Deep within the primeval forest, where towering trees blotted out the sun, a wide river cut through the landscape. On a small plain bordering the water stood a dozen simple thatched huts—a primitive village.
Skygnaw circled the settlement for a moment. It was exactly as Alice had described: a tribe trapped in time, draped in leaves and animal skins, armed with nothing but stone spears and wooden bows.
"It seems that Cybertronian didn't bother teaching them how to build real weapons..."
Alice's human scouts might have missed it, but Skygnaw could see at a glance that the tribe's tactical threat level was exactly zero. The sacrificial cave was located on a nearby ridge. Skygnaw hovered over the peak, eyeing the tribal guards at the entrance. He looked at Carnage.
"Carnage. Go down and neutralize them. Do it quietly."
"By your command, Master."
Carnage lived up to his name. He was a creature of refined lethality, which was precisely why Skygnaw had given him that designation. Retracting a section of his forearm, he deployed a jagged, bone-like vibro-blade and dropped. The guards never even heard the hum of his stabilizers before they were silenced.
Skygnaw descended with the other three. He paused at the cave mouth, considering the tactical layout. "Pestilence, Catastrophe—stay here. Secure the perimeter. Let no one approach."
"Yes, Master."
With the rear guarded, Skygnaw beckoned Carnage and Famine to follow him into the darkness.
Skygnaw had always been a cautious seeker. To put it bluntly, he valued his life above all else. He didn't just have one life to lose; if he were captured or extinguished, his memory crystals could be harvested by the Autobots or other Decepticons, potentially revealing secrets that would cause catastrophic damage to his plans.
As they walked, Carnage and Famine suddenly stiffened, exchanging a tense look.
"Master... energy fluctuations. Commander-Class, but extremely faint."
"I feel it," Skygnaw replied, his voice dropping to a low, metallic rasp. Being a higher combat tier than his subordinates, he had sensed the pulse first. "Proceed with caution."
Skygnaw deployed his weapons—all of them. A lion uses its full strength even when hunting a rabbit, and he was walking into the lair of a warrior a full tier above him, status unknown.
The cave sloped downward at a steady thirty-degree angle. It wasn't wide, but it was unnervingly straight, the walls smoothed as if by high-intensity heat. They were deep under the mountain now.
Crunch.
The floor was littered with bones. Most were animal remains, but Skygnaw spotted the unmistakable shape of human skulls mixed in. He glanced at the debris, his processors whirring.
So the tribe didn't just offer livestock...
Cybertronians had no use for biological offerings; they needed pure energy. Skygnaw wondered why this Commander-Class hermit allowed the locals to dump trash in his sanctuary. Perhaps it was to maintain the "God" persona, keeping the ants from realizing their deity was bleeding out.
A faint, flickering light appeared ahead. The end of the tunnel.
"Master, target in sight."
Skygnaw looked up. Even in the lightless depths, his optics clearly rendered the scene. Leaning against the far wall was a frame completely unlike the modern Decepticon aesthetic. It was skeletal, its proportions jarringly off—a long torso coupled with stunted, jagged legs.
The machine didn't react to their presence. Skygnaw moved past Carnage and Famine, though his internal combat sub-routines remained red-lined.
Up close, the "stunted" look made sense. Both of the ancient warrior's legs had been severed at the knee. The entire chassis was webbed with micro-fractures, looking like a porcelain vase that had been shattered and glued back together. The cave itself looked less like a natural formation and more like an impact crater carved into the mountain.
The head hung low, seemingly lifeless—a hunk of rusting iron. Only the half-exposed Spark chamber in the chest, pulsing with a dim, irregular violet light, proved that the "God" was still online.
"Forgive me, kinsman," Skygnaw whispered, his voice devoid of empathy. "I have need of your Spark."
He lunged.
But the moment his fingers brushed the chest plates, the "corpse" snapped to life. Two brilliant red optics ignited in the gloom.
"What—?"
Before Skygnaw could adjust, a massive, ancient longsword swung out of the shadows with blinding speed.
CLANG!
Skygnaw was sent reeling, his armor groaning as he hit the cave wall.
"Master! Are you functional?" Carnage and Famine rushed to his side.
"I'm fine..." Skygnaw grunted, pushing himself up. He looked at his forearm. There was a deep score mark in the metal—not deep enough to compromise the limb, but the edges were charred. The wound was repairing at a crawl, as if something in the blade was eating away at his nanites.
The ancient machine didn't follow up. It sat there, its power levels bottoming out. After a long silence, a raspy, ancient voice echoed in the chamber:
"Who... are you? Which Prime do you serve? I do not recognize your lineage..."
"And... what cycle is this? How long has the sun burned?"
Skygnaw didn't answer. He couldn't afford a conversation. He lunged again, his intent turning cold and lethal.
BOOM!!
This time, Skygnaw's claws buried themselves deep into the warrior's chest. He felt the ancient alloys give way, but his optics widened in surprise as he felt the sheer density of the internal systems.
"You..." The ancient's jaw moved, attempting to speak as he raised his sword one last time.
Skygnaw gripped the core and wrenched it outward with a violent twist.
"AAAAAUGH!!"
A harrowing, distorted scream filled the cave. The longsword clattered to the floor, and the ancient's arms went limp.
"Whew... handled. No casualties."
Skygnaw looked down at the violet-red sphere of energy pulsing in his hand. He quickly produced a specialized containment vessel from his storage compartment and sealed the Spark inside.
The light was dim, flickering like a dying bulb. Its energy reserves were dangerously low. In Skygnaw's estimation, even if he hadn't intervened, this Spark would have self-extinguished within a few years.
"Master, is he dead?" Famine asked, eyeing the motionless husk.
"Extinguished," Skygnaw nodded. He knelt and picked up the longsword. Despite being a million years old, the edge was still sharp enough to split a molecule, and the blade possessed a natural corrosive property.
"A good blade," Skygnaw mused. He had been lacking a dedicated melee weapon. He looked at the body. "Carnage, Famine—secure the chassis. Even broken, this alloy is valuable."
"Yes, Master."
Skygnaw turned and led the way back out of the cave. Outside, a few more human bodies lay in the dirt. The tribe had apparently tried to swarm Pestilence and Catastrophe, only to realize the difference between "Gods" and "Monsters."
"Pestilence," Skygnaw commanded, "take this chassis back to Base One in Alaska. Ensure Brawl does not see what you are carrying."
Among his four lieutenants, Pestilence was the most disciplined and introverted—the perfect choice for a sensitive transport mission. Carnage and Catastrophe were too focused on destruction, and Famine was too restless.
Once Pestilence disappeared into the sky as a distant black speck, Skygnaw turned to the others. "We move out."
Over the next twenty-four hours, Skygnaw and the remaining Horsemen visited the four other sites Alice had identified.
Two were dead ends. The other two held the remains of ancient Seekers, but like the one in the Pyramids, they had long since turned to dust. Their Sparks had vanished eons ago, leaving behind nothing but oxidized husks that crumbled at a touch.
It proved that the Commander in the forest had been an anomaly—a miracle of survival.
Skygnaw was satisfied. The odds of finding one living ancient were astronomical, and he had succeeded. His goal was achieved.
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