Chapter 223: Cyclonus

Skygnaw adjusted his altitude repeatedly during transit, taking a closer look at the stray Insecticons scattered across the plains.

Left to roam free, the feral creatures had hunted natural mineral veins without competition. They were sturdy and far more numerous than before.

Before rounding up these Insecticons, I need to deal with Cyclonus first, Skygnaw thought, putting on a burst of speed.

Minutes later, an open plain appeared below, dominated by a metal spire with a distinct, angular profile.

He had arrived at the Three-Prism Tower.

Compared to his previous visit, the defense array at the top of the tower had collapsed, likely due to damage caused during Dirge's earlier breach. The automated cycle was broken.

Seen from above, the structure looked worn and neglected. A scatter of crushed remains littered the perimeter.

Scanning the wreckage, Skygnaw picked out structural pieces from both Insecticons and the experimental native Haina species.

It was obvious the two groups had fought a bitter battle around the tower's base.

"They made it all the way to the spire," Skygnaw mused, landing quietly near the entrance. "No wonder Blackarachnia said the timing was right."

To the surviving Haina, the Three-Prism Tower was a forbidden zone—an ancient prison facility they had fled and sworn never to enter again.

Even their elder, Iray, had warned Skygnaw against approaching the structure. Bound by that long-standing fear, the native survivors usually steered far clear of the site.

Yet the Insecticons hunted the Haina relentlessly across the open terrain.

For native survivors to approach the spire—and attempt to force their way inside—meant they had been driven to the absolute edge with nowhere left to run.

If any Haina remained alive on Planet Chiren now, their numbers were negligible.

I hope their clash didn't disturb Cyclonus... Skygnaw thought, turning his gaze away from the crushed metal remains scattered near the doorway.

He was unsure whether the undead warrior inside reacted only to living Cybertronians or attacked anything that crossed his path.

The remains around the tower had been decaying for a long time, making it impossible to tell if any had been destroyed by Cyclonus himself.

If a desperate group of native survivors or wild Insecticons had breached the hall, woken Cyclonus, and drawn him out into the open plains, tracking him down across the planet would prove tedious.

While the tower seemed to exert a natural draw on the undead frame, bringing him back to the main hall when no targets remained, Skygnaw preferred not to leave the outcome to chance.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he landed smoothly near the main archway and strode inside.

Thud.

Step, step, step.

His concerns proved unnecessary.

As Skygnaw stepped into the central chamber—where Blackarachnia's ancient webbing still hung in frayed strands—a familiar, rasping roar echoed off the bare metal walls.

"ROAR!"

Driven by the same frantic, bloodthirsty instinct, Cyclonus stumbled forward, charging straight toward Skygnaw with chaotic speed.

"Good. At least I don't have to search the entire surface for him," Skygnaw muttered, letting out a quiet vent.

However, a faint trace of surprise crossed his face. Upon closer inspection, Cyclonus's frame looked visibly gaunt, far more worn than during their last encounter.

Simply put, he was starving.

Large sections of his outer plating were dented and crushed, exposing dry, drained fuel lines around his joint connections.

Cyclonus did not slow his pace.

Lacking any sense of self-preservation, he paid no mind to the pressure radiating from a Prime-level warrior. The scent of active Energon filled his distorted thoughts.

Opening his jaw—lined with jagged, irregular teeth—Cyclonus leaped across the chamber like a starving predator, lunging for Skygnaw's neck.

This time, however, the balance of power had shifted completely.

CLANG!

Before the snapping jaw could reach him, the dark red blade of Skygnaw's broadsword pressed firmly into Cyclonus's chest, locking the undead warrior in mid-air.

"ROAR!"

Cyclonus thrashed wildly. A flicker of confused instinct seemed to pass through his dark optics, unable to comprehend how a weapon narrower than his arm could stop his momentum so completely.

Driven by predatory instinct, he threw his entire weight forward, straining to reach the fresh Energon before him.

He pressed forward relentlessly, even as the dark red blade slowly bit through his chest plating and sank deep into his internal frame.

SCREECH!

The harsh grind of metal against metal echoed through the enclosed hall. Skygnaw raised his free hand calmly.

BOOM!

A heavy plasma blast thundered through the chamber, blasting Cyclonus backward.

THUD!

The impact launched the undead frame across the hall, slamming him hard against a structural support pillar before he slid to the stone floor.

"The more starved he gets, the more reckless he becomes?"

Skygnaw observed the lying frame. He had witnessed Cyclonus's total insensibility to pain during their previous encounter, but this relentless aggression was far more pronounced.

Cyclonus was burning through his frame's remaining structural reserves. While a desperate strike could unleash raw physical force in the short term, it left his internal systems drained and damaged.

Whether an undead Cybertronian possessed a finite operational life was unclear, but his physical movements were steadily growing slower and more rigid.

Without fresh Energon to consume, his internal damage went unrepaired, dragging his frame into a terminal downward spiral.

Skygnaw had originally considered testing the physical limits of an undead Cybertronian in combat, but the state of Cyclonus's frame made a drawn-out duel pointless.

"If you want this finished, I will grant it," Skygnaw said quietly, watching the broken form struggle to stand.

The un-aimed plasma shot had struck Cyclonus squarely in the chest, widening the hollow void where his Spark Chamber had once rested.

The gaping hole through his chassis gave the damaged frame a grotesque, unnatural appearance.

"ROAR!"

CLANK!

The struggle resumed, though it was over almost as soon as it began.

During his previous visit to Planet Chiren, Skygnaw had found dealing with Cyclonus's relentless assaults somewhat tedious.

Now, a single casual strike dealt severe structural damage to the target.

While Cyclonus's degraded condition played a part, the gap between a Commander-tier frame and a Prime-level warrior was absolute.

Skygnaw could better appreciate how Megatron viewed subordinates like Starscream.

A tricky, ambitious officer who needed occasional discipline to remain useful was far easier to manage when any attempt at defiance could be suppressed instantly.

Once Skygnaw applied direct force, the engagement lasted less than two minutes. Cyclonus lay collapsed on the stone floor, his frame completely inert.

Step, step, step.

[Razorclaw, bring the fleet down to the landing site.]

Skygnaw glanced down at the motionless form while opening a direct comm link to his second-in-command.

He had kept the fleet in orbit earlier simply to avoid unnecessary complications.

Had Cyclonus wandered out into the open plains, any Decepticon bitten by the creature might have suffered the same corruption, risking a chain reaction across the ranks.

Bringing a full armada to the sector only to return with a infected force was a scenario Skygnaw refused to risk.

[Understood, Lord Skygnaw.]

Razorclaw acknowledged the order immediately, relaying coordinates across the fleet before piloting the lead cruiser down through the atmosphere.

Inside the Three-Prism Tower, Skygnaw stepped forward and jammed the point of his dark sword into Cyclonus's open jaw, twisting the blade with a cold crunch.

CRACK!

Cyclonus was not destroyed, but he was close to it.

Skygnaw had struck with absolute precision, stripping the frame of its mobility while ensuring no fluid sprayed onto his own armor.

CLANG!

"Let's see you bite anything now," Skygnaw muttered, sheathing his sword as he looked down at the disarmed, jawless frame.

He was unsure if disabling the jaws would completely neutralize the infection risk, but taking preventive measures was far better than managing an outbreak after the fact.

Before long, the Decepticon fleet touched down along the surrounding plains. The Nemesis, piloted by the Predacon, Headstrong, settled directly above the Three-Prism Tower's main courtyard.

"Lord Skygnaw," Razorclaw called out as he entered the central hall with his unit.

Through the archway behind them, hundreds of native infantrymen and Decepticon troops could be seen securing the perimeter around the spire.

"You arrived on time," Skygnaw said, pointing down at the collapsed form near his feet. "Secure this unit in a reinforced containment cell. You and the Predacons will oversee his transport personally."

"No one is to make physical contact with him under any circumstances. Am I clear?"

"Understood, my Lord."

Skygnaw's stern tone and sharp glare cut off any questions Razorclaw might have harbored about the ruined frame lying on the floor.

Scanning the target briefly, Razorclaw noted the general outline resembled a Cybertronian, yet his sensors picked up no recognizable identification codes.

It looked like a pile of scrapped metal, yet it retained the structural layout of their species.

Razorclaw found the sight strange, but kept his thoughts to himself.

During the civil war on Cybertron, Razorclaw had been a ruthless operative who valued efficiency above all else. He despised wasted energy and disliked dealing with unknown variables without a clear purpose.

Those unfamiliar with him often took his patient nature for laziness, but his team knew he was simply waiting for the right moment to strike.

However, that calculated habit had faded the moment Skygnaw assumed absolute command over the aerial corps at the Central Spaceport.

Skygnaw had no use for overly clever officers who spent time guessing his motives; he required subordinates who executed direct orders without hesitation.

Carrying secrets that defied conventional understanding, Skygnaw frequently issued directives that seemed unusual to ordinary soldiers.

If every officer stopped to demand an explanation, operations would grind to a halt.

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