CHAPTER FIVE: FIRE AND ASH
For a long moment, there was only silence in the meeting room, as everyone attempted to process what they'd just been told. Countdown leaned back in his seat, giving them the time they needed. He'd had similar thoughts the first time he encountered the undead, after all.
"Sparkless." Staring at the holograms in disbelief, Rodimus tried to get his brain module back in gear. "Organic sparkless. I didn't even think that was possible."
"It shouldn't be," First Aid muttered, optic visor locked on the holograms in front of them. "Everything I know about organic biology says that decay sets in too quickly without some form of lifespark sustaining it. Even if there was some way to reanimate the flesh, it would lose any ability to function in almost no time…" His voice trailed off for a moment, then he sighed in frustration at one of the images, where an undead was managing to walk at a brisk pace, despite its legs being nothing but bone. "Never mind, apparently there things are the sort of abomination that doesn't care about minor issues like 'physical limitations.'"
Chuckling slightly, Countdown shook his head. "Ethereyis had more than a few things that had ways around some physical laws. Undead were just one of the more disgusting."
"That's an interesting thing to call sparkless," Dustoff mused. "Undead. Not something referencing the false life like we do with our own monsters. Did you find out how they were created by any chance?"
"Corpses that were improperly buried, or not at all, are apparently perfect vessels for a variety of non-corporeal parasites. The usage and manipulation of said entities was one of the primary weapons in Mhachs military arsenal. And in this case…" bringing up the map again, he highlighted an area to the west of the city. "The Silver Fields. Site of some of the biggest battles between the Alliance of White and the Ascendancy."
"A perfect source of materials. Although, are you saying Mhach was attacking their own ally?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Even if their alliance had flaws, that seems particularly ill-advised."
"They were the obvious suspect at the time, for that and other reasons. It was more complicated than that, but… well, we'll get to that later." Unpausing the footage, he let the early battle play out in front of everyone.
With the only perspective available being Countdowns optics, they were limited in how much of the situation they could see, compared to the usual battlefield overlay. But there was still enough detail for them to recognise that there was no real strategy to the attack. Just a massive horde of undead charging the city walls. "Not the most thought out of plans, is it?" Dustoff noted.
"Mass undead don't really have many other options," Countdown replied. "At least with the weaker ones that were employed here. While the parasites possessing the corpses can subvert the laws of physics to some extent, there are still hard limits to the amount of outright decay they can ignore. Especially the organic version of brain modules."
"Well, thank Mortilus for his small mercies," Rodimus muttered, watching as the recordings viewpoint turned to see a squad of perhaps half a dozen amalj'aa raised orate staves. Fire and lightning sprang to life around their weapons, building in intensity before launching towards the approaching horde, detonating on impact in large explosions that sent bodies flying in all directions. But the gaps in the horde lasted only for a moment, before more undead filled it in, as though the hole had never been there. "Well, there's my new nightmare… Surprised you didn't call in the Wayforward for some air support."
Optics dimming, Countdown sighed in regret and old pain. "I was tempted. Very tempted. A few passes with the plasma cannons and things would have been very different." He shook his head. "But I held back. There was too much potential of triggering a larger conflict, I told myself. Maybe they could pull themselves back from the brink without blatant outside intervention… So many dead, because I wanted to play it safe." A bitter smirk flickered across his lips. "The worst part? Here we are, centuries later, and I still can't be certain I made the wrong call."
"And that's assuming it wasn't both," Dustoff pointed out sadly.
"True… I really hoped that after Cybertron fell, after it stopped being Autobot versus Decepticon, we could leave those kinds of choices behind us. But that's the battlefield for you."
On the recordings, the undead reached the base of the wall, most of them piling over those ahead of them, making a makeshift ramp up. Others took a cruder, noyet more worrying route, clawing at the sandstone walls with enough force that their fingers dug into the brickwork, forming simple ladders. "Oh good, more things organics really shouldn't be doing," First Aid muttered.
"Lack of pain response can be useful sometimes."
First Aid buried his face in his hands, groaning even louder than before. Then the undead reached the top of the walls, and the recording became much more… intimate.
***
"Keep them off the thaumaturges!"
Countdown was already moving, darting between the spearmen to slice off the head of one of the undead. Perched on his shoulder, Fylgja unleashed a burst of flame breath that ignited the next two beasts. One of them, blinded, stumbled into the nearest spear, but the other charged forward while still aflame, aiming to stab Countdown with the broken sword in its hands. At the last second, O'riana ducked past the Autobot and embedded an axe in the animated corpses chest, sending it toppling over the edge and back into the horde below.
The gap was filled instantly by twice as many undead crawling over the ledge, and all too soon the sandstone bricks were slick with rotten viscera, leaving Countdown grateful for the fact he could disable his olfactory sensors. But between their efforts, and some well placed spears from the town guard, they managed to hold the line, letting the mages behind them send more blasts of fire and lightning into the main horde.
After what felt like an eternity, but was perhaps three minutes at most, several amalj'aa took their place at the front line, letting them fall back to catch their breath. "This might be the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Fylgja muttered, gaze still focused on the horde. The dragon was clearly terrified, with her wings tucked in, her tail lashing back and forth, and her claws digging into Countdowns outer plating enough to scratch it, something she was usually careful enough to avoid
Laughing with a mixture of bitter experience and genuine amusement, O'riana wiped some gore off the handle of one of her axes. "Undead are so much worse than normal bloodshed," she noted. "It's the rot." Considering the dragon for a moment, the miqo'te decided to take the young girls mind off the larger threats. "You know, it could be worse. You haven't made use of tooth and claw yet."
"Oh ick, do not make me vomit!"
"Don't make her vomit, she's riding on my shoulders," Countdown added in agreement, not looking up from inspecting a gash on his forearm. To an outside observer, it would appear that a blade had deflected off the bracer. Behind the glamor however, it had dug somewhat deeper than the illusion implied, piercing his outer plating outright. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have damaged any of his arms internal components. Shaking his wrist a few times, he picked his sword up and turned his attention back to the wall.
Despite the now constant stream crawling up over the wall, the men that had taken their place were holding back the undead. However, the amalj'aas preferences for wearing little in the way of armor meant that despite their size and power, they were starting to be worn down by sheer numbers.
Then, even as the Autobot and his companions began to move forward again, one of the amalj'aa missed a lalafell. It was understandable, with the tiny figure, not three fulms tall, hidden behind the bulk of a roegadyn corpse. But that was enough for the undead warrior to drive his blade into the amalj'aas hamstring, sending him to the ground with a bellow of agony, and the swarm rushed to fill in the gap.
Snarling a Nymian war cry, O'riana threw herself forward, axe heads literally glowing from the aether flowing through them. An undead soldier managed to interpose its shield in her path, only for the force of the blows to outright shatter it on impact, before continuing on to carve the zombie in two.
Countdown followed close behind, wrapping his spark energy around his sword, causing the blade to seemingly ignite with blue flames for a moment, before his lunge drove it into an undeads chest.
***
"Well that's new," Dustoff commented idly. "I take it you learned some of the local combat styles?"
"And not just to blend in better," Countdown said with a fond smile. "They had some absolutely fascinating techniques for the manipulation of both their personal sparkfield and environmental aether. Physical enhancement for starters, healing, defensive barriers, ranged combat like you saw with the thaumaturges, the list is almost endless." He chuckled. "Although it wasn't easy to learn, I'll admit. Practically every single race on Etheirys has an innate talent for aether manipulation in general, so I was starting with a severe handicap."
As Perceptor frantically took notes and muttered under his breath, Rodimus leaned forward. "Soooo, would you feel confident in teaching some of those techniques to some willing volunteers?"
Next to him, Dustoff groaned loudly, glaring at her best friend and captain. "Don't you have enough ways to set things on fire?"
He looked back at her with an expression of false innocence. "I don't have the ability to make swords burst into flames at will. Yet."
"Pyromaniac."
"I prefer recreational arsonist."
Glancing between the pair (As well as Ultra Magnus, who looked like he was developing a headache), Countdown suppressed a laugh. "I'll, uh, see what I can do later. For now, perhaps we should move on."
"Perhaps we can discuss the next abomination to flagrantly ignore the rules of organic biology," First Aid said in an exasperated tone of voice. Countdown glanced over, then followed his gaze back to the recordings, which had reached a rather dramatic and memorable moment of the battle.
While the town gates had naturally been closed and barricaded, the sheer mass of the undead had finally managed to force their way in. As they surged through the gates and pushed the defenders back, what could only be described as a tear in reality formed in the air. From that jagged rift emerged a number of deformed, unnatural forms. Giant eyeballs with leathery wings and spindly limbs, dozens of blank, screaming faces joined by a shapeless robe, massive arachnids fused clumsily with humanoid figures, all these nightmares and many more came out of the rift, joining the undead in their assault.
"Voidsent," the small bot spat, his mood souring. "According to legend, they're from a realm of pure darkness. They're not really organic, and only sort of following the laws of physics if I'm honest. Mhachs sorcerers perfected the art of summoning them to the physical plane, developed ways of binding their will, and promptly began using them as soldiers."
Groaning, First Aid buried his face in his hands again, while Rodimus scowled and folded his arms over his chest. "...Slave soldiers from a nightmare dimension? Classy."
"Think of it less as slaves and more of a business transaction," Countdown admitted. "Most intelligent voidsent considered the sparks of sapient beings a delicacy. The binding was more to stop them from turning around and eating the summoners. Which worked most of the time, unless the voidsent figured out a way to slip the leash."
"And the amalj'aa were allied with them?" Red muttered, clearly disapproving.
Magnus shrugged very slightly. "From Countdowns earlier outline of the international tensions, I suspect that the politics of this situation had reached a point where the nations involved can't afford to outright break alliances, regardless of moral disagreements," he said. Countdown nodded at that, as the viewpoint for the recordings leapt off the wall towards a pack of the winged eyeballs.
***
Landing in the middle of his targets, Countdown pulsed his spark like he'd been taught, sending out a shockwave of aether that sent the creatures flying out of control, leaving them wide open for Fylgja and O'riana. The pair were right behind him, axes and claws seeking out weak points with devastating efficiency.
"Damn Mhach!" O'riana spat. "They must have had summoners hidden in the horde."
"We'd have seen them before now," Countdown disagreed, before sidestepping a blast of purple energy from one of the remaining eyeballs. Darting forward, he hacked off one of its wings, then stomped down into the center of its 'body' when it hit the ground. As the voidsent dissolved into smoke, he backed up to rejoin his friends. "Something still doesn't add up here!"
More creatures charged towards them, forcing a pause to the conversation as they focused on the more immediate issue of survival. Despite their skill, the sheer weight of numbers slowly forced them to give up ground, falling back down the street to avoid being overwhelmed. Other defenders began to join them, abandoning the defense of the wall as monsters swarmed the streets, and just for a moment, Countdown believed they could hold.
That hope died as a wave of tainted aether raced down the street and washed over them. Every defender that the wave touched froze in place, a thin layer of what looked like stone forming over their bodies. Rendered helpless, they were left wide open for the voidsents next attacks. But instead, the creatures all backed away, waiting.
"My my, what have we here?" said a new voice from the air above, unnaturally smooth, and with an undeniable arrogance to it, the sort that reminded Countdown of some of the more unpleasant Decepticon warlords he'd had to deal with over the years. Fighting the effects of the petrification as much as possible, he slowly turned his head towards the voice, before terror bubbled through his energon conduits.
From a distance, one might mistake the figure floating in the air for a Hyur male, wearing dark formal wear of a style preferred by Mhachan nobles. But that would only be for a moment, before the wrongness set in. His proportions were ever so slightly off, with long forearms and thighs contrasted with short biceps and calves. His face was unnaturally pale and bland, like a porcelain mask, but it moved like flesh. Then would come the fact that the fancy clothes were not clothes at all, but the outer layer of his body, insectoid chitin in the place of skin and fabric, somehow twisted into a mimicry of modern fashions. With that, the illusion completely fell apart, leaving the realization that they were looking at a monster.
"Here I was, thinking that this dinner would be bland. Filling, but more of the same souls Mhach had always offered me. But you, little one, you are a treat I did not expect." Setting down in front of the petrified defenders, he licked his lips, eyes focused on Fylgja, who had awkwardly crashed into the dirt. "A dragon, young and vibrant… ohhhh, it has been so long since I got to eat a dragon. Mhach would keep you for themselves, but now? Now I get a treat."
Watching as the beast reached towards his friend, Countdowns spark surged with an intense fury. Before he knew it, feeling returned to his extremities, the petrification effect burning away, and he stepped forward. As he started to move, the voidsent sneered in contempt, clearly unsurprised that someone had managed to overcome the petrification. "There's always someone that just can't accept their fate," he said mockingly, turning towards Countdown.
Then his eyes widened in shock as the Roegadyn illusion around Countdown faded away. The mech charged forward, transformed, and his lunar buggy alt-mode crashed into the voidsent, booster rockets blazing. Those rockets carried him across the street, dragging the voidsent with him, before crashing into the wall of a house, drawing a shriek of pain from the creature. Then, just for good measure, Countdown shifted modes again and used the transformation to set himself up for a snap kick to the voidsents face.
"Away with you!" the voidsent snarled, gesturing wildly and causing a wave of spikes to erupt from the ground. Countdown avoided the worst of it, but was still forced back, giving his opponent time to recover. Using the opening, the voidsent pulled itself clear of the wall, revealing a vast network of cracks running across its face and torso, completely ruining the Hyur illusion. "You… What are you?!" it demanded, glaring at the Autobot, before looking towards its minions, who were all staring as well. "Well, GET HIM!"
Before any could obey that order, one of the strange spidertaur creatures shrieked as an amalj'aa spearman suddenly landed on its back, glaive stabbing through its humanoid torso. A moment later, O'riana practically teleported into view to cleave another of the arachnids in two, and the fight quickly descended back into a confusing melee.
***
Dustoff suppressed an inappropriate giggle with some difficulty. "Not the most dramatic way to blow one's cover I've seen over the vorns, but still very impressive."
"Thankfully, those that survived this battle were all sworn to secrecy," Countdown said. "But even if they hadn't, it was still worth it. I'd go to the smelting pools before I'd let one of those bastards harm Fylgja."
"No protest here, and I haven't even met the kid," Rodimus chuckled, before turning serious again. "Still, what he said before you rammed him… Mhach would have kept her, but he gets a treat this time? Sounds like he's not working for them here."
"You noticed that? I admit, I didn't at the time." Glancing at the recordings, Countdown frowned. "We found out later that this attack wasn't Mhach, or even the Alliance of White employing their enemies' own weapons. It was a third party, one who'd seemingly infiltrated both major powers to some extent, staging 'incidents' like this one to keep the cold war bubbling over."
Cursing under her breath, Dustoff tried to smooth her armor plating back down, which was now flaring outward from her agitation. "I suppose it was too much to hope that form of glitched morality and general stupidity hadn't infected yet another world."
"I said much the same thing at the time. By the time I left the planet, we were almost certain that these 'Paragons', as they called themselves-" Magnus harrumphed in disgust at the name, drawing a smirk from the Ranger, "-weren't even an Eozeran based group. Our best theory was some of the nations on nearby continents, possibly operating under the delusion that they were keeping the war from spreading to their shores." He frowned, his mood turning somewhat melancholy for a moment. "Probably all resolved now, one way or another. I wonder if O'riana ever managed to track down Igeyorhm…"
Sighing, he waved a hand. "I'm getting off topic." He gestured at the recordings, where the voidsent leader was in view once again, now wielding a sword that looked like it was carved from bone. "This is really all just context for what happens next, after all."
"The local version of sparkless, other-dimensional monsters, and a suitably impressive reveal of your true form to some locals, and that's all background material?" Rodimus muttered. "How are you going to outdo that?"
The smaller mech merely smirked.
***
Bringing his blade up to meet the voidsents own blade, Countdown twisted, angling it away from him, then slammed his shoulder into the creature, spinning the wheel mounted in the limb against its face for extra impact. Snarling in pain, the voidsent stumbled back several feet, unable to recover before Fylgja swooped in, breathing a stream of fire over their opponent.
Emerging from the fire, the voidsent raised a hand, a glyph forming in the air around it momentarily, before a bolt of darkness launched itself at the dragon. She avoided the attack with almost contemptuous ease, before turning her flames on a pair of undead that were moving up behind an amalj'aa warrior.
"Blasted lizard," he spat, his earlier composure now completely absent. "I'm going to skin you alive! You'll be begging for me to eat your soul by the time I'm done! And you," he continued, turning back towards Countdown. "Oh, I'll invent entirely new tortures for you, metal man. I will peel away the layers of your soul, one at a time, until you tell me everything. What you are, where you come from, where those like you hide… I will know everything. And you will die screaming!"
Optics narrowing, Countdown powered up the blasters in his arms, the barrels sliding out over the back of his wrists. Before he could make use of them however, the space between them was suddenly blocked, as a pillar of flame erupted out of nothing, reaching into the sky, radiating a heat so intense that even the transformer was forced to back away from it.
The pillar of flame quickly faded, revealing a massive amalj'aa warrior, nearly two stories tall and towering over everyone else on the battlefield. There were cracks in his skin, mostly at his joints, glowing from an internal fire, giving the impression that the flesh was struggling to contain the power within. Growling, the giant glared down at the voidsent leader. "Bold of you to think you will survive today," he snarled, before glancing towards the Autobot. "You and I must speak after this, Countdown of Iacon."
It was only his considerable experience that allowed Countdown to resist the urge to stop and stare at the new arrival at those words. He was more successful than many of the amalj'aa on the street, who had stopped fighting and were now staring at the giant with expressions of awe. Then one of them raised his spear over his head, yelling a single word, starting a chant that was soon taken up as soon repeated by many of his kin, over and over again.
"Ifrit! Ifrit! Ifrit!"
A smirk flickered across the giants face, before turning serious again. "Keep your blades ready, my brothers! These blackguards thirst for our very souls! Ready your blades, and show them that Zal'na'rak will never fall to the Dark!" The flames flowed down his forearm and past his hand, reshaping it into a sword somehow made of literal fire.
Countdown stepped back as Ifrit marched into melee range, outright crushing any undead in his way, flaming sword carving through the larger voidsent. The transformer glanced to the side as O'riana joined him, leaning against a lamp post for support. "Ifrit," she muttered, disbelief in her voice, resting one of her axes on the ground so she could run a hand through her disheveled blue locks. "I honestly did not think I would ever encounter something even more incredible than when you revealed your true nature to me. But here we are."
"You know who this is?" he said, looking at her curiously.
She made herself take a deep breath before replying. "If he is who they are claiming… Then that is Ifrit, Lord of the Inferno. The First Flame of the amalj'aa, and their god."
"He's… well, that's a thing," he mused, glancing around. In the few moments he'd looked away from the fight, Ifrit had torn a bloody path through the enemy ranks, the seemingly endless wave of undead swarming into the city coming to a complete stop. The moment the creatures passed through the gates they literally burst into flames, so intense that they barely lasted a second before crumbling to ash.
More effort was required for the voidsent, but even they were completely overwhelmed by the supposed gods wrath. None of them were able to defend themselves against the fire blade, both metal and flesh giving way with disturbing ease. Their leader was still alive, but only because of some very close dodges, and a willingness to use his comrades as cover.
Countdowns optics narrowed, watching the voidsents movements closely, timing his dodges, studying how he moved. "Come on, give me an opening…" he murmured. A few seconds later, his target did just that, dodging behind a suit of animated armor, right where the Autobot had anticipated. Countdown didn't hesitate, firing both his arm cannons into the voidsents back.
The creature screamed, staggering, and Ifrit took the opportunity presented, driving his blade through the voidsents chest. "The voids curse of life eternal has limits. There must be something left of your soul to return to it," the god said, holding the blade in place and allowing the flames to spread. "That, I will not allow. Now, succumb to the inferno!"
Desperately, the voidsent leader clawed at Ifrits arm, trying to dislodge the blade that had replaced most of his torso. The giant didn't even seem to notice, keeping the blade level. Then flames spread across the last of the voidsents torso and onto his limbs, and the screams cut out instantly. A second later, there was a brief intense burst, and then the fire died away, leaving nothing behind.
"My thanks, Autobot." Nodding in satisfaction, Ifrit turned towards the city walls, crushing a smaller voidsent with his tail in the process. "Now then, with their master dealt with…" As Countdown watched, he raised his hand above his head. A moment later, seemingly from nowhere, fire rained from the sky. Jagged spears of impossibly solid flame rained from the sky, each one seeking out an enemy soldier with shocking accuracy. Across the street, on the city walls, and in the plains beyond, undead and voidsent found themselves nailed to the ground, the flames quickly consuming them without mercy.
***
The conference room was silent for a long moment, before Rodimus spoke. "Well, as statements of divinity go, I like Ifrit's style."
Countdown chuckled. "He pretty much ended the battle in an instant. If those nails of his missed anyone, they didn't survive for very long afterwards." His amusement faded. "Just in time too. If they'd gotten much further into the city, they'd have reached where the civilians were taking shelter." Several mechs winced slightly, being all too familiar with such nightmares.
Leaning forward, Dustoff studied the images of Ifrit, a thoughtful frown on the face. "So, at least one of the local religions gods is real, and able to intervene directly in matters. It's been quite some time since I saw a world where that was possible." Tapping her fingers against the table, the ships xenoculture expert considered the matter. "I wonder if he's a natural response of Etheirys' lifespark, or if there was something more deliberate in his creation. Both are possible, depending on exactly how the planets aetheric fields are laid out."
"I'm more concerned with the fact he knew Countdowns name," Magnus said.
"So was I," the micromaster agreed. "Thankfully, he'd already expressed a desire to speak with me. Once I was certain the fighting was over, I got that chance."
***
Zal'na'rak was built around a large mesa, and the temple the amalj'aa had built into the side of it. Over the centuries, more of the mesa had slowly been hollowed out, leaving vast chambers and halls, many of which were now being put to use as a space for treating wounded soldiers, or for ensuring that those that had given their lives could not have their bodies defiled by any lingering spirits. Slowly, Ifrit led the way deeper into the temple, pausing often to offer words of reassurance and support to any of his people that needed it. Given the circumstances, Countdown (true appearance now safely hidden behind a glamor once again) was more than willing to let him take the time needed.
Eventually, as they walked down a stone hallway in the temples depths, Ifrit spoke up. "Your arrival upon this star was foretold long ago, by Hydaelyn, Goddess of Light and the Mothercrystal of the star."
"Foretold."
Ifrit paused, then turned to look at him, raising one eye ridge. "You disbelieve in such arts?"
"It's not that I don't believe in it," the mech replied, waving a hand, "it's that I don't trust it. My people have encountered more than a few methods of precognition. Even at the best of times, they're unreliable and vague, with lots of room for misinterpretation."
Considering that for a moment, the god nodded in agreement. "There is some truth to that. Which is why, when Hydaelyn foretold your arrival, she took steps to ensure little room for error. As your companions can tell you, the gods rarely take physical form to intervene personally in matters of this realm. There is a simple but valid reason for that."
"Something tells me it's not that you just can't be bothered," Fylgja quipped, earning a startled look from O'riana, but an amused laugh from Ifrit.
"Nothing so negligent, I assure you." He held out his hand, letting the flames flow out of the cracks in his flesh and pool on his palm. "To craft a form that can contain the power of the divine is a complex task, one that requires vast amounts of aether. If I was to bring myself forward without proper preparation, or if my children were to recklessly summon me, that aether would be taken from the land around us, in such amounts that…" Staring at the flames dancing over his palm for a moment, he sighed and shook his head. "Well, I may be the god of fire, but not everything needs to be reduced to dead ash."
Considering that for a moment, O'riana couldn't help but frown. "Without proper preparation… But you knew you would be summoned when Countdown was here, didn't you? You could make the preparations needed to ensure your presence wouldn't harm your people."
There was a chuckle from ahead of them, and an elderly amalj'aa stepped into view. In sharp contrast to most of his kind, who were broad and incredibly muscular, time had worn him down, leaving him with a thin, almost skeletal build beneath the robes and jewelry of the priesthood. Despite this, and the way he had to lean on his staff for support, his gaze was still sharp and clear. "Most perceptive my dear girl. Long ago, before your people crossed the frozen seas, Hydaelyn knew this day would come. That a man made of metal would arrive in our lands from a distant star, and he would have the misfortune to arrive at the same time as voidsent, in their lust and greed, would attempt to lay siege to this city. Knowing this, she made preparations for this day. A spell was prepared, one that would slowly gather the aether needed over time and keep it hidden." He turned his gaze to Countdown, smiling wider as he did so. "Then, when the spell sensed the unique flames of your soul, that aether was released, and our lord took form in this realm. Your arrival ensured that our home was saved, and for that, I thank you."
"Tamel Koh here is the High Priest of the Undying Flame," Ifrit said, gesturing towards the man. "A small order by the standards of our people, but a vital one. For centuries they have maintained and cared for both this temple and the city that grew around it, all the while keeping the secret of your eventual arrival. That we both stand here now is all thanks to their hard work."
"It was my honor and my duty to serve your will," Tamel said, mostly managing to maintain a facade of stoic calm, although it was clear that his gods praise had him wanting to scream in delight. "As you instructed, we have secured the remains of the spells physical components."
"Ah, excellent. Thank you my friend." Ifrit paused, his smile fading somewhat. "Alas, today was not the only battle Hydaelyn foresaw. Tell me Captain, in your time on this star, what have you come to learn about the Umbral Calamities?"
Next to Countdown, O'riana froze, a squeak of horror escaping her throat as she realized why the god would ask such a question. "They mark the end of Astral Eras," the mechanoid said, making sure to keep his voice level. "Massive, civilisation ending disasters that span the entire world, sparing no one. Each one is different. The Third was worldwide quakes that shattered mountains. The last one was an ice age that lasted for centuries… And the fact you're asking me what I know about them can't mean anything good."
The God nodded sadly, his flames dimming. "I am afraid so. Once again, this star will soon face Calamity. It can not be avoided or defeated, merely survived. But thanks to your presence here today, I can give my people fair warning. We can prepare for what is coming." He studied Countdown for a moment. "And it is my hope that you are willing to help us spread this warning to others."
"How?"
"This is not the only place where Hydaelyn prepared a summoning spell to bring forth a god, keyed to the unique fire of your soul. Several of my kin are waiting for their opportunity to manifest in the physical realm, in order to warn their people of what is coming. They simply require your presence to activate the spell."
Fylgja landed on Countdowns shoulder and tilted her head thoughtfully. "So, all we need to do is visit a few temples, their gods will pop up and say 'hi everyone, the Calamity is coming!', then we go home, secure in the knowledge we did our part to save lives from a world-ending threat? Not the most thrilling of adventures, but I'll take it!" she said cheerfully.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, O'riana sighed. "That is not what you should be focusing on here."
"Well, if it was going to be a proper adventure, we'd need to… I don't know., duel an angry god in the middle of a thunderstorm."
Countdown ignored the two of them, keeping his attention on the god in front of him. "I'd like to think I'd be willing to take a lot more personal risk than that to help save lives," he said at last. "So, where do you need me to go?"
Flames returning to their previous intensity, Ifrit laughed in delight. "My friend, you are just as noble as Hydaelyn foresaw! I don't even need to bribe you with her reward for you!" Countdown blinked, and Ifrits laughter only grew as he turned away. "As I said earlier, she did not just merely rely on her foresight! Come, I believe you will appreciate what compensation she has for you!" he called out, throwing open the doors behind Tamel.
The chamber beyond was smaller than those they'd passed through before, being a small circular room built around a central altar. On that altar was a twisted mass of metal, melted and deformed by an intense heat from within, now barely recognisable as a bird. "Before today, this was a tribute to my brother Phoenix, the aspect of the flames that symbolizes rebirth." Stepping up next to it, Ifrit placed a hand on one of the melted wings, running a finger along the edge. "Given the ultimate purpose of the summoning spell woven into it, it seemed an appropriate choice, even if I was better suited for the actual summoning."
Carefully, the god used his flame as a plasma torch to cut open the idol's chest, molten metal dripping to the floor as he worked. Once that was done, he reached into where the heart would be on such a creature and removed a small orange cube with circuitry patterns along the sides. The moment it was free of the ruined idol, the patterns glowed blue for a moment, before unfolding into what looked like a metallic flower. "What is that?" Fylgja asked, leaning forward in an attempt to get a closer look.
"It's Cybertronian," Countdown replied, disbelief in his voice.
"Indeed it is. If nothing else, we did require an object that could resist the ravages of time as the core the summoning was built around. Something almost anything from your star is naturally suited for," he added with a teasing smile. "Of course, this particular item has a considerable history even by your own people's rather extreme standards." The circuitry glowed once again, and the flower transformed once more, this time into a small clockwork gear.
Taking the gear from Ifrit, Countdown turned it over in his hands, frowning thoughtfully. "These patterns are cyberglyphics," he mused, tracing a finger along the circuitry. "Pretty much the oldest Cybertronian language known," he added for his friend's benefit.
"What's it say?" Fylgja asked.
"Hard to say. Most of the language was lost during the Quintesson occupation. That said, I think…" Running a finger along an edge where the glyph seemed to cut off, he nodded to himself as a row of tiny serrated teeth popped out. "I was right. This is a piece of a larger item. One designed to separate into smaller components too." Looking up, he gave Ifrit a suspicious look. "Now how did you happen to come across a relic from my world's ancient past, that just happened to be perfect for separating into multiple smaller parts so that you could set up multiple summoning spells across the land?"
The god merely smiled innocently. "I am afraid you will have to ask Hydaelyn. She never did tell me exactly how that came into her possession."
Considering the object in his hands, Countdown chuckled. "Well, look at that, another mystery to tempt me. She planned this quite well."
For a long moment, there was only silence in the meeting room, as everyone attempted to process what they'd just been told. Countdown leaned back in his seat, giving them the time they needed. He'd had similar thoughts the first time he encountered the undead, after all.
"Sparkless." Staring at the holograms in disbelief, Rodimus tried to get his brain module back in gear. "Organic sparkless. I didn't even think that was possible."
"It shouldn't be," First Aid muttered, optic visor locked on the holograms in front of them. "Everything I know about organic biology says that decay sets in too quickly without some form of lifespark sustaining it. Even if there was some way to reanimate the flesh, it would lose any ability to function in almost no time…" His voice trailed off for a moment, then he sighed in frustration at one of the images, where an undead was managing to walk at a brisk pace, despite its legs being nothing but bone. "Never mind, apparently there things are the sort of abomination that doesn't care about minor issues like 'physical limitations.'"
Chuckling slightly, Countdown shook his head. "Ethereyis had more than a few things that had ways around some physical laws. Undead were just one of the more disgusting."
"That's an interesting thing to call sparkless," Dustoff mused. "Undead. Not something referencing the false life like we do with our own monsters. Did you find out how they were created by any chance?"
"Corpses that were improperly buried, or not at all, are apparently perfect vessels for a variety of non-corporeal parasites. The usage and manipulation of said entities was one of the primary weapons in Mhachs military arsenal. And in this case…" bringing up the map again, he highlighted an area to the west of the city. "The Silver Fields. Site of some of the biggest battles between the Alliance of White and the Ascendancy."
"A perfect source of materials. Although, are you saying Mhach was attacking their own ally?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Even if their alliance had flaws, that seems particularly ill-advised."
"They were the obvious suspect at the time, for that and other reasons. It was more complicated than that, but… well, we'll get to that later." Unpausing the footage, he let the early battle play out in front of everyone.
With the only perspective available being Countdowns optics, they were limited in how much of the situation they could see, compared to the usual battlefield overlay. But there was still enough detail for them to recognise that there was no real strategy to the attack. Just a massive horde of undead charging the city walls. "Not the most thought out of plans, is it?" Dustoff noted.
"Mass undead don't really have many other options," Countdown replied. "At least with the weaker ones that were employed here. While the parasites possessing the corpses can subvert the laws of physics to some extent, there are still hard limits to the amount of outright decay they can ignore. Especially the organic version of brain modules."
"Well, thank Mortilus for his small mercies," Rodimus muttered, watching as the recordings viewpoint turned to see a squad of perhaps half a dozen amalj'aa raised orate staves. Fire and lightning sprang to life around their weapons, building in intensity before launching towards the approaching horde, detonating on impact in large explosions that sent bodies flying in all directions. But the gaps in the horde lasted only for a moment, before more undead filled it in, as though the hole had never been there. "Well, there's my new nightmare… Surprised you didn't call in the Wayforward for some air support."
Optics dimming, Countdown sighed in regret and old pain. "I was tempted. Very tempted. A few passes with the plasma cannons and things would have been very different." He shook his head. "But I held back. There was too much potential of triggering a larger conflict, I told myself. Maybe they could pull themselves back from the brink without blatant outside intervention… So many dead, because I wanted to play it safe." A bitter smirk flickered across his lips. "The worst part? Here we are, centuries later, and I still can't be certain I made the wrong call."
"And that's assuming it wasn't both," Dustoff pointed out sadly.
"True… I really hoped that after Cybertron fell, after it stopped being Autobot versus Decepticon, we could leave those kinds of choices behind us. But that's the battlefield for you."
On the recordings, the undead reached the base of the wall, most of them piling over those ahead of them, making a makeshift ramp up. Others took a cruder, noyet more worrying route, clawing at the sandstone walls with enough force that their fingers dug into the brickwork, forming simple ladders. "Oh good, more things organics really shouldn't be doing," First Aid muttered.
"Lack of pain response can be useful sometimes."
First Aid buried his face in his hands, groaning even louder than before. Then the undead reached the top of the walls, and the recording became much more… intimate.
***
"Keep them off the thaumaturges!"
Countdown was already moving, darting between the spearmen to slice off the head of one of the undead. Perched on his shoulder, Fylgja unleashed a burst of flame breath that ignited the next two beasts. One of them, blinded, stumbled into the nearest spear, but the other charged forward while still aflame, aiming to stab Countdown with the broken sword in its hands. At the last second, O'riana ducked past the Autobot and embedded an axe in the animated corpses chest, sending it toppling over the edge and back into the horde below.
The gap was filled instantly by twice as many undead crawling over the ledge, and all too soon the sandstone bricks were slick with rotten viscera, leaving Countdown grateful for the fact he could disable his olfactory sensors. But between their efforts, and some well placed spears from the town guard, they managed to hold the line, letting the mages behind them send more blasts of fire and lightning into the main horde.
After what felt like an eternity, but was perhaps three minutes at most, several amalj'aa took their place at the front line, letting them fall back to catch their breath. "This might be the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Fylgja muttered, gaze still focused on the horde. The dragon was clearly terrified, with her wings tucked in, her tail lashing back and forth, and her claws digging into Countdowns outer plating enough to scratch it, something she was usually careful enough to avoid
Laughing with a mixture of bitter experience and genuine amusement, O'riana wiped some gore off the handle of one of her axes. "Undead are so much worse than normal bloodshed," she noted. "It's the rot." Considering the dragon for a moment, the miqo'te decided to take the young girls mind off the larger threats. "You know, it could be worse. You haven't made use of tooth and claw yet."
"Oh ick, do not make me vomit!"
"Don't make her vomit, she's riding on my shoulders," Countdown added in agreement, not looking up from inspecting a gash on his forearm. To an outside observer, it would appear that a blade had deflected off the bracer. Behind the glamor however, it had dug somewhat deeper than the illusion implied, piercing his outer plating outright. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have damaged any of his arms internal components. Shaking his wrist a few times, he picked his sword up and turned his attention back to the wall.
Despite the now constant stream crawling up over the wall, the men that had taken their place were holding back the undead. However, the amalj'aas preferences for wearing little in the way of armor meant that despite their size and power, they were starting to be worn down by sheer numbers.
Then, even as the Autobot and his companions began to move forward again, one of the amalj'aa missed a lalafell. It was understandable, with the tiny figure, not three fulms tall, hidden behind the bulk of a roegadyn corpse. But that was enough for the undead warrior to drive his blade into the amalj'aas hamstring, sending him to the ground with a bellow of agony, and the swarm rushed to fill in the gap.
Snarling a Nymian war cry, O'riana threw herself forward, axe heads literally glowing from the aether flowing through them. An undead soldier managed to interpose its shield in her path, only for the force of the blows to outright shatter it on impact, before continuing on to carve the zombie in two.
Countdown followed close behind, wrapping his spark energy around his sword, causing the blade to seemingly ignite with blue flames for a moment, before his lunge drove it into an undeads chest.
***
"Well that's new," Dustoff commented idly. "I take it you learned some of the local combat styles?"
"And not just to blend in better," Countdown said with a fond smile. "They had some absolutely fascinating techniques for the manipulation of both their personal sparkfield and environmental aether. Physical enhancement for starters, healing, defensive barriers, ranged combat like you saw with the thaumaturges, the list is almost endless." He chuckled. "Although it wasn't easy to learn, I'll admit. Practically every single race on Etheirys has an innate talent for aether manipulation in general, so I was starting with a severe handicap."
As Perceptor frantically took notes and muttered under his breath, Rodimus leaned forward. "Soooo, would you feel confident in teaching some of those techniques to some willing volunteers?"
Next to him, Dustoff groaned loudly, glaring at her best friend and captain. "Don't you have enough ways to set things on fire?"
He looked back at her with an expression of false innocence. "I don't have the ability to make swords burst into flames at will. Yet."
"Pyromaniac."
"I prefer recreational arsonist."
Glancing between the pair (As well as Ultra Magnus, who looked like he was developing a headache), Countdown suppressed a laugh. "I'll, uh, see what I can do later. For now, perhaps we should move on."
"Perhaps we can discuss the next abomination to flagrantly ignore the rules of organic biology," First Aid said in an exasperated tone of voice. Countdown glanced over, then followed his gaze back to the recordings, which had reached a rather dramatic and memorable moment of the battle.
While the town gates had naturally been closed and barricaded, the sheer mass of the undead had finally managed to force their way in. As they surged through the gates and pushed the defenders back, what could only be described as a tear in reality formed in the air. From that jagged rift emerged a number of deformed, unnatural forms. Giant eyeballs with leathery wings and spindly limbs, dozens of blank, screaming faces joined by a shapeless robe, massive arachnids fused clumsily with humanoid figures, all these nightmares and many more came out of the rift, joining the undead in their assault.
"Voidsent," the small bot spat, his mood souring. "According to legend, they're from a realm of pure darkness. They're not really organic, and only sort of following the laws of physics if I'm honest. Mhachs sorcerers perfected the art of summoning them to the physical plane, developed ways of binding their will, and promptly began using them as soldiers."
Groaning, First Aid buried his face in his hands again, while Rodimus scowled and folded his arms over his chest. "...Slave soldiers from a nightmare dimension? Classy."
"Think of it less as slaves and more of a business transaction," Countdown admitted. "Most intelligent voidsent considered the sparks of sapient beings a delicacy. The binding was more to stop them from turning around and eating the summoners. Which worked most of the time, unless the voidsent figured out a way to slip the leash."
"And the amalj'aa were allied with them?" Red muttered, clearly disapproving.
Magnus shrugged very slightly. "From Countdowns earlier outline of the international tensions, I suspect that the politics of this situation had reached a point where the nations involved can't afford to outright break alliances, regardless of moral disagreements," he said. Countdown nodded at that, as the viewpoint for the recordings leapt off the wall towards a pack of the winged eyeballs.
***
Landing in the middle of his targets, Countdown pulsed his spark like he'd been taught, sending out a shockwave of aether that sent the creatures flying out of control, leaving them wide open for Fylgja and O'riana. The pair were right behind him, axes and claws seeking out weak points with devastating efficiency.
"Damn Mhach!" O'riana spat. "They must have had summoners hidden in the horde."
"We'd have seen them before now," Countdown disagreed, before sidestepping a blast of purple energy from one of the remaining eyeballs. Darting forward, he hacked off one of its wings, then stomped down into the center of its 'body' when it hit the ground. As the voidsent dissolved into smoke, he backed up to rejoin his friends. "Something still doesn't add up here!"
More creatures charged towards them, forcing a pause to the conversation as they focused on the more immediate issue of survival. Despite their skill, the sheer weight of numbers slowly forced them to give up ground, falling back down the street to avoid being overwhelmed. Other defenders began to join them, abandoning the defense of the wall as monsters swarmed the streets, and just for a moment, Countdown believed they could hold.
That hope died as a wave of tainted aether raced down the street and washed over them. Every defender that the wave touched froze in place, a thin layer of what looked like stone forming over their bodies. Rendered helpless, they were left wide open for the voidsents next attacks. But instead, the creatures all backed away, waiting.
"My my, what have we here?" said a new voice from the air above, unnaturally smooth, and with an undeniable arrogance to it, the sort that reminded Countdown of some of the more unpleasant Decepticon warlords he'd had to deal with over the years. Fighting the effects of the petrification as much as possible, he slowly turned his head towards the voice, before terror bubbled through his energon conduits.
From a distance, one might mistake the figure floating in the air for a Hyur male, wearing dark formal wear of a style preferred by Mhachan nobles. But that would only be for a moment, before the wrongness set in. His proportions were ever so slightly off, with long forearms and thighs contrasted with short biceps and calves. His face was unnaturally pale and bland, like a porcelain mask, but it moved like flesh. Then would come the fact that the fancy clothes were not clothes at all, but the outer layer of his body, insectoid chitin in the place of skin and fabric, somehow twisted into a mimicry of modern fashions. With that, the illusion completely fell apart, leaving the realization that they were looking at a monster.
"Here I was, thinking that this dinner would be bland. Filling, but more of the same souls Mhach had always offered me. But you, little one, you are a treat I did not expect." Setting down in front of the petrified defenders, he licked his lips, eyes focused on Fylgja, who had awkwardly crashed into the dirt. "A dragon, young and vibrant… ohhhh, it has been so long since I got to eat a dragon. Mhach would keep you for themselves, but now? Now I get a treat."
Watching as the beast reached towards his friend, Countdowns spark surged with an intense fury. Before he knew it, feeling returned to his extremities, the petrification effect burning away, and he stepped forward. As he started to move, the voidsent sneered in contempt, clearly unsurprised that someone had managed to overcome the petrification. "There's always someone that just can't accept their fate," he said mockingly, turning towards Countdown.
Then his eyes widened in shock as the Roegadyn illusion around Countdown faded away. The mech charged forward, transformed, and his lunar buggy alt-mode crashed into the voidsent, booster rockets blazing. Those rockets carried him across the street, dragging the voidsent with him, before crashing into the wall of a house, drawing a shriek of pain from the creature. Then, just for good measure, Countdown shifted modes again and used the transformation to set himself up for a snap kick to the voidsents face.
"Away with you!" the voidsent snarled, gesturing wildly and causing a wave of spikes to erupt from the ground. Countdown avoided the worst of it, but was still forced back, giving his opponent time to recover. Using the opening, the voidsent pulled itself clear of the wall, revealing a vast network of cracks running across its face and torso, completely ruining the Hyur illusion. "You… What are you?!" it demanded, glaring at the Autobot, before looking towards its minions, who were all staring as well. "Well, GET HIM!"
Before any could obey that order, one of the strange spidertaur creatures shrieked as an amalj'aa spearman suddenly landed on its back, glaive stabbing through its humanoid torso. A moment later, O'riana practically teleported into view to cleave another of the arachnids in two, and the fight quickly descended back into a confusing melee.
***
Dustoff suppressed an inappropriate giggle with some difficulty. "Not the most dramatic way to blow one's cover I've seen over the vorns, but still very impressive."
"Thankfully, those that survived this battle were all sworn to secrecy," Countdown said. "But even if they hadn't, it was still worth it. I'd go to the smelting pools before I'd let one of those bastards harm Fylgja."
"No protest here, and I haven't even met the kid," Rodimus chuckled, before turning serious again. "Still, what he said before you rammed him… Mhach would have kept her, but he gets a treat this time? Sounds like he's not working for them here."
"You noticed that? I admit, I didn't at the time." Glancing at the recordings, Countdown frowned. "We found out later that this attack wasn't Mhach, or even the Alliance of White employing their enemies' own weapons. It was a third party, one who'd seemingly infiltrated both major powers to some extent, staging 'incidents' like this one to keep the cold war bubbling over."
Cursing under her breath, Dustoff tried to smooth her armor plating back down, which was now flaring outward from her agitation. "I suppose it was too much to hope that form of glitched morality and general stupidity hadn't infected yet another world."
"I said much the same thing at the time. By the time I left the planet, we were almost certain that these 'Paragons', as they called themselves-" Magnus harrumphed in disgust at the name, drawing a smirk from the Ranger, "-weren't even an Eozeran based group. Our best theory was some of the nations on nearby continents, possibly operating under the delusion that they were keeping the war from spreading to their shores." He frowned, his mood turning somewhat melancholy for a moment. "Probably all resolved now, one way or another. I wonder if O'riana ever managed to track down Igeyorhm…"
Sighing, he waved a hand. "I'm getting off topic." He gestured at the recordings, where the voidsent leader was in view once again, now wielding a sword that looked like it was carved from bone. "This is really all just context for what happens next, after all."
"The local version of sparkless, other-dimensional monsters, and a suitably impressive reveal of your true form to some locals, and that's all background material?" Rodimus muttered. "How are you going to outdo that?"
The smaller mech merely smirked.
***
Bringing his blade up to meet the voidsents own blade, Countdown twisted, angling it away from him, then slammed his shoulder into the creature, spinning the wheel mounted in the limb against its face for extra impact. Snarling in pain, the voidsent stumbled back several feet, unable to recover before Fylgja swooped in, breathing a stream of fire over their opponent.
Emerging from the fire, the voidsent raised a hand, a glyph forming in the air around it momentarily, before a bolt of darkness launched itself at the dragon. She avoided the attack with almost contemptuous ease, before turning her flames on a pair of undead that were moving up behind an amalj'aa warrior.
"Blasted lizard," he spat, his earlier composure now completely absent. "I'm going to skin you alive! You'll be begging for me to eat your soul by the time I'm done! And you," he continued, turning back towards Countdown. "Oh, I'll invent entirely new tortures for you, metal man. I will peel away the layers of your soul, one at a time, until you tell me everything. What you are, where you come from, where those like you hide… I will know everything. And you will die screaming!"
Optics narrowing, Countdown powered up the blasters in his arms, the barrels sliding out over the back of his wrists. Before he could make use of them however, the space between them was suddenly blocked, as a pillar of flame erupted out of nothing, reaching into the sky, radiating a heat so intense that even the transformer was forced to back away from it.
The pillar of flame quickly faded, revealing a massive amalj'aa warrior, nearly two stories tall and towering over everyone else on the battlefield. There were cracks in his skin, mostly at his joints, glowing from an internal fire, giving the impression that the flesh was struggling to contain the power within. Growling, the giant glared down at the voidsent leader. "Bold of you to think you will survive today," he snarled, before glancing towards the Autobot. "You and I must speak after this, Countdown of Iacon."
It was only his considerable experience that allowed Countdown to resist the urge to stop and stare at the new arrival at those words. He was more successful than many of the amalj'aa on the street, who had stopped fighting and were now staring at the giant with expressions of awe. Then one of them raised his spear over his head, yelling a single word, starting a chant that was soon taken up as soon repeated by many of his kin, over and over again.
"Ifrit! Ifrit! Ifrit!"
A smirk flickered across the giants face, before turning serious again. "Keep your blades ready, my brothers! These blackguards thirst for our very souls! Ready your blades, and show them that Zal'na'rak will never fall to the Dark!" The flames flowed down his forearm and past his hand, reshaping it into a sword somehow made of literal fire.
Countdown stepped back as Ifrit marched into melee range, outright crushing any undead in his way, flaming sword carving through the larger voidsent. The transformer glanced to the side as O'riana joined him, leaning against a lamp post for support. "Ifrit," she muttered, disbelief in her voice, resting one of her axes on the ground so she could run a hand through her disheveled blue locks. "I honestly did not think I would ever encounter something even more incredible than when you revealed your true nature to me. But here we are."
"You know who this is?" he said, looking at her curiously.
She made herself take a deep breath before replying. "If he is who they are claiming… Then that is Ifrit, Lord of the Inferno. The First Flame of the amalj'aa, and their god."
"He's… well, that's a thing," he mused, glancing around. In the few moments he'd looked away from the fight, Ifrit had torn a bloody path through the enemy ranks, the seemingly endless wave of undead swarming into the city coming to a complete stop. The moment the creatures passed through the gates they literally burst into flames, so intense that they barely lasted a second before crumbling to ash.
More effort was required for the voidsent, but even they were completely overwhelmed by the supposed gods wrath. None of them were able to defend themselves against the fire blade, both metal and flesh giving way with disturbing ease. Their leader was still alive, but only because of some very close dodges, and a willingness to use his comrades as cover.
Countdowns optics narrowed, watching the voidsents movements closely, timing his dodges, studying how he moved. "Come on, give me an opening…" he murmured. A few seconds later, his target did just that, dodging behind a suit of animated armor, right where the Autobot had anticipated. Countdown didn't hesitate, firing both his arm cannons into the voidsents back.
The creature screamed, staggering, and Ifrit took the opportunity presented, driving his blade through the voidsents chest. "The voids curse of life eternal has limits. There must be something left of your soul to return to it," the god said, holding the blade in place and allowing the flames to spread. "That, I will not allow. Now, succumb to the inferno!"
Desperately, the voidsent leader clawed at Ifrits arm, trying to dislodge the blade that had replaced most of his torso. The giant didn't even seem to notice, keeping the blade level. Then flames spread across the last of the voidsents torso and onto his limbs, and the screams cut out instantly. A second later, there was a brief intense burst, and then the fire died away, leaving nothing behind.
"My thanks, Autobot." Nodding in satisfaction, Ifrit turned towards the city walls, crushing a smaller voidsent with his tail in the process. "Now then, with their master dealt with…" As Countdown watched, he raised his hand above his head. A moment later, seemingly from nowhere, fire rained from the sky. Jagged spears of impossibly solid flame rained from the sky, each one seeking out an enemy soldier with shocking accuracy. Across the street, on the city walls, and in the plains beyond, undead and voidsent found themselves nailed to the ground, the flames quickly consuming them without mercy.
***
The conference room was silent for a long moment, before Rodimus spoke. "Well, as statements of divinity go, I like Ifrit's style."
Countdown chuckled. "He pretty much ended the battle in an instant. If those nails of his missed anyone, they didn't survive for very long afterwards." His amusement faded. "Just in time too. If they'd gotten much further into the city, they'd have reached where the civilians were taking shelter." Several mechs winced slightly, being all too familiar with such nightmares.
Leaning forward, Dustoff studied the images of Ifrit, a thoughtful frown on the face. "So, at least one of the local religions gods is real, and able to intervene directly in matters. It's been quite some time since I saw a world where that was possible." Tapping her fingers against the table, the ships xenoculture expert considered the matter. "I wonder if he's a natural response of Etheirys' lifespark, or if there was something more deliberate in his creation. Both are possible, depending on exactly how the planets aetheric fields are laid out."
"I'm more concerned with the fact he knew Countdowns name," Magnus said.
"So was I," the micromaster agreed. "Thankfully, he'd already expressed a desire to speak with me. Once I was certain the fighting was over, I got that chance."
***
Zal'na'rak was built around a large mesa, and the temple the amalj'aa had built into the side of it. Over the centuries, more of the mesa had slowly been hollowed out, leaving vast chambers and halls, many of which were now being put to use as a space for treating wounded soldiers, or for ensuring that those that had given their lives could not have their bodies defiled by any lingering spirits. Slowly, Ifrit led the way deeper into the temple, pausing often to offer words of reassurance and support to any of his people that needed it. Given the circumstances, Countdown (true appearance now safely hidden behind a glamor once again) was more than willing to let him take the time needed.
Eventually, as they walked down a stone hallway in the temples depths, Ifrit spoke up. "Your arrival upon this star was foretold long ago, by Hydaelyn, Goddess of Light and the Mothercrystal of the star."
"Foretold."
Ifrit paused, then turned to look at him, raising one eye ridge. "You disbelieve in such arts?"
"It's not that I don't believe in it," the mech replied, waving a hand, "it's that I don't trust it. My people have encountered more than a few methods of precognition. Even at the best of times, they're unreliable and vague, with lots of room for misinterpretation."
Considering that for a moment, the god nodded in agreement. "There is some truth to that. Which is why, when Hydaelyn foretold your arrival, she took steps to ensure little room for error. As your companions can tell you, the gods rarely take physical form to intervene personally in matters of this realm. There is a simple but valid reason for that."
"Something tells me it's not that you just can't be bothered," Fylgja quipped, earning a startled look from O'riana, but an amused laugh from Ifrit.
"Nothing so negligent, I assure you." He held out his hand, letting the flames flow out of the cracks in his flesh and pool on his palm. "To craft a form that can contain the power of the divine is a complex task, one that requires vast amounts of aether. If I was to bring myself forward without proper preparation, or if my children were to recklessly summon me, that aether would be taken from the land around us, in such amounts that…" Staring at the flames dancing over his palm for a moment, he sighed and shook his head. "Well, I may be the god of fire, but not everything needs to be reduced to dead ash."
Considering that for a moment, O'riana couldn't help but frown. "Without proper preparation… But you knew you would be summoned when Countdown was here, didn't you? You could make the preparations needed to ensure your presence wouldn't harm your people."
There was a chuckle from ahead of them, and an elderly amalj'aa stepped into view. In sharp contrast to most of his kind, who were broad and incredibly muscular, time had worn him down, leaving him with a thin, almost skeletal build beneath the robes and jewelry of the priesthood. Despite this, and the way he had to lean on his staff for support, his gaze was still sharp and clear. "Most perceptive my dear girl. Long ago, before your people crossed the frozen seas, Hydaelyn knew this day would come. That a man made of metal would arrive in our lands from a distant star, and he would have the misfortune to arrive at the same time as voidsent, in their lust and greed, would attempt to lay siege to this city. Knowing this, she made preparations for this day. A spell was prepared, one that would slowly gather the aether needed over time and keep it hidden." He turned his gaze to Countdown, smiling wider as he did so. "Then, when the spell sensed the unique flames of your soul, that aether was released, and our lord took form in this realm. Your arrival ensured that our home was saved, and for that, I thank you."
"Tamel Koh here is the High Priest of the Undying Flame," Ifrit said, gesturing towards the man. "A small order by the standards of our people, but a vital one. For centuries they have maintained and cared for both this temple and the city that grew around it, all the while keeping the secret of your eventual arrival. That we both stand here now is all thanks to their hard work."
"It was my honor and my duty to serve your will," Tamel said, mostly managing to maintain a facade of stoic calm, although it was clear that his gods praise had him wanting to scream in delight. "As you instructed, we have secured the remains of the spells physical components."
"Ah, excellent. Thank you my friend." Ifrit paused, his smile fading somewhat. "Alas, today was not the only battle Hydaelyn foresaw. Tell me Captain, in your time on this star, what have you come to learn about the Umbral Calamities?"
Next to Countdown, O'riana froze, a squeak of horror escaping her throat as she realized why the god would ask such a question. "They mark the end of Astral Eras," the mechanoid said, making sure to keep his voice level. "Massive, civilisation ending disasters that span the entire world, sparing no one. Each one is different. The Third was worldwide quakes that shattered mountains. The last one was an ice age that lasted for centuries… And the fact you're asking me what I know about them can't mean anything good."
The God nodded sadly, his flames dimming. "I am afraid so. Once again, this star will soon face Calamity. It can not be avoided or defeated, merely survived. But thanks to your presence here today, I can give my people fair warning. We can prepare for what is coming." He studied Countdown for a moment. "And it is my hope that you are willing to help us spread this warning to others."
"How?"
"This is not the only place where Hydaelyn prepared a summoning spell to bring forth a god, keyed to the unique fire of your soul. Several of my kin are waiting for their opportunity to manifest in the physical realm, in order to warn their people of what is coming. They simply require your presence to activate the spell."
Fylgja landed on Countdowns shoulder and tilted her head thoughtfully. "So, all we need to do is visit a few temples, their gods will pop up and say 'hi everyone, the Calamity is coming!', then we go home, secure in the knowledge we did our part to save lives from a world-ending threat? Not the most thrilling of adventures, but I'll take it!" she said cheerfully.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, O'riana sighed. "That is not what you should be focusing on here."
"Well, if it was going to be a proper adventure, we'd need to… I don't know., duel an angry god in the middle of a thunderstorm."
Countdown ignored the two of them, keeping his attention on the god in front of him. "I'd like to think I'd be willing to take a lot more personal risk than that to help save lives," he said at last. "So, where do you need me to go?"
Flames returning to their previous intensity, Ifrit laughed in delight. "My friend, you are just as noble as Hydaelyn foresaw! I don't even need to bribe you with her reward for you!" Countdown blinked, and Ifrits laughter only grew as he turned away. "As I said earlier, she did not just merely rely on her foresight! Come, I believe you will appreciate what compensation she has for you!" he called out, throwing open the doors behind Tamel.
The chamber beyond was smaller than those they'd passed through before, being a small circular room built around a central altar. On that altar was a twisted mass of metal, melted and deformed by an intense heat from within, now barely recognisable as a bird. "Before today, this was a tribute to my brother Phoenix, the aspect of the flames that symbolizes rebirth." Stepping up next to it, Ifrit placed a hand on one of the melted wings, running a finger along the edge. "Given the ultimate purpose of the summoning spell woven into it, it seemed an appropriate choice, even if I was better suited for the actual summoning."
Carefully, the god used his flame as a plasma torch to cut open the idol's chest, molten metal dripping to the floor as he worked. Once that was done, he reached into where the heart would be on such a creature and removed a small orange cube with circuitry patterns along the sides. The moment it was free of the ruined idol, the patterns glowed blue for a moment, before unfolding into what looked like a metallic flower. "What is that?" Fylgja asked, leaning forward in an attempt to get a closer look.
"It's Cybertronian," Countdown replied, disbelief in his voice.
"Indeed it is. If nothing else, we did require an object that could resist the ravages of time as the core the summoning was built around. Something almost anything from your star is naturally suited for," he added with a teasing smile. "Of course, this particular item has a considerable history even by your own people's rather extreme standards." The circuitry glowed once again, and the flower transformed once more, this time into a small clockwork gear.
Taking the gear from Ifrit, Countdown turned it over in his hands, frowning thoughtfully. "These patterns are cyberglyphics," he mused, tracing a finger along the circuitry. "Pretty much the oldest Cybertronian language known," he added for his friend's benefit.
"What's it say?" Fylgja asked.
"Hard to say. Most of the language was lost during the Quintesson occupation. That said, I think…" Running a finger along an edge where the glyph seemed to cut off, he nodded to himself as a row of tiny serrated teeth popped out. "I was right. This is a piece of a larger item. One designed to separate into smaller components too." Looking up, he gave Ifrit a suspicious look. "Now how did you happen to come across a relic from my world's ancient past, that just happened to be perfect for separating into multiple smaller parts so that you could set up multiple summoning spells across the land?"
The god merely smiled innocently. "I am afraid you will have to ask Hydaelyn. She never did tell me exactly how that came into her possession."
Considering the object in his hands, Countdown chuckled. "Well, look at that, another mystery to tempt me. She planned this quite well."