Transformers Prime Devastator Novels & Stories

Belphegor mentioned, putting his machine gun on top of his shoulder. “As the name implies, Cosmic Destroyer has the ability to ultimately nullify anything in existence. If it is wielded by a powerful mind, like Belphegor, it can be used to destroy anyone or anything anywhere in existence. It can even nullify and recreate entire timelines and multiverses,” Mammon again segued while I’m in the midst of my deep astonishment. That weapon is off the chart.

"Ghost, he's a genius! The massive tungsten-carbide injection capsules at the base of the drills! They're designed to withstand absolute thermal and kinetic crushing pressure!" I pulled up the schematics for the Prime Forges. "They're cylindrical. Fifty feet long, heavily armored, with no windows. They run on a closed-loop internal life-support system. It's basically a giant, pressurized iron coffin." "Can you put an engine on it?" Dax asked.

The silver Prime didn't just break; its data was physically consumed, its power absorbed by Caleb, making the Sovereign runes on his fur burn with blinding, multiversal fire. The azure and black Primes, seeing the total annihilation of their counterpart, calculated a final, desperate move. "INITIATING SELF-DESTRUCT PROTOCOL. TOTAL DELETION OF THE NEXUS IN 10... 9..." Caleb turned his massive head, molten gold eyes narrowing. He was ready to try and punch the explosion itself. "Don't worry, King of the North," Scarlett said, a wild, brilliant smile breaking through her focused composure. "I'm just going to hit 'Undo'."

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.

"What?" "The Architects... they don't waste good material," Victor said, his eyes darting to the monitors showing the global Harvest. "When the station collapsed, the Heart didn't let him burn. It Recollected him. Jun was the first human to survive a full mutation without losing his cognitive functions. He’s... he’s a 'Prime' now." "Where is he?" Kazimir demanded, his voice cracking.

All crying out simultaneously. "NO! THIS IS NOT—I WILL NOT—" Prime's voice fragments into thousands. The form collapses. Essences scatter. Each one a dead dragon, finally free. When the light fades, nothing remains of Prime except a small crystallized core. The original essence. Ancient. Tiny. Powerless. Jamie picks it up carefully. "Is this what you really are? Without all the stolen power? Just... this?" The crystal pulses weakly. No voice. No threat. Just residual consciousness.

She hid behind the vanity as she peeked to see what was happening. "You traitor!" player 4 winced in pain as he tried to free himself from player 7's grip. This made the player 7 laugh. She had an amused face as she threw a hard object on the vanity, which caused it to completely break. Eleonna almost had a heart attack when she thought she'll be caught. Luckily, the side where she was hiding was still intact. "W-wait... you're not player 7. Who are you?!" the guy furiously shouted at her when he realized the voice wasn't the same as the original player 7 he knew.

a voice boomed. From the center of the room, a massive figure stepped out. It was ten feet tall, made of matte-black armor and white light. It had the shape of a man, but its face was a blank, silver screen. "I am the Sentinel Prime," the machine said. "I am the sum of all the failures. I am the wall that you cannot climb." The machine raised a hand, and a blade of pure energy ignited from its wrist. It didn't lunge. it teleported.

The prototype lifted its head— revealing eyes glowing with unstable gold, flickering violently like broken light. It spoke with a distorted voice: “…more…” Lena recoiled. This wasn’t human. Not anymore. “What is he?” she whispered. Kass replied with a scientist’s pride. “A failed Primarch. A weapon built from purge DNA. Until now, it had no anchor.” Her smile deepened. “But with your stabilizer gene… it might finally survive.” Lena’s pulse thundered. “You’re creating a monster.” “No,” Kass corrected, “I’m perfecting one.”

“Whatever-the-fuck. Anyway, I been watchin’ from here almost every night since then and he’s always gone real late on Wednesday nights. I’m goin’ in there and I’m bustin’ inta that stone chest . . . ” He reached behind him, unzipped his backpack and pulled out a short-handled, hand-held sledgehammer. He hefted it, like he was Thor and it was Mjölnir. “I’m bustin’ in there and gettin’ that box and I’m crushin’ all those tiles to fuckin’ powder. I dunno how I know it, but I do. Dad’s soul is trapped in them things, and I’m gonna let it out.”