Earth had not known peace for some time.
One cataclysmic event followed another, each one leaving behind trails of destruction and death.
From the Hulk's brutal clash with Abomination…
To the decimation of hundreds of military installations…
To the nuclear detonation that reshaped continental topography…
To Odin's descent upon Earth, which ignited the Battle of New York and left tens of millions dead…
And finally, the confrontation between Martin and the Ancient One, a battle so colossal it shook the fabric of the cosmos itself.
Earth, tossed like a leaf in a typhoon, trembled under the pressure, billions gripped in terror, praying for salvation.
The pulse of history had never raced faster.
Anyone with the height to see the broader picture could recognize one undeniable truth:
Martin stood at the center of every cataclysm.
This monster of a man had risen with terrifying swiftness; an anomaly, a miracle, a calamity.
Wherever he went, his ambition scorched the land. His iron will, unyielding cruelty, and insatiable hunger for power carved bloody swaths through the world.
He was a conqueror.
Loss of life? Collateral.
Ethics? Negotiable.
So long as his objectives were met, so long as the gain outweighed the risk, he would even wager his own life.
Never mistake a true conqueror for some power-drunk tyrant basking in supremacy.
That kind of fool dies screaming.
"Shockwave," Martin said coldly. "Coordinate with Ratchet and Dr. Banner. I want a full tactical plan, immediately."
"Site selection is just the beginning. I need atmospheric composition reports from Cybertron, geological element breakdowns, land-ocean distribution schematics. Everything."
Shockwave bowed his cranium slightly. "At your command, Creator."
He turned and departed without delay.
Martin nodded faintly and stood, gazing into the distance.
His vision had long since transcended Earth's limited horizon, and his senses now sharpened to bloodlust in the air.
Everything… was changing.
"Initiate the lottery."
He gave the command mentally.
A holographic interface flared to life in his mind's eye, countless glyphs racing across the screen.
Ding!
[Universe-Level Prestige Draw Initiated!]
[Congratulations, Host: You've acquired — Ancient Special-Class Transformer (Sealed)]
Sealed?
Martin frowned and opened the selection, pulling up the detailed entry.
[Ancient Transformers: a unique classification encompassing multiple hyper-rare variants. Some are absurdly powerful. Unlocking them requires specific energies or artifacts.]
Martin understood immediately.
It was just like when he'd unlocked the Decepticons by slaying Abomination, and the Autobots by defeating T'Challa and the Panther God.
These ancient Dinobot-class Transformers required a similarly powerful catalyst.
"Grimlock and his kind are fine, but the one I'm really interested in…"
He tapped another glyph.
A trio of monstrous Cybertronian beasts emerged as a rotating 3D model.
Predaking.
A legend from the ancient age of Cybertron, Predacons who had survived through eons, into the final war between Autobots and Decepticons.
When united, the five Predacons could merge into the devastating combiner known as Predaking, a living weapon of mass destruction.
Even as individuals, Predacons could rival titans like Megatron.
But Predaking? He was apocalypse incarnate.
Martin's eyes narrowed.
"To awaken the ancient ones, I'll need a power source strong enough to breach their seals…"
He knew what he needed to do.
It was time to pay a visit, to those who possessed the Power of the Dragon.
K'un-Lun. And the Hand.
"We start with the Hand. Kill their five leaders. Study the Dragon's power firsthand."
The order fell like a hammer.
"Deploy to Japan. Bring me those five old fools—alive."
Transformers across the globe received the command. Their optics flashed with lethal purpose.
They didn't care if the Hand wished to negotiate or resist. Martin only wanted one thing, the Dragon energy those five men had stolen.
"Mission received: Terminate the Hand. Capture the Five Fingers."
The Ground Bridge opened with a surge of power.
Under the joint command of Optimus Prime and Megatron, a Cybertronian strike force surged through the dimensional rift, appearing instantly in Japan.
Hand ninjas swarmed forward, weapons drawn.
"You dare invade our sanctum?" one barked. "The Hand has no quarrel with you!"
BOOM!
Megatron's fist obliterated him, flesh and bone turned to paste.
"Your quarrels are irrelevant," he snarled. "We're here for your leaders."
Optimus Prime glanced down grimly, frowning.
He unsheathed a massive sword, four meters of divine alloy, imbued with the might of Mjolnir, Stormbreaker, and something even darker.
"I don't want to harm you," Optimus said solemnly. "Bring forth your leaders. Now."
The sword's presence was suffocating. Even seasoned assassins found their breath caught in their throats.
Suddenly, five holograms flickered into being, figures cloaked in shadow, faces unreadable.
"We've always respected Mr. Martin," said Madame Gao, voice tight with suppressed fear. "We've never crossed him. What's the meaning of this invasion?"
Her spine trembled. The machines standing before her were monstrous, but the being behind them?
That one radiated godhood. A living deity forged in wrath and steel.
The Hand could battle Daredevil, maybe. But Martin?
Martin would end them.
Even the Power of the Dragon wouldn't save them now.
Megatron stepped forward and crushed the nearest hologram with a single stomp.
"Our target is you five," he growled. "The rest of your clan is worthless. Leave. Or die."
"…Kill them!" came the resigned order.
The Five Fingers exchanged glances, each one reading the fear mirrored in the others' eyes.
"What did we do to earn Martin's wrath?"
"Why target only us?"
"It must be the Dragon's power," muttered Murakami, drawing his katana with a trembling hand.
"If it weren't, they would've razed the entire Hand."
Centuries ago, the Five Fingers had once been warriors of K'un-Lun.
But corrupted by greed, they stole fragments of the Dragon's power and fled, using it to create the Hand and grant themselves unnatural longevity.
But now, that same stolen power had marked them for death.
"We can't give up the Dragon's power," Madame Gao whispered.
"Escape. If we're lucky, there may still be a sliver of hope in the future…"
She closed her eyes in agony.
From 1588 to now, the Hand had endured.
But today, their era ended, with a whisper… and a roar of metal.
-------
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to my Patreon ——— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]