Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

"...So?" Alice tilted her head slightly.

The truck gradually came to a stop, and Alice popped out of her seat, landing lightly on the ground. She then watched Optimus Prime revert to his enormous robot form—they were now in a desolate wilderness, where no one would disturb them.

It won't bother anyone else.

Optimus Prime bent down, and his massive, imposing body tilted toward where Alice was standing. His pale blue sensory eyes rapidly approached, stopping when they were less than two meters apart from Alice's light blue eyes.

“I don’t want you to become like Megatron. Alice Margot Tloyd… I’m not exaggerating, because you two are actually very similar now—both ruthless and decisive, willing to pay a heavy price to protect your home planet. And your positions are also so similar, and your dominance is equally matched.”

"You said you and Megatron are only a skin deep... That's right, in my eyes, you really are only skin deep. You are basically Megatron on Earth, but there shouldn't be another Optimus Prime on this planet."

There was another meaning behind its words, and Alice immediately understood it.

She shook her head slowly, but dramatically.

“Patch will not stop me, and I would never do anything to hurt her. If you mean that one day she and I will repeat what you and Megatron did because of differences in our beliefs, then I can tell you that such an assumption is meaningless. Because our positions will always be aligned, without exception.”

"Is that so?" Optimus Prime's voice was devoid of emotion. "Then I can only wish you well, hoping that you can guide human civilization to a place of prosperity and flourishing."

“Then you’re wrong, Optimus Prime. It’s not me or Patchouli who guides humanity’s development; their path of growth is up to them. I was just playing the role of a firefighter. If the situation hadn’t deteriorated to this point, I wouldn’t have even shown up.”

“Every civilization has its own unique path to follow, and the path I’m taking is probably not very compatible with this world… Let them decide how to develop themselves. I’m just an old-fashioned outcast who doesn’t fit in, so I won’t interfere.”

Optimus Prime's eyes flickered. "I remember you once said you were an international student. So you're quite old?"

“Please, I’m a witch. It’s only natural for witches to live long.” A nerve in Alice’s eyelid twitched slightly. “Besides, asking a woman’s age is extremely rude, and you’re making me very angry.”

"...I'm so sorry."

"Apologize for what?" Alice cracked her knuckles. "All this rambling is just to confirm whether I'll become the next Megatron. So..."

"Let's have a fight, even if it's just to practice our fighting styles. Although I'm a witch, I do understand a little bit of the warrior's language. I'm sure your questions will be answered after this fight."

Chapter Twenty-Three: Get out there and pass on the fire!

“They’re fighting…” At the pyramid that served as the starting point, Patchouli saw the distant sea of ​​clouds churning—the information waves emanating from there were as conspicuous to her as a torch standing in the center of a plaza. But she only glanced at it before turning her gaze away, no longer focusing her attention there.

Because it was a battle destined to be fruitless. There would be no winner, no loser, and neither side would use their full strength or their trump cards. Just like this exploration, which was destined to be futile—and naturally, she wouldn't worry about it too much.

"Fighting? Who's fighting?" Sam followed her gaze, but could only see a gloomy sky and swirling winds in the distance. There seemed to be bursts of thunder, but he didn't see any lightning.

He scratched his head in confusion.

“A battle that has nothing to do with you.” Patchouli glanced at him, her gaze cold, like a frozen stream in winter. “You don’t need to care too much about it; it’s not something you need to think about.”

"Not at least not now."

Her implication was clear, and Sam wasn't a complete fool. A full quarter of an hour had passed since the other two groups left, yet their third group remained motionless—at first, Sam had thought the witch was preparing some strange magic, but the quarter of an hour was enough for him to realize her true intentions.

She was waiting for Sam's question and would give him a satisfactory or disappointing, but certainly clear, answer.

Why not now?

"Because you're not ready."

"How can I prepare?"

"It depends on whether your determination is as firm as you think it is."

Patchouli looked at him and asked, "You should have succeeded at the Hoover Dam, but you failed in the end. Do you know why you failed?"

"Because I made a mistake at the last minute." Sam's face fell as he mentioned it. He had thought he would succeed, but when he tried to insert the AllSpark into Megatron's chest, the angle was slightly off, causing him to fail. Ever since his resurrection, this defeat had haunted him, like a thorn stuck in his mind, causing him immense pain.

"Do you know why you made a mistake?" Patchouli looked at him and told him the conclusion before he could answer.

"Because you are just an ordinary person, untrained, weak in the limbs, and slow to react. Even if you have a burst of energy that happens by chance, it will only be a miraculous flash in the pan. And the reason why a miracle is a miracle is precisely because the possibility of it existing is so low."

“You are too weak, so you can only hope for a miracle.” Patchouli concluded: “Courage alone is not enough to win. If you are not capable enough, no amount of sacrifice will bring success.”

“No sacrifice, no victory…” A bitter smile appeared on Sam’s face. “I’ve lived by this motto since I was a child. I never expected to fail the first time I tried to apply it.”

"But you haven't failed, you just haven't succeeded completely. You still have a chance to try again, and this time you will definitely succeed."

“What do I have to offer for success?” Sam spread his hands. “Just as you said—I’m too weak. So weak that all I can do is hope for miracles. And miracles aren’t something you can guarantee by making sacrifices. Wait, you’re telling me all this because…”

He suddenly realized something, looked up, and gazed eagerly at Patchouli.

Patchouli nodded as he had hoped. The enormous grimoire she held opened, and a vast and intricate magic circle expanded outwards from her feet, instantly covering the entire pyramid.

"That's right, just like in most heroic legends, a hero doesn't necessarily achieve victory on his first attempt to defeat a monster. He will fail, and then challenge again after each failure, until the day he succeeds... And the reason why a hero can come back again and again is because there will be hermits, fairies, sages and so on who will give him the power to win after his failure."

Her form gradually blurred, and the entire pyramid covered by the magic circle became hazy. Even her voice became erratic, as if she might disappear from the world at any moment.

"Your trial has begun, Sam Witwicky. Having died once, you will not be swayed by the fear of death again, so struggle as much as you can, fight, and live on to earn the power you need."

"Wait! This is so sudden, I haven't even..."

Sam instinctively reached out to Patchouli, but the next moment, he was met with a scorching sandstorm.

"...Be prepared." His hand froze in mid-air. Before him stretched a vast oasis, a blend of desert and forest. In the distance, he could see the undeveloped, crystal-clear banks of the Nile. Sparse clusters of buildings made of stone and planks lined both sides of the river. A wooden wall served as outer protection, and this wall... now appeared to be on fire.

The shouts of battle from behind him reached his ears only then. He whirled around and saw thousands of soldiers dressed like ancient Egyptians, wielding swords and scimitars, locked in a bloody battle on the sand dunes at his feet. He could easily tell that the smaller side was about to be defeated, and the victors seemed intent on annihilating them.

“Oh my God…” He instinctively raised his other hand, only to find that he was gripping a short sword tightly in his hand. The sword was almost identical in style to the one wielded by the defeated soldiers, and not only the sword, but he also seemed to be wearing similar armor.

There were corpses at his feet, and the corpses looked exactly like enemy soldiers.

"Don't do this to me..."

He saw several hostile ancient soldiers notice him, shout, and then rush at him with their weapons raised!

"I don't want this kind of trial!"

The next moment, he turned and ran towards the city. However, he hadn't run far before the enemy warrior caught up with him and slashed at his back with an ancient scimitar. He stumbled and fell, but his hands and feet were immediately pinned down. A warrior speaking fluent ancient Egyptian held him firmly, the scimitar hooking around his neck from the inside.

"Wait! I'm not your enemy! You've got the wrong person!" he screamed like a bullied girl, but it was all in vain. The ancient soldier merely glanced at him in confusion, hesitated for less than half a second, and then decisively slit his throat.

A sharp pain swept over him, and he could clearly feel his life rapidly slipping away. Soon, everything went dark before his eyes.

Sam suddenly opened his eyes and yelled as if he'd seen a ghost. Then he stopped abruptly with a gesture of annoyance from Patchouli.

“That’s too fast. Is this your level of awareness?” Patchouli shook her head with some regret. “I always thought people with the surname Wittevich were courageous. Was I wrong?”

She lifted the gesture, giving Sam the power to speak again.

“Wait! This is too sudden! And what were you just saying, Wittwitch?” Sam gasped for breath. “Did I just travel back to Egypt thousands of years ago? Why were ancient soldiers attacking me with swords? And I’m alive again?”

He bombarded him with a long string of questions, but Patchouli was too lazy to answer them one by one.

"You've already forgotten the plan you proposed just over ten minutes ago? Those are remnants of ancient memories. I've collected them, assembled them, recombined them, and turned them into dreams—if you had access to more advanced technology, you would know this is called 'memory implantation.' Strengthen your abilities through real combat."

Patchouli sighed softly.

"What just materialized was the war in the 16th century BC when the Kush attacked Egypt. In that battle, Egypt was almost wiped out, and the only reason it survived was because the Kush had no interest in Egyptian land, which gave them the opportunity to restart their civilization. In the battle just now... according to my prediction, you should have been able to hold out for at least five minutes, and even kill one enemy."

"It seems the situation isn't right? Hmm, not teaching you the ancient Egyptian language is also a problem. Let's change the conditions and try again."

Without waiting for Sam's rebuttal, she clasped her hands together, and the white light that filled Sam's vision threw him back to that ancient era for the second time.

Chapter Twenty-Four: If you're not dead, get out there and spread the message again!

Sam opened his eyes again. This time, he found himself inside the city he had been in before. He was in a room, and outside he could hear the sounds of running and shouting.

The city has fallen, and enemy soldiers have stormed in.

He subconsciously glanced at himself and found himself wearing leather armor and holding a round shield and a bronze short sword. With a slight swing, a certain smooth rhythm rose in his mind.

He could still feel the excruciating pain of his throat being cut.

"Mental preparation, mental preparation..." he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath. "Okay, it's just an illusion, just a dream. So what if I'm risking my life? What am I afraid of? It's not a big deal if I die anyway."

He heard the footsteps and shouts outside the door growing closer, and he immediately gripped his sword and shield tightly. He was ready to deliver a fatal blow to whoever broke in!

But just then, a frightened whisper came from behind him.

"Brother? [Ancient Egyptian]"

He turned around abruptly and saw a beautiful woman holding a timid little girl, hiding behind a table that served as cover for him. When he looked over, the woman, who for some reason matched his aesthetic sensibilities, gave him a dependent look and hugged the little girl even tighter.

"It's alright, it's alright. Trust your brother, we'll get through this." The woman whispered to comfort the little girl, but the worry lingered in her eyes.

"Damn it," Sam muttered under his breath.

The door, which was used to defend against enemies, was smashed open in the next moment. Amid the little girl's screams and cries, several fully armed Kush infantrymen rushed in!

"Whoa!" Sam roared, leaping forward from the side of the door and slashing his sword into the shoulder of the foremost soldier. The sword cut deep, even embedding itself in the bone. The soldier screamed in pain, but it wasn't a fatal wound.

Immediately afterward, the remaining soldiers swung their scimitars and slashed heavily at Sam's arm as he tried to pull out his sword.

He let out a muffled groan, but the intense pain was suppressed by the surge of adrenaline coursing through his body. He suddenly took a step diagonally upward, swinging his shield towards another man's forehead!

He succeeded; the poor guy was smashed in, his head bleeding profusely. A small dent in his skull was even visible. But before Sam could even smile, a third soldier seized the moment Sam swung his shield and stabbed him in the kidney.

He collapsed, exhausted.

Kidney strike—a very ancient and highly effective method of killing. The pain of having a kidney punctured is beyond the imagination of ordinary people. It is an excruciating pain that can overwhelm reason in an instant, and even the strongest will, as long as it has not transcended the realm of 'ordinary people,' is difficult to resist.

[Damn it, is it going to be the third time so soon?]

Sam smiled bitterly. His mind was still able to function slightly despite the excruciating pain that was almost suffocating him. However, as he watched the Kush soldiers raise their scimitars higher and higher, there was nothing he could do but close his eyes and wait for death.

However, a second later, the expected death did not occur.

He opened his eyes, and the sight that met his gaze made him almost stop breathing for a moment.

The scimitar fell, but it wasn't aimed at him. The woman took the blow for him, standing before him with her arms outstretched like a titmouse protecting its fledgling.

However, the scimitar sliced ​​her almost in two along her shoulder. She managed to turn her head to look at Sam, her lips moved slightly, and then her body went limp and collapsed, her hot blood splattering all over Sam.

The blood was scalding hot, almost suffocating Sam. Although it was just a blur, the concern and longing in the woman's eyes pierced Sam's heart like a red-hot knife.

It was clearly just an illusion, a mere mirage. Yet his blood was boiling.

However, the little girl's scream the next moment cooled his blood. He stared wide-eyed as the soldier whose shoulder he had slashed through cursed as he pulled the sword out of his shoulder, then walked over and grabbed the little girl by the back of the neck, lifting her up like a cat.

“Brother! Help! [Ancient Egyptian]” The girl struggled desperately, kicking and biting the soldier.

Sam's pupils gradually constricted.

With a soft 'thud,' the sword that had belonged to him just a minute ago emerged from the girl's chest. The sword had avoided her heart, but it was still a fatal wound that could bleed her to death within minutes. The Kush man casually pulled out the sword and threw the girl to the ground, leaving her small body to roll and struggle in the dirt.

Her eyes were filled with fear and pain, yet she still struggled to look at Sam. Her small, weakening limbs crawled with difficulty, trying to reach her loved ones in the final moments of her life.

“Brother… [Ancient Egyptian]” She reached out, her blood-stained, tender fingertips wanting to touch Sam’s cheek.