Prime of the Elemental Nations

Chapter 11

The Shattered Connection

The ground didn't just shake; it groaned under the weight of Superion's footfalls. Optimus dived between the giant's legs, the wind from a massive metal fist whistling inches above his head. The force of the blow pulverized a stone well behind him, sending shards of rock flying like shrapnel.

"Perspector, I hope you're moving fast!" Optimus gritted out, skidding to a halt and bracing his Energon sword. "His movements are erratic, but the raw power is still there. I can't stay on the defensive forever without the village becoming a graveyard."

"Working on it, Optimus," Perspector's voice crackled, competing with the roar of Superion's engines. "The signal controlling them is localized. It's using a high-frequency override—similar to a Dark Energon pulse but more... surgical. I'm attempting to broadcast a counter-frequency, but I need you to strike the junction point on his back. Between the silver plating of Silverbolt's fuselage!"

Optimus looked up. The "junction point" was nearly fifty feet in the air, guarded by the thrashing limbs of a giant.

"Understood," Optimus replied.

Superion let out a mechanical howl—a dissonant chord of five voices screaming in unison. The giant leaned down, its optics flashing a violent, flickering purple. "Optimus... help... us... KILL HIM!"

The combiner's right arm—formed by Air Raid—transformed into a massive cannon. A blast of heat-seeking energy spiraled toward Optimus. He transformed instantly, his legs screaming against the dirt as he surged forward in lion mode. The blast hit the ground behind him, sending him flying into the air. Optimus used the momentum, shifting back into robot mode mid-air, using the flying debris as a stepping stone.

He leaped, catching the edge of Superion's knee joint.

"Silverbolt! Skydive! Can you hear me?" Optimus shouted, plunging his hand into a gap in the armor to gain a handhold. He began to climb the titan like a mountain. "Fight it! You are Autobots! You are one mind, not a puppet!"

Superion reached back, trying to swat Optimus off like an insect. Optimus felt the massive fingers crush the plating on his shoulder, but he didn't let go. He drove his Energon sword into the plating of the giant's torso, creating a temporary ladder.

Below, the villagers watched in stunned silence. To them, this was a battle of gods—metal titans clashing in the twilight of their home.

"I have the lock!" Perspector shouted over the comms. "Optimus, the frequency is peaking! Strike now, or the feedback will fry their logic circuits permanently!"

Optimus reached the center of Superion's back. There, pulsed a jagged, glowing device—a jagged spike of unknown tech vibrating with a malevolent purple light. It looked like a parasite latched onto a host.

"This ends now," Optimus declared. He raised his sword, the blue glow of his own spark illuminating the mist.

But as he prepared to strike, Superion's head spun 180 degrees around. The cold, flickering optics stared directly into Optimus's soul. A new voice, one not belonging to any of the five Aerialbots, hissed through the combiner's speakers.

"You are a long way from home, Prime. This world's shadows are deeper than you know."

Before Optimus could react, a pulse of pure kinetic energy erupted from the spike. The force threw Optimus backward, sending him hurtling through the air toward the village outskirts. He crashed through a grove of trees, his systems screaming in protest as he hit the earth.

Static filled his vision.

Through the haze, he saw Superion drop to its knees, clutching its head. The purple light began to leak from its seams. The giant was breaking apart—literally. The individual jets were beginning to decouple, but the process was violent, tearing at their frames.

"Perspector! They're tearing themselves apart!" Optimus tried to rise, but his leg servos were jammed.

"The connection is severed, but the feedback is too high!" Perspector shouted. "Optimus, someone is watching from the treeline! To your left!"

Optimus turned his head. There, standing on a high branch overlooking the carnage, was a figure draped in the traditional robes of the Land of Water, its face obscured by a porcelain mask. They held a small, glowing remote—a replica of the spike in Superion's back.

The figure didn't move. They simply tilted their head, watched the Prime struggle, and then vanished into the mist as a final, massive explosion of light consumed the center of the village.

Superion was gone. In his place, five broken, unconscious Autobots lay scattered in the craters of the square.

The mission had just changed. It wasn't a haunting from the past anymore. It was an execution.