Chapter 227: The Current State of Earth

"What a coincidence..." Skygnaw thought, his optics narrowing slightly.

His departure from Cybertron three years ago was common knowledge across the faction; Megatron certainly knew of it.

Yet Megatron had chosen this precise moment to inquire about his return while simultaneously ordering Shockwave to mobilize the remaining Decepticon forces for deployment to Earth.

The timeline was shifting into place. Megatron clearly knew what Sentinel Prime was preparing to do.

Recalling Shockwave and the others from Cybertron was a calculated move to preserve their forces before the coming storm.

"It seems I am right on time," Skygnaw mused, looking out over the bustling metropolis of Iacon. A faint, calculating smile touched his face. "In that case, Shockwave, execute Lord Megatron's orders immediately."

It aligned with his own goals regardless. Whether to examine the nature of Dark Energon or to uncover the mysteries hidden beneath Earth's surface, a return to the planet was essential.

As an intelligent, conscious being, ambition was an ever-present force—yet it was precisely that primitive drive that pushed a warrior toward greater heights.

Having attained Prime status only three years ago, Skygnaw was already looking toward the next threshold: Supreme-tier status.

Yet while Prime-level combatants like Megatron and Optimus Prime served as clear baselines, Supreme-tier power remained entirely shrouded in mystery.

The Thirteen Primes had long vanished from the cosmos, leaving no records of their true nature behind.

Furthermore, they had been brought into existence directly by Primus, bypassing standard evolutionary paths.

During his final meeting with Alpha Trion, Skygnaw had considered analyzing the old Prime's frame, but the risk had been too great. Even a dying Prime possessed formidable power against a Commander-tier warrior.

Now that he possessed the requisite strength, Alpha Trion was gone.

Whether Alpha Trion's ultimate sacrifice had truly served Cybertron remained debatable, though the planetary decay seen in ancient historical records offered a grim answer.

To unlock the secrets of a Supreme-tier frame, the answers must lie within Cybertron itself...

After Shockwave departed to organize the deployment, Skygnaw stood alone on the upper platform of the Decagon, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon beyond Iacon.

The arriving fleet settled across the docks of Iacon. The local Decepticons viewed the newly arrived Mindborn with open curiosity.

However, upon learning that these organics were a vassal race under Skygnaw's personal banner, no one dared show disrespect.

Serving the same Prime meant maintaining professional discipline across the ranks.

In contrast to the quiet routine around Iacon, the Central Spaceport—Skygnaw's primary base of operations—was alive with activity.

Warships hovered in tight formation above the gantries as crews moved continuously along the boarding ramps, their faces bright with excitement.

Skygnaw had returned not only with native ground forces, but with critical supplies that the local garrison desperately lacked.

During the construction phase on Planet Kugrage, raw material extraction and processing had proceeded alongside shipyard production.

As a result, every transport in the fleet was loaded with compressed Energon cubes.

This foresight eased the severe energy deficit facing the local garrison, earning Skygnaw the fierce loyalty of the rank and file.

While his initial command over the Central Spaceport had relied on his Prime-level status and Megatron's formal commission, his authority now rested on genuine respect.

To the lower-tier soldiers, a leader who secured vital resources for his troops was worthy of complete devotion.

In the past, they had bled for high commanders without receiving such consideration.

A steady supply of Energon meant their joints would not lock up with rust and their optics would not be forced into dark stasis.

No soldier wished to fade into the silent void of deep stasis, constantly fearing that logistics might flag their inactive frame for recycling under Shockwave's resource conservation protocols.

High-ranking commanders, long removed from lower-tier operations, rarely understood the daily realities facing standard soldiers.

They assumed that every Decepticon carried fifty Energon cubes in personal storage as a matter of course.

While Skygnaw had risen through the ranks himself, his rapid ascension to Prime status meant he, too, maintained a certain detachment from low-tier struggles.

During his time on Earth, he had never faced an energy crisis, and upon returning to Cybertron, his high command status guaranteed abundant resources.

As the Decepticons at the Central Spaceport celebrated, Skygnaw quietly departed the Decagon, leaving Iacon behind.

He remained unaware that a simple logistical decision had solidified his absolute authority over the aerial corps, though had he known, he would have paid it little mind.

His primary objective was preserving a capable combat force, and the aerial corps served as a vital asset under his direct command. He held the title of Decepticon Air Commander by right of strength, and even Megatron would hesitate to revoke it lightly.

An hour later, Skygnaw arrived at the crater of Kaon, descending once again into the silent depths of the Well of All Sparks.

Unfortunately, his previous encounter with Vector Sigma had been a unique occurrence. A thorough search of the subterranean chamber yielded no new relics or anomalies.

Undeterred, Skygnaw took to the air, visiting the ruined sectors of Cybertron's other major city-states over the following days while Shockwave organized the troop transports for off-world deployment.

Meanwhile, on Earth...

Three years was a mere blink of an optic to a long-lived Cybertronian, but for human society, it was more than enough time for the world to move on.

Though small skirmishes persisted beneath the surface, Earth had seen no major open conflicts since the battle in Egypt.

Humanity had gradually adapted to the presence of giant alien lifeforms living among them.

While public terminology varied, governments worldwide adopted a unified classification for both factions: Transformers.

Naturally, the presence of alien titans drew public criticism. Rumors surrounding the classified status of Diego Garcia had eventually leaked to the press, fueling outrage among fringe groups who organized frequent street protests.

Yet the United States government maintained a quiet, cooperative relationship with Optimus Prime and the Autobots.

The Decepticons, conversely, remained active targets across every military network.

Over the past three years, Optimus Prime had led his Autobots across the globe, hunting down the remnants of Megatron's forces.

Severely damaged during the battle in Egypt, Megatron had been forced to hide in the shadows like a wounded beast, nursing his injuries while awaiting the execution of Sentinel Prime's long-term plan.

At the same time, world governments expanded their military stockpiles, wary that a desperate Megatron might strike out in a final, destructive gamble.

Meanwhile, Sam Witwicky—who had fought alongside the Autobots on multiple battlefields—had spent the last three years enjoying a quiet, normal life through his first three years of college.

On the surface, the planet remained calm. The Ark hovered undetected in outer space, and the Decepticons appeared thoroughly suppressed by Autobot hunter-killer teams.

Yet light-years away in the Centauri system, a massive armada had broken orbit, shifting the balance of power across the sector.

Neither humanity nor the Autobots realized the scale of the storm heading toward them.

In Chicago, Illinois...

Morning sunlight filtered through the trees surrounding a private suburban home, casting soft, dappled light across a polished hardwood staircase.

A pair of bare feet stepped quietly onto the top stair, moving softly so as not to wake the house.

A tall blonde woman stepped lightly down the hallway, wearing an oversized white button-down shirt that hung loosely around her frame.

Her golden waves brushed against her shoulders, creating a striking contrast against the crisp fabric.

Carrying a dark blue silk tie in one hand, Carly walked into the second-floor bedroom and looked toward the bed, her voice carrying a warm, teasing lilt:

"Time to wake up, my hero."

At the sound of her voice, Sam stirred, pulling the blanket back as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Ah... hey," Sam yawned, blinking up at her. "Carly, thanks for waking me... but what's with the tie?"

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