Transformers Prime: Evolution

7. Ancient Power

The wind howled across the barren landscape as I stood sentinel, my optics focused on the excavation site below. The rocky mountain, jagged and ancient, loomed over us, shielding the legendary Star Saber from prying eyes for countless millennia. Yet, the Decepticons, under Megatron's will, had found it. It was now a matter of possession, of keeping it from falling into Autobot hands.

I didn't crave it. Unlike Megatron, whose thirst for power was as boundless as his rage, I knew what my strength was. The Star Saber wouldn't improve me—wouldn't make me more efficient or deadly than I already was. Weapons like that distracted weaker bots, clouded their vision with the promise of glory. I only valued the hunt, the precise execution of a mission, the elimination of weakness.

Megatron had ordered me to secure the perimeter while the main forces worked tirelessly to extract the saber. Insects and Vehicons were scurrying like vermin, digging, chipping away at the rock, trying to unearth the weapon. Meanwhile, RazorSpine was directing the Vehicons with his methodical efficiency, urging them to double their efforts.

"Move faster," RazorSpine growled, his deep voice filled with an intensity that spoke of his loyalty to Megatron's cause. "Megatron won't tolerate delays."

I watched from my elevated position, barely moving. My steps were calculated, each shift of my weight deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. The heavy clang of my feet echoed with each powerful step, my frame casting long shadows as I circled around, surveying the excavation.

ShrikeClaw's sharp, chaotic voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the momentary silence. He had taken to the skies, scouting the perimeter from above. "No sign of Autobots yet, but I wouldn't mind if they showed up soon. It's getting boring up here."

"Focus, ShrikeClaw," I growled, irritated by his reckless attitude. "You'll get your fight when the time comes. Until then, stay sharp."

The idea of ShrikeClaw's chaotic energy combined with the strategic importance of this relic grated on me. His unpredictability was useful in battle, but at a moment like this—where precision was required—he was a liability. Still, he served his purpose.

As I resumed my patrol, my optics were drawn once more to the saber embedded deep within the mountain. Its energy pulsed faintly, a reminder of its ancient power. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to wonder what it would feel like to hold such a weapon. Would it change me? Would it amplify what already existed within me?

I dismissed the thought quickly. I didn't need it. I had all the power I required.

RazorSpine, always the diligent warrior, was guiding the Vehicons with the precision of a tactician. His loyalty was without question—his focus always on the mission. As he pushed one of the heavy excavation vehicles into position, I caught his gaze.

"The Autobots know of this place," I said, my voice low and cold. "They will come."

RazorSpine nodded, his optics narrowing. "We'll be ready."

His calm, bestial confidence was something I appreciated. RazorSpine had no illusions of grandeur, no need for recognition—just the mission, the hunt. It was why he remained at my side.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the mountains as the rock around the Star Saber began to break under the pressure of the excavation. I could feel the energy radiating from it, but it remained lodged in the stone, defying all efforts to be freed.

Megatron's voice roared over the comms, seething with frustration. "Why isn't it moving!?" His rage was palpable, a storm of fury threatening to consume everything in its path.