Dawn.
Over the Endless Sea, the first light of day had yet to fully tear through the veil of night.
A black line appeared on the surface of the sea.
It stretched from east to west, as if stitching the entire horizon together.
At first, it was just a faint silhouette, but after a mere twenty minutes, the black line rapidly thickened and rose.
It was a living tide, a wall of countless dark green bodies, slick with scales and slime, piled one on top of another.
They surged toward the continent.
The sound arrived before the sight.
On the defense line, tens of kilometers away, the soldiers of the Royal Army heard the bloodcurdling noise.
Hundreds of thousands of bodies thrashed, kicked, and crushed against each other in the water, merging into a low, chaotic roar, as if the entire sea were screaming in agony.
Inside Cybertron's control center.
Allen sat on a high-backed chair, his chin propped on one hand.
