The moment T'Challa fled in tears, Martin drained the last of his coffee and stood up.
"Hmph. Finally caving in and going to call for backup, are you...?"
He stroked his chin with a smirk.
As for the bloody massacre unfolding ahead, truth be told, Martin had already lost interest. The curtain had effectively fallen the moment old King T'Chaka was blasted into oblivion by Devastator's ion cannon.
What remained was little more than mop-up: hordes of Transformers hunting down scattered survivors, overrunning the capital of Wakanda, and slaughtering every last citizen. After that, they would split into five strike forces to wipe out the remaining tribal factions.
Men, women, children, it didn't matter. Erase them all. Exterminate these primitive, rhino-riding savages and cleanse the sacred vibranium mines of their contamination.
"Vibranium... such a miraculous substance. Hard to believe it ended up here of all places."
Martin sighed with genuine wonder.
Millions of years ago, a meteorite had slammed into Earth. No one knew where it had come from. When it struck the African continent, it brought with it one of the most valuable elements in the known universe, yes, vibranium.
The meteorite itself was made entirely of vibranium, and the massive deposit emitted a strange form of radiation. Over time, it altered the surrounding environment, turning nearby matter into vibranium-infused materials and vastly expanding the size and richness of the mine.
Even Wakanda's unique purple vibranium flora was a result of this radiation, mutated over centuries by constant exposure.
Martin had issued a single, absolute command to all Transformers, relayed through the AllSpark directly into their minds:
"Kill them all."
Meanwhile, Martin climbed into his yellow Volkswagen Beetle, taking Dr. Banner with him, and drove straight into the heart of the battlefield, chasing after T'Challa.
His arrival didn't go unnoticed. Some Wakandan warriors, bloodied and desperate, attempted one final stand. Rage and grief filled their eyes, the kind born from watching their peaceful homeland turned into a charnel house.
"You—you could've ruled the stars! Why invade us? We never wronged you!"
One soldier roared in fury, leveling his vibranium rifle at Martin and pulling the trigger.
But Martin didn't even glance in his direction.
The rifle seized up mid-fire. The warrior looked down in confusion, only to see his weapon transforming in his hands into a small Cybertronian drone, glowing red optics staring him down.
BANG!
His own weapon blew his head off.
"So this... was never a war. Just a game to him. A game we were never meant to win."
As the warrior's consciousness faded, his final thought clung to the bitter truth.
To Martin, this was nothing more than a performance, a cruel spectacle dressed in violence. A massacre staged with clinical detachment.
...
Hidden Chamber of Wakanda.
T'Challa dropped to his knees with a thud, hands raised to the heavens.
"Oh great Panther God, I, your humble child, beseech you, descend and cast these demons back into the abyss!"
He took a ceremonial blade and sliced deep into his chest. Royal blood, true Wakandan lineage, spilled onto the sacred ground, sketching a symbol etched in ancient tradition.
From the beyond, a divine will stirred. Vast and unfathomable, yet not unfamiliar. It felt warm. Familiar.
"T'Challa... I have heard your cry."
The voice echoed in his mind as radiant motes of light gathered to form a silhouette, a divine, feline form looming in ephemeral majesty.
The Panther God. Bast.
The ancestral protector of Wakanda.
Every king, upon ascending the throne, must face the Panther God in spirit and be deemed worthy. Today, the rite took on a new, desperate urgency.
"The invaders from beyond... their power eclipses Wakanda's. It is the vibranium, our blessing and our curse, that has drawn extinction to our doorstep."
Bast's voice was calm, but His gaze burned with sorrow and fury. He saw the carnage, the city drowning in fire and screams, civilians butchered like cattle. The cries of the dying echoed through the spiritual plane.
His expression darkened.
"This is no conquest. This is annihilation. His soul is unworthy of the power he wields!"
With a thunderous roar, Bast summoned the wind itself, divine wrath surging through the chamber.
T'Challa bowed repeatedly, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Please... save Wakanda!"
Just then, a yellow Beetle rumbled up the hidden path and came to a casual halt. The brakes hissed as Martin stepped out, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. Banner followed, silent and watchful.
"I sensed a tremendous psychic presence from miles away," Martin said with an easy grin, eyes locked onto Bast's spectral form. "So you're the guardian spirit of Wakanda, huh?"
He spoke like greeting an old friend, warm, friendly, even cheerful.
"Panther God Bast," he said softly. "I'm here for your head."
His eyes sparkled.
He checked the notification in his mind.
Ding!
[Guardian Soul detected. Acquiring this soul will unlock the Autobot faction and initiate the awakening of the Autobot Leader—Optimus Prime!]
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