Taking the Blame

In southern Africa, within some insignificant little country.

With a blast from his plasma cannon, Optimus Prime reduced a Quintessa soldier attempting to attack him to scraps.

Yet his face was clouded with gloom.

Two kilometers away, the fires in what had once been a primitive tribe's settlement still had not been fully extinguished.

The air carried not only the scorched stench left by the flames, but also a thick aroma of roasted meat.

And the source of that smell...

"What a sin!"

Ratchet let out a sigh. His body was covered in soot marks from the smoke.

Ratchet had made no effort to clean them off, showing just how foul his mood was.

Sideswipe said nothing at the side, but the triangular blades he kept waving in his hands made it clear that he was no calmer.

Optimus Prime's lips moved, but in the end, he did not say a word.

Ratchet was right. The human tragedy that had occurred here was indeed a sin.

And it was a sin committed by the Autobots.

After all, even though Sentinel Prime had now been personally executed by Optimus Prime, he had once been the leader of the Autobots.

It was the portal activated by Sentinel Prime that had transported these Quintessa soldiers—beings consumed by destruction and bloodlust, more evil and warlike than even the Decepticons—to Earth.

So even now that he was dead, the responsibility still fell upon the Autobots. There was no shaking it off.

After a long while, Optimus Prime finally ordered, "Clean up the battlefield immediately and bury the bodies where they lie. Prepare to depart for the next suspicious area!"

This was already the sixteenth day since the Battle of Cairo had ended, and the thirteenth day since the Autobots had begun clearing out all remaining