Transformers All Sentient [My AU]

[End of the day]

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......[Continue from the latest chapter].........

Setinel leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep, tired sigh. ".........finally...," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. The light outside had shifted, casting the office in the warm glow of the evening, signaling the end of another long, mentally exhausting day.

He'd finished the day's work—at least the duties expected of him, the ones he could handle without losing his composure. On the surface, Setinel still carried himself like his old self: the arrogant, all-mighty leader that many in this timeline revered. He wore the mask well, acting as though nothing had changed, as though he were still the same cocky, untouchable figure who once controlled the fate of Cybertron.

But beneath that facade... everything was different now.

Setinel knew better than anyone how much damage he had done. Every decision, every selfish act, had rippled out, leaving behind a legacy of corruption and ruin. The rotten system he'd once built still thrived—illegal operations, twisted loyalties, and crooked alliances carried on in the shadows, led by mechs who were just as twisted as his old self had been. Those who had thrived under the old regime were still out there, operating freely in this timeline.

But not this time.

"............not this time," Setinel thought, his optics narrowing with determination as he began to clear away the datapads scattered across his desk. His office, adorned with the same golden decor he once took such pride in, now felt suffocating. Every corner of it reminded him of what he had once valued, and how misguided those values had been.

He stood up, straightening himself as he gathered the last few pads, still deep in thought. Setinel knew it wouldn't be easy—undoing the damage he had done would take time. A hell of a lot of time. There were too many layers of deception, too many players still in the game. But this time... he would not let those under him continue their twisted ways.

He'd make things right, no matter how long it took.

The datapads clutched in his hand, Setinel took a final look around his office. He was supposed to be the leader, the one with all the answers. But right now, all he had were questions—questions about how to fix what was so deeply broken.

With a resigned sigh, he turned toward the door, ready to head back to his quarters. The work had only just begun, and Setinel knew that the hardest part still lay ahead. But he had been given this second chance for a reason, and for once in his long life, he wouldn't waste it.

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Before leaving his office, Setinel paused at the threshold, his optics drifting back to his desk. His mind, already cluttered with the weight of this "second chance," tangled with thoughts of the messy situation awaiting him. The corruption he once nurtured was alive and thriving, woven deeply into the fabric of Cybertron. Every move he made from here on would need to be precise—every action could ripple, twisting the future even more than it already had been.

But then his optics fell upon something he had been trying to avoid since the beginning of this timeline: the relics. Those small, almost forgotten objects, buried among his data pads and belongings, stared back at him as though taunting him with their silent significance.

The relics were a reminder of everything—of the friends he had betrayed, the trust he had shattered, and the terrible choices that had led Cybertron into chaos. Each one of them represented a past that could never be erased, no matter how much he wished otherwise.