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Prologue: The Rift
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Prime stood on the ridge alone, his mask catching the faint moonlight. The others slept behind in camp — even Omega's vigilance had finally given in. But Prime never rested. He couldn't. Something in the air pulled at him, a whisper no one else could hear.
A shimmer cut the horizon.
It wasn't light. It wasn't shadow. It was both — twisting, pulling, unraveling the sky into a swirling wound.
Prime took a step closer, silent as always. The rift pulsed, like a heartbeat. He knew this wasn't natural. It was a call. A trap. A doorway.
And without a sound, Prime walked in.
The world swallowed him.
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The rift spat him into madness.
A dimension of endless mirrors, each reflecting a twisted reality. Shadows moved wrong, bending against their owners. Mountains floated upside down. Oceans bled into the sky. He felt the weight of countless worlds pressing on his shoulders.
He drew his blades, but they wavered — as though the space around him tried to erase their existence.
"...Where am I?"
The words barely left his mouth before something answered.
Not with sound.
Not with sight.
But with pressure. A crushing awareness that seeped into his bones.
From the black glass below him, a shape began to crawl out. White ooze, dripping like melted wax, streaked with black lightning veins. It didn't roar. It didn't scream.
It only stared. A single circle for an eye, rimmed in thick black.
Prime's mask tilted, unreadable. But his grip tightened.
They clashed.
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The battle tore through dimensions. Prime slashed through rivers of liquid sky, dodged tendrils of ooze that reshaped into blades, hammers, and beasts. The creature had no form — only hunger.
Prime cut. It reformed.
Prime burned it with portal-fire. It split and surrounded him.
Every strike felt endless, pointless — like fighting a shadow that always returned.
But he never stopped.
Finally, with a roar, he opened a portal wide and hurled the creature into it — splitting it across infinite fragments. The dimension began to collapse.
The rift back home opened before him. Prime staggered toward it, his armor cracked, his breath ragged.
But in his focus, he didn't notice.
A tendril of ooze had already crawled up his leg.
It seeped into the cracks of his mask.
It slid down his throat.
The circle-eye blinked once before vanishing into him.
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Prime fell through the rift and landed outside the watchtower ruins, dawn breaking.
The others stirred, rushing to him.
"Prime!" Stream called, sprinting first.
"You're—where did you—" Volcan started, fire sparking in panic.
Typhoon swore under his breath, "Man, you look like hell."
Omega only stared, armor gleaming, his helm tilted.
Prime pushed himself up, silent. His mask gleamed faintly… different.
"…I'm fine."
The words sounded heavier than before.
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