think why I choose study. I have lot's of money and fame so why I have to waste my time ,well I have simple answer it's my passion and being a leader I have to know everything .

“There is no sign of my son being a prime. Maverick is just a strong boy who happens to be exhibiting his wolf traits early. It’s a typical genetic spike. I am sure you have seen plenty of dominant children exhibit early growth in the past." Bree cleared her throat, stepping into her role as mediator to back me up, her voice smooth and academic. "If I may, Elder... since you called me here as an expert on the matter, I can confirm that there have been no verified cases of a true Prime in the modern era. Every single case that has ever come up has been thoroughly debunked upon examination. They are always false leads born out of parental pride or standard genetic mutations. The rules of the b

Wilmot POV That little shit. Neriah dragged Jemisha, Regina, and me through the mud in front of the camera. I can’t get a hold of the producer to ask him not to include that footage. I’m going there first thing on Monday and demanding to speak with him. Jemisha shifted, and she has a weak brown wolf. She is not an Alpha, so that she wouldn’t have a strong wolf. She takes after her mother. Regina’s wolf isn’t strong either.

It seemed like she deeply despised Primeria. Adrian remained indifferent with a calmness in his eyes. Primeria was a country in the spiritual realm, comparable in strength to Ciawales. From the situation, it seemed that a battle was about to unfold, and judging from the aura of the powerful figure in the sky, it was likely an advanced Fusion. Such a strong individual could destroy everything with just a wave of their hand. It was no wonder that the citizens were in a panic. After all, an expert at this level could easily destroy everyone with a mere gesture.

"We received your... loud notification. The shattering of a Harvester Command Vessel is a feat usually reserved for the elder civilizations. We wished to see the 'primitive' world that managed it." "You've seen it," I said, stepping forward. I let the "Holy Fire" shimmer just beneath the surface of my skin, a silent warning that the primitive world had teeth. "I am Elena, the Argentum Prime. This is Killian, Alpha-Prime of the Silver Line. You used the word 'Acknowledge.' What exactly are you acknowledging?"

The provisional council chamber beneath the rebuilt Apex tower had transformed into a theater of controlled terror. The long table, once a symbol of fragile democracy, now served as Prime’s stage for interrogation. Clone-Prime sat at its head, wearing Damian’s face with the cold precision of a mask carved from ice. His black suit was impeccable, open collar revealing the faint scar that mirrored the original, but the eyes held none of the fire that had defined Damian through every hell they had survived. They were empty. Calculating. Hungry for the destruction he had planned all along.

—a floating monolith of archived history—and swung himself into a landing on a platform made of Compressed-Silence. Above them, the aperture of the bridge hummed with a cold, sterile light. Standing at the edge was the Alpha-Prime 2.0. Her silver hair shimmered like a dying star, and her eyes—that chilling, calculated violet—looked down at them not with hatred, but with a terrifying Indifference.

"Has his dominant scent been present within the central sector during this rotation?" Nyelle hesitated, her tail dropping into the shadows. "The Sovereign's tracks are rare here..." "The variable tracks perfectly. Ensure your own core rests tonight, Nyelle," I commanded, projecting a flat, masculine indifference I did not possess. Of course the Alpha-Prime’s boots avoided this domestic hearth. His primary coordinates were anchored to Mireya Duskrell’s warm, academic quarters—a victorious, high-born sanctuary. Why would a warlord return to an unranked wolf's cold ledge?

Fortunately, Warzone stepped in and used a shield she had generated to block the attack. After that happened, Plymouth used his gravity powers to manipulate the wreckage on the facility floor and repelled them against us. But Vicegrip then charged up his arms to slice up the debris. Then Primal kneed Stronghold in his gut to weaken his hold on him. " Ouch! You son of a bitch! ” Stronghold said. He then pulled back his arm and slammed Primal’s head on the ground. " Primal!” I screamed. ” I then used my tiger shrouds and flew above Stronghold while he kept his hand pressed down on Rick’s head.

From the shadows behind Elena, two figures emerged. They were "Perfected Shields." They looked like Nevan, but their skin was a seamless, metallic silver, and their eyes were the cold, radiant gold of the Harvester. They didn't have souls; they had protocols. They were the "Alpha-Prime" units—the versions of Nevan that Elena had always wanted to build. "Kill the Shield," Elena commanded. "Retrieve the Heir. The Mother will be integrated." The two Alphas lunged.