The AllSpark's reactivation unleashed its power in an instant. In a flash, faster than light itself, it surged across the ocean, transcending time and space, engulfing the entire Atlantic Fleet in a wave of mechanical awakening.
One moment, they were just machines. The next moment, every steel warship, every screw and every bolt, had come alive, resonating with Martin, who felt every single part as if it were an extension of himself.
This was the terrifying power of the AllSpark, the source of life for all Cybertronians.
It was never meant to be on Earth. The AllSpark belonged in the planetary core of Cybertron, the metallic world it sustained, a source of both life and energy, vital to the planet's existence.
Capable of sustaining a hyper-advanced world and nurturing legions of Energon-hungry Cybertronians, the AllSpark's energy output was incalculable; cosmic in scale, exceeding the limits of a single universe.
Frankly, even a single Infinity Stone paled in comparison. Those were mass-produced cosmic toys, every universe had a full set.
In the grand multiversal scheme, they were practically worthless. Each set of Infinity Stones was bound to its native universe; removed from it, they were no more useful than a rock on the street.
Unless… it was one of the three Prime Infinity Stones, the only truly unique ones that existed across the entire multiverse. Only those could stand on equal footing with the AllSpark.
In the classic crossover comic Avengers vs. Justice League, DC's Darkseid snatched the Infinity Gauntlet, examined it, and then shattered it with disdain. "This power does not belong to this universe," he sneered. "It is useless."
"Before all machines, I am the Supreme God of the Mechanical Realm."
Martin's eyes burned with divine radiance as he faced the ocean.
There was no spring bloom in his gaze, only domination and the unquenchable desire for control.
The towering waves that followed were mere ripples in the presence of his godlike might. The spray crowned him as if to lift the throne of a divine ruler.
Suddenly, the shout of "Open fire!" echoed across the American continent.
As Martin stretched out his hand and seized control of the fleet before him, the Atlantic Fleet, its countless missile systems, launched in unison. A blinding storm of warheads soared toward the coastline, all locked on Martin and his monstrous legions.
Boom!
Admiral Deacons Barlow, red-eyed and hoarse, gave the order for a final stand. He would not allow Martin a chance to retaliate. That army, millions strong, could level a continent with concentrated firepower.
But no matter how skilled a commander Barlow was, he was still only a man. And so were his soldiers. Against a Tier-4 lifeform capable of altering the fate of a living planet, humanity was nothing but ants.
Not a single shot landed. The entire fleet fell silent.
"Fire! Why the hell aren't we firing?!" Barlow roared, bloodshot eyes wide with rage.
"General… it's too late," said the lieutenant bitterly. "We've lost command of the fleet."
"All of it?"
"Yes, sir. All of it. The most powerful fleet this planet has ever mustered, the Atlantic Fleet, no longer belongs to us."
The lieutenant removed his cap, drew a cross over his chest, and gave a hollow laugh, eyes full of despair.
Then it happened.
Hundreds of warships, each a floating fortress, began to transform.
The mechanical shift was a maelstrom of grinding steel and groaning alloys. On each ship, millions of parts broke formation and began to reconfigure.
But it was the three Nimitz-class carriers that stole the world's breath. Each one, over 330 meters long, an island unto itself, began a metamorphosis of such magnitude that the sea itself churned violently around them.
People watching via satellite feeds were stunned.
Have you ever seen a 300-meter colossus transform from a ship into a towering robotic titan? Now they had.
As the metal giants rose, monstrous cannon arrays unfurled along their bodies—serpentine, bristling with dread. Their silhouettes alone struck terror into the hearts of all who saw them.
With each step, they kicked up waves as tall as skyscrapers, crashing into the coastline like localized tsunamis.
Worse still, these titanic constructs expelled military personnel from within, flinging them like ragdolls into the air. Many closed their eyes in terror, unable to bear the sight.
From such a height, hitting the ocean was no different from concrete.
They were already dead.
"Kill them all. Leave no survivors. Let their blood stain the sea. This is the price of defiance."
Martin's voice was calm, almost gentle.