Transformers: Prime Airachnid นิยาย & เรื่องราว

oh my fvcking God ! THEY TURNED INTO GIANT FVCKING PURPLE WINGS !! She burst into a giant Purple Dragon as she took complete advantage of her vampiric Shape Shifting power. Her magnificent dragon figure spiralled upward like a bolting screw and soon enough I was caged in her talons before she flew over the bewildered army of confused rogues. The rogues started to run for life when they realized what Aira was upto but it was too late for them now. Checkmate guys.

I see no humor. "He's..." Jewel points at me unable to speak. Pepper picks up where Jewel left off, "He kidnapped an eagle shifter and she's turned him green," Pepper says with laughter between every other word. "What?" I yell. There's no way. She wouldn't. She couldn't. This sends Jewel into spasms. "She's... she's an eagle shifter and she turned you green." "No, it's brittlemortis," I yell in complete frustration. I look at Tahr and even he's smiling now.

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.

The Great Hall didn’t just feel cold; it felt depressurized. The air was thin, tasting of iron and scorched silicon as the "Alpha Prime Virus" fully colonized Caleb’s physical frame. Caleb—or the shimmering, glitching nightmare that had overwritten him—didn't move like a wolf. He moved like a corrupted physics engine. He lunged, but there was no wind-up, no muscular tension. One moment he was thirty feet away; the next, he was a blur of charcoal-grey alloy slamming into Xander’s chest.

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.

"Nothing to worry about." "Ok..." Aria breathed in relief then gasped in disbelief as Prime Johansson suddenly burst into flames that raged out getting bigger and bigger then gutted out to reveal a might red dragon, that stretched its wings and beat the air, lifting off with great effort into the sky and letting out a mighty roar. "Bloody hell!" Kahlia exclaimed. "It never gets any less amazing to witness." Abram said, folding his arms with a proud smile. Next was Prime Evans who transformed with a tornado of inky blackness to reveal a huge black dragon that pierced the night with its sub-sonic screech as it lifted into the air and joined the fire dragon in its hovering.

The Prime Beast smelled her weakness and lunged again. Thorne and two warriors formed a wedge formation to shield Lyra’s flank. Eira took the front with me. I shouted orders with full Alpha dominance. “Left flank, drive it toward the support wall!” “Do not let it scent the heir again!” The pack obeyed instantly, but the Prime Beast ignored formations; it targeted Lyra only. The Prime Beast’s tracking ability is biological, not magical. It can sense the heir’s heartbeat through solid rock.

The retinal scanner blinked green, and the doors slid open with a hiss. Grace stepped inside and shivered. “Feels like walking into a graveyard.” “No,” Adrian said. “This is where monsters are born.” Inside, the Tower was a network of pristine white halls and black-glass chambers. An AI system greeted them. “Welcome, Adrian Ashford. Clearance level: Omega Prime.” The voice was cold. Masculine. Synthetic. It sounded eerily like Alaric. Adrian’s jaw clenched. “Deactivate vocal resemblance.” “Voice adjusted,” the AI responded.

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.

"You think this is a victory? You've just stunted the planet's evolution. You’ve condemned yourselves to a slow death in a scorched forest." ​"We've lived in the soot before," I said, standing up as the steam began to clear. My hands were no longer green; they were charred, the metal scars glowing with residual heat. "We’re quite good at it." ​Sarah-Prime didn't wait for a second exchange. A small, translucent drone descended from the clouds, snatching her up before Killian could reload. As she ascended, she looked down at the blackened spire of the Ninth Core.