Transformers Animated Sentinel Prime Novels & Stories

They weren't like the Frost-Walkers; they were cyborgs integrated with Void-tech, their limbs replaced by shimmering black chrome that hummed with a necrotic frequency. "Kael, Victor—take the Sentiners," I commanded, my voice echoing with the resonance of the Well. "The Doctor and the Mother... they belong to me." "Julian, his tablet controls the containment field!" Victor shouted as he engaged the first Sentinel, his pulse-pistol flaring. "If he drops it too fast, the backlash will vaporize the Tundra!" Kael didn't wait for a strategy. He lunged at two Sentinels at once, a whirlwind of claws and golden eyes. "Just keep the light steady, Julian! I’ll handle the scrap metal!"

Over fifty thousand regional wolf-guards had thrown down their arms, falling into formation behind the nine-foot titan. And at the center of the massive, glowing red war-host, moving at breakneck speed along the grand imperial highway straight toward the capital... was a solitary, massive iron structure being dragged by six mutated shadow-beasts. "What is that central unit?" Zane asked, leaning over the holographic map, his brow furrowed. Asher’s voice returned, dropping into a whisper that carried the cold weight of absolute death: "It's an ancient mobile execution platform, Zane... The First Prime isn't marching to negotiate with the High Council's remnants. He has declared a Primal Trial.

[ANOMALY IDENTIFIED: THE MOTHER] [STATUS: TERMINAL PETRIFICATION 94%] [VERDICT: EXHAUSTED CONDUCTOR] The Prime’s voice wasn't a sound; it was a tectonic roar that bypassed my ears and vibrated directly in my stone ribs. He ignored me. He looked at Leo—the "System Correction" he had planted in the bloodline five centuries ago. [REMAINDER. RETURN. REBOOT.] Leo went rigid. His small fists opened, his gold static flaring until the room turned white. He didn't look at the Prime with hate; he looked at him with a terrifying, clinical devotion.

The goal of dying in peace rather than being cursed to follow evil biddings for the rest of their existence. They were the last of the Primes, an ancient blood of werewolves made to be a puppet of warring tribes. And Augustus vowed to protect his brothers no matter what. He had no time to waste now. He needed to think fast on how to break their curse and be human to find peace they had been seeking for what seemed an eternity now. Yet he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing in their life was. Distraction would do him no good. Entering his room on the third floor, he pulled off his hoodie over his head, realizing something was in the front pocket. Reaching for it, he stared at an I.D., reading t