Transformers Galvatron Self Insert (TFP)

Location: Decimator – Command Chamber POV: Galvatron

The Decimator hung in the void like a predator poised to strike. The immense flagship radiated menace, its sharp, jagged design catching the faint starlight of the sector. Surrounding it was the full might of the Decepticon fleet: an armada of warships, destroyers, and carriers flanked by swarms of smaller attack craft. Each bore the unmistakable emblem of the Decepticons, glinting crimson against their dark hulls.

At the heart of the Decimator, within its command chamber, Galvatron stood like a warlord surveying his dominion. The chamber reflected his dominance: high-vaulted ceilings, walls lined with glowing conduits of Cybertronian energy, and a central holographic display casting flickering images of their targets. The Galactic Council's sector maps stretched before him, each point of light a system marked for conquest.

His lieutenants had gathered, the most formidable Cybertronians under his command. At his right stood Drachen, his creation and most loyal general, a towering figure whose crimson optics gleamed with readiness. Nightburn, the shadow of the Decepticons, observed from the edge of the room, silent and calculating. Thunderblast stood with barely contained energy, her claws twitching in anticipation. The imposing Onslaught, flanked by the Combaticons, exuded an aura of brute strength. Even Shockwave, though physically absent, observed the proceedings through a glowing hologram, his singular optic unwavering.

The chamber's ambient hum seemed to fade as Galvatron began to speak. His voice was measured, each word carrying the weight of inevitability.

"My Decepticons," he began, his optics sweeping over the room. "For too long, this galaxy has been shaped by weakness."

The holographic map shifted, highlighting sectors of the Galactic Council's influence. Key targets—supply depots, shipyards, and outposts—glowed in crimson, each marked for destruction.

"The Galactic Council," he continued, his tone laced with disdain, "is a relic. A hollow institution built on the lie of peace. They claim order, but their order is stagnation. They hoard their resources, cling to outdated ideals, and call it governance."

He gestured to the projection, where grainy footage of a mining colony in flames played. Decepticon silhouettes moved through the smoke, obliterating resistance with surgical precision. Another clip showed a civilian spaceport, its once-bustling docks reduced to twisted metal.

"They will pay for their arrogance," Galvatron said, his tone hardening. "Their fleets, their armies, their worlds—they will all fall before us. We will shatter their illusions of control, and they will know despair."

A low murmur of approval rippled through the room. Thunderblast clenched her claws, her optics gleaming with a manic intensity. Drachen nodded once, his frame taut with readiness. Even the usually silent Nightburn inclined his head, a faint glow flickering in his visor.

The hologram shifted again, focusing on key tactical objectives. Galvatron's voice rose, his words carrying the force of conviction.

"Drachen," he commanded, turning to his right, "you will lead the assault on their shipyards. Cripple their ability to reinforce their fleets."

Drachen inclined his head. "It will be done."

"Nightburn," Galvatron said, his optics narrowing. "Target their supply lines. Without fuel, they will wither."

Nightburn's response was a simple nod. "Understood."

"Thunderblast," he continued, his tone softening slightly. "You will command the aerial assault from the Decimator. Scatter their fleets and control the skies."

Thunderblast smirked, saluting sharply. "Consider it handled, my Lord."

Finally, he turned to Onslaught and the Combaticons. "Take ground forces to their outposts. Leave nothing operational. Ensure the Galactic Council knows what happens to those who oppose us."

Onslaught saluted, his deep voice rumbling. "We will crush them."

The room fell silent as Galvatron stepped forward, his frame looming over the holographic map. His crimson optics burned brighter, casting an eerie glow.

"This is not just a campaign," he declared, his voice thundering. "This is our ascension. We will sweep through their sectors, leaving ruin in our wake. They will tremble at the sound of our name. And when they look to the skies, they will see one truth: Cybertron reigns supreme."

His words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Then he raised his clawed hand, his voice rising to a crescendo.

"Transform and Rise Up!"

"Rise up! Rise up!" The chant echoed through the chamber, thunderous and electrifying.

---

Location: Galactic Sector Xal'nor – Supply Depot Sigma POV: Captain Velran

The supply depot was a flurry of activity, its docks bustling with freighters and escort vessels loading precious cargo. Captain Velran paced the command deck, his uniform pristine despite the long hours. His crew worked tirelessly, their voices blending with the hum of engines and the chatter of comms.

"Commander," a communications officer called out, "we've just completed loading the last shipment of fuel cells for Fleet Quadrant 9. They're prepping for launch."

Velran nodded. "Good. Ensure the escort ships are ready to depart with them. We can't afford delays with the Decepticons raiding nearby sectors."

The officer hesitated. "Sir, the reports from the adjacent systems... they're troubling. Outposts have gone dark, and the last transmission we received showed—"

"Enough," Velran snapped, his tone sharp. "We're aware of the risks, but we can't allow fear to paralyze us. This depot is one of the most heavily fortified in the sector."

Before the officer could respond, alarms blared throughout the command center. The red emergency lights bathed the room in an ominous glow.

"Report!" Velran barked.

"Unidentified vessels entering the system!" a tactical officer shouted. "They're... they're Decepticon ships. A lot of them."

Velran's stomach sank as the tactical display came to life. A massive fleet of dark, angular ships surged toward the depot, their formation tight and menacing. At their head was the largest vessel he had ever seen—the Decimator.

"Deploy all defenses!" Velran commanded. "Scramble the escort ships and prepare the station's turrets!"

But even as the first volley of missiles and plasma rounds erupted from the depot's defenses, Velran knew it was futile. The Decimator unleashed a torrent of energy beams, its primary weapon carving through the escort ships like they were paper. Smaller Decepticon vessels darted forward, evading the depot's fire as they closed in for the kill.

Alarms blared. "Decepticon fleet incoming!"

---

Location: Decimator – Command Deck POV: Thunderblast

Thunderblast stood at the central console, her claws gripping the edges as she directed the aerial assault. The Decimator's targeting systems displayed the chaos outside in vivid detail—explosions bloomed across the void as Decepticon fighters overwhelmed the Galactic Council's ships.

"Skyfire, take your squad and hit their aft engines," she barked into the comm. "Disable their mobility and drive them toward the Decimator."

"Yes, Commander!" Skyfire's voice crackled back.

She smirked, her optics gleaming as she watched the smaller vessels scramble to obey her orders. The Seekers were performing flawlessly, their precision strikes reducing the enemy fleet to wreckage. Around her, the Decimator's weapons roared, each blast tearing through the Council's defenses.

"This is almost too easy," she muttered, her voice tinged with amusement.

The holographic display flickered, showing a wide-angle view of the depot. The defensive turrets were still operational, their fire concentrated on a squadron of Decepticon bombers. Thunderblast's claws danced across the console, redirecting a nearby wing of fighters to flank the station.

"Let's make them regret ever resisting," she said with a grin.

---

Location: Sigma-Prime – Ground Assault

POV: Onslaught

The Combaticons descended like a storm, their landing craft slamming into the surface of Sigma-2 with deafening force. The Galactic Council's soldiers scrambled to form a defense line, their energy rifles lighting up the battlefield.

Onslaught stepped forward, his massive frame absorbing the incoming fire. With a single motion, he raised his cannon and unleashed a devastating blast, reducing the enemy barricade to rubble.

"Combaticons, advance!" he roared.

Brawl charged ahead, his dual cannons blasting apart the Council's armored vehicles. Vortex swooped down from above, his rotors shredding a cluster of soldiers who had taken cover behind a ruined structure. Swindle and Blast Off provided covering fire, their weapons picking off targets with deadly precision.

"Minimal resistance," Onslaught observed, his optics narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield. "Pathetic."

The Council's forces fell back, retreating toward the outpost's central command center. Onslaught activated his comm, his voice cold and commanding. "Destroy their communications. Leave them blind."

Swindle grinned, his blaster already aimed at the communications tower. "With pleasure."

The tower exploded in a shower of sparks, plunging the outpost into chaos. Onslaught's optics gleamed as he raised his fist, signaling the Combaticons to continue their advance.

---

Location: Vercanos IV Shipyards

POV: Drachen

The shipyards of Orbital Platform Delta were a marvel of engineering, their massive docks cradling half-constructed warships. But to Drachen, they were nothing more than targets.

The Decepticon fleet under his command emerged from hyperspace, their formation tight and deadly. As the Galactic Council's patrol ships scrambled to intercept them, Drachen's voice echoed across the comms.

"Prioritize their docked vessels. Ensure they never leave these shipyards."

The fleet opened fire, plasma cannons and missile salvos tearing through the enemy lines. Drachen's flagship, Oblivion's Edge, led the charge, its weapons obliterating the station's defensive turrets.

"Deploy boarding teams," Drachen ordered. "Take the station's reactors offline."

From the Oblivion's Edge, dozens of assault craft launched, their magnetic clamps securing them to the shipyard's hull. Decepticon warriors poured into the station, cutting down resistance with ruthless efficiency.

Drachen observed the battle from the bridge, his optics cold and calculating. "Resistance is irrelevant. They will fall."

---

Location: Galactic Council War Room

POV: Admiral Krennar

The war room was in chaos. Holograms flickered with scenes of destruction as reports poured in from the Sigma sector. Admiral Krennar gripped the edge of the central table, his optics darting between the displays.

"Outposts Alpha and Beta are gone," a tactical officer reported. "The shipyards... they're—"

"I can see that," Krennar snapped, his voice strained. "Redirect Fleet Quadrant 7 to reinforce Sigma-2. We can't let them take the depot."

"Sir, Fleet Quadrant 7 is already under attack," another officer said. "They won't make it in time."

Krennar's fists clenched as he stared at the holograms. The Decepticons were everywhere, their tactics precise and brutal. Each strike crippled the Council's ability to respond, leaving entire systems defenseless.

"Send a distress signal to the High Command," he said, his voice grim. "Tell them... tell them we're being overwhelmed."

---

Location: Decimator – Command Deck POV: Galvatron

Galvatron stood at the center of the Decimator's command deck, his optics glowing with satisfaction. The Galactic Council's defenses were shattered, their resistance feeble and disorganized. On the tactical display, planets and stations marked as conquered flickered to crimson, the Decepticon insignia dominating the map.

"Status report," he commanded, his tone calm but laced with authority.

Drachen's voice came through the comm. "Vercanos IV is secured. Their shipyards are in flames."

"Onslaught?" Galvatron inquired.

"The refinery on Sigma-Prime is ours," Onslaught reported. "No survivors."

Thunderblast's voice followed, tinged with smugness. "The skies over Xal'nor belong to us, my Lord. Their fleet is dust."

Galvatron smirked, his tone filled with dark triumph. "Then it is time."

He stepped forward, his frame illuminated by the tactical display. The devastation of the Galactic Council was laid out before him like a tapestry of ruin. His voice thundered across the comms, reaching every Decepticon on the battlefield.

"Decepticons! Witness our power! This galaxy thought it could resist us, but we are the storm that sweeps away their delusions. We are the future, forged in the fires of conquest! Every ship we destroy, every city we claim, every world we burn—this is the will of Cybertron made manifest!"

His crimson optics burned brighter as he raised his fist, his voice rising to a crescendo. "Transform and Rise Up!"

"Rise up! Rise up!"

"All hail Galvatron!" Thunderblast's voice broke through the comms, soon joined by others.

"All hail Galvatron!"

The chant spread like wildfire, a symphony of triumph and terror that filled the airwaves. Across the fleet, Decepticon warriors raised their weapons, their voices echoing through the void. On battlefields strewn with wreckage, victorious ground forces bellowed their loyalty. Within conquered cities, the Decepticon insignia flew high, casting shadows over the defeated.

Galvatron's optics narrowed as he stared at the tactical display. The conquered Sigma sector was only the beginning. More systems awaited, each ripe for conquest. The Galactic Council's core worlds would tremble beneath his heel.

"This galaxy belongs to Cybertron," he declared, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "And to me."

He turned to Drachen's hologram, his expression unreadable but his tone sharp. "Prepare for the next phase. Let the galaxy feel the full weight of the Decepticons' wrath."

"Yes, my Lord," Drachen replied, his crimson optics gleaming.

As the tactical display shifted to show new targets, Galvatron allowed himself a moment of silence. The void outside the Decimator was lit with the faint flickers of dying Council ships, their wreckage drifting aimlessly. Each spark snuffed out was another step toward his ultimate vision—a galaxy unified under his iron rule.

---

Location: Decimator – Tactical Briefing Room

POV: Thunderblast

Thunderblast practically bounced as she entered the tactical briefing room, her steps light and her grin wide. The triumph of the blitz still thrummed in her systems, and the sound of her name echoing alongside Galvatron's commands was enough to make her spark race.

"My Lord Galvatron truly outdid himself," she murmured, half to herself, as she reviewed the final reports from her Seeker squadrons. "Flawless tactics, unparalleled leadership... perfection."

She glanced around to ensure no one was watching before pulling up a holographic image of Galvatron. It was one of his earlier speeches, his frame imposing and his voice filled with conviction. Thunderblast sighed, placing a clawed hand over her chest.

"Thunderblast," a cold voice interrupted.

She whirled, straightening up as she saw Drachen standing in the doorway. His crimson optics burned into her, and though his expression was neutral, there was a faint edge of irritation.

"Commander Drachen," she greeted, her voice overly chipper. "Can I help you with something?"

"Prepare your Seekers for redeployment," Drachen said, his tone clipped. "The next sector is already being targeted."

Thunderblast nodded quickly, though her optics lingered on the doorway as Drachen turned to leave. "Of course. Anything for our glorious leader."

---

Location: Stratos Tyrannis – Decepticon Military Barracks

POV: Calyx (New Cybertronian)

The world was alive with purpose.

Calyx stood in the vast halls of the barracks, his optics adjusting to the gleaming walls and the rhythmic hum of energon lines running beneath his feet. Around him, others like him—newly forged Cybertronians—buzzed with energy. Their frames gleamed with freshly polished armor, and their optics shone with loyalty as they listened to the commands of their instructors.

He flexed his servos, marveling at the strength he felt coursing through his circuits. Born from the All-Spark and Galvatron's will, Calyx and his kind were the future of Cybertron, a generation forged in a time of war. They had no memories of the caste systems of old or the chaos of the civil war. For them, there was only one truth: Galvatron's vision.

A voice echoed through the chamber, breaking his thoughts. "Recruits! Prepare for your first deployment!"

The speaker was a towering figure clad in dark purple and silver—Nightburn. His voice was a mix of command and cold indifference, but his presence demanded respect. Calyx straightened, his frame locking into a perfect stance as he awaited his orders.

"You are the first to carry Cybertron's resurgence into the stars," Nightburn declared, his crimson optics scanning the rows of newly forged warriors. "You will not falter. You will not question. You will succeed."

The recruits responded as one, their voices echoing through the chamber: "For Cybertron! For Galvatron!"

Calyx felt a surge of pride as he joined the chant. His spark burned with purpose, the weight of his duty settling on his shoulders. He had been born for this moment. There was no past to cloud his mind, no hesitation to dull his resolve. He was a soldier of Cybertron, and the galaxy would tremble before him.

---

Location: Decimator – Observation Deck

POV: Thunderblast

Thunderblast leaned against the reinforced glass of the observation deck, her optics fixed on the swirling patterns of hyperspace outside. Despite the countless battles ahead, her thoughts were firmly elsewhere—on Galvatron.

She sighed dramatically, her claws tapping against the railing. "So strong. So commanding. How does he make it look so effortless?"

A low growl broke her reverie. "Commander Thunderblast."

She turned sharply, her optics narrowing as she saw Drachen standing behind her. His imposing frame filled the doorway, his crimson optics glowing faintly. "Shouldn't you be preparing the aerial squadrons for the next assault?"

Thunderblast smirked, waving a claw dismissively. "Oh, they're ready. I made sure of it personally. You know me—I don't leave things to chance."

Drachen's expression remained stony. "Then why are you here?"

"Admiring the view," she replied, her tone airy. "And maybe... thinking about our glorious leader. Have you noticed how commanding he is? It's... inspiring."

Drachen's optics narrowed. "Your obsession is unbecoming of a commander."

Thunderblast's smirk faltered, but only slightly. "Obsession? Please. I'm simply... enthusiastic. After all, Galvatron deserves our loyalty, doesn't he?"

Drachen stepped closer, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "Do not mistake his patience for tolerance. Galvatron values results above all else. If you cannot focus on your duties, you will find yourself replaced."

The words hung in the air like a blade. Thunderblast glared at him but said nothing as Drachen turned and walked away, his cape billowing behind him. She crossed her arms, muttering under her breath.

"I'll show him results. I'll show all of them."

---

Location: Sigma Sector – Supply Lines POV: Nightburn

The convoy moved through the void, its glowing containers filled with energon bound for the Galactic Council's dwindling fleets. The ships were escorted by a modest defense force—enough, they thought, to deter most threats.

Nightburn watched from the shadows of his ship, the Black Talon, as the convoy unknowingly approached its doom. His optics gleamed faintly, his frame blending seamlessly with the dim interior of the command bridge.

"They don't even know we're here," his lieutenant remarked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"They won't have time to," Nightburn replied coldly. "Engage the cloaking fields. We strike in 30 cycles."

The Black Talon moved silently through the void, its hull coated with adaptive plating that rendered it invisible to sensors. Around it, a squadron of similarly outfitted Decepticon ships mirrored its movements. This was Nightburn's specialty—silent, surgical strikes that left no survivors.

When the moment came, the assault was swift and devastating. The Decepticon ships decloaked in perfect unison, their weapons firing before the Council's convoy could react. Explosions ripped through the line of transport vessels, scattering debris into the void.

Nightburn watched the destruction with cold satisfaction. The convoy's escort ships tried to form a defensive line, but it was already too late. His fighters tore through them like a pack of predators, their precision strikes dismantling the fleet with brutal efficiency.

"Leave nothing intact," Nightburn ordered. "They'll have no fuel to fight back."

By the time the battle ended, the convoy was little more than a field of smoldering wreckage. Nightburn turned away from the carnage, his voice calm as he issued his final command.

"Clean up the remains. No trace."

---

Location: Sigma Sector – Ground-Level Encampment POV: Nightburn

Nightburn moved silently among the debris, his visor dimmed to avoid detection. The battlefield was quiet now, save for the occasional groan of shifting wreckage or the faint crackle of residual energy. The Galactic Council's forces were decimated, their survivors fleeing into the wilds or buried beneath the ruins of their outposts.

As a shadow among shadows, Nightburn surveyed the conquered cities. Decepticon banners hung from ruined towers, their crimson glow a stark reminder of the invasion's cost. The people here wouldn't resist; they couldn't. The crushing weight of the Decepticons' blitz had left them shattered, their defenses obliterated.

"Nightburn to Command," he transmitted through a secure line. "Sector secured. Resistance negligible."

"Return to the fleet," Drachen's voice replied. "We move soon."

Nightburn paused, his optics scanning the horizon one last time. In the distance, the Decimator loomed, its silhouette dominating the sky. The blitz was only the beginning, and he knew the next phase would be bloodier still.

"As you command," Nightburn replied, his voice cold and quiet.

---

Location: Galactic Council Headquarters – Artaeus

POV: Admiral Krennar

The Council War Room on Artaeus buzzed with frantic energy. As the largest stronghold on the border of the core systems, Artaeus was a shining bastion of Galactic Council power, its planetary defenses unmatched in the sector. But tonight, the heart of the planet pulsed with unease.

Holograms filled the war room, flickering with dire news from the Sigma sector. Red markers—symbols of Decepticon activity—dominated the maps. Each represented a fallen world, an obliterated outpost, or a destroyed fleet. The invincible image of the Galactic Council was crumbling.

Admiral Krennar stood at the center of the chaos, his expression hard as steel. Around him, Councilors debated in panicked voices, their once-assured authority reduced to desperation.

"Sigma-Prime has fallen!" shouted an officer, his voice cutting through the noise. "Their refineries are in flames. Reports confirm... no survivors."

"Supply Depot Sigma is gone too," another officer added, his tone barely steady. "We lost all comms after their last transmission. The Decepticons annihilated their fleet and leveled the depot."

The central hologram flickered to life, displaying grainy footage from the battlefield. Onslaught's brutal siege of Sigma-Prime filled the room—a mechanical juggernaut smashing through defenses while Combaticons slaughtered fleeing soldiers. Another feed showed Drachen's forces burning the shipyards at Vercanos IV to the ground, the wreckage of half-finished warships tumbling into orbit.

Councilor Valos, a pale, wiry figure, clutched the edge of the table. "Admiral, we cannot allow this slaughter to continue! We must rally every available fleet and stop them before they reach the core systems!"

Krennar didn't reply immediately. His attention was fixed on the largest marker on the map—a hulking red triangle denoting the Decimator. He had seen planetary defense data and footage of its weaponry. Nothing in the Council's fleets could match it.

"How are they moving so quickly?" another Councilor demanded. "This campaign—this blitz—it's impossibly coordinated. How did the Decepticons, of all factions, achieve this?"

"They've unified," Krennar said at last, his voice low and sharp. "They've found a leader."

He gestured to the Decimator's holographic marker. "That is their symbol of unity. Their flagship. And I fear it's only the beginning."

Valos leaned forward, desperation in his voice. "Then Artaeus must hold. It is the last defense before the core worlds. If we fall here, the inner rim will be exposed!"

Krennar's gaze turned to the holograms of Artaeus's planetary defenses—orbital cannons, shield generators, and the Council's strongest remaining fleets. "We will hold," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. "We must."

Suddenly, alarms blared through the chamber, bathing the war room in crimson light. Krennar snapped his head to the nearest officer. "What is it?"

"Multiple warp signatures detected at the edge of the system!" the officer replied, his voice tight. "It's the Decepticons—they're here!"

The holographic map shifted, zooming out to reveal a swarm of red markers materializing on the system's edge. At their center was the unmistakable silhouette of the Decimator.

Krennar's optics burned as he turned back to the Councilors. "Evacuate immediately! The fleets must mobilize at once—"

The war room's lights flickered as the first tremors shook the building. A low, guttural rumble echoed from the heavens, followed by the sound of distant explosions. Krennar's hands tightened into fists.

"Admiral!" a comms officer shouted. "They've breached the outer perimeter. Orbital defenses are collapsing—"

The feed cut to black as another tremor rocked the room. Krennar's expression darkened. He turned to his officers, barking orders with cold efficiency. "Engage all planetary defenses. Deploy every fleet. Make them bleed for every inch."

The war room descended into chaos as Councilors scrambled for the exits, their guards escorting them toward escape shuttles. Krennar remained unmoving, his gaze fixed on the holographic marker of the Decimator.

For a moment, the feed crackled back to life, showing the fleet's vanguard colliding with Decepticon forces. The Galactic Council ships were powerful, their weapons blazing with unrelenting fury, but the Decimator's superweapon fired a single violet beam, cleaving through the formation like a blade through water.

The screen went dark again. And this time, it didn't return.

---

Location: Civilian Transport "Teldar Nova" – Artaeus Space Lane POV: Reeva Tanis (Civilian)

The Teldar Nova shook violently as it exited hyperspace, its overburdened engines straining to compensate for the sudden transition. Packed with refugees fleeing the Sigma sector, the transport was a cacophony of desperate voices and restless movement.

Reeva clutched her daughter tightly, her optics darting between the viewport and the crowded corridor. Around her, families huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. The air in the ship was thick with fear, an oppressive weight that seemed to grow with every passing minute.

"Do you think Artaeus will let us land?" someone muttered nearby. A young man, barely out of his teens, sat against the bulkhead, his arms wrapped protectively around a bundle of belongings.

"They have to," another replied. "It's the last safe place. The Council will protect us."

Reeva wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that the lights of Artaeus, shining in the distance, were a promise of safety. But her gut churned with unease. The stories she had heard—the ones she hadn't wanted her daughter to hear—painted a much darker picture.

"Mommy," her daughter whispered, tugging on her arm. "Are we safe now?"

Reeva forced a smile, stroking her daughter's hair. "We're almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer."

Suddenly, the ship jolted, throwing passengers against the walls. Cries of alarm filled the cabin as the emergency lights flickered to life.

"What was that?" someone shouted.

Reeva turned toward the viewport, her heart stopping as a massive shadow loomed over the transport. A Decepticon warship—a sleek, angular predator bristling with weapons—descended upon them like a bird of prey. Its crimson insignia glinted ominously against the starlight.

"No..." Reeva breathed, pulling her daughter close.

The warship fired. The first volley obliterated the Nova's engines, sending the transport spiraling into the void. Screams filled the air as passengers were thrown about, their terror reaching a crescendo. Panels burst, wires sparked, and the stench of burning metal filled the cabin.

The Decepticon ship didn't stop. Another barrage struck the Nova's hull, tearing through the vessel with brutal precision. The lights went out, leaving the cabin bathed in darkness punctuated by the red glow of emergency beacons.

Reeva held her daughter tighter, her optics filled with tears. "Close your eyes, sweetheart," she whispered. "Just close your eyes."

A final explosion ripped through the ship, consuming the Teldar Nova in a blinding burst of light. When the flames died, all that remained was debris, drifting aimlessly in the cold void.

---

Location: Decimator – Command Chamber POV: Galvatron

The Decimator's command chamber was silent save for the rhythmic hum of energy conduits. Galvatron stood at the central display, his crimson optics fixed on the tactical holograms. With every passing moment, another world fell, another system succumbed to the iron will of Cybertron and his Decepticon Empire.

His thoughts were not on the logistics of the campaign—those he left to Drachen and Shockwave—but on the greater vision that fueled his actions. The Galactic Council was a relic, clinging to outdated ideals. They represented stagnation, a failure to adapt to the ever-changing tides of power. In contrast, the Decepticons were the future, their strength forged through fire and conflict.

"Strength is the only truth," Galvatron said aloud, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "Weakness is a disease, and the Galactic Council is riddled with it."

He turned to the hologram of Shockwave, who observed from his distant laboratory. "Their fleets are scattered, their leaders panicked. But tell me, Shockwave, what do you see when you analyze them?"

Shockwave's single optic glowed faintly as he responded. "I see potential though they are organic they can be forged into something more."

Galvatron smirked. "An interesting thought. But a thought it will be I see a vision of Cybertronian dominant galaxy and remember my friend it may seem cruel to eradicate them but on a grander scale there are multiverses full of them and we require a staging ground to combat the threats I have seen."

He turned away, his claws tracing the edges of the holographic map. "In years to come when this galaxy looks upon the ruins of the Council, they will see more than devastation. They will see Cybertronian supremacy. They will see me and the strength that represents."

---

Location: Conquered World Erion V – Outer District

POV: Elira Velton (Civilian)

The air was thick with smoke and despair. Erion V, once a thriving industrial hub, now lay in ruins. The Decepticons had descended like a plague, their ships blotting out the sun, their weapons reducing the city to rubble in hours. Resistance had been crushed before it could even take form.

Elira stood in line with dozens of other captives, her hands bound in front of her, her legs trembling as she was pushed forward. Around her, the cries of children and the muffled sobs of the defeated filled the air. The acrid smell of burning metal clung to everything, making it hard to breathe.

Ahead, the execution platform loomed—a stark reminder of their impending fate. The Decepticons were everywhere, their massive frames casting shadows over the broken civilians. Their crimson optics gleamed in the dim light, emotionless and cold, as they herded the captives with ruthless efficiency.

"Move!" barked one of the towering warriors, his metallic voice grinding like machinery. Elira stumbled forward, her bare feet scraping against the cracked ground. Beside her, a man faltered and fell, only to be lifted like a ragdoll and thrown aside by one of their captors. He didn't move again.

Elira craned her neck, daring to look at the figures that had destroyed her home. They stood impossibly tall, their armor gleaming like polished obsidian. They were not just soldiers—they were titans, beings of unimaginable power. One of them, his massive form framed by jagged crimson plating, stepped onto the execution platform. His fusion cannon hummed ominously, the sound filling the square.

The first prisoner was forced to their knees at the base of the platform. There was no ceremony, no words of judgment. The cannon fired, and the captive crumpled to the ground in an instant, their body reduced to lifeless metal.

A collective gasp rippled through the line of captives. Some sobbed openly; others merely stared, their faces hollow with resignation. Elira felt her legs weaken as she was pushed closer to the front of the line. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run, but there was no escape. The Decepticons loomed on all sides, their presence inescapable.

The next captive was dragged forward, a young man no older than twenty. He looked back at the crowd, his eyes wide with terror, before the cannon fired again, silencing him forever.

One by one, the line moved forward, and one by one, they fell. Elira's breath hitched as she reached the edge of the platform. She could feel the heat of the cannon, see the lifeless bodies piled in a heap below. She closed her eyes, her mind filled with thoughts of her daughter—hidden away in the ruins, far from the square. She clung to the faint hope that her child would survive, even if she would not.

The last sound she heard was the hum of the fusion cannon.

---

Location: Vercanos IV – Predaking's Hunt

POV: Predaking

The ruins were silent but for the faint crackle of distant fires. Predaking moved through the devastation like a shadow, his massive frame low to the ground, his talons scraping against the metal floor. The air was heavy with the scent of energon and fear, his senses sharp and unyielding as he hunted.

In the distance, faint whispers carried on the wind. The organics thought they could hide, huddled in the crumbled remains of their outpost. Predaking tilted his head, the faint glow of his optics piercing the gloom. His movements were slow, deliberate, each step calculated to mask his presence.

He crouched behind a shattered wall, his nostrils flaring as he caught their scent. There were three of them—two soldiers and a technician, their bodies trembling as they whispered frantic plans of escape. Predaking could hear their hearts pounding, smell the sweat of their fear. They were prey, and the hunt was nearly over.

With a single, powerful leap, Predaking launched himself into their midst. His talons struck first, tearing through one of the soldiers before they could react. The others screamed, scrambling backward as their weapons fired wildly into the dark. The shots sparked harmlessly off his armor.

The second soldier tried to run. Predaking's tail lashed out, striking him with a sickening crack. He fell, his body limp as it hit the ground. The technician remained, frozen in terror, his hands raised in a futile gesture of surrender. Predaking's massive jaws opened, his hot breath washing over his prey before clamping down with a crunch.

The ruins were silent once more. Predaking straightened, his frame towering over the carnage. His optics scanned the horizon, but his quarry was gone. For now. There would be more hunts, more prey to test his strength.

Without a sound, he vanished into the shadows.

---

Location: Stratos Tyrannis – War Memorial Square POV: Calyx (New Cybertronian)

The square of Stratos Tyrannis was alive with energy, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency of the barracks where Calyx had been forged. Massive holographic banners bearing the Decepticon insignia hung from towering spires, casting a crimson glow across the plaza. Hundreds of Cybertronians filled the space, their voices rising in unison as they celebrated their triumphs.

Calyx stood near the edge of the square, his optics wide as he took in the sight. For a newly forged soldier like him, the spectacle was overwhelming. He could feel the energy in the air, the raw power of unity that radiated from his comrades. They had returned victorious from the campaign's first phase, their frames gleaming with the pride of conquest.

In the center of the square stood a massive monument—a jagged, metallic obelisk that pulsed with faint purple light. It was a beacon, a reminder of their shared purpose and the strength of their leader. At its base, Decepticon officers mingled with newly forged Cybertronians, their voices loud and animated.

A booming voice cut through the noise, silencing the crowd. Calyx turned, his optics locking onto the towering figure of Drachen as he stepped onto the central dais. The crimson glow of his optics seemed to pierce through the haze of celebration.

"Decepticons!" Drachen's voice carried across the square, commanding absolute attention. "Today, we celebrate not just victory, but the promise of what is to come."

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices blending into a symphony of loyalty and fervor. Calyx felt his spark swell with pride as he joined the chant, his voice merging with those of his brothers and sisters.

Drachen raised a hand, silencing the crowd once more. "The Galactic Council believed themselves untouchable. They believed their fleets, their defenses, their worlds could withstand the might of Cybertron. They were wrong."

He gestured to the obelisk behind him. "This monument stands as a testament to our strength, to the unyielding will of our leader. Our Lord Galvatron has shown us the way. Under his command, we will not falter. We will not break."

The crowd's response was deafening. Calyx felt his circuits hum with the energy of the moment, his loyalty to Lord Galvatron solidified even further. He looked around, seeing the same fervor mirrored in the faces of his comrades.

As the cheers began to subside, Drachen stepped aside, making way for another figure. Calyx's optics widened as he recognized Galvatron himself, his imposing frame illuminated by the glow of the monument. The crowd fell silent, their anticipation palpable.

Galvatron's optics swept over the assembled Cybertronians, his presence alone commanding their unwavering attention. When he spoke, his voice was calm yet filled with power.

"Decepticons," he began, "you have done well. Each of you has played a part in this campaign, proving that our unity and strength is our greatest strength. But this is only the beginning."

He gestured toward the obelisk. "This monument is not merely a symbol of our victory. It is a reminder of our purpose. The Galactic Council stands as a relic of a stagnant era. We are the storm that will sweep them away and we together shall forge a new era of Decepticon supermancy."

The crowd roared in agreement, their voices echoing through the square. Calyx felt his spark burn brighter as he gazed up at Lord Galvatron, the embodiment of strength and purpose made manifest for he could do no wrong he who brought our race back he who defended us.

---

Location: Sigma-Prime – Surface of a Conquered World POV: Onslaught

The refinery burned in the distance, its plumes of smoke twisting into the darkened sky. Onslaught stood at the edge of the ruined city, his optics scanning the devastation his forces had wrought. The Galactic Council's defenders had been obliterated, their resistance crumbling under the might of the Combaticons.

Now, it was time to send a message.

"Prepare the insignia," Onslaught commanded, his voice low and measured. "Make it visible from orbit."

Swindle and Brawl moved quickly, their frames disappearing into the ruins. Onslaught's optics followed them for a moment before turning to the massive platform that had been erected at the center of the city. It was a crude structure, built from the remnants of the Council's defenses, but it would serve its purpose.

Minutes later, the ground trembled as the insignia was unveiled. A massive Decepticon emblem, its jagged edges glowing with molten metal, was raised into the air. The heat radiating from it warped the air, casting distorted shadows over the city. From orbit, the symbol would dominate the landscape, a stark reminder of who now controlled Sigma-Prime.

Onslaught stepped back, his frame towering over the gathered soldiers. "This is what happens to those who defy us," he said, his voice carrying across the ruins. "Let it stand as a warning to all who dare oppose Cybertron and our Lord Galvatron."

The soldiers responded with a salute, their movements precise and unified. Onslaught's optics narrowed as he looked toward the horizon. This world was just one of many. The Galactic Council would learn to fear the Decepticon insignia, burned into the surface of every planet they conquered.

---

Location: Decimator – Command Chamber

POV: Galvatron

Galvatron stood at the tactical display, his optics glowing with satisfaction. The Galactic Council's worlds burned, their symbols of power reduced to ash. He could see the glowing markers of conquered planets on the hologram, each one a testament to the might of Cybertron.

"Their fear grows," Shockwave's voice crackled over the comm. "We have intercepted transmissions from the Council. Their leadership is fractured. Their fleets are disorganized."

Galvatron's claws traced the edges of the hologram as a faint smile crossed his face. "Good. Let them panic. Let them see the shadow of their demise creeping ever closer."

He turned to face his lieutenants—Drachen, Thunderblast, and Nightburn—each standing at attention. "The next phase begins now. We will strike deeper into their territories, taking their core systems and leaving their remnants scattered."

"Understood, my Lord," Drachen replied, his voice firm.

Galvatron stepped forward, his presence commanding. "Remember this: every world we take, every fleet we destroy, brings us closer to our destiny. Cybertron will rise. And the galaxy will kneel."

The room fell silent as Galvatron's words sank in. Outside, the Decimator prepared for its next assault, its engines humming with power. The blitz was far from over.

---

Location: Galactic Council Fleet – Sector Artaeus POV: Admiral Krennar

The bridge of the Sovereign Flame was a cacophony of voices and flashing lights. Officers barked orders, their hands flying over consoles as the fleet mobilized. Outside the viewport, Artaeus's orbital defenses bristled with activity, their turrets swiveling to lock onto the approaching Decepticon fleet.

Admiral Krennar stood at the center of it all, his face a mask of grim determination. This was it—the last stand before the Decepticons breached the core systems. If Artaeus fell, there would be nothing left to stop them from reaching the inner rim and the Council's homeworlds.

"How many ships do we have in the field?" Krennar demanded.

"Thirty-seven capital ships and sixty-three escorts, Admiral," an officer replied, her voice tense. "The planetary cannons are operational, and our reinforcements are en route."

"En route isn't good enough," Krennar snapped. "We need them now."

The holographic display flickered, showing the Decepticon fleet as it advanced. Their numbers were staggering—dozens of massive warships flanked by swarms of smaller vessels. At their center loomed the Decimator, its jagged hull illuminated by the glow of its engines.

"They're holding formation," the tactical officer reported. "They're... waiting."

Krennar's optics narrowed. "They're toying with us. They know they can crush us, but they want us to see it coming."

A sudden flash of light drew his attention to the viewport. The Decimator's primary weapon fired, a beam of violet energy that tore through one of the orbital platforms. The platform erupted in a fiery explosion, its debris scattering across the planet's atmosphere.

"Target their flagship!" Krennar barked. "All ships, fire at will!"

The fleet's guns roared to life, filling the void with streaks of plasma and missile trails. The Decimator absorbed the onslaught, its shields flaring brightly but holding firm. Smaller Decepticon ships broke off, their engines blazing as they closed the distance to the Council's fleet.

The battle had begun.

---

Location: Decimator – Command Deck

POV: Galvatron

Galvatron stood at the heart of the Decimator's command deck, his optics fixed on the unfolding chaos. The Council's fleet fired desperately, their weapons a futile attempt to stem the tide of destruction. Around him, his officers worked with precision, their movements a testament to Decepticon discipline.

"Focus fire on their command vessels," Galvatron commanded. "Leave their escorts for Thunderblast's fighters."

"Yes, my Lord," Drachen replied, his voice steady. "The Sovereign Flame is moving to intercept."

Galvatron's optics glinted. "Let them come. They will see the futility of their defiance."

The Decimator's weapons lit up, unleashing a barrage of energy beams and missiles. One by one, the Council's capital ships fell, their hulls breaking apart under the relentless assault. Galvatron's frame remained motionless, a pillar of control amidst the chaos.

---

Location: Decimator – Aerial Assault Wing POV: Thunderblast

"This is too easy!" Thunderblast's voice crackled over the comms, her laughter carrying an edge of manic glee. Her Seeker squadrons weaved through the Council's formations, their plasma cannons ripping apart escorts and fighters alike.

"Skyfire, cover my six!" she barked, rolling her jet form to avoid a missile volley. "Let's show these weaklings what happens when they face Cybertron's skies!"

Her fighters responded with precision, their movements a symphony of destruction. Thunderblast smirked as she watched another escort ship spiral out of control, its engines engulfed in flames.

"This is why we're the best," she muttered to herself, her optics gleaming. "Galvatron will see—he'll see how indispensable I am."

A transmission from the Decimator cut through her thoughts. Drachen's voice, cold and sharp, filled her comms. "Thunderblast, focus your attack. The Sovereign Flame is moving to flank the Decimator."

"Already on it," she replied, though her tone lacked its usual enthusiasm. Drachen's presence always had a way of souring her mood. Still, she couldn't deny the thrill of proving her worth on the battlefield.

---

Location: Sovereign Flame – Bridge POV: Admiral Krennar

The bridge shook violently as another explosion rocked the Sovereign Flame. Krennar gripped the edge of the tactical table, his optics locked on the holographic display. The Decepticons were overwhelming them, their coordination flawless and their firepower unmatched.

"Admiral, the Decimator is targeting us directly!" an officer shouted.

"Brace for impact!" Krennar roared.

The beam struck the ship with a deafening roar, tearing through its shields and cutting deep into its hull. Alarms blared as fires erupted across the bridge, sparks raining down from damaged consoles.

"Damage report!" Krennar demanded.

"We've lost half our weapon systems and main propulsion!" the officer replied, her voice strained. "The Decimator's next shot will finish us!"

Krennar's optics burned with frustration. He had fought countless battles, faced impossible odds, but this—this was different. The Decepticons were more than a military force; they were a storm, unrelenting and merciless.

A new transmission crackled over the comms, but it wasn't from his fleet. It was Galvatron.

"Admiral Krennar," the voice said, calm and measured. "Your resistance has been commendable, but it ends here. You face the will of Cybertron. Surrender, and your death will be swift."

Krennar clenched his fists. "Never."

"So be it," Galvatron replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

The Decimator fired once more, its beam cutting through the Sovereign Flame. The flagship split apart, its remains swallowed by the void. Krennar's final thought was of Artaeus, and the countless lives he had failed to protect.

---

Location: Artaeus – Surface of the Capital City POV: Civilians in the Square

The sky above Artaeus burned.

From the central square, civilians looked on in horror as the orbital defenses failed one by one. Fiery debris rained down, striking the city with devastating force. The once-proud capital of the Galactic Council's outer sectors was collapsing, its people powerless to stop it.

A young woman clutched her child as Decepticon warships descended, their dark forms casting shadows over the ruins. Soldiers marched through the streets, their frames towering over the frightened masses. Resistance was futile; the Decepticons had made that abundantly clear.

A deep, mechanical voice boomed from the sky, amplified by the descending ships. "Citizens of Artaeus, your world belongs to Cybertron. Submit, or be annihilated."

The woman squeezed her child tightly, tears streaming down her face. Around her, others fell to their knees, their faces pale with terror. The march of the Decepticons grew louder, their presence suffocating.

A single shot rang out, silencing the square. The message was clear: there would be no mercy.

---

Location: Artaeus – Central Command District POV: Galvatron

The streets of Artaeus were awash in fire and rubble. Decepticon banners hung from the shattered remnants of the Galactic Council's once-proud architecture, their crimson glow casting eerie shadows over the ruined city. Galvatron walked at the head of his forces, his stride steady and unyielding. Behind him, Drachen, Nightburn, and a cadre of elite warriors moved with precision, their weapons at the ready.

A lone battalion of Galactic Council soldiers had gathered near the central command district, their energy shields shimmering under the light of the burning city. They were the last defenders of Artaeus, a desperate force clinging to the faint hope of survival.

Galvatron paused, his optics narrowing as he assessed the battlefield. "Drachen," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Take the left flank. Nightburn, secure the perimeter. Ensure no one escapes."

"Yes, my Lord," they responded in unison, peeling off with their squads. Galvatron stepped forward, his frame towering over the rubble-strewn streets. The soldiers ahead raised their weapons, their fear palpable even from a distance.

A single energy blast cut through the silence, striking the ground near Galvatron's feet. He didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his fusion cannon, the barrel glowing with ominous energy.

"You dare?" he said, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the ruins. Without another word, he fired. The cannon's blast tore through the defensive line, scattering debris and bodies alike.

The surviving soldiers hesitated, their resolve wavering. Galvatron strode forward, his clawed hands flexing with anticipation. One of the defenders—a young officer with trembling hands—raised his weapon and fired. The shot struck Galvatron's chest but barely left a scorch mark.

Galvatron's optics locked onto the officer, and in a flash, he was upon him. With one swift motion, Galvatron's claw crushed the weapon and sent the soldier sprawling. He loomed over the fallen officer, his frame casting a shadow that seemed to envelop the man entirely.

"This," Galvatron said, his voice filled with disdain, "is the best the Galactic Council can muster? Pathetic."

He raised the soldier by his collar, his claws tightening around the fragile metal. "Let your death be a message."

With a single, brutal motion, Galvatron hurled the officer into the ranks of his comrades. The body struck the ground with a sickening crunch, sending the defenders into chaos.

---

Location: Central Command District – Side Street POV: A Galactic Council Soldier

The battle was lost. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to find a corner to hide in, but there was nowhere to go. The towering figure of Galvatron dominated the battlefield, his fusion cannon blazing with unrelenting fury. Every shot carved through the ranks of the defenders, their screams swallowed by the roar of destruction.

The soldier crouched behind a crumbled wall, his heart pounding in his chest. Around him, the sounds of combat raged—explosions, the shriek of twisting metal, the mechanical roars of the Decepticons. He peeked over the edge of the rubble, his optics widening as he saw Galvatron wade through the fray.

"Fall back!" someone shouted, but it was futile. Galvatron was everywhere, his frame a blur of lethal motion. He tore through the defenders with a precision that was almost surgical, his claws rending armor and flesh with equal ease. Each step he took left behind a trail of carnage, his crimson optics glowing like the fires of some unholy forge.

The soldier turned to run, but a shadow fell over him. He froze, his body trembling as he turned to see Galvatron towering above him. The Decepticon leader tilted his head, his optics narrowing as if deciding whether the soldier was even worth the effort.

"Run," Galvatron said, his voice cold and final. "Tell your leaders what you have seen."

The soldier didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and ran, his legs carrying him as far from the battlefield as they could. But even as he fled, he knew the truth—there was no escaping Galvatron. There was no escape for anyone.

---

Location: Central Command District – Galvatron's Final Strike POV: Galvatron

The battlefield was silent now, save for the crackle of distant fires. The defenders had been broken, their forces scattered or destroyed. Galvatron stood amidst the ruins, his frame unmarred despite the ferocity of the battle. Around him, the remains of the Galactic Council's last stand lay in smoldering heaps.

"Report," he said, his voice cutting through the stillness.

Drachen approached, his frame darkened with soot but otherwise unharmed. "The perimeter is secure. No survivors."

"Good," Galvatron replied. He turned to the central command building, its once-pristine facade now a crumbled wreck. "The Council thought this place was untouchable. They were wrong."

He raised his fusion cannon, aiming it at the base of the structure. The cannon fired, its beam slicing through the building's supports. With a groan of metal and stone, the structure collapsed, its fall sending a plume of dust and debris into the sky.

"Artaeus is ours," Galvatron declared, his voice echoing across the ruins. He turned to face his forces, his optics burning with purpose. "This is only the beginning. The Council will fall. The galaxy will kneel."

---

Location: Decimator – Command Deck POV: Thunderblast

Thunderblast watched the scene unfold on the command deck's main display, her optics wide with a mix of awe and something far more personal. "He's magnificent," she whispered to herself, her claws tightening against the console. "Absolutely unstoppable."

"Focus, Commander," Drachen's voice cut through her thoughts as he entered the room. "We're not done yet."

Thunderblast shot him a glare but said nothing, her attention returning to the display. Galvatron's silhouette stood tall against the backdrop of destruction, his presence commanding even from a distance.

"All hail Galvatron," she murmured, a grin spreading across her face.

---

Location: Stratos Tyrannis – Victory Square

POV: Calyx (New Cybertronian)

The square of Stratos Tyrannis had become a sea of light and sound, the newly forged Cybertronian capital erupting in celebration. Massive banners bearing the Decepticon insignia hung from towering spires, their crimson glow illuminating the jubilant crowd below. The air vibrated with the rhythmic chants of "All hail Galvatron!" and "Cybertron supreme!"

Calyx stood near the front of the assembly, his optics wide with awe. Beside him, other newly forged soldiers shouted themselves hoarse, their fists raised in unity. For Calyx, this moment was a revelation. They had seen battle, experienced the chaos of war firsthand, and yet here they stood—victorious, unbroken.

At the center of the square, a raised dais stood illuminated, flanked by rows of elite warriors. On it stood Galvatron himself, his imposing frame a beacon of power and purpose. Beside him were Drachen, Nightburn, and Thunderblast, each flanking him like living avatars of Cybertronian might.

Galvatron raised a clawed hand, and the crowd fell silent instantly. The weight of his presence was palpable, the very air seeming to hum with his energy. His optics swept over the gathered masses, and when he spoke, his voice was a thunderclap that resonated through every spark.

"Decepticons," he began, his tone calm yet commanding, "today marks the first step in our ascension."

The crowd erupted again, their cheers shaking the square. Galvatron allowed them a moment before raising his hand once more, silencing them with ease.

"For too long, the Galactic Council has clung to power they do not deserve," he continued, his voice rising with conviction. "They hoard resources, they stagnate, they betray the very principles they claim to uphold. But we have shown them the truth."

He gestured toward a massive hologram that flickered to life above the dais, showing scenes of their conquests. Worlds burned under Decepticon firepower, their defenses shattered, their rulers fleeing in terror.

"We are the future," Galvatron declared, his optics burning like molten fire. "Where they cling to weakness, we embrace strength. Where they falter, we rise. And we will continue to rise until this galaxy is ours!"

The square erupted into chants of "Rise up! Rise up!" Calyx's voice joined the chorus, his spark ablaze with purpose. Galvatron's words were more than inspiration—they were truth.

"And so I ask you, my warriors, my brothers and sisters," Galvatron said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Will you fight with me? Will you conquer with me? Will you rise with me?"

The response was deafening. "We will rise! All hail Galvatron!"

Galvatron's smirk widened. "Then prepare yourselves. The Council's core worlds await. Transform... and rise up!"

"Rise up! Rise up!" the chant thundered through the square, a symphony of loyalty and fury.

---

Location: Decimator – Command Chamber

POV: Galvatron

The victory celebration had left Galvatron with a rare moment of satisfaction. Seated on the Decimator's command throne, he reviewed the latest reports. His fleet was consolidating their gains, their conquests proceeding with ruthless efficiency. The Galactic Council's territories were crumbling, their forces scattered and demoralized.

Shockwave's hologram materialized before him, the scientist's singular optic glowing faintly. "The data from our recent campaigns is promising, my Lord. The Council's logistical framework is unraveling faster than anticipated."

"Good," Galvatron replied, his tone measured. "And the next phase?"

Shockwave tilted his head slightly. "Our forces are positioned to strike at the core worlds within the next cycle. However, I have identified potential resistance pockets that may require... adjustment."

Galvatron's optics narrowed. "Resistance is irrelevant. We will crush them."

"Of course, my Lord," Shockwave said. "I have also made progress on the next generation of combat units. Their production will bolster our forces for the coming campaigns."

Galvatron nodded, leaning back in his throne. "See to it that they are ready. The core worlds will not fall without a fight."

---

Location: Kaon – Night District

POV: Nightburn

The bar was a mix of chaos and revelry. Decepticon soldiers filled the room, their voices loud and boisterous as they toasted their victories. Energon cubes clinked together in makeshift toasts, and the air buzzed with the hum of countless conversations.

Nightburn sat in a shadowed corner, his optics scanning the room. He wasn't one for celebrations, but his presence here served a purpose. Among the revelers were his operatives, their subtle nods confirming the flow of information. Even in victory, vigilance was essential.

A squad of PBM units—Galvatron's experimental heavy soldiers—stood near the bar, their massive frames drawing attention even in this crowd. One of them raised a cube high, his voice booming. "To Lord Galvatron! May his reign be eternal!"

The room erupted in agreement, the chant of "All hail Galvatron!" reverberating through the walls. Nightburn allowed himself a faint smile. Loyalty like this was a weapon, and under Galvatron's leadership, it had become an unstoppable force.

As the celebration continued, Nightburn's comm link buzzed softly. He tapped the side of his helm, activating the private channel.

"Report," he said, his voice low.

A scout's voice crackled through the line. "Intel confirms the Council's remaining fleets are regrouping near the Zaranthi Nebula. Resistance is expected."

Nightburn's optics narrowed. "Understood. Continue observation and await further orders."

He ended the transmission, his gaze returning to the room. The soldiers' celebrations were well-earned, but the war was far from over. Rising from his seat, he moved toward the exit, his steps silent amidst the chaos.

A/N

So this is my biggest chapter ever I think I could off split most of this into separate interludes yes did I want to no I had a blast writing this and I've already got the next log ready if you guys want to see anything in this War arc let me know and after this we're going to go slow and consolidate the new territory and send scouting fleets to former Cybertronian colonies oh and are there any Autobots or anything I can add that can challenge Galvatron I don't want to make it to easy.