Ten Times The Hero

by Hornets88

Izuku Midoriya is about to give up on his dreams of heroism when a teenager clad in a green jacket and a man claiming to be a professor break into his room in broad daylight. Ben Tennyson and Professor Paradox have travelled to the My Hero universe in order to find a worthy successor to wield the Omnitrix once Ben passes... and they firmly believe Izuku is worthy to inherit it.

21. Those Who Play God

Author's Notes: I'm back baby!

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TEN TIMES THE HERO

THOSE WHO PLAY GOD

---

Six months.

Precisely.

Assuming the professor's arithmetic was correct, that's how long he had left to live.

As fifteen year old, Ben Tennyson, stared hazily up at the bathroom ceiling, he contemplated the uncertainty clouding his future. Softly thumping the back of his head against the wooden cabinet, he emitted a forlorn sigh.

Making it to junior year of high school was out of the question. His attendance grade hadn't exactly been something to marvel at, but it was a sobering thought nonetheless. Acting as if everything was as it should be? That was difficult. Thankfully, his parents were chill about him doing super hero business, so that eased his anxiety somewhat.

The problem was, he had other skeletons in his closet banging on the door. Because how many faces– how many people had Ben taken for granted? How many more had he deliberately chosen to ignore? Why? Because he subconsciously decided they weren't worth it? That they were a distraction? He never realized how much he appreciated the little things until now…

It deeply bothered him, knowing that it took him literally dying to learn to appreciate them.

One might confidently wager that saving multiple galaxies from blitzkrieg annihilation would grant him widespread recognition and notoriety– like it did with the Highbreed Invasion. In this case, however, nobody knew about what he did– or about the sacrifice he made. He swore to never speak of it. That was between him, Professor Paradox, and Julie.

He was getting around to telling his girlfriend about his imminent health crisis, OK?

Honestly! Just… whenever he found himself preparing to spill his guts out to her, he would back out at the last possible second… usually by crafting some awkward excuse to warrant him sprinting away from the scene. Though, in his defense, the words, 'Two months ago, I was shot by an alien glock that's gonna bust a cap in me half a year from now, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you this any sooner– I simply wanted our relationship to resemble normalcy a little bit longer…'

…Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

Like how academics became something of a joke to him, so did his need for validation from his peers. He began to care less and less about trying to impress them. How different would life be? If he chose to fork the Omnitrix over to Azmuth in favor of partaking in "normal and conventional," teenage activities, maybe he wouldn't be in this position to begin with? It seemed that no amount of deep, introspective thinking could provide Ben with the answers he was searching for.

Secretly, he feared that if he were to crack open the emotional cork in the bottle, he'd start going AWOL– and tell everybody the truth. The crux of the issue was that Ben wasn't prepared for these types of discussions, nor did he feel like having them.

Most people his age worry about the amount of zits they have, not the impending collapse of the universe. Point being, he had to have confidence. He had to have faith that his multiverse theory turned out to be possible. Because if this plan failed, or if Anur Transyl winds up being a total bust– it was on him to pull them through this absolute schlock fest that Time-Bomber created.

Initially, the young teen attributed the time traveling arsonist's success to that of pure luck. Even now, he had trouble believing how naïve a perspective that was to have. Feigning ignorance? Understating his threat level? The tacky costume? Ben had fought his fair share of S tier villains, and he omitted Time-Bomber from that list, reasoning he didn't fit the typical mold.

Which is probably what he wanted them to think.

The Grim's Coroner functioned as Time-Bomber's contingency plan. In the event he failed to destroy everything immediately like he wanted— by using it on Ben— he at least ensured that the large-scale destruction he caused would remain undisturbed. Resetting the clock would do little to mend the temporal imbalance. Solutions had to be found elsewhere, and if it wasn't for the professor's incredible foresight, they'd all be toast.

"If I just had more time…" He whispered at the haggard reflection in the mirror, disapproving of the dark rings that lay dormant under its olive green eyes.

Reaching across the countertop to grab his folded leather jacket, he bundled it in his arms. A wistful smile etched itself on his lips, as he sentimentally traced the slightly faded 10 insignia. From the moment he saw the miniature seventy-five percent off! tag pinned to that sleeve, it had been love at first sight. That it happened to be the same shade of green as the Omnitrix helped too.

It's hard to believe, but for a short time, Ben was embarrassed to wear this thing. To the point where he even considered donating it– and he rocked this jacket literally every day of his freshman year.

People took notice.

Towards the beginning, the cascading stream of jokes was admissible. During one particular occasion, Cash and CJ managed to convince everyone in his math class to show up wearing jackets. Take a wild guess what color they were?

He knew better than to let those hooligans get under his skin. Even while they were recording his reaction on their phones throughout. If they didn't obviously hate his guts, he would genuinely believe they were his two greatest fanboys. The way they obsessed over belittling him? It was pathetic.

Ben's vindication was put to the test in mid April of that same year. Before he could decimate a bag of hot chili fries, he received a distress signal on his plumber's badge, alerting him to the presence of a wanted fugitive in his area. The threat level appeared manageable.

So Ben, the adrenaline-junkie that he is, went to check it out on his own. The criminal introduced himself as Ssserpent, proclaiming that 'he was the snake that walks like a man!' Was that supposed to sound intimidating? Maybe he thought it did. Nevermind–

–As Water Hazard, he had the slithering alien on the ropes for a majority of their bout. That is, until Ssserpent went tactical. Whirling 180 degrees, he ejected a torrent of venom at an innocent passerby. To save the evening jogger from being melted, Ben slid right in front of them, shielding the brunt of the splash with his shelled body.

Thankfully, the local diner Ssserpent had been terrorizing was less than a block away from the Bellwood River. This allowed him to take a dip to absolve himself of the wound. Similar to pure saltwater, brackish water enabled his aquatic alien's regenerative capabilities, though to a slightly lesser degree. Minutes later, he emerged atop a drawbridge, unsurprised the slithering alien had used the opportunity to flee.

He switched to Fasttrack, and proceeded to search through every nook and cranny of the city's underground pipelines, only to come up dry– and smelling like shit. And thats how he felt as the hours trickled by. The closest he got to actually catching Ssserpent, was the shed skin he found stuffed inside a dumpster behind the mall.

Unless there was an alien civilization underground that he somehow missed— he had no fucking idea where Ssserpent went.

His failure to apprehend the reptilian criminal (Currently still wanted by the plumbers), is what caused him to spiral. All the power in the world at his fingertips, and he couldn't catch some D lister, monster of the week!? Why did he have this stupid watch if he was going to be this incompetent at his job!? With nobody to blame other than himself, the mounting frustration commandeered Ben's thoughts.

One aspect of maintaining a secret identity, was resisting the urge to tell people you literally have better things to be doing. After tonight's awful performance, all he could focus on was the inevitable laughter he'd be facing in class tomorrow morning. While sleep deprived. Bad combination.

It was hard being ridiculed by the same people you swore to protect. The true reason he wore this jacket– why 10 was his lucky number, could be efficiently summarized into a single paragraph disguised as dialogue: "My last name is TEN-nyson. Yes, some people do walk up to me and unironically shout 'Yo, its Ben Ten!' Not because they know I'm a super hero, but because they like how it rhymes."

When he couldn't offer an explanation beyond a simple, its just a stupid jacket? I don't know? Mind your own business? That bothered him greatly. Up until then, he made an effort to never entertain their chatter.

To Ben, 10 was more than just a number. It was the year that changed his life forever. It represented his evolution in philosophies. It represented the unique phylum of beings he could expertly mimic. The respect he owed Azmuth, and most importantly– it represented an oath he took to achieve perfect understanding.

Starkly alone in the shadowed alleyway, Ben deemed himself unworthy of the jacket.

"I'm a fraud."

Situated a couple meters from where he stood, a dull, aluminum trash can gleamed under the blue moonlight. He would've slam dunked the jacket straight in there too, if it weren't for a prophetic vision of his mom scolding him for being outside in the dead of night without the added thermal layer.

Apart from his cousin, Gwen, there was only one other person he could claim– with confidence– who didn't care that he virtually wears the same outfit everyday. That person's name is Julie Yamamoto. His girlfriend.

He recalled a conversation with her regarding superhero costumes. Sharing a laugh about wearing spandex tights, he lended her wisdom about how subtle costumes were actually best. In terms of functionality, ordinary clothing makes blending in with crowds so much easier. Shamelessly, he used his green leather jacket as an example.

Then Julie said something that stuck out to him. That his jacket was like his costume because of the 10 insignia. He reveled in that idea.

As the final bell rung, Ben was certain that he had fully convinced her that subtle costumes were superior. It was strange to think this discussion took place before she knew his big secret. Wait a second… had Julie been flirting with him?

…Yeah, it goes without saying Ben wore this jacket everywhere, and he pimped that collar proudly.

The numerous, restless nights, were among the first of signs pointing towards his steep decline in health. Visions of death plagued his resting hours, decimating any semblance of a consistent sleep schedule. Besides the perpetual nightmares, the aching in his lungs proved to be a newer development. He'd been able to hide the coughing pretty convincingly for the most part, but he sensed it wouldn't be much longer before his evasive maneuvers were going to have to change.

From the moment Paradox proposed his idea, Ben wanted to fly to Anur Transyl. The professor, however, deciphered his eagerness for what it actually was: Desperation. Sliding on his familiar jacket, Ben silently cursed the man for being so perceptive.

That also explained why he cautioned against rushing in without a backup plan. His primary justification being he required about a week to organize the supplies necessary for the voyage. Though, Ben suspected the man-out-of-time factored more than band-aids and snacks into his calculations. He was obliged to admit that if the professor saw him like this he'd probably try to devise a more convoluted strategy. One that yielded far less threatening results.

After what felt like an eternity, he exited the bathroom. Contributing to his dilemma, the Grim's Coroner provided zero visible trace of where it struck him: Mere centimeters south of his thudding heart. As if the slanting bullet was still in the process of drilling a hole through his chest, he often massaged the metaphysical entry wound. Not that it helped.

Peeking around the corner into the living room, he calculated the quietest route to the front door without being heard. The sofa that Gwen and Kevin sat on was positioned adjacent to the closet– facing away from the wall– so presumably, his friends were too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice him sneaking past. The great escape from his suburban home was foiled when he stepped on the creaky floorboard next to the shoe cabinet.

"We were wondering where you went." Gwen's voice inadvertently caused him to jolt.

She was staring at him curiously.

"Uh, hey? What's up?" He pretended to be invested with the Omnitrix.

"I'm doing alright. So, are you going to watch the movie with us or not?"

"Sorry, I'd love to, but…" He squinted at the flat screen, "…The Princess Bride? Again?"

"When your cousin says she wants cuddles– she gets cuddles." Was Kevin's dry response.

"Quit acting like you don't enjoy it." Gwen glared sideways at her boyfriend, though she clung to his arm like a koala.

"Fine. I suppose there's worse movies we could be watching." The taller teen drawled, nonchalantly waving his free hand.

"Like what? Planet of the Apes? Robocop? Flash Gordon? Tron?" His cousin teased playfully.
"Woah, woah! Hold it, Missie! You can't disrespect the classics like that!"

"Only the super lame ones!" She snorted at his animated reaction.

"NO SHOT!" He protested.

While they were busy exchanging witticisms, Ben twisted the door knob. If only his cousin didn't have the power to detect mana signatures, he'd be three quarters of the way to Los Soledad. Creepy fact about that: Gwen could tell you the exact number of spiders living inside each room of your house. He asked her this once, and her response was to smile evilly and leave him alone to stew in paranoia.

"You're leaving? So soon?"

"And without telling us?" Kevin already sounded suspicious.

Ben's lips parted to respond, but the words he wanted to say were trapped in his throat.

"It's not a problem." He didn't do himself any favors with that tonal inflection.

Kevin hefted the TV remote and clicked pause.

"We're supposed to be your friends, right? It's not up to you to save the whole universe by yourself. We know you think your hot shit because of what you did to the Highbreed–"

"–What Kev is trying to say is—" Gwen interrupted, "—You can count on us if you need help."

Ben blanked, realizing he hadn't prepared an excuse beforehand– so he had to think fast to avoid a sloppy interrogation.

"I was going to grab some Mr. Smoothy's– you two want anything? I don't mind paying out of my own pocket." He finished his proposition by coughing into his elbow.

"Dude, we still have our cups from an hour ago." Kevin pointed towards the coffee table.

"Less than an hour, actually." Gwen clarified.

"I'm a growing boy, I need my vitamins!"

She scoffed. "Your favorite smoothie flavor, nectarine? Contains FIFTY grams of sugar. Is that what you call healthy?"

Ben shrugged, offering a sheepish grin.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Kevin resumed the movie. "Whatever. You're addicted to that cold slush, bro."

"Daw, that's sweet. You think of me as your brother?"

"Brother, in law." He sternly advised him.

"Gee Kev! That's a little on the nose!"

"The fuck does that mean!?"

"You gotta marry Gwen if you want that to happen." He stifled a villainous snicker as he heard both of them choking on their beverages.

He used the distraction to fling the front door wide open. Ducking under a mana disc intended on lopping his head off, he spun the Omnitrix dial, and threw his hand down in a Hail Mary. A verdant green aura encompassed his emerging Citrikayah form.

"That doesn't even make sense! We're cousins, not siblings!" Gwen's face matched her hair.

"Perhaps…" Fasttrack scratched his blue chin smugly, "…but seeing how red you got, I'd say it was worth it!"

Lower lip curling dangerously, Kevin bellowed: "Get back here, Tennyson!"

"Nah, I'm good! I'll stay over here– on the other side of this lawn!"

"You're such a DWEEB! The next time I see you, you're SO dead!" His cousin's eyes ignited with pink energy.

Ben cackled, unfazed by the threat.

"That's if death can even catch me…!" Adjusting his super speed, he zipped behind the pair of flustered teens, "...and just for you cuz, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt! Maybe you'll have better luck!"

Before they could react, he swept them both into a bountiful hug.

"Love you guys!"

Relinquishing his embrace, the speedster dashed to the nearest street lamp, and spun around its lower circumference like the leading role of a musical production. Capitalizing on his momentum, he rocketed from the post and shot forward into the street, making a beeline for the city limit, leaving a dust trail in his wake. He could've left through the back door undetected… but that wouldn't have been any fun.

…

Per galactic law, the plumbers were contractually obligated to salvage the structural foundations of the Hyperspace Jump Gate that was leftover from the invasion. Bare minimum– the recyclable portions. Rooted miles within the planet's crust, Ben and company would routinely return to Los Soledad to assist with excavating the corroded alien tech. The abandoned military base was located in the middle of nowhere, which is probably the reason Paradox requested that he and Julie meet him there. Far from prying eyes.

If he knew the professor was reclaiming his old stomping grounds from the 1950's, Ben would've vouched for the florist shop instead. The excessive mold was the main culprit as to why this place reaked like a sweaty sock after a game of soccer practice. Despite the stench, Ben admitted the stinky military base had a bolstering effect on him. This was, after all, the site of his greatest victory. It'd be weird if he felt like he didn't belong here.

While exploring the ancient airplane hangar, a few details caught his attention; Cockroaches scurrying on the scuffed resin floor, exhibiting a distinct lack of personal boundaries. Following them to the source of their rush hour traffic– a cot that had been squished in the corner. The blankets and pillow– made to perfection– as if nobody had slept on it for years. To the right of the mattress, scribbled on scientific journals were stacked together with flawless cohesion.

"Damn professor, you live like this?"

"Hey Ben!" Julie waved to him, casting aside the chalk stick she'd been working with.

"What's up Ju-leeh!" Fasttrack was silenced with a bone crushing hug– one that he happily reciprocated.

He took the moment to bask in her aura. When their gazes crossed paths, he felt the beating organ in his chest tighten somberly. Nobody looked at him the way Julie did. Yet, somehow, the deep, intense stare she often fixated him with— it seemed hollow. Even worse, Ben knew why he felt this way.

Regretfully, he shed her arms. "I'm surprised you beat me here."

"Flew over in the Ship armor." The tennis star shrugged, lacing their fingers together.

The pair of teens observed the amorphous alien gallop in circles ecstatically. It reminded Ben of how reluctant he was initially in regards to her keeping a Galvanic Mechamorph as a pet. That concern was founded in how she treated Ship– no different than an ordinary canine. Obviously, Ship behaved similarly to a golden retriever and he imagined that made the alien's transition from the ownership of the neglectful Baz-el to the Yamamoto family more manageable.

Whenever he felt like it, Ship could morph into a death ray, a fusion grenade, a guillotine, a tank, a Star Destroyer, a– well, you get the point. It was as clear as a summer day that those two shared a special bond. If anything were to happen to her because she lost control of Ship (Or the other way around), he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Fasttrack analyzed the equation on the chalkboard with a critical demeanor, nodding as if he perfectly comprehended what it stood for.

"So this–?"

"–No idea." She answered, tucking a clipboard beneath her arm. "I just asked the professor for something to do while we waited for you. I mostly filled in the blanks. It's probably all wrong anyway." She sighed, shrugging again.

"Come on, give yourself more credit than that!" He thieved the clipboard from her in less than a millisecond, the blurring motion causing her to flinch.

"These the blueprints for the uh, multiversal portapotty?"

He paused to lick his finger before skimming through the pages at the rate of a supercomputer.

"Its actually for the multiversal punching bag!"

As the couple traded mock punches with each other, they went to check on the professor. The man was so utterly hypnotized by his work that he didn't even react to them shouting his name. Ben had to reach over and physically vibrate his shoulder to pull him out of his trance.

The professor removed his welder's mask, carelessly chucking it on a nearby workbench, now directing his focus solely on them.

"Benjamin! Or should I say, Fasttrack? How are you feeling?"

"Peachy keen, professor!" He scratched his head ashamedly. "Sorry for being so late, I got held up at home and…?" He stopped mid-excuse as the professor conveyed a shushing gesture.

"That's perfectly alright. Julie and I have been crunching the numbers all morning, and dare I say it: We have more than enough data accumulated by now to prepare for takeoff!" The professor rubbed his hands together in a diabolical manner.

"So then, what is this supposed to be?" Ben jabbed a thumb toward the glossy framework mounted to the floor.

"Why, I am giving us a head start on our project!" Paradox announced proudly.

"Head start? Project? Professor– you didn't need to break your back doing all that! You know I can turn into Jury Rigg and build the same exact thing in like two– three seconds tops? Disregarding the quality– I mean, how long did this take you?" He saddled his paws on his hips.

Nervously, the man inquired, "It's… Tuesday, correct?"

"Is it Tuesday!?" Julie gasped, shielding her mouth.

"You haven't slept in a week!?" Ben didn't mean to sound genuinely angry.

The aversion of eye contact told him the whole story.

"Dude, it's Sunday! When were you planning on getting some sleep!?" He demanded.

"We have far more pressing issues to be grappling with!" The professor deflected.

"Sleep deprivation is no joke! Promise me that the moment we get back, the first thing you're going to do is take a nap."

His shoulders drooped as he conceded.

"Fine. I promise."

"That's better." Ben flashed a dorky wink at his girlfriend, making her snort.

Paradox hastily unveiled a bite-sized metallic cube.

"Oh, is that another one of your inventions?" Julie wondered.

The professor nodded excitedly. "Without proper testing, it would be foolhardy to assume that every single mechanism will behave as intended, soooo…" He pressed on opposite sides of the cube, and the inner workings shifted.

From the device's luminous core, a pale 2D diagram was displayed.

"...I've taken the liberty of compressing the prototype design down into this! I call it a holocube! Not because it's hollow, in fact, it's quite the opposite!"

"Holo? As in holo-GRAM?" Julie guessed.

"Bingo!" He was having way too much fun.

"What you see on this screen is the MG-Alpha: A preliminary model. Extensive testing will, unfortunately, be required to ensure multiversal travel is safe." His fingers clamped around the core— instantly shutting off the hologram feature.

Ben whistled. "You super geniuses are something else!"

"Are you sure we need all of this? And that Anur Transyl is for sure the way to go?"

Ship bolted out of the hangar's interior, supposedly chasing a pesky cockroach.

"Rest assured, Julie, I've researched tirelessly, as to create the most comprehensive list possible. What you see in the cube is what we absolutely need."

She shrugged. "I'm sold."

"When can we take off?" Ben interjected.

"Whenever you're feeling up to the task, I suppose."

"Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go save the universe!"

Through the slanted hangar doors, Ship was visibly puffing his little chest– though not from exhaustion. Like a marshmallow simmering over a campfire, he flattened into a gelatinous puddle. Then, rapidly, he expanded in volume. Ben recognized the morph he was attempting– the Anterian Obliterator. This spaceship is what Kevin depicted as, "a flying arsenal." It wasn't hard to tell why. Dozens of high powered ballistic weapons were affixed to its wings, primed to fire at the first sign of a looming threat.

Not a bad choice.

"SHIIIIIIP!" The Galvanic Mechamorph boomed from a hidden loudspeaker, extending a boarding ramp for his passengers.

"...I think he's ready to go." Ben stated patently.

Julie was sauntering past him before he realized what was happening.

"I call Shotgun!"

"Finder's keepers!" Ben sprinted to match her pace.

"Ah, to be young again… as eager as they are impatient." The professor pocketed the holocube, whilst shaking his head amusedly.

As the trio comfortably settled within the cockpit, Ben took to the helm, nervously glossing over the plethora of knobs and levers.

"It's been a while since I've piloted one of these. So, uh, fair warning: I might be a little rusty."

Unconvinced, Julie asked, "Do you need a license to legally fly a spaceship? Sort of like how people require a driver's license to use a car?"

Then she gasped. "Is there an alien version of the DMV?"

Ben laughed, "You don't need to be certified if you got a plumber's badge!" He boasted while cracking his knuckles, blinking in confusion as Paradox dismissed him.

"Okay, you got me. That was a lie?"

"When have I ever cared about laws? Much less, the law?" He made quotes.

That was valid.

"But fret not any longer! Because with this," like a magician, he whisked a microchip from thin air between his fingertips "the issue shall resolve itself!" He finished the dramatics by slotting the microchip inside a navigation port.

"Ship's database now contains the coordinates for Anur Transyl."

The Galvanic Mechamorph beeped rhythmically as he absorbed that information. In no time at all they were zipping through the cloud cover at Mach twenty-two. The familiar and comforting blue hue of the sky steadily diffused into the cold, pitch-black of outer space. Ship accounted for the zero gravity environment, and automatically depressurized the cabin. This alleviated the upset stomachs of his three passengers.

Sensing that she was free to roam, Julie unbuckled herself and padded starboard, and promptly became mesmerized by the view.

"Good ol' Mother Earth." Ben flashed back to human, and joined her in smushing his cheek against the glass.

"It's beautiful. Like, a celestial marble, or something."

"She sure is." He agreed.

"Really puts things into perspective…"

The moment wouldn't last forever, as the professor ushered them to their seats.

"Alright, buckle up everyone! For real this time! We're about to enter hyperspace!" He announced.

Click.

Click.

…

Where's the third click?

Rolling his eyes, the professor leaned out of his seat. "...That means you as well, Benjamin."

"I'll be fine." He said casually, leaning in the corner of the cockpit.

Staring at the teen with hooded eyes, "Do you have any prior experience with hyperspace travel?"

"Uh, yes?" Ben scoffed. "Where do you think Ship got that ability to begin with? Besides, he's sturdy. I trust he'll keep me safe."

"Shiiiip?" The interstellar radio crackled.

Julie avoided looking directly at him, giggling.

"Sheesh! Some wingmen you guys are! I try to look cool in front of my gf…"

"You don't have to act cool around me, Ben. You're already the coolest guy I know."

He palmed the 10 on his jacket– above his heart– thoroughly moved by her words.

"Ahem!" The professor coughed.

"OK! You win!" Ben conceded and sunk into the upholstered cushion.

Click.

"Oops! I almost forgot to mention it, but my dad wants me home by seven. Sharp. He also said no funny business." She smirked as she said that last part.

"You're pops has a vendetta against me, I swear." He untucked his gut and jutted his chin out.

"Now, Jules, I'm being absolutely serious when I say NO funny business with that delinquent Tennyson!"

His impression of her dad made her burst into fits based on how accurate it sounded.

"Depending on my calculations, it should take us two hours and fifteen minutes to reach our destination. A round trip equates to roughly four and a half hours. If Julie is to be returned home by the requested appointment, we must accomplish our scavenger hunt within a span of 2 hours and 30 minutes. It's possible– if we're efficient with the usage our time." Paradox said as he stroked an invisible beard.

The difference between typical space travel versus hyperspace travel, was the influence of sheer momentum. That was the simplest explanation of why motions during hyperspace often feel so sluggish. Physics stated that no vehicle, no matter how advanced, has the endurance to resist such an absurd amount of kinetic energy. Any faster, and the spaceship would disintegrate. Passengers included.

"What are we gonna do for two whole hours?" Ben groaned.

"I brought monopoly!" Julie grinned, unzipping her backpack.

"Aw, man!" He wished he had access to an alien with time manipulation powers so he skip through the next couple of hours.

---

Gwen Tennyson was livid.

"Of all the places… you sent us here?"

The professor observed the clashing mages from afar, withholding opinions for the time being.

Scoffing when Hex shrugged indifferently, Gwen admonished further; "I can't believe you! What rationale were you using when you thought this was the best course of action!?" She exclaimed while pacing furiously.

Hex was unimpressed.

"You'll get over it soon enough." He responded in a dry tone, rotating so that he could internalize the vacant scenery.

The prominent slab of azure stone they were stranded on drifted aimlessly across a magenta void. Desolate, floating islands swirled in the sky, fragmented and scattered beyond repair. Even if she concentrated, Gwen couldn't detect any mana signatures outside of those within their mutual vicinity. In her experience, no signs of life was usually a bad thing.

"I did us all a favor." Hex continued "that is, if our situation is as dire as you implied."

"Heh! Yeah, you could say that! It's not like the entire multiverse is at stake, or anything?" She massaged her forehead in frustration. "...And you tossed us into a dimension where time moves faster relative to the rest of the universe."

"Is that really true?" Paradox blurted out, gaping slightly at the unflinching sorcerer.

"Don't even bother trying to get a straight answer out of him, Paradox." Gwen huffed. "Minutes on Earth can equate to entire days in Ledgerdomain…"

The professor looked like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"Well, that certainly complicates matters."

Hex ignored them both, kneeling close to the ground, drawing a line in the coarse dirt. He noted the dullness. A distinct lack of vibrant color in the overall composition. Rubbing the soot under his thumb, he frowned at how easily it flaked apart. This was not how he remembered the realm of magic looking when he was banished.

"Something about this isn't right." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"It's as if the vitality has been sapped from the land outright…"

"Thank you! Captain Obvious!" Gwen saluted him mockingly.

A tic formed on the sorcerer's head.

"I find it hypocritical that a mere child dares to lecture me about my foul attitude, when she is equally confrontational!" His fist shook in irritation.

As steam billowed from her ears, Hex sternly redirected his attention to the man of science.

"I take it you're not familiar with this realm, Paradox? No offense, but you look like a fish out of water."

"Alas, no– I have never been properly acquainted. Is that surprising?" Paradox curled in on himself slightly, feelings of inadequacy seeping in.

"Ledgerdomain is a closely guarded secret. I wouldn't expect someone of your field to have knowledge that such a place even existed." He gestured to the pink atmosphere speckled with fractured isles.

"Tennyson is only aware because I imparted that knowledge unto her as well." He cast a subtle glare towards the Anodite Half-blood.

"Which indicates…?" The professor prodded impatiently, aloof with his delivery.

"...Which indicates?" Hex deadpanned, aghast by the people he willingly (Now regretfully) trapped himself with, "That as we currently reside, our magical potential is raised tenfold!"

"Fascinating. If what you say is true, then it is only logical to assume that the stamina of the user plays a key role. But to enhance your power by a factor of ten? The only rational explanation is that something here must be exposing you to anabolic agents of some variation– to sate the deficits in caloric recuperation! Based on the bizarre movement patterns of the neighboring islands... the answer must lie within the air– the molecules we currently breathe." The professor theorized confidently, facial expression ever so smug.

Hex promptly bonked him over the head with his staff.

"You're thinking too hard, Paradox." The sorcerer strode past him, chalky lips tugged in the shape of an amused smirk.

"Oh, please do forgive me for being so naïve." The time traveler muttered grumpily, rubbing the area where he was struck.

"I have to side with Hex on this one, professor."

He sniffed. "Traitor."

The toe caps of the mage's boots scraped a couple of inches past the suspended isle's edge, enabling him to peer deeply into the whirling abyss. Toiling the staff about as casually as one does an umbrella, Hex uttered a silent spell– telekinetically plucking nearby stones loose and sequentially ordering them to resemble a bridge. Proud of his handiwork, he subtly jabbed his elbow in the professor's gut.

"Did heavy contemplation make that happen?" He traversed the gap victoriously.

Defeated, the professor hung his head as Gwen lightly brushed past him.

"Where exactly are you taking us, oh master of the mystical arts?"

"Cthuloft. It's a commune for the royal capital. I lived there briefly while I was busy being extradited."

"Cthuloft? As in… a derivative of Cthuhlu? That story written by some racist author? He who shall not be named?"

"The vestigial gods of Ledgerdomain departed from the realm eons ago."

"You think it's possible they traveled to Earth at some point? Divine intervention– deals of that sort?"

"Its more than possible. The tales passed down through generations depict the old gods as vile, manipulative beings. Humanity is not the only species whose history was tampered with. Even in a weakened state, they wouldn't have issues constructing an allegiant empire."

"You mean a cult."

"A cult. Sure."

Gwen ignored the sorcerer's snippy demeanor and stretched her arms.

"And what's stopping you from casting that spell to bring the Door to Anywhere back to us like you did before?"

"Because I depleted more than half of my energy reserves to perform that spell. Doing so again this soon would prove fatal. Unless you're in possession of the Alpha Rune, the door never stays idle for long."

"If energy is an issue, why not teach me how to cast the spell?"

"It's not that simple."

"I'm half Anodite, remember? Mana is my specialty."

"You must be familiar with someone from Cthuloft then?" The professor deduced. "Someone who can decipher that scroll or at the very least, has the tools to do so."

"Hmph. If they happen to be in a good mood." For those words to come from the mouth of Hex was not reassuring.

Gwen sensed the professor felt similarly, made evident by his awkward posture.

"Where is everybody? We've been island hopping for ten minutes, and I haven't picked up any mana signatures outside of our own. It's as if the entire realm is…"

"...Dead?" The sorcerer suggested, not oblivious to the petrified forest surrounding them.

"I didn't want to be the one to say it." She shamefully admitted.

"Its an accurate description." He stroked the withered stems.

Upon reaching the hill's summit, the group was unified out of impasse. The valley stretching out before them was encrusted entirely with molten ash. A giant crater decimated a majority of the continent-sized island. Damage inflicted by impact was measurable using the given (Or in this case, taken) heights of the few hundred buildings that stubbornly remained. Those closest to ground zero were flattened, while those furthest had lost their rooves.

"Hex?" Gwen hesitantly spoke.

"What is it, child?" His eyes never left the calamitous sight.

"Do you have any idea what happened here?"

"...No. Are you scared?" He said after a while.

She wondered why Hex would ask her that.

"Should I be?"

He provided no response.

…

The devastation was everywhere she looked; Masonry toppled, cobblestone upheaved and roads eroded. Walking down the individual streets offered the impression that an angry tornado had ripped through Cthuloft and stolen half the buildings with it. The hushed wind emulated a sinister whisper– the only source of sound beyond their own breathing and footsteps.

You are not welcome here… escape while you still can!

He will devour your souls.

Death is merciful… but the mighty one is not!

The burning never stops.

In the face of pure hatred… your love is powerless!

Find the Door before its too late.

Her attention shifted back to their guide.

Hex seemed as much in the dark as they were. Based on his subdued reaction, she figured he must still be processing it. Gwen mentally appreciated the tremendous effort it must've taken for him to stay level headed and forge onwards. Because how would she feel– much less even begin to cope– if she found Bellwood in a state such as this?

It was a risky move getting Hex involved. Gwen was well aware of that. But from the way Paradox described their situation? They were running low on viable options. Gwen had to get the ball rolling somehow, and the attack on the mansion shouldn't have caught her by… surprise…?

"…Is that… a body?" Gwen swallowed nervously.

"I wouldn't stare." The professor suggested softly, and steered her away.

The limbs, lacquered and preserved by grainy soot, were just barely distinguishable enough so the skeleton's final moments could be interpreted. Hex paid the scattered myriad of depleted corpses no mind as he stopped them next to a partially collapsed corner store.

"I can't believe it's still intact." He shook his head, mystified.

"Is this where you stayed? Before you were exiled?" She wondered aloud.

The corner store was constructed using similar materials to the rest of buildings in Cthuloft: Chiseled, prismatic blocks composing the foundations, complimenting the pentagonal arched windows. The front steps were shattered, having shifted apart due to immense seismic activity. The tinted glass panes and ceiling were, of course, MIA.

"We sold potions." Hex spoke pensively.

We? Gwen chose not to pry. "This mystery person… you were hoping they'd be here? Weren't you?" She guessed.

"I had my doubts." He admitted.

Exhaling through his nose, he raised his staff— reorienting the mass of cinder blocks which barricaded the entrance. With a pathway cleared, he turned to them.

"I'm going inside to search for provisions. You two stand guard outside."

Gwen wanted to object, but the severity of Hex' glare made her reconsider.

"This is the perfect location to ambush someone. We don't want any unexpected visitors getting the drop on us, do we?"

The professor nodded. "I concur."

Hex drew back slightly– astonished that the man of science agreed.

"Maybe you're not as feeble-minded as I originally thought, Paradox."

"Thank you?" The professor furrowed his brows quizzically.

"If I were an assassin, I would've taken the shot already." Gwen glowered.

"My word, Tennyson, are you sure that you're half Anodite and not half Hellspawn? That would make a lot of sense, actually–"

"–Just be quick! We've already wasted enough time as is." Gwen sighed irritably, folding her arms.

"Godspeed." Hex grinned wolfishly.

Once the sorcerer was out of earshot, Gwen addressed her concerns with the professor.

"You believe that whole spiel about his energy reserves being depleted?" She leaned against a fractured marble column.

"I suppose we have no choice but to believe him, Gwendolyn." The man started hesitantly "Nonetheless, our quest depends upon his guidance. Whether he is capable of doing so– casting that spell– is irrelevant." He sat on a section of a collapsed wall, groaning from exhaustion.

"The realm strengthens you..."

Funny, she didn't feel any stronger.

He looked down at his trembling, cracked hands. "...Simultaneously my chronokinetic abilities dwindle towards nonexistence. If I cannot manipulate the flow of spacetime, I am nothing but a prosaic hominid! What am I to contribute beyond witful banter?" He mourned.

Fearing where this line of thought was taking him, Gwen turned to the first allegory that came to mind.

"Do you ever consider how Ben would've turned out if he never found the Omnitrix?"

"I fail to see why–?"

"–Would he be the same old Ben?" She clarified.

"I suppose the trajectory of his life would be vastly different. Without the Omnitrix, he never develops an ego. Probably doesn't get into as many fights. Less brash, less impulsive…" He trailed off, a bittersweet smile adorning the man's features, "...its hard to imagine Benjamin choosing to be anyone other than himself."

"So, nothing changes?" Gwen joked.

He laughed good naturedly.

"Everything we loved about him– what made Ben a force for good? That depended on him. With Eon, he's like the polar opposite: A version of Ben who lost his heart."

"How does this pertain to me?" He nervously inquired.

"...Because true power lies in the choices you make. With or without time travel, you're presence still means something."

The professor considered her words, folding his hands in his lap.

"Despite your youth, you exhibit wisdom beyond your years, Gwendolyn." His posture gradually straightened.

"You know what's marvelous? I've fallen through the event horizon twice."

"That's marvelous?"

"Yes, yes it is! Because I can have a perfect understanding of how the space time continuum flows— and yet— there is still so much for me to learn!"

He smacked his chapped lips. "Also if you happen upon a fresh source of water– please do notify me of its whereabouts."

Her fantasy of relaxing on the beach, sipping from one of those coconut cocktails that have the little umbrellas in them was disrupted as a red dot trained itself on the professor's forehead.

"Professor, get down!" She screamed.

"Oh, I am not a proficient dancer, I'm afraid."

Gwen tackled him like she played in the NFL, effectively saving him from being domed right between the eyes. A crimson beam grazed her shoulder, invoking her to yelp as it singed the skin beneath the fabric. Another laser sailed by them into a nearby ravine.

"Stay behind me!" She ordered, projecting a barrier to absorb the brunt of the next blast.

The pressure shattered her mana construct, and flung her backwards in a shroud of pink shards. Undeterred, she leapt to her feet and summoned a shield twice as dense as the last. Another shot rang out, striking her barrier dead on. This time it held.

Across the jumbled street, a sullen Hex emerged from the corner store, satchel noticeably bulkier than before. "Can you two go five minutes without trying to get yourselves killed!?" He demanded angrily.

Gwen ignored his prior statement: "Take cover!"

Hex at least had enough common sense to listen to her. Without hesitation, the robed sorcerer ducked behind a boulder, narrowly avoiding the amputation of his legs as a laser struck the ground where he previously stood. Adjusting his hood, he shouted at them amidst the echoes of gunfire.

"Do either of you have eyes on the shooter!?"

"Sorry, I've more been focused on keeping us ALIVE!" She screamed back.

"There!" The professor pointed. "Up high on the ridge!"

Gwen followed the direction of his finger, where she spotted the scope glint of a sniper rifle in the distance.

"Now I got you." She growled.

The silhouette jolted– as if they heard what she whispered under her breath. Position compromised, they slung the weapon over their shoulder, and bolted in the opposite direction. Determined to catch the assassin, Gwen manifested an escalating series of translucent platforms to dash across, instigating a chase scene.

The enclosing proximity allowed her to identify who it was: Her cousin. The purple and silver costume informed her that this version was a servant of Eon's– and a loyal one at that. Professor Paradox had been mere seconds away from having his head blown clean off.

When she got within dropping distance, the henchmen dove behind an altar carved on the hillside. Using the wall as defense, he opened fire with his kinetic blaster. Twirling to dodge the initial laser spread, Gwen lashed a mana infused whip at his wrist. With a decisive crack, the gun was slapped from his hand.

Unsheathing a plasma blade from his utility belt he sliced through the binding, breaking it like glass. As she prepared to throw a glittering boomerang, his jetpack revved, signaling that takeoff was imminent. At the last second, he gave her the middle finger.

"What the–!?"

Before the variant could fly away, he was suddenly crushed by a cannon balling professor.

She glared disapprovingly at a floating Hex, whose red cloak billowed throughout his descent.

"Hey, it worked." He defended his actions.

Groaning, Paradox rolled off the flattened henchman, checking the damaged jetpack.

"He will not be flying anywhere..." He confirmed, cracking his hip and massaging the tender bone "...anytime soon."

She formed a pair of mana cuffs, shaking her head. The variant didn't put up much of a fight when she latched the restraints on him. While she did that, Hex thieved his sniper rifle. Then, perhaps feeling guilty– he offered Paradox the weapon that had intended to kill him.

The professor mumbled, "I've never used a gun before," as he gingerly inspected the sniper rifle.

"Oh, its fairly simple. You see that thing there? That's called a trigger. If you pull on it, a big laser will shoot from right here–"

"–I'm starting to think you take pleasure from being an insufferable ass."

"Wow!" Hex' lips formed an oval. "You do have a spine!" He sounded almost proud.

"Hex? Quit antagonizing the professor." She huffed tiredly, tossing the jetpack and laser blade into a nearby ditch.

The kinetic blaster was no larger than a standard pistol, so she improvised by stuffing the gun in her waistband. Her skirt did have pockets, but they weren't good for holding much of anything. It was a damn shame that misogynists had dominion over the fashion industry.

Throughout all the banter, Eon's servant had not uttered a single word. Instead, he remained quiet and observed the interactions between his captors. Gwen, however, was aware of this. She knew her cousin better than anyone. He was sleuthing for weakness without having to directly probe for it.

She reached for the base of his helmet, planning to wrestle with him if she had to. It definitely required some elbow grease, but she got the job done. Upon exposing his adolescent face, the sorcerer exchanged looks of incredulousness between her and Paradox. After the third double-take, he vocalized his opinion.

"This is who we're dealing with?" He massaged his temples. "Your obnoxious cousin?" He scanned the mountain side– as if to catch a cameraman spying on them.

He leaned on his staff. "To think that one fateful day, our roles would be reversed."

"Suck my broomstick." The variant spat at him.

Hex deadpanned, "He's a golden beam of sunshine."

"Dumbass wizard."

"Sorcerer." He corrected while making an OK sign with his fingers.

"Like I give a fuck what you are."

Hex glanced at them, posturing as if to say, 'Well?'

"It's not Ben's fault– entirely— he was brainwashed." Gwen revealed.

Hearing this, the Ben variant redirected his ire toward his own blood.

"Hey Gwen," He spoke her name with immense loathing, "last I heard, Kevin was down an arm before he was shipped off to that other universe. You wouldn't happen to know where that is? No? Thought so. I wonder if they are as welcoming of him as we were?"

"Don't listen to him Gwendolyn. He's playing on your insecurities– trying to invoke an outburst where none is to be had."

"Yeah," She ground her teeth together, "I know."

Doesn't make it any less painful to see him like this.

"Listen closely, Ben… because that's the last time I'm going to call you that. Mmhmm, guess what? Your name privileges? They're officially revoked."

He scoffed at her contemptuously.

"From now on, your name is Dweeb. Dweeb Tennyson." She reiterated.

He whispered vengefully 'you're the dweeb!'

"You mentioned he was brainwashed? By whom? With what?"

"He's a time-walker– like me." Paradox explained.

"He's a variant of our dear Benjamin. We aren't sure exactly how Eon succeeded in converting so many."

None of them paid any attention to the faint, rumbling noise in the distance.

"...Then we cast a truth spell on him." Hex said obviously.

"Already tried that." Her jaw set in a hard line– the events of Los Soledad still fresh in her memory.

"It's almost like certain parts of their memory are wiped– so they can't expose any top-secret info– even if they wanted to." She spiked him with the honesty-policy spell. "Watch this; Hey, Dweeb, who do you work for? What's your master plan to seize control over the whole universe?"

"My loyalty lies with Emperor Eon. The galaxy is ours to conquer." Dweeb answered, albeit sneering nastily.

"See?"

"Allow me to take a shot at it– pardon the pun." He brushed past her, crouching as to be eye level with the purple clad Tennyson.

He prodded him in the chest with the vulture skull embezzlement of his staff. It radiated a pale orange light which infused with his form-fitting armor. As it gradually seeped into his torso, the veins and arteries linked to his heart became outlined– similar to an x-ray monitor.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump…

"If I lift this, that organ in your chest stops."

Gwen audibly scowled behind him.

He ignored her. "You saw what I did to your comrades back at my mansion. So you're aware that I don't bluff. If you withhold information from me– from us… if you budge one inch out of line…?"

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump…

"Whatever." Dweeb acted indifferent.

Hex smirked upon hearing that.

"Were you the only one who made it through the Door? Or was there… more of you?"

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump…

"Just me."

"We couldn't sense you at all before. Why?"

"I was trained to mask my mana signature."

"He can do that?"

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

"Given enough time." Hex answered, never taking his eyes off his prey.

The distant rumbling was on the fringe of prominence.

"Who taught you?"

"I'm self-taught."

"Be smart with me again, boy. See where that gets you." Hex tersely reoriented his grip on the magic staff, getting in his face for extra intimidation.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump…

The stare down lasted a few more suspenseful seconds.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"You want my input?" Gwen asked, genuinely surprised.

"Do we leave him here? Allow the eagles to circle above? Peck at his liver? Hey, don't give me that look! You're better at this hero gig than I am!"

Ba-ba-bump, ba-ba-bump, ba-ba-bump…

"That's fair. I guess we should take him with us?"

"My ears deceive me? Take him with us!? So we have to listen to his constant barrage of insults!? He was trying to kill us!"

"It's better than leaving him alone to starve to death! Or have his liver pecked at!" She refuted sternly.

"Your overt compassion for people who try to murder you is sickening! And I was kidding about the liver-pecking thing!"

Bababumpbababumpbababump…!

"You wanted my advice, I gave it to you!"

They all turned as the professor cleared his throat.

"Should we be concerned?" The professor gestured to the sky– currently being engulfed within the jaws of a cerise hurricane.

Hex retracted the staff from Dweeb's chest– who pouted when he didn't instantly die. Without needing to be prompted, the group followed the sorcerer's lead as he fearfully charged down the slope of the basin. Desperately, he searched for some kind of enclave to use as shelter.

By some incredible stroke of luck, their safe haven came in the form of a mostly buried mortar brick house. Tracing the perimeter, Hex identified a pair of wooden doors leading down into a basement. He ripped them open, coughing from the upheaval of sand– shouting for everyone to pile inside.

Gwen kicked Dweeb down the stairs, Paradox not too far behind them. The sorcerer was the last one inside. Slamming the doors shut, he chanted a sealant spell, momentarily coating the doors in a sheen of white. Less than a minute later, the storm arrived, screeching like a fire breathing banshee. The hinges of the basement doors bent and creaked violently— but miraculously, they held.

"What–?" She couldn't hear the words coming out of her own mouth. "What the hell was that?"

Hex' shoulders visibly dipped with fatigue.

"Cosmic storm. Trust me, the last thing you want is to be caught in one."

She leaned her weight on the support column and slid to the floor, resting her head on her knees.

Once the adrenaline rush had worn off, Gwen took stock of their temporary sanctuary. The suspended ceiling was held up by four symmetrical support columns. Sand was piled in each corner of the room. Stationed at the basements center was a massive sparkling geode– perfectly polished off and integrated into the floorboards. She wondered what the purpose for such a large gemstone was– until she gazed upwards– at the pipe distending above it, no doubt used for funneling smoke.

Hex dumped the inner contents of his satchel out on a bamboo ottoman, the lone piece of furniture that the former patrons of this home were kind enough to leave behind. He stroked his chin, perhaps deciding what to do with the dozen batches of potions he smuggled. Emitting a shallow exhale, he joined her in sitting on the floor.

In the corner, Dweeb was shooting daggers at her, lower lip glistening with blood from the spill he took earlier. It was obvious that he wanted nothing to do with them. Paradox unbuttoned his vest and tossed it in the middle of the geode firepit. He grabbed two rocks and smacked them together, attempting to shower the clothing item in sparks.

"How long until the storm passes?" She asked the sorcerer currently resting his eyes.

"You expect me to know that? Hmph. It could be a few minutes… couple hours… maybe a week."

---

The Anur system, often referred to as the Anur Belt by the locals, is infamous for being one of the darkest places in the universe, capable of sustaining sentient life. Almatromaxei, the dwarf star each of the Anur planets orbit, had been on the verge of collapse for the last 5.8 billion years. Then, about a century ago on the dot– it stabilized. As if it hadn't just threatened to obliterate everything within a thirty-lightyear radius. Needless to say, scientists were baffled by this turn of events.

So, what resulted from this interstellar pump fake?

A crippled, gnarled sun that supplies its neighbors with vitamin D deficiency. For some added perspective, light travelling from Earth's sun is a thousand times weaker when it reaches Pluto. Almatromaxei produces light even dimmer as its base energy output.

Although the natives were saved from being wiped out, the billions of years of compression were not without turmoil. Almatromaxei ejected upwards of 25 gigatons of Corrodium into the far reaches of outer space. Many of these "deposits," fused together and became asteroids. Planets nearest to the dwarf star stood no chance. They were destroyed.

The worlds furthest away from Almatromaxei were still exposed to harsh dosages of Corrodium. Far more than the healthy amount.

This incited numerous mass extinction events, as the sample size for creatures that could withstand the mutagenic effects of Corrodium was slim. Those who survived to fight another day were either already immune to or had built a natural tolerance to the mineral's radioactive properties. Perhaps aptly so, the few alien species to make it through the great dying bore striking similarities to monsters of popular folklore; Thep Khufans were mummies, Loboans were werewolves, Ectonurites were ghosts, and so forth.

"Are we sure this is the right place?" Julie squirmed in her seat nervously.

"Indeed, it is. The Anur system may appear gloomy at first glance, and it has a reputation for its hostile political stances– however! That's mostly due to nationalistic propaganda designed to detract tourism."

Ben lost track of the conversation, eventually fixating on the vacant regions of space between the planets. These are the kinds of views you'd never get on Earth. Streamlining the orbital pathways, were dense clouds of purple nebulous gas. The ionized vapor clung to the upper atmosphere of the various worlds and connected them like cobwebs.

"Wouldn't we fall into that category then? Ben told me Plumber jurisdiction is meaningless here."

"That is factual. Flashing a badge here won't cut it, but the people of Anur Transyl aren't plain savages, Julie. They're civilized– much like us. As difficult as that is to believe sometimes. Sure, it may take some extra convincing and potential bribery—!" He ditched the thought as Ship suddenly dove through the veiled atmosphere, inertia pressing them into their seats.

Purple fog obstructed their view of the planet's surface, which Ben did not appreciate. It forced him to stare at his unkempt reflection in the window. Another solid minute of this, and they dislodged from the gaseous haze, treating them to a clear view of the terrestrial planet.

Julie gulped. "I assume you have a plan?"

"Plans betwixt plans." The professor tapped the side of his head cryptically.

"Well, nobodies shooting at us yet." Ben remarked.

Anur Transyl's jagged landscape was plotted with compact, bustling cities formatted like a CPU. The gothic cathedral/steampunk aesthetic appeared to be wildly popular, as almost every building followed this same architectural blueprint. Pylons stretched upwards for miles, skimming the stratosphere. Gigantic gears shifted below, powered by artificial rivers and sprawling aqueducts. Living units cropped around these bodies of water, amalgamated using numerous metals, familiar and foreign.

"Say, Paradox, how accurate are those coordinates?" Ben pondered as they approached a megastructure reminiscent of the colosseum in Rome.

"Does the Intergalctic Detention Center, tickle your funny bone?"

"Don't say that. Also, what? You mean Incarcecon? Where the lowest of lowlifes in the entire galaxy are imprisoned? How could I forget?"

"How do you suppose that space station was conceptualized?"

"I don't know? Who could've done it?" Ben rolled his eyes as the professor continued babbling.

The man loved to hear himself talk.

"When the Galactic Enforcers at that time realized they lacked the expertise to maximize their finite resources, they enlisted the aid of the Transylians. That is because Transylians are masters of augmentation. For millennia, this planet was used as a dumping ground; Toxic chemicals, industrial equipment, decommissioned space vessels… if you can name it, it's here. One man's trash is another man's treasure, is an idiom that these people proudly embrace.

With such an excess of garbage, these people were expected to relocate. But then, something amazing happened. They adapted! Rather than abandon the only home they'd ever known, the Transylians got to work building communities dedicated purely to innovative factories and salvage facilities. And they were exceptional in this regard. Until we arrive at today, where Anur Transyl is officially recognized by the convention as a legitimate hub for scientific progress and engineering!"

"Thanks for the history lesson, Professor… but what does that have to do with Ben's question?" Julie said unapologetically.

"Those salvage facilities I mentioned earlier? We shall be arriving at one shortly."

Ship glided smoothly onto a runway linked to the colosseum. The borders of the landing dock decompressed, shooting excess steam from the seams. With the cargo hold unfolded, each crew member was allowed to unbuckle themselves and grab their belongings. Ben strolled out from the cockpit, casually stretching his shoulders. Ship rumbled like a copy machine before minimizing back to his usual lapdog self. Julie took the opportunity to encourage her pet to hop inside her unzipped backpack for some much deserved rest.

"Good boy, Ship!" She nuzzled the Galvanic Mechamorph affectionately.

Ship reciprocated the gesture happily— attempting to lick despite the absence of a tongue– ironically making the wholesome sight even cuter.

Due to the irregular dimensions of the surrounding buildings, much of the natural sunlight being cast down by Almotromaxei was shunned. To counteract the problem, locals fastened pipes to the nearby balconies, emitting neon light of varying shades and intensities. Ben appreciated the fine attention to detail.

"Woah, this is…?" His girlfriend was at a loss for words, now truly taking it all in for the first time.

"Totally awesome?" Ben guessed, smirking through one eye.

"Yep. Hey, thanks again. For bringing me along. I know I'm complicating things by being here, but–"

"–You aren't complicating anything." Ben refuted passionately, melding their hands together.

"I wanted you here. The professor is OK with it. I'm OK with it."

"I feel like I have a responsibility now, and I can't squander that, you know?" She revealed, "I just… I just really want to help you guys. I mean, if it wasn't for Ship, what would I be doing?"

"Julie, you are helping. We're here to save our universe. Ship or no Ship, you're still tough as nails."

The tender moment was undercut by an obnoxiously loud elevator buzzer. After a small delay, the oxidized hatches slid open. The professor's posture went ramrod straight, gaze wide with recognition. Marching toward them was a Transylian behemoth composed of pale, yellow necrotic flesh. He was also shirtless for whatever reason?

His bulging arms were unevenly stitched below the shoulders. From his trapezius, two symmetrical spires had sprouted, resembling a mix of a Tesla coil and a lightning rod. His lower half was secured by rubber trousers which trickled into mallet shaped boots. His movements, though articulate, were perceptibly disjointed. Like one of those dancing animatronics you'd find at an arcade.

That's how he meandered to a calculated stop about a dozen meters from where they all stood. He analyzed them individually to discern who the biggest threat was. He did so by utilizing a cybernetic monocle that magnified his pupil (Made obvious whenever he blinked).

'Hell yeah I'm a threat, buddy.'

Ben had done a background check on the Anur inhabitants in advance. This made him aware that people possessed by Ectonurites have their eyes mutated pink. If things went south, he would be ready. His fingers twitched in anticipation. A brief glance informed him the professor was clutching at his Chrononavigator. Surprising them both, it was Julie who made the first attempt at communication.

"Hello, my name is Julie! This is Ben and that's Professor Paradox! We're humans from the planet Earth! We come in peace!" She tossed in a peace sign for good measure.

The Transylian's facial expression remained neutral. Honestly, that was all the confirmation Ben needed to tell him this guy wasn't possessed. Unless he's possessed by a robot, which was possible.

"That doesn't usually work…" Ben whispered next to her ear, "Most aliens aren't familiar with English."

"Oops! I don't know why I thought that would work." She twiddled her thumbs sheepishly.

"Hey, you're still a newbie."

"Greetings. Humans from Earth."

"The fu— ?"

"—HA!" Julie pointed directly in his stunned face.

"Lucky guess." He folded his arms.

"That solves one of our problems." Paradox stated ambiguously, masking his stopwatch.

"I am Viktor." The Transylian introduced himself. "I am licensed to perform medical procedures if necessary. Do you require assistance?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Viktor." Ben didn't know what proper etiquette was around here, so he bowed awkwardly instead.

"Uh, you wouldn't happen to be able to open this big, old gate here for us… could you?" He gestured to the massive cement wall.

Frankenstein paused at the suggestion.

"You desire entry to the factory?"

"Yeah, if it's not a big deal? We don't want to get you in any trouble." Ben added.

Again, the Transylian's reaction was utterly blank. Devoid of any emotion. He imagined a loading symbol spinning above his head.

"The request is feasible."

'Really? Am I in easy mode right now? He isn't even gonna ask us why we want to go inside? Saving the universe is a piece of cake!'

He clapped. "Perfect!"

"Indeed, your hospitality is much appreciated, Dr. Viktor." Paradox sounded immensely suspicious of their host.

"How much tayden will our little venture cost? I'll warn you; I am a feisty haggler."

Ben didn't believe the professor had currency on him for even a second.

"We may discuss your payment later." Pivoting, Viktor punched a numerical code into the digital panel tucked behind the hazard print.

Ever since Paradox mentioned it, the parallels between this place and Incarcecon were becoming harder and harder for Ben to ignore. The industrial tunnel Viktor was guiding them through had been optimized for container transportation. Kind of like a silencer on a gun, sonorails were invented explicitly to dampen the sound of metals scraping against each other. This was especially true for shipments that fell into the heavy-duty category, such as a prison freighter.

Save for the occasional swaying lantern, the tunnel was pitch black. Ben expected a sneak attack at any moment.

"I thought we humans weren't technologically advanced enough to be recognized. Why the sudden inspiration to learn our language?"

"Earth has become a topic of much debate. Especially in recent years. To the extent I sought it necessary to learn your dialect for potential negotiations." His tone stayed perfectly level throughout.

While Julie distracted the Transylian, inquiring about Anur traditions, Ben saw an opportunity to covertly pull the professor aside.

"What's your problem with Frankenstein?"

"I don't trust him and neither should you."

"We met this guy five minutes ago!" Ben knew he was a terrible judge of character– he could be hogtied and left to dangle above shark-infested waters, and he'd still never admit that.

Time-Bomber almost destroyed the universe because Ben's ego reiterated that he didn't have to go hard on such a pathetic villain. Was he being lured into the same trap as before? The time travelling arsonist definitely wasn't obscure with his intentions. He was a man who wanted to watch the world burn in every sense of the word.

Viktor had yet to say anything nefarious, so Ben was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. The Transylian was outwardly imposing, but his personality– or lack thereof– is what really had Ben's head on a swivel.

The group made it out on the other side of the tunnel, exposing them to the inner workings of the scrap yard. Mountains of alien junk currently underwent the process of being stacked in spiraling columns. To better compensate for this unorthodox style of organization, machines resembling bulldozers puttered along the individual pathways, clearing them for expressive mobility. Supersized lifting magnets swayed from high friction cords. From the sky, pyramidal drones toting pales of lava drifted and swerved between the chaos imparted by their mechanical brethren.

"This is it." Viktor announced amidst the cacophony of noises.

Paradox prepared to do his usual circus act when Ben inserted himself.

"We're looking for a flux capacitor. You got any of those?"

The doctor wrinkled his nose as he processed the question. Hey, that was close to a smile. Sort of?

"Flux capacitors are located in delta quadrant. There is also a high probability more reside in epsilon quadrant." He did a once over of the group. "Will that be all?"

"Oh, we got a whole list buddy."

" –Benjamin–" The Professor was too late.

" –What about a Kuiper Conductor?" Ben shrugged off a reprehensible hand.

"Theta quadrant." The doctor responded immediately.

"Mind showing us the way there?"

The Transylian stomped down the patchwork trail with his titanium soles. Taking that as their queue to follow the leader, the professor slowed his pace to match Ben's stride. Muffling his mouth using his sleeve, he whisper yelled: "What do you think you're doing!?"

Ben used his jacket collar, "We're looking for this shit, aren't we? Might as well take advantage while he's still useful!"

"We can't afford any lapses in judgement! I know what those parts look like, too!"

"I'm just making things go faster!" He defended himself.

They walked past an automaton as it was being surgically disassembled.

"So what if he's secretly evil? Am I supposed to start pummeling him based on that suspicion?"

"Don't be daft. Of course, you shouldn't do that."

"Then what are you so worried about?"

"...I'm apprehensive, because he might extrapolate what is we're trying to create." The professor rubbed his face.

When Ben's muddled expression remained, he resigned himself.

"OK. I really, really, really, should not be telling you this, Benjamin. In the prime timeline, Dr. Viktor–?" He gestured to said alien using both index fingers. "–Travels to Earth to revive his deceased Ectonurite master, whom you killed earlier that summer. They plotted to mutate the entirety of the Earth's population with a Corrodium charged satellite! You were ten years old at the time."

He felt as though his brain was slowing down. He had so many questions.

"Would I know them? The master?"

"He went by the alias of Zs'Skayr."

"You're right. That name doesn't sound familiar… also we aren't the prime timeline?"

"I know that must be a riveting thing to process, Benjamin, but the sooner you accept it, the sooner we can move on and focus on whats important: The present."

"Am I blonde in the prime timeline? Be honest."

"No?"

"Thank god." Ben emitted a sigh of relief.

"How different am I? Compared to prime ME?"

"That is hardly crucial, not to mention the lack of relevance–"

"–It is to me." Ben promptly shut him down. "Prime Ben Ten… Is he a better hero?"

He was terrified the answer was something he'd known all along.

"I will be making no such comparisons." Paradox deflected. "I told you this because I needed you to understand that there is a chance, that Dr. Viktor is not who he claims to be."

"Prime Dr. Viktor was evil, right? But this version never came to Earth. It's possible to be a good guy in one timeline and a bad guy in another. I'm sure there must be timelines where I'm a villain. How do we know he isn't different too? The law of large numbers and whatnot?"

"I don't think you understand what that means…" The professor clenched his jaw, indicating a guilty conscious.

When the doctor wasn't looking, he sneakily inserted the holocube into Ben's open palm.

"I trust your gut more than my own."

Before the Transylian could suspect foul play, Ben pocketed the blueprints. The professor was putting his faith in him, and he intended to honor that trust.

The Transylian stopped at a podium. He pulled a switch, and the grid flooring bordering the nearest scrap heap illuminated with an eerie fluorescent light.

"Delta Quadrant. This is where you should be able to locate the flux capacitor." His gaze lingered on Ben.

"Kuiper Conductors are located seven quadrants to the east."

"Thanks a bunch, dude."

By pure coincidence, the doctor's cybernetic gauntlet beeped. Whatever topic he discussed with Julie previously was promptly abandoned. Tapping the buttons on his wrist, his lips folded inward– maybe it was concern? He considered the professor's grievances.

"A pressure valve in sector twelve is failing." Viktor reported.

"I must tend to it immediately."

"You need any help?" Ben shared a sidelong glance with his girlfriend.

"I require no assistance. Browse as you please. I will return."

"Take your time. We'll be here when you get back…"

Viktor had already marched off, disappearing behind a column of warped pipework.

"...What were you guys whispering about earlier?" Julie prodded curiously.

"Paradox was warning me about the doctor."

"You think he's setting us up?" Ship poked his head out of her backpack, flopping his chin on her shoulder.

"Exercise caution. If any of us detect danger, make sure to send out a distress signal."

"Fair enough." She offered a minimal shrug. "We don't exactly have home field advantage."

"Will you guys be OK if I leave for a sec to grab that Kuiper Conductor?" Ben asked, scrolling through his arsenal.

"We'll be fine. Ship and I can handle whatever Dr. Viktor has to throw at us." Julie stated confidently, fists on her hips.

Paradox was unsure about the arrangement, though his curt nod provided Ben with the consent he needed.

"Jury Rigg!" The impish alien shouted gleefully.

"I'll be back before you can say nuts and bolts!" The Planchakule saluted, scampering off.

"I don't care what people think– Jury Rigg is super cute! in a mangy-gremlin sort of way."

Ship squealed randomly, the shift in tension causing the professor to chuckle dorkishly.

…

"Flux capacitor, flux capacitor, flux capacitor… I have no idea what a flux capacitor even looks like."

Julie considered turning around, however, she quickly fought the idea off when her alien pet barked to grab her undivided attention. The Galvanic Mechamorph molded to resemble a piece of technology she wasn't familiar with.

Wait.

"Ship, are you showing me what a flux capacitor looks like?"

He craned his head from the side of the cylindrical machine, appearing to nod.

"Good boy, Ship! Hop up!" He barked excitedly and slingshot into her arms.

"Hoot-Hoot!" She gave her command.

Ship transformed into a pair of binoculars.

The professor wandered towards quadrant epsilon to find an Accelerator Apparatus (God knows what that does), so in the meantime, they were by themselves. Lifting the newly morphed alien to her eye sockets, she peered through the digitized lens. As she rotated the gauge to cycle amongst the available modes, she failed to notice the drone spying on her location. Rounding a corner, she gasped as the binoculars narrowed in on a target, a red circle implicating the burial site.

"Target spotted." She imitated the doctor's voice from before.

Ship slithered along the circumference of her forearm, bicep, then distended towards the ground, retaining the dog form she found so adorable. She giggled as he galloped from side to side, yipping with unrepentant joy. It was moments like this– when Julie was alone with Ship– that she truly reveled in the absurdity that her life had become ever since she'd got entangled with Ben.

Defending the world from an invasion of alien conquerors would seem a daunting task for anyone– but for him? It was just another day in the park. Ben's fearlessness was equally inspiring as it was terrifying. Five months prior to the battle of Los Soledad, she would've tried to run as far away as possible. But not anymore.

It took about a minute of shoving various objects aside to wrench the Flux Capacitor from its resting place. Once she did, she almost fell over from the weight. This thing weighs as much as a small horse! She dropped it onto the pathway, kneeling to study it further. The central unit resembled an hourglass. Aside from how rusty it was, it didn't seem like any major parts were missing. Not that she would know. Paradox would have to be the judge of that.

She reached down to pet Ship.

"Now, let's get back to Ben and the profess-OW!" She yelped, jumping as she felt a sharp pinch at the base of her neck.

She plucked out a small, battery-shaped dart, whirling around in the direction she was shot from. Heart trembling, she identified the spindly frame of a worker drone lurking through the proximal scrap heap. If not for their distinct pyramidal head, it would've perfectly blended in. She involuntarily shrieked once it skittered towards her on all fours like a demented crab.

Ship twisted his gelatinous body around Julie protectively before solidifying into a resolute suit of armor. The worker drone uselessly pounded her leg. This repeated action further upset the Galvanic Mechamorph. Vibrant green bioluminescent stripes of her armament transmuted to an angry red. She demolished the offending drone by stepping on it. Just when Julie thought the scuffle had ended, two more drones emerged from hiding with similar intentions of ill will.

"Ship: Bang-Bang!" She commanded.

Twin cannons emerged from her gauntlets, thrumming with power. Using the tracking radar installed in her helmet's visor, she responded to the robo-blitzkrieg with a bombardment of plasma blasts. The echoes of conflict carried multiple quadrants over– spurring a nearby time traveler to haul ass.

"Great heavens!" Gasping, he abandoned the Accelerator Apparatus, and ran down the slope.

She didn't know what was in that dart, but it was obviously laced with something. Her core strength vanished, urging Ship to commandeer the helm in her absence. Perceptions of reality became fuzzy. The muscles in her limbs were numb and unresponsive. Her brain felt stuffed with cotton.

A Magneto Disperser whipped past the sweating professor, deactivating every drone in its vicinity. What appeared as a blessing initially, was actually a curse in disguise. Because Ship's biology was directly linked to electronics, once it spun by him– he was lulled out his shapeshifted form. Which left a defenseless teenager out in the open, vulnerable to attack.

"Pro…fessor…" Julie murmured, eyelids drooping dangerously low.

"Hold on tight, darling!" He grabbed her wrist and used a temporal shift to teleport them a safe distance away from the action.

They landed in a nondescript pile of junk.

"Wha… bout… Ship…?" By this point, she was fighting just to stay conscious.

Desperately, he hoisted the girl onto his back.

"Ship can manage himself! He is very intelligent! We need to find Benjamin before its–!"

Dr. Viktor blocked their path.

"–Too late…" He grimaced.

An army of drones surrounded them, joints clicking insidiously. The Professor knew he couldn't keep up this game of cat and mouse forever. Ben wasn't here to save them this time.

"I beg you– spare her life. I'll give you whatever it is you want."

"The blueprints. Deliver them to me."

"Blueprints? What are you talking about?"

"Do not feign obliviousness, professor of paradoxes. I know what your intentions are." The drones drew closer.

The Transylian cocked his head to the side inquisitively, disappointed the man of science was being so tightlipped.

"If the blueprints are not in your possession," His monocle briefly flickered, "then it resides with Ben Tennyson."

"Ben… where's… Ben…?" Julie mumbled deliriously at the mention of her boyfriend, black spots dancing in her vision.

"You have to let us go." Paradox declared gutturally. "If you don't… then we are all doomed."

"Stubborn creatures." Viktor breathed, then commanded his drones to advance.

"Please, listen to me! I am telling you the truth!" He pleaded.

A baton struck Paradox square across the temple, knocking him out instantly. He slumped over, taking the tennis star with him. The last thing Julie remembered before fully losing consciousness was the stomping of metal boots… and the assortment of gumballs rolling across the floor.

…

Something was wrong, he could feel it. An hour ago, they had split up to cover more ground. The message spam he sent out had gone unanswered, so unless Julie and Paradox were lost (Which was possible– though he doubted it), there must've been tech located in the scrapyard that was blocking their signal.

Ben found the Kuiper Conductor fairly easily. All he had to do was transform into Jury Rigg. Utilizing the Planchakule's trained eye, he was able to scan for and spot the rusting cable from a junk hills distance away. Had he attempted a task this simple as his ten-year-old self, he may have gone mad due to a sensory overload. That's part of the reason why he avoided turning into the imp as a kid.

That's not to say he dislikes Jury Rigg– far from it.

He wasn't a brawler like Eatle and Armodrillo, nor did his raw power match Ampfibian, Terraspin, and NRG. No, Jury Rigg's skill set– the true value that he brings to Ben's arsenal– depends on the environment, and whether it can or can't be manipulated. Basically, if he broke it, he's also definitely capable of fixing it. Not only could it be fixed, it could also be improved.

That is where the real power of Jury Rigg hid– in between the lines.

When he was twelve, he accidentally smashed Gwen's phone with his tail while he was moseying around the Rust Bucket 2 as Chamalien. He'd been trying to sneak in a quick midnight snack of cookie bites. He didn't realize what he'd done until he was halfway through the bag. In his state of panic, he swept the shattered remains of her cellular device beside her bunk– where she was still drooling away, none the wiser.

The next morning, in typical Gwen fashion, she got insanely pissed at him, exclaiming that it didn't take much detective work. Apparently, he had left a crumb trail leading straight to their bunks. To make matters even worse, he'd forgotten to put the bag back on the shelf (His hand was currently embedded inside it). Plus, he ate the whole thing, the final sin amongst countless others.

Unable to take any blame, he deflected the notion and implied it was her fault for his fuck up. This summer also happened to be the one where they graduated from labeling each other as dweebs and doofuses– to calling each other assholes. For that, this reaming was memorable enough. Later that day, he checked to see if she was pacing still– a habit she developed when she was ticked or worried about something.

Instead, he found her slumped on a bench, depressed. That's when the guilt welling up inside him from the night before spilled over. Gwen bought that cellphone with the allowance money she'd been saving for the past three years since they were ten. Then came along her brutish cousin Benjamin who breaks shit as a pastime and when he breaks your shit he doesn't even say sorry.

He had a pride issue early on his super hero career. Admitting weakness, especially stupid mistakes, in front of people you respect was a big no-no for him. So, like most of his solutions, it involved the use of his aliens. Inconspicuously, he volunteered to take the trash out to the campsite dumpsters. Once the RV was no longer in sight, he plopped the bag onto the gravel, and dialed up the Omnitrix. The next five hours he spent as Jury Rigg involved rearranging and upgrading Gwen's cellphone.

Describing how Jury Rigg's mind worked would be like attempting to describe a new color– basically impossible. Because humans possess such a finite view of the light spectrum. The universe is loaded to the brim with colors and the aliens bound to his wrist gave him the opportunity to look further beyond.

None of his transformations bolstered his intelligence quite like Jury Rigg. The mental steroid that his brain naturally deploys are the reason for this. Losing track of a thought is a regular occurrence for an ordinary person– the same cannot be said for a Planchakule. The ability to concentrate on millions of different possibilities is a remarkable power to have.

Azmuth told him Planchakules were smaller in stature because it allowed their nervous system to coordinate with their neuron's faster. He wasn't sure if he was joking or not. The guy had a strange sense of humor.

Waddling like an Oompa Loompa, he flaunted the finished product above his head. Built to absorb a point blank nuclear explosion, with a battery that'll last for at least six centuries– Gwen would never have to worry about needing a charger again. Or about dropping it. It made him proud, knowing she still used that very same phone.

The reverberating hum of a levitating platform notified him he wasn't alone.

Wind pressure tousling his hair, the hover tech breached contact with the ground. Ben wasn't prepared for the morbid sight it presented him with: Julie and Paradox– trapped inside tombs of translucent ice. Viktor stood between the cryogenic tanks imposingly, burly arms folded behind his waist.

"I vouched for you. I thought you were on our side!" Ben lectured, ashamed for letting this happen.

"Whatever you thought my intentions were, is not my priority." Dr. Viktor deliberated, "I provided your party with guidance and direction. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So you froze them!? And what did you do to Ship!?"

"A precaution." He answered calmly. "The Galvanic Mechamorph is loose. But he will be found soon."

"Yeah? If you're so smart, then you should know what this is?" Ben exposed his wrist.

"I am familiar with the Omnimatrix."

"Wait, you aren't holding them hostage because you want the Omnitrix for yourself?"

"I have no use for such a device. No bidder in the universe has enough tayden to pay what it is worth."

"What's this really about then?" Ben huffed. "If you knew who I was from the start."

"Because your reputation precedes you, Ben Tennyson. Perhaps try altering your wardrobe. The green jacket is a dead giveaway."

"I'm not taking fashion advice from the guy with no shirt on."

"I immediately deduced the applications of your invention. First, I had to reduce the number of randomized variables. Those variables being your human compatriots."

Attempting to catch the Transylian off guard, he swiftly unlocked the Omnitrix dial. The motion was mirrored with stunning deftness, as the doctor unveiled a hidden weapon of his own. Recognizing the midnight revolver aiming for his chest, Ben's heart sank.

"No, oh god, no…"

The source of his existential dread. The phantom pain. The sleepless nights. It all traced back to him. When Ben imagined what death looked like, Dr. Viktor was not what he had in mind.

"You're the guy that gun's named after…" He remembered what the Professor told him following the fiasco with Time-Bomber.

'...Before the Grim's Coroner was outlawed by the Intergalactic Convention, it was a weapon used primarily for assassinations– because it killed its target with a one-hundred percent fatality rate. There were only two working models known to still exist…'

"...Viktor Grim."

"Based on your symptoms, I could tell you were shot once previously."

"At least your Ph. D. wasn't a total waste."

"There are two options you may take. Both achieve the same result. Option A: Deliver the blueprints to me peacefully. If not now, then I shall grant you until sunset to comply. At that time, if you still refuse to cooperate, I will administer a euthanizing agent into their respective chambers. I suspect you care for them, so it would be wise for you to comply with my terms."

"Fuck you and your terms! Does armageddon mean anything to you!? It means I die, you die, everyone on this planet will die– that goes for the rest of the universe too! The reason we're here is because the multiverse is the solution! You noticed I was affected by… that thing. Who do you think got their hands on the other one!? So please, just use that giga brain of yours! Put the gun down… and we'll live to fight another day–!"

"–You won't." The Transylian interrupted.

"...Today, is not that day." Ben finished, clenching his jaw.

Emotionless, the doctor continued; "Option B: You escape. I will not stop you. Without the Galvanic Mechamorph, you cease to have access to hyperspace. Nor do you possess the coordinates to find Earth. If you are captured prior to leaving the surface of this planet, your final hours shall be decided by the council of the High Ecto-Lord. Spare me the frivolous details, but to entertain these delusions of grandeur now would be a foolish endeavor. You may run, Ben Tennyson, but you cannot hide from your destiny."

He unconsciously shivered, as if sensing the Reaper's looming presence behind him.

"The choice of whether they live or die, is yours."

Bony fingers ensnared his shoulders…

"...Sunset." He answered, vehement in his delivery.

"Very well." Viktor hesitantly holstered his gun, moving to pilot the controls.

As the hovering platform hummed and started to rise, Ben deserted the Kuiper Conductor and flew into action. Not bothering to announce the transformation's name, the reptilian biology of Chamalien scaled a crunched spaceship carcass and lunged like a jungle predator.

Narrowly latching onto the lowest ridge, he scurried along the platform's undercarriage. Unbeknownst to Viktor, an invisible alien stalked him from the vehicle's precipice. Veins flooding with blusterous rage, Ben's vision tunneled on the sociopathic Transylian. He swung his weight over the ledge with cyclonic fervor, slamming the doctor and forcing him to stumble backwards, away from the controls.

Viktor reflexively brandished the Grim's Coroner. Ben lashed out with his tail. The sudden impact sent the black revolver spinning away his grasp, clattering a short distance from the platform's edge. Before he could move to pick it up, a fist materialized in his jaw.

The next few rotations of attacks involved leaping in and out of camouflage, trying to steer any kind of advantage he could muster. Having quickly acclimated to his adversary's fighting style, the doctor held his end– synchronously countering his kicks and punches. His prodigious fingers found Ben's esophagus– limiting the lizard's air supply.

He hoisted the Merlinisapien above his head and threw him onto the platform's floor, the thunderous explosion of pain rattling his spine. In the midst of these repeated slams, Ben slinked his tail around the doctor's throat and constricted with all his might.

"GRRK!"

The struggle remained mutual, until Chamalien thrashed enough to free himself of the Transylian's vice. While the doctor was busy gathering oxygen inside his depleted lungs, Ben rushed to the cryogenic tank housing his girlfriend. He desperately bashed the protective glass, cracking it.

"Julie! Don't worry! I'm going to get you out of there!" His shouts of reassurance were put on hold as a cybernetic gauntlet tore him from the machine.

Viktor smashed him through a control panel. Unrelenting, he drove a paralytic punch to his cheek– the severe recoil making him see double– triple– then quadruple. Extending the stinger from his tail, Chamalien stabbed the fine-needle into the Transylian's chest.

Venom made no difference when the electric shock followed. Purple static invaded his nervous system, causing him to scream in pain. The Merlinisapien shifted through a rainbow of colors while he was being maliciously electrocuted. Once the doctor was satisfied with his handiwork, he left a convulsing Ben in a sizzling crater to retrieve the Grim's Coroner.

Determined to save his companions, Ben miserably clawed at the professor's ice chamber. Weakly, he peeled the sealant away– pausing as a pair of rigid footsteps stopped behind him. Turning, he found his vision obscured by a darkened bullet chamber.

"What are you waiting for?" Three different colored eyes shone blazingly.

"DO IT!" He pressed his forehead into the barrel.

Surprising Ben, the doctor elected not to shoot him. Rather, he resorted to counting the bullets.

"As if I need to shoot you twice. That would be a waste of ammunition."

"Taking credit for something you didn't do, how cliché…" He said while panting, "I'm gonna make you regret not killing me."

"You are far more useful to me alive."

Growling with contempt, "You haven't won! Not yet…!"

The doctor swatted him like a hapless mosquito, "...It was only a matter of time when."

Another hook– this time to the jaw, saliva and rainbow blood spewed from his mouth.

"Humans are such tragically flawed creatures. Deriving strength from passion and emotion rather than logic and rhetoric. You would not be in this position, had you focused on rescuing them initially. But you do not care for these costly mistakes. Anger has blinded you, Ben Tennyson. You are resigned to your fate. You are in no condition to keep on fighting."

"Jokes on you…" Ben spat on his boot. "...I'm ninety percent cartilage."

Dr. Viktor snatched the Merlinisapien's tail, and drug him to the corner of the hovering platform and pitched him out like moldy leftovers. He placidly observed Ben's uncontrolled tumble through the scrap heap. A flash of green light indicated the Omnitrix wielder had turned back to human.

"Sunset." The doctor reminded him, pressing an octagonal button on his gauntlet.

In response, a drone, cleverly disguised as incoherent wreckage, launched an unraveling contraption at the unsuspecting teen. The gizmo latched itself onto the Omnitrix– preventing Ben's access to the watch. No amount of flailing was getting it off.

"My observatory is west of here." He gestured to his right, at the tower resembling a crankshaft.

This can't be happening.

"Do be on time."

"COWARD!" Ben yelled gutturally as Dr. Viktor flew away.

He was used to feeling invincible. Like nothing in the universe could possibly challenge him. That all changed, ever since he was struck by that forsaken weapon. The protective shimmer that surrounded his transformations had dissipated. It hurt to go hero.

'And now I can't even do that.'

"I fucked up…" Ben crashed to his knees, and buried his head beneath his arms.

---

For thirty minutes, Gwen had paced the confines of their refuge.

"That's it." She decided, glaring at the wall.

'I'm done waiting.'

Hex, anticipating this, moved to block her pathway to the cobblestone steps.

"Unless you want to be boiled alive, we stay down here. Where it's safe." He emphasized that last word, extending his arm to push her backward.

Though her glare was intimidating, the sorcerer remained undeterred. He's seen plenty of tricks like those before. This was a battle, he wasn't going to lose.

"If Hex cautions against braving the storm, then maybe the risk isn't worth taking." The professor sided with the mage for the second time that day.

"See? Its two to one."

"You should totally go out there." Dweeb smiled at her menacingly. "Two to two."

"Do not be persuaded by his evil tongue!"

"I second thee motion." Paradox announced his vote.

She grumbled about the failures of politics in the western world and started pacing again.

At the dawn of the fourth hour, Eon's servant couldn't take it anymore. It was bad enough being stuck in some crappy basement filled with sand– but to be stuck with the same people he considered to be his mortal enemies was by definition: A living nightmare. The urge to murder them was driving him up a wall. Though, Hex was admittedly a bit of a gray area.

"Is it really so difficult for you to, I don't know? Maybe, STAY STILL!?"

Gwen whirled on him. "Is it really so difficult for you to keep your stupid mouth shut!?"

"Patience is a virtue." He remarked snidely.

"You're one to talk!"

Hex and Paradox watched the cousins bicker, disapproval written on their faces.

"Tell them, professor! Tell them how much time we have left!"

"I don't know how much time we have left– however, I can tell you how much time has passed since we have arrived! I've been keeping count." He winked.

"Well, super genius?" Hex prompted.

"Five hours forty-five minutes, and twenty-six seconds have passed since we entered through the Door. Based on the mentions of temporal imbalance, I wager that's roughly the equivalent to three weeks on Earth."

"THREE WEEKS!?" Gwen exclaimed, mortified by the information.

Gwen instantly thought of her parents. They must've assumed she'd gone missing. Or that she was kidnapped. She never had an excuse to not call them when she had that indestructible phone Ben gifted her. Said phone was likely confiscated by Eon's forces. She embedded her fist into the stone wall out of frustration, barely registering the pain.

"I can't- I can't stay idle like this while everyone we care about is in danger!"

"Gwendolyn, please– be rational about this!"

"How can you expect me to stay rational when we're in this mess because of you!?"

"What!? That's hardly fair to say..." His voice grew smaller.

"Are you kidding me!? All of this could've been avoided! If any of this was fair– I wouldn't have had to watch my cousin die in front of me twice! It's my responsibility now to undo this trainwreck! But I can't do that, if you keep holding me hostage! Do you have any idea of what that's like!? To lose someone you've known your entire life!? Someone that you would sacrifice yourself for in a heartbeat, because that's how much you loved them!?" Her emotional tirade was met with stunned silence.

Months of pent up grief exploded to the surface.

"Every night, before I fall asleep, I think about him. How much he meant to me. I dream about all the places we saw during those summer road trips with grandpa. No matter how much we argued, he was always looking out for me. Always. Told me he was proud to be related to me. I'm so lucky to have a cousin like you, Gwen." Her eyes were watery.

"I'll never have a friend like that again. Not like him. Not like Ben." She spoke thickly.

Dweeb's hardened glare softened somewhat.

"It's funny. That summer when we were ten, I didn't even want to be there! I threw a fit, but my parents made me go anyway. Turns out, it was the best thing they ever could've done. Now I just wish I could go back to that time. So I could live those moments again. So I could really appreciate what I had when it was in front of me. When life wasn't so complicated."

Everyone in the basement could relate to that sentiment to some extent.

"I couldn't even say it to his face– how much I loved him. Words weren't powerful enough to convey how I felt."

Paradox sadly retracted his hand from her shoulder, flinching as she shrugged away from the contact. He contributed nothing else on the matter. The man already blamed himself for Ben. Gwen's brutal honesty was tear jerking.

"I understand that you are in pain, child. Losing people you hold dearest is never easy." The sorcerer's attempt at sincerity was met with confused stares.

"Whereas life seems infuriatingly complex… death, can be horrendously simple. So easy to grasp, yet, so difficult to accept."

She brushed him off.

"The longer we wait for this storm to blow over, the longer people in our universe are left at the mercy of whatever plot Eon is hatching. Magic users are strengthened ten fold in Ledgerdomain– you said that." She climbed the stairs, pointing at him for emphasis.

"I am not denying that. The issue is you've mistaken pride for strength!"

"When I'm in my Anodite form, I have enough mana to wipe a Highbreed fleet."

"Is that supposed to be impressive?"

"You trump me in experience, Hex, though I doubt you've ever sniffed power like that."

"Why must we constantly argue?" The old mage sighed.

"Her dad's a lawyer." Dweeb answered.

Hex ignored him in favor of warning her. "You might last five minutes out there, and that's me being generous."

"Classic Hex… never willing to risk your own neck, even it's for the greater good."

His scowl deepened.

"Fine. Then don't act surprised when we have to bury you."

"Gwendolyn! Please, reconsider! Do you know where you're going!?" The professor pleaded with her desperately.

"Maybe I don't, but it's still better than sitting on my ass doing nothing!"

Glaring at them in a mixture of defiance and reverence, Gwen surrounded herself in a bubble. Charging up the stairs, and squeezing through the basement doors, she was immediately hammered with cosmic radiation. It took all of her concentrated effort to maintain the protective sphere and push further into the molecular chaos.

Gwens's mana construct was put to the test as the elemental monsoon compressed it from every conceivable angle. Heart pounding in her ears, hairline soaked from sweat, her musculature screamed under the immense strain. She was going to have to go full Anodite sooner than expected.

The ascension granted Gwen the boost she needed to improve the bubble's defenses. Hydrogen and helium particles smashed together all around her at sub lightspeed, generating volatile sparks capable of splitting planets. The storm slashed and eroded the landscape— effortlessly wiping Cthuloft from face of the map.

Previous usages of her Anodite form were emotional responses to high-stress situations. This marked the first time Gwen had to physically draw the power out of herself. While she was definitely moving faster than before, she also didn't have any way to gauge how far she travelled.

Gwen coerced herself into believing that rest awaited her in the storm's eye. All she needed was a breather so she could resuscitate her Anodite genes. Rinse and repeat. Judging by the thinning currents, that was looking to be a very real possibility.

Then everything went terribly wrong.

A divergent gust disrupted her balance. The second Gwen tried to push against it, her body was wracked with searing pain. The sudden shock caused her to lose her footing, crashing head first onto the ground. It felt as though her internal organs were being microwaved. Squinting to ascertain the damage– she was treated to the grizzly sight of her sizzling flesh– opaque violet smoke drifting off her skin.

Her digits feebly curled in the cerulean sand. The realization of what she'd done hit her then; Hex warned her. Paradox begged her. Dweeb prayed for her downfall. Aware that her failure was guaranteed, the preserving sphere wobbled and shrunk in diameter. On the cusp of overheating, her Anodite form dissolved, leaving her vulnerable human frame behind. To come this far just to be a victim of her own imprudence.

Grandpa Max would be ashamed of her.

…

She hadn't died yet, which was weird. Her bubble burst a while ago. Vaguely, Gwen registered that she was moving— but not on her own accord. A pyrite aura flitted through her peripheral vision.

Someone was carrying her.

She blinked, and the next thing she knew, Gwen was staring upward, at the basement rafters. The red cloak draped across her shoulders implied that it was Hex who saved her from her stupidity. She appreciated the tenderness in which he set her on the floor. The warmth of the fireplace was unwelcomed, though it sure beat being shredded to atoms.

"Gwendolyn!? Are you alright!?" The professor's nervous voice went through one ear and out the other, as he placed a studious hand on her forehead, worry etched in his features.

"Goodness! You're burning up! What were you thinking?" The time traveler fretted, raiding Hex' satchel for supplies.

"Full Anodite… it didn't work." She croaked, throat dry.

"How many times have you gone full Anodite in the past day alone!?"

"How many?" She repeated, brain stem throbbing.

"First when Eon showed up at the cemetery…When we fought his henchmen at Los Soledad… and now. I don't get it…"

"You burnt through your mana reserves faster than they could be replenished." Hex answered for both of them, leaning on his staff like a cane.

"When that happens," He paused to catch his breath, "Once you push yourself beyond your limiter, your magic will draw upon the next closest energy source available: Your soul. That's why you feel like you jumped in a witch's cauldron. Here–" He offered an ovoidal shaped flask to the professor who hurriedly popped the cap off.

"One sip of this, and she will never know the meaning of thirst again."

As soon as the cold liquid touched her lips, it felt as though she had taken a dip in an arctic waterfall. The acidic burn dissipated from her bloodstream. She shivered, welcoming the pleasant chill.

"How do you feel?"

He looked older without his hooded cloak, but she guessed that's why he donned it to begin with. Skeletal tattoos dominated his exposed skin. Contrary to what she said at the mansion– he did have hair. Curly, dark hair, pulled into a tight bun.

"Better." She swallowed. "Much better than before. Um, thanks for–"

Hex blamed himself, "–I should've gone after you sooner."

Touched by his concern, she sat upright.

"Still, what I did was beyond moronic. I owe you both an apology. I'm sorry… I wasn't thinking straight."

The time traveler knelt beside her. His white dress shirt, loosely knotted tie and black Levi's sold the impression he was ready to clock in for a day at the office.

"We're all under a significant degree of stress, Gwendolyn. More than any of us are equipped to handle." The professor smiled comfortingly.

The man's unyielding empathy almost made her start crying on the spot. Gwen felt like she didn't deserve it after the stunt she pulled. She dabbed her eyes using the back of her hand.

"You're way too forgiving."

"Hey, I recognize that spell book." Hex muttered, squinting at a tiny booklet that slipped out of her skirt pocket.

"May I?"

She lent the booklet to him. Flipping the cover over, he paused.

"This belonged to my niece. How on Earth did you acquire this?"

"I'm surprised she never told you. Five summers ago, when we were visiting Salem, Massachusetts, your niece tried to cast a body swapping spell on Ben." She crossed her arms atop her kneecaps, aware that Hex' jaw was currently agape.

"I stopped her before she could… only she wound up performing the switcheroo on me instead. A couple cantrips later– and after I escaped from juvie– we managed to return to our original bodies."

"That doesn't explain why you have it?"

"I stole it from her right when the cops came."

Hex clicked his tongue.

"Ah." He traced the ink writing decaling the interior.

"Look, so the record's straight, we didn't call the police. It was an innocent bystander who got caught between our crosshairs. She wasn't subtle about her intentions, like, at all."

"Charmcaster never did subtle." He skimmed the pages, memories overtaking him.

"I gave this to her as a gift when she was six. Do you mean to tell me this entire time, you were training with toddler based magic on purpose?"

"Um, what?"

"BAHAHAHA!" Dweeb burst into belly splitting laughter.

"Its not that funny!" Gwen snapped, face ablaze from embarrassment.

"Hit-h-haha! It is! Oh my GOD!" He was out of breath, rolling around on the floorboards.

"Y-you've b-been doing wizard potty training! HAHAHA!" He laughed so hard that tears puddled in the corners of his eyes.

"Baby need milk?"

Dweeb's incessant laughing died off.

Hex coughed into his fist awkwardly.

"I thought that would be funny." He tossed the spell book back to Gwen.

"Guess I never asked, but Hex… what did happen to Charmcaster? You two used to be inseparable?"

Hex gave a strained grunt as he sat on the ottoman. Casually, he stared at the central flame of the firepit, as if content with blinding himself. When Gwen had just about given up hope of receiving a response, he sighed wistfully.

"The last time I spoke to my niece…" He gingerly stroked a small woolen bag under his thumb.

"If its too hard to talk about, you don't have to–"

"–No. Its not that." He shook his head.

"The last time I spoke with Charmcaster, she had been dead set on returning here. She wanted my help convincing the people to step beyond the realm. As we once did. I refused, in accordance to my grievances with the royal family."

"What's so wrong with that? Ledgerdomain is like any other random dimension? Time is sped differently, but other than that–"

"–Ledgerdomain is hailed as the hub of magic for obvious reasons. There are benefits to being born here– within the realm's borders."

"Benefits?"

"When you are brought into this world, the surge of mana overwhelms your first senses. It sculpts you. It fills the first breath that you take, as well as the last. You become a vessel of eternal magic. This expediency in life force is a curse viewed as a blessing.

The good news is, the curse can be easily lifted– in exchange for immortality, the curse must trust that you won't betray it. The bad news is, you're forbidden from leaving Ledgerdomain."

"Wow… you're way older than I originally thought."

His facial expression read: That's what you choose to focus on?

"I WAS CORRECT!" The professor grinned goofily. "IT IS THE AIR!"

Hex ignored him.

"Once you brought her to Earth… Charmcaster ceased to be immortal." Paradox muttered louder than he intended.

Gwen's face tightened at the implication.

"I did what I had to do." Hex rejected the notion, tone stone-cold.

"She was just a kid, Hex. That decision wasn't yours to make."

"If you're suggesting that I condemned my niece… a cosmic storm will be the least of your worries–"

"–Relax."

Hex glared murderously in Dweeb's direction, "Are you sure we can't kill this one?"

"Wow. You are so mature." Gwen chided him.

"Our lifespans stretch hundreds of years and yet… I don't think I will ever be ready to say goodbye." He chuckled bitterly.

"This was still better than the alternative?"

"I love my niece more than any of you can possibly fathom. I gave her the life she deserved. Raised her the only way I knew how. I set her free."

…

Hex' mother was not of Ledger descent. Rather, she was mistakenly pulled from Earth and brought to the magical realm via conjuration. The sorcerer responsible, was none other than King Spellbinder XV. The story goes like this:

The king intended to summon a foul beast from another dimension to keep as a fearsome pet he could show off to guests. Vulpin was the destination he had in mind. In the midst of the ritual, however, something distracted him– and he skipped a precise rune that would've completed the incantation in its entirety.

When the ritual was complete, and expecting a putrid monster housed within his gates– one can imagine the shock the king underwent upon seeing a beautiful women laying there instead. So taken aback by her appearance, he had seemingly all but forgotten about the rabid creature he'd been so devoted to enslaving earlier.

The more the king got to know this mystery women, the more he approved. He took to winning her affections. Eventually, he accomplished this by convincing her the spell he originally cast, the spell that brought her to Ledgerdomain, could not be reversed. Which was bogus.

It didn't take the king long to manipulate his way into her frightened heart. In a secluded tower, far from the royal halls, Hex was conceived. Real names have power in Ledgerdomain, hence why his mother was forbidden from giving him a name– and how she earned a new one: Nexion.

When the queen spied on the king during one of his interloping sessions, the secret affair he was orchestrating went up in flames. In this society, crossbreeds (The slur given to those born of a mortal-immortal union), were seen as sacrilegious. They were typically viewed with disdain and disgust by Ledgerfolk.

What made this treachery unforgivable in her eyes was the fact that Hex was the king's firstborn son. For reasons, likely associated with Nexion, the queen had yet to bare a child of her own. This dilemma became obvious as the extended royal family discovered his existence.

From a young age, Hex could tell that his presence was unwanted. His thoughts and opinions held no weight. His raw magical prowess was ignored. To everyone, including the queen, he was nothing more– couldn't be anything more– than the bastard child of the king.

The source of their misfortunes.

The curse incarnate.

To them, he was a HEX.

The private tower that he and his mother lived alone in would soon be converted to a cell. Wardens restricted her movements with chains and shackles, lashing her if she dared to act or speak out of line. Hex hated those men.

Centuries had passed since then, but Hex distinctly remembers the sensation of being wrapped in her loving arms. The soothing circles she traced on his back when he hiccupped. The way she eased his tears. Sometimes all she had to do was say, 'It's OK now, Mama's here.'

He often pondered if she secretly blamed him for her terrible life? She had every reason to despise him. If it wasn't for him, the hardships she endured would've been for naught.

Once the queen birthed a son by the king, she made it her mission to ensure that he never met his crossbreed elder sibling. She instructed him to deny his presence, to simply look past him if he dared to speak. His younger brother would fit the missing puzzle pieces together years later.

For a very brief time, the two managed to kindle a bond of sorts. That ship sailed when the queen reminded the prince about what he was. The soon-to-be crowned king shouldn't be associated with the likes of him.

So Hex watched on with envy as his younger sibling ascended to the throne as he, the real firstborn, would be slowly forgotten. Allowed to wander the royal halls, yet forbidden to mingle. The young sorcerer caused no fuss over this arrangement. He preferred the company of his outcast mother.

As the new king, Spellbinder XVI was pressured to sire an heir of his own. In response, he wed the most powerful witch in the realm. Hex found the true name they gave their daughter to be ironic: Hope.

Hex had known that feeling once– before the tower he used to call home became a dungeon. When he swore his mother that one day he would break her from those chains. To the young sorcerer, the allure of freedom was his hope.

Rather than undo the spell his father cast before him, his brother's first motion as leader was demanding Nexion's head. Deeming the mortal's existence an affront to magic, he ordered the guards to seize her. Hex failed to stop them– and so he was relegated to an onlooker– as the only person who ever cared for him was sentenced to death by guillotine. The event was broadcasted on a public stage for millions to witness.

His cries of protest were drowned under the crowd's roar for blood.

This benign, innocent women was executed for birthing him. A betrayal of such magnitude was unforgivable. Until then, Hex never believed in the curse of his name.

In the pastures, beyond the suffocating castle walls, he honored his mother's memory. Gently placing a Mana Lily at the base of the headstone, he described the view of the valley.

Who else did he have in this world besides her? Was living worth it, if he must endure this pain for all eternity? Glimpsing at the isle's edge, he considered letting the abyss take him… when he felt something tug on his pant leg.

Looking down, he was surprised to find that it was his five-year-old niece, Charmcaster.

Hex held no resentment in his heart for the princess of Ledgerdomain. He simply never had the opportunity to connect with her. Most of the chances he did have were denied by the new queen.

The malice and sorrow which threatened to consume him that day slowly washed away. Charmcaster did not speak. Neither did he. For the first time, they were truly seeing one another. Hex expected her to run away, like most people did. What she did next proved the opposite.

She opened her arms– as wide as they could go.

Hope– she wanted him to pick her up.

Hex wasn't sure how he found the peace of mind to do it. Somehow, he was hugging his niece. Just like his mother had done for him. Emotion overwhelmed him. Tears were shed unashamedly. But she wasn't repulsed by his mourning, instead leaning into his touch. Willing to share the burden of his pain.

Had it not been for Charmcaster mending his wounded heart, there is no telling what Hex would've become. From that moment onward, he vowed to protect his niece from the royal family's corruption. Thanks to her, he had a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.

…

"I thought bringing us here would solve all of our problems. However, as it is now becoming rapidly apparent to me, I have only created more of them."

Gwen faltered, unsure how to respond.

"You were willing to help when we arrived unannounced at your doorstep," The professor spoke on the matter, "even if things didn't turn out the way you intended them, we can't ridicule you for trying. Besides, it's not entirely your fault. I am equal parts to blame."

Hex slouched a little, shutting his eyelids.

"–Paradox." Three sets of eyes studied the sorcerer.

"I've been doing a lot of talking lately and my voice is starting to grow hoarse. Would you care to share any of your vast, innumerable knowledge of the confines of our universe? Any tales of exploit to regale us with? Ever met an alternative version of yourself– and the encounter left you feeling inadequate?"

The professor gathered that Hex was partially mocking him, so his response was genuine.

"Before I became the paradoxical phenomenon you all know and love, I was tampering with forces I couldn't possibly comprehend. I was driven far past the brink of insanity by learning it, as only an insane mind is capable of understanding such broken mathematics. I tend to use the tree metaphor when I explain this concept.

The truth is that's not productive. Nor is it entirely accurate. Time is perpetually metamorphizing– as unpredictable as the weather itself." He paused for dramatic effect.

"To lessen the strain of dimensional travel on myself and others, I alphabetize and order the variant timelines numerically in quadrants of one thousand each."

"Eon said that our Ben belonged to E-957." Gwen recalled.

"It would make sense that Eon uses a system identical to my own." The professor nodded. "Another name the prime timeline goes by is A-001. Which means that we are five thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-seven timelines removed from the prime timeline. Differences between these timelines are skewed depending on the catalyst."

Brows scrunching, "The catalyst?"

"Our Benjamin received his Omnitrix at ten years old during a summer road trip with his grandfather and cousin– you– same as any other timeline. The key difference here is that E-957 obtained a recalibrated Omnitrix."

"Please tell me I'm not blonde in the prime timeline." Dweeb grumbled from the corner.

"...No. You are not blonde in the prime timeline. However, I am curious: Do all Benjamin's hold disdain towards blondes?"

"I think it might have something to do with our cousin Lucy." Gwen admitted.

Dweeb's posture suddenly straightened, "You hear that?"

He gestured at the ceiling with his chin.

"It seems the cosmic storm has run its course." Hex acknowledged, proceeding to stuff his satchel with the leftover potions.

"Looks like you've finally gotten your wish." Dweeb smiled sarcastically at Gwen.

The professor frowned, "...Make sure to tighten those cuffs."

…

If his most recent threats of discombobulation directed towards her proved anything, it was that Hex was more stubborn than even herself. As hunger gnawed at her stomach, Gwen was certain that Ledgerdomain was sapping them of their residual strength, contrary to the information he fed them all earlier. He blamed her recklessness (Attempting to fight a cosmic storm alone), as the reason why she felt so drained– and yeah, he was probably right.

Mana signatures tell no lies, and Hex indisputably had the weakest aura of the group. Vitals wise, he was fine. The problem with him resided deeper. His soul was in pain. Raging– as poisoned souls tend to do. She had a hunch it was something to do with the absence of his niece.

The agitation had been evident in his gesticulations ever since their skirmish with Dweeb in Cthuloft: White knuckling the staff of Ages, chest puffed, jaw jutted slightly.

Paradox' normally slicked back hair had gone crazy, like he was at the epicenter of a lab experiment gone wrong. He kept a close eye on Dweeb, who was still sulking about being captured. A surge of giddiness overtook the Anodite Half-blood when she spotted the cyan spire poking above the next floating highland.

"Finally." Hex grumbled before she could get a single peep out.

"If memory serves me correctly, the Alpha Rune should be locked within the treasure room of the Spellbinder castle." He revealed as they crossed the drawbridge.

At the terrace boundary, a lengthy, shallow pool of lazuline water rippled. Slender, curvaceous lampposts with spikey fixtures bracketed the courtyard. Gwen imagined the royal hall had originally extended far into the sky. The upper half was strewn about in clumps– like a monstrous hand reached down to crumple it.

Then again, it was difficult to ignore the imposing figure reclined in a throne built from bone. Unsure how they should be reacting, the professor put his hands up in surrender. Dweeb elbowed the man for her.

Gwen noted the similarities to Terraspin– one of Ben's transformations. She concluded that he must've been a member of the same species.

This Geocheleone Aerio was a sickly shade of green. The pronounced vents on his plastron were missing. Instead, the frontal portion was organized into rigid segments complemented by hooked protrusions, matching the same dark turquoise coloration as his carapace. Unlike Terraspin, the shell did not overlap his shoulders or neck. The shell's ridge was barbed, capable of slicing the densest of skins. While his limbs resembled flippers, they were outfitted with gnarly obsidian claws.

The most prominent feature was his head– shrouded by a pink inferno. His face was charred black, and a rope pendent was looped around his neck. The Alpha Rune, she realized. She was certain of it– the artifact radiated pure magical energy, unlike anything she ever felt.

"At last, you have arrived..." The alien rumbled.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"I am Addwaitya. The supreme ruler of Ledgerdomain." He seemed to revel in the fact.

"That's cool?" Gwen nodded uneasily.

"You best watch your tone while in the presence of a god. Be thankful I allow you to gaze upon my vestigial form. Most don't live long enough to even do that."

She gulped. He didn't appreciate sarcasm. Dully noted.

"Your highness, I meant nothing by it." She bowed mercifully.

"The only purpose you mortals serve is to grovel at the feet of the gods…" Addwaitya's snout crinkled grossly.

"As for the immortal in your midst… come forth now or be smited where you stand."

"That would be me." Paradox stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Addwaitya, would you be so generous to decipher this scroll?" He offered the rolled parchment as tribute.

Hex pat his satchel, bewildered as to how the professor managed to swipe it without him noticing. Addwaitya leaned from his cadaverous throne, accepting the scroll into his scaly hands.

"My fellow journeymen and I, we are on quest to discover if the multiverse is accessible through the use of eh… mystical forces? We believe this ancient text contains the clues to do so." Paradox elaborated.

For a time, Addwaitya said nothing, only staring at the man for intimidating effect.

"You deceive me."

"Deceive you? I am being rather upfront about this, I'm afraid."

"There is no mention of this multiverse, as you call it."

"Then… what does it say?" Paradox inquired, crestfallen.

Gwen subconsciously stared at the back of Hex' hood which he reclaimed. Cynical thoughts of sabotage lingered. That he would betray them after what happened at the mansion– after Cthuloft– after the cosmic storm– after everything!? Maybe she was wrong to place her trust in him…

"This is a resurrection spell."

Months back, Gwen reached out to Hex for scholarly advice. She made it clear that she was willing to do anything– anything except necromancy to save her cousin. The master sorcerer had respected her request. They spent hours online each night, sharing research and compiling possible solutions. But it was all too little, too late.

"Be that as it may… from one undying being to another– could you lend us some of your godly power? Ensure us safe passage into the next universe over?"

"I owe you and your mortal friends nothing, time-walker."

"But–"

"–Choose your next few insignificant words… wisely."

"Cthuloft– That was you." Hex diverted the god's focus onto himself. "Tell me, what did those people do to deserve being slaughtered like cattle?"

The god turned smug.

"They existed."

While Hex was too stunned to make a rebuttal, Gwen took the reins of diplomacy.

"I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. When Armageddon hits, there won't be a Ledgerdomain for you to rule. Except we know how to stop it. That's why we came here in the first place. Because we don't have any way to get there– to the multiverse."

Addwaitya shifted in his throne disinterestedly.

"The scroll was a fluke, big whoop! But it is in your best interest to show us to the Door to Anywhere. That way, we all get what we want."

Sneering, the alien gestured behind the group with a claw. The drawbridge splintered and gradually elevated, forming a meandering stairwell. Crowning the monolithic structure, was a familiar runic arch.

"Go… before I change my mind."

As they prepared to take their leave, Gwen noticed Hex hadn't budged an inch since Addwaitya admitted to destroying Cthuloft. If circumstances were different, and the fate of the universe wasn't on the line, she would be right there with him.

"What did you do with Charmcaster?"

Addwaitya deliberately paused to sip from his cup. Gwen's resisted the temptation to gag as she realized it was a human skull with the cranium sawed off.

Swallowing obscenely, he drawled: "And if I did do something to them? What can you do about it?"

"Then I'll kill you." Hex declared boldly.

"You amuse me, crossbreed."

"We– we don't want to start any trouble!" The professor intervened, sweating profusely.

"You need to calm down! We. Are. Leaving." Gwen whispered harshly, clasping Hex' arm and steering him around.

They were almost to the Door, when Addwaitya raucously uttered the name of his niece.

"Charmcaster…" He smirked cruelly. "...Yes. I remember her now."

The sorcerer stopped dead in his tracks.

"She didn't take kindly to my dominion of the realm."

"If you touched one hair on her head–"

"–So, I forced her to watch from the tallest tower as I razed the city…" Addwaitya detailed his despicable war crimes with delight, "...And I made her my trophy. Ah, to hear those defiant screams turn to despondent wails… it was pitiful. When she wept… she prayed that her uncle Hex would come save her." He laughed evilly.

No one was holding the sorcerer back now. How could they?

"Eventually, her usefulness to me had run its course. She broke." The god spoke as if she were an item that could be replaced.

Hex shook with unbridled rage.

"Well? What are you waiting for? The exit is right there." Addwaitya goaded.

"If it is of any consolation to you, I suppose Charmcaster does still serve a purpose…" The alien lifted the cup to his flaming beak.

"...She holds the wine."

"VILE DEMON!" Hex screamed venomously, as mad as Gwen had ever seen him.

"YOU DARE TO CLAIM YOURSELF A GOD!?" The sorcerer seethed, voice laden with vitriol.

Eyes gleaming, "All mana belongs to the mighty Addwaitya! Anything else is as good as ashes strewn in the wind. I judge. I execute. My every word is law. But you? You're existence? You're silly little quest? It is all meaningless!" He rose from his throne– standing an imposing 12 feet tall.

"Why, you are not even worth the half second it would take to rip your soul from that husk of a body." Snapping his claws, the resurrection scroll disappeared in a tiny blip of light.

"You are a speck! A parasite! You are nothing compared to me!"

Hex pointed at the alien with his staff.

"I challenge you! Addwaitya!"

"A duel to the death? You think you stand a chance?" The god cackled. "Very well…" The pink flames shrouding the alien's head intensified.

As incandescent orbs of fire formed in the god's palms, Gwen wondered where it all went wrong.

"I accept your challenge! Now prepare to die!"

---

'What do I do?'

Pacing as that very question ricocheted throughout his subconscious, Ben succumbed to the oncoming panic attack. In an attempt to channel his rage into something productive, he went to kick a hyper realistic automaton skull. Problem was, it wasn't hollow. Instead of launching it across the path like a soccer ball, his right foot became entirely numb. The unfiltered string of f-bombs he dropped afterwards would've brought a tear to Kevin's eye.

During his tantrum, he whirled on that metal skull he kicked earlier– when cold realization struck him square in the chest.

"I Should've–! I Should've gone LODESTAR! WHY DIDN'T I– I'M SUCH A–!"

'What was I THINKING!? Chamalien!? Ben, you are an idiot of the most prestigious caliber!'

"Chamalien…" He repeated brokenly "...I chose the worst guy for the job."

He could almost hear Gwen's voice saying, 'You're hubris is showing again.'

"What am I… what I am gonna do?" He spoke aloud to no one.

Ben attempted to coach himself through his mental collapse.

'Don't you dare cry now, Ben! You've managed to get this far! Crying means you accept defeat! You haven't quit yet!'

Ben understood that was the final barrier.

"I'm just a kid. I'm just a dumb, naïve, pompous kid who let everybody he swore to protect get killed… what am I fucking DOING!?" He screamed, cradling his head in his hands.

He was capable of so much, yet he somehow fell short, time, and time again.

Ben could fly, phase through bullet fire, throw boulders with ease and sprint at Mach speeds! He could breathe underwater AND in space, eat solid uranium, generate hurricanes and earthquakes and explode asteroids! He could become invincible and go invisible! And… and that's how he felt.

Invisible.

Every waking moment was existential agony. All because he couldn't keep the pervasive idea at bay. The idea that people's eyes, even as they focused on him– that they weren't really looking at him. They didn't know he was a fading apparition. A soon to be parted with memory.

Ben was no longer among the living. He was a puppet whose strings were being cut tenuously thin. The celestial deity above had grown tiresome of it's plaything. A mere snip of the blade– and he would ragdoll.

Reduced to dust.

No more.

If death was just a black void, could he handle it? The strangling vice of a lonely abyss for eternity? He thought of past rivals, those who inhabited his nightmares; Vilgax, Dr. Animo, Zombozo, Six-Six, Kraab, Hex, Charmcaster, Clancy, Rojo, Enoch, Driscoll, Morningstar, Empress Attea, the Highbreed and throw Ssserpent in that list too!

The battles they had fought. They would all be forgotten. Like they never happened. Like he never happened. How was he supposed to accept that the world keeps spinning if he wasn't standing on it? There was nobody to point to– nothing that had a face he could spit in.

His eyes were dangerously moist now.

He wants to be there when his cousin graduates. He wants to keep attending Julie's tennis matches to cheer her on– to cheer for her when she goes pro. He wants to listen to his parents argue nonsense about green herbs at the dinner table. He wanted to keep exploring the universe with the professor. He wants to keep playing the annual releases of Sumo Slammers KO with Kevin (Even if they both agreed the last five had sucked).

It almost seemed like- like none of that mattered anymore. Because inevitably, all those things he derived enjoyment from? The people he loved doing those things with? He would no longer have any of them.

He wanted one more road trip with his grandpa.

Alas, that final demand was impossible. It reminded Ben, that Maxwell Tennyson was a man who gave them everything– sacrificed everything– in order to save his grandkids… and he had done so happily. If that wasn't love, Ben didn't know what was.

He lost the will to stand.

"I wish you were here…"

'If grandpa Max were still around, he'd know exactly what to say! He always had a knack for getting me to reassess the situation to find better a solution! So is there some angle to this that I'm not seeing!?' Ben's lips quivered at the thought of his beloved late grandpa.

…

DIAMOND BAR ROAD, PEACH SPRINGS, ARIZONA

–

FOUR YEARS AGO

–

"On the first part of the journey, I was looking at all the life. There were plants and birds and rocks and things there was sand and hills and rings.

The first thing I met, was a fly with a buzz, and the sky, with no clouds. The heat was hot and the ground was dry, but the air was full of sound.

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain. In the desert, you can't remember your name, 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain. la la, la la la la la, la la laa laa…!" Ben Tennyson– eleven at the time– joined in humming the chorus of the song along with his grandfather.

The day prior, Gwen contracted the stomach flu (Which they discovered after she projectile vomited on grandpa's favorite Hawaiian T-shirt). They all agreed it was for the best if she stayed behind at camp. That way, she could rest and not have to fight against an altitude sickness that worsened her nausea. So today, at least for a couple of hours, it was just the two of them.

"...After two days in the desert sun, my skin began to turn red. After three days in the desert fun, I was looking at a river bed. And the story of it told of a river that flowed made me sad to think it was dead…" They pretended tubes of sunscreen were microphones.

Wet towels were draped over their heads in hopes of counteracting the arid climate. Like a true predecessor, the air conditioning of the Rust Bucket 2 was broken. Again. The retired plumber was adamant he fix the problem himself, so Ben's offers to Jury Rigg the device back to life were politely declined. Residing in their respective cupholders, were perspiring cans of grape soda, sloshing in accordance to the patchwork road marred with potholes.

Though the conditions were undesirable, neither Tennyson was in a foul mood. It was quite the opposite. The grandfather/son duo were unapologetically boisterous in their deliveries of the lyrics. Self-awareness shoved to the wayside, they embraced their inner goofballs.

"...After nine days, I let the horse run free 'cause the desert had turned to sea. There were plants and birds and rocks and things there was sand and hills and rings.

The ocean is a desert with its life underground and a perfect disguise above! Under the cities, lies a heart made of ground, but the humans will give no love…!"

Ben suspected he wasn't nearly as thrilled about seeing the Grand Canyon as his grandfather was. Had it been last summer, he might've felt more eager. When the Omnitrix was still a novelty to him. What did excite him though, was the fact he got to have some alone time with his favorite person. In Ben's eyes, that more than made up for the cost of boredom. It sure beat a cousin threatening to puke on him every ten minutes.

"...You see I've been through the desert on the horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain! In the desert you can't remember your name, 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain, la la, la la la la la, la la laa laa…!"

Soon after parking at the visitor center, the pair of Tennysons would be peering 1,200 meters below their feet at the canyon basin. The glass skywalk attracted thousands of tourists each year, including one enthusiastic park ranger who couldn't stop gushing about the cantilever bridge.

"It's a marvel of engineering! There's nothing else like it!"

Oh man, he shouldn't have laughed so hard when the guy's western style hat flew off of his head. He kind of felt bad now. But seriously, Ben didn't know what extravagant beauty there was to be found in miles of exposed sediment. There weren't even any clouds to make fun of. So he was banking that his grandfather would fill in the gaps to make it sound cooler than it actually was.

"Hey grandpa? Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, Ben?"

"Why did you want to be a plumber?" He placed his chin on the metal railing– not realizing that it was scalding.

He rubbed the part of his face which now stung as the elderly man pondered the question.

"My first interaction with aliens changed me forever. Much like you and the Omnitrix. Only, I was a lot older than you when it happened to me. You definitely handled it a lot better than I would've."

Ben couldn't explain why, but it felt cathartic to hear grandpa tell him that.

"Everyone faces a crossroads at some point in their life, Ben. For me? Choosing to be a plumber? It was the best decision I ever made. That and marrying your grandmother." He chuckled mirthfully.

"I assume you've been to outer space a couple times by now?"

"A few times." He bragged modestly.

"There's nothing quite like it, huh? Here on Earth, everything is so stable. Balanced and calm. You don't learn to appreciate it until you've been up there." Grandpa spoke wistfully.

"I've been places you wouldn't believe existed. Met so many wonderful people. Eaten some pretty amazing food." He reminisced.

Ben shuddered, as his grandfather's cooking was infamous at family barbeques for being extremely repulsive. Edible– but presentation wise it looked disgusting. It was a miracle he and Gwen didn't starve.

"With each planet I visited, I began to notice a trend: Suffering is a universal constant. For many, endless fighting is everything they know. We were born lucky… but some people are lucky just to be born. The more I saw tyranny spread, the more determined I became to put a stop to it."

"You're a hero." Ben said immediately.

"I wouldn't call myself a hero, Ben. I just did what I felt was right."

"So, is that a roundabout way of saying… you regret being a plumber?"

"No, not at all. I'm thankful for the opportunity I was given. I loved my job. Stepping away from it was the hardest thing I ever had to do."

Both Tennyson's were aware the alien tech bound to Ben's wrist was originally intended for Max. Neither objected to his grandson wielding it. Instead, the elderly man chose to coach him through adversity as a seasoned veteran and mentor. The scoldings about the importance of responsibility were, indeed, harsh at times. Though it was necessary to keep Ben's ego at bay– and it did wonders for developing his confidence.

He never said: "Playtimes over– give it here!"

"Life is worth so much more, if you simply choose to value it."

Ben reevaluated the geography.

"I guess the Grand Canyon is kind of awesome."

Grandpa Max thought that was hilarious.

"Don't ever change, Ben." He ruffled his grandson's hair.

"You're my favorite person, Grandpa. Nobody tops you."

"Ohh, don't let Gwen hear you say that." Laughing, he pulled Ben into a comforting side hug.

They stood together, not a care in the world as they watched the sun settle upon the ochre horizon. An idea struck him.

"Benjamin, what are you doing?"

The eleven year old froze, leg halfway over the railing.

"That park ranger was bummed about losing his hat and I think I see it hooked on a tree branch over there. I could go Ampfibian, grab it before a hawk takes off with it…" He stopped as the man shook his head.

"Or maybe I shouldn't do that?"

Grandpa's surprise vanished, replaced by a proud, toothy grin.

"You're fine. Do what you do best. I'll distract these tourists while you transform."

Later, a park ranger would sob in pure joy as his favorite hat was magically returned on the hood of his truck.

…

Ben contemplated the dimly lit path that lay before him.

"Everything I've accomplished… it's all meaningless. None of it matters…" He gazed at his hands, uncaring as tears splattered them.

"What made me a hero… was the people who called me that. Without them… who am I? There is no answer… for why… It all breaks down eventually…" He surveyed his surroundings, eyes widening.

"There is no answer…"

In that moment, Ben Tennyson realized there truly was no explanation for why people die. Perhaps it was an extension of their flawed design. Like how gold is valued for it's luster and rarity, life is to be valued for its significance. To persevere in spite of bloodshed, disease, famine and circumstance, is the very essence of what it means to be alive. It's the engine that drives passion– to run that extra mile. The fuel we burn which gives us hope– that reminds us the darkest nights will always be outshined by the brightest days.

Life is a cultivated effort. A journey most have shared, but all claim is unique to them. For there is no meaning of sentience without prophecy. Growth without struggle? What is a sword with no warrior to wield it? A boat with no sailor to tend the mast? While these things may seem obsolete on their own, that doesn't make their individual experience meaningless. Far from it.

Alone, weaknesses are glaring and strengths– polarizing.

United, weaknesses are negated and strengths– multiplied.

Limitations define who we are. But it is the sole mission of every living being to not let those limitations define them. The greatest achievement, means to be greater than the hand we are dealt. To be humble and open-minded, win or lose.

Ben understood this vague concept at the fundamental level. He was aware of the risks that came with his path. For the last five years, especially after losing grandpa Max— he'd taken those risks for granted.

He got to walk in the same shoes as ten different beings from separate corners of the universe. Ben thoroughly believed it was his duty to share this gift. To demonstrate that when people work together, incredible things can and will happen.

He wiped the tears away with his jacket sleeve.

This isn't where his story ends.

Because even when it hurts.

You keep on going.

That's life.

One day, Ben will drink his last smoothie.

"I'm not scared of you..."

One day, Ben will watch his last sunset.

"...You're scared of me."

One day, Ben will say his final goodbyes.

"...Because I lived in defiance of you!"

He accepted that.

"You can steal my life from me– but you will never steal, MY SPIRIT!" He cried gutturally.

Then, as Ben's passion was rekindled, the reaper's presence on his shoulder was dispelled.

Fighting on behalf of people who can't do so themselves? It wasn't an act. It wasn't false bravado. Ben did what he did because he genuinely cared for people. That is what made Ben feel truly alive. The spark which kept his heart beating.

"I'm not dead yet... So until that day comes, I'm doing what I do best!"

Thanks to his time spent as a Planchakule, Ben had enough foundational knowledge to formulate a checklist of the parts he would need to circumvent his limitations– and surpass them. First, he would have to relocate the Kuiper Conductor he abandoned at the scrap yard's summit. Ben was no genius, but if you gave him some pliers and a generator– he could Jury Rigg an EMP on short notice.

If he recalled correctly, it was the yellow wire he needed to cut. The short zap he received was confirmation that a charge was building. Scrambling to find cover, he ducked behind an Incursean war shell. The electrical shockwave shook the surrounding scrapyard. Not a minute later, drones began plinking to the planet's surface, now officially offline.

"OK Ben. You can make this work."

That might buy him 20 minutes at the most, so he had to move fast. During his prop hunt, he stumbled upon a half concealed Techadon Reverser.

'That'll be my base...'

Next, he picked out a Gimlinopithecan Transistor.

'To regulate the flow of energy…'

Lastly, he unslung the Kuiper Conductor from his shoulder, laying it flat on the ground beside the other pieces of discarded tech. He attempted to visualize in his mind's eye how he was going to connect everything. Theoretically, it was possible– he knew that much. All that was left to do was to assemble it.

Through much trial and error, he was able to create a rudimentary blowtorch. The shoddy craftsmanship was going to have to suffice for now. Praying it wouldn't explode in his face, he positioned the nozzle close to his wrist and adjusted the flame's intensity. The heat caused beads of sweat to dribble from his forehead onto the exposed fire, vaporizing the instant they breached contact.

"Come on, come on…!" The dull metal hissed in protest.

A burst of relief fluttered into his chest as it broke in half and clunked to the floor.

Viktor would be suspicious, so he couldn't run in guns blazing. The Transylian was prepared for anything that Ben's aliens could throw at him. He had to improvise– try and catch him by surprise again. The doctor was expecting a random, emotionally determined approach.

Not wasting anymore precious time, Ben selected Jury Rigg. The impish alien scooped up the remains of the inhibitor brace and deconstructed it with hellish speed. He reprogrammed the device to respond to a vocal command before sealing the microscopic paneling using the blowtorch. Setting up the initial stage of his plan, he reverted to his human form. He locked the inhibitor brace back onto his wrist– as if he'd hadn't just gone through the effort of removing it.

"He must've expected me to attack. That's why he brought the Grim's Coroner. That's how I was able to catch him off guard with Chamalien… he didn't account for my illogical human brain."

Simultaneously, the hibernating drones perked up as their connection was reestablished.

"Fine. I'll play by your rules." He acted undisturbed, staring into their soulless lens, he wrapped his knuckles on the metal device to signify he was still caged.

Ben lifted his arms to show surrender.

"I'm ready. Take me away."

---

Addwaitya was giving them all they could want and more.

Gwen knew from experience that his species was bizarrely resistant to magic. Spells that got near him were instantly liquified before they could do any real damage. If the alien wasn't so invested in playing with his food, they would have a real problem on their hands.

Gwen and Hex split up to combat his destructive power on opposing sides.

"INSECTS!" The god boomed across the valley, drastically expanding in size as he inhaled.

The mere act alone created a vacuum which threatened to tear the castle from its foundations. Gwen had to tether herself to a massive boulder to avoid being sucked in. Once he finished growing, he looked ready to throw down with King Kong.

Then, aligning his focus onto the master sorcerer– he exhaled.

Siphoning an F5 tornado from his throat, Addwaitya ripped the continental shelf to shreds. The Spellbinder castle was uprooted and ejected into the mauve void. Islands that harmlessly floated past were dragged by the wind tunnel and converted to meteoric ammunition.

Hex, understandably, barely held his own against such a powerful attack. When it seemed Addwaitya had taken pity on the mage, halting the bombardment, wooden tendrils breached the soil underneath his boots. They binded his ankles and wrists, lurching so he careened to the ground.

"Gwen!" Hex hollered desperately, before the thorned foliage could fully gag him. "You have to cut the– MMRF!"

Nodding in understanding, she whipped together a series of serrated mana discs. As she waited for the opportune moment to strike, the colossal form of Addwaitya cast a shadow over the writhing sorcerer. Infernal features twisting in a malicious grin, he knelt closer, posture triumphant.

"YOUR SOUL IS MINE!" Inhaling again, he drained the sorcerer's fleeting lifeforce.

'Its now or never!' Gwen hurtled the charged constructs with Olympic accuracy.

All but one of her shurikens spilled against his shell uselessly. As Hex' strangulated noises distracted the sadistic tortoise, the prosperous mana conduit severed the rope dangling from his neck. Immediately, she commanded the disc to retake its flight path, altering the shape and bubbling the Alpha Rune. Returning to normal size, Addwaitya's startled confusion gradually morphed to that of unrepentant fury.

Gwen jumped to grapple the containment sphere, rolling as she landed. Darting to check on Hex, she freed him from his arborous chains. Even while contained, the Alpha Rune thrummed with unquantifiable power.

"What have you done!?" The god screeched impetuously.

"I just made things a little more fair." Gwen smirked.

"You will pay dearly for this!" Addwaitya summoned asteroids to rain down upon the valley.

Vast sections of the continental shelf swelled prior to eruption, and jettisoned spouts of lava skyward. Hex, empowered by blood lust, sprinted straight for the raging god. Whisking the staff of Ages to his hand, the vulture skull adorning its crest sharpened to comprise a crescent blade. Evading rivers of magma and mana torpedoes, the master sorcerer conduced his strength into the scythe– appearing like the death incarnate.

"THIS…!"

Exuding a potent, noxious aura, the god declared, "I AM THE MOST POWERFUL BEING IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"...IS FOR MY CHARMCASTER!" Hex screamed the tormented battle cry, and swung.

Addwaitya's maniacal tirade came to an abrupt end as a line shone around the circumference of his throat. The eternal flames encompassing his head burned out, and black smoke billowed from his facial orifices. Like a domino, the god's corpse struck the ground with a lethargic crackle.

Volcanoes went dormant.

Islands ceased converging.

No longer did the wind whisper and howl.

"SCUM!" Hex kicked his shell, hatred palpable in his mana signature.

Even while decapitated, the god's shocked expression never left his carbonized face.

"We did it?" Gwen said, disbelief present in her voice.

Wiping the strands of saliva hanging loose from his chin, he turned to the Anodite Half-blood.

"Do you have the…?" Hex panted, voice hoarse as she unveiled the glowing stone she hid behind her arm.

"Alpha Rune secured." She spun the magical artifact on her fingertips with the finesse of a Harlem Globetrotter.

"That was far too easy a contest." He massaged his sore wrists, expression pained.

"Never hurts to have faith in your abilities, Hex." She briskly tossed the sphere for him to catch.

The pair of magic users steadily grinned, having gained newfound respect for one another. Though Hex was still doubtful, he agreed with Gwen's temperament. Eager to reunite with their misfit bunch, they fell in step.

"We fought respawning golems while you waxed a god. Go figure." Dweeb grumbled, caked from head to toe in mud.

"It's intact?" Hex peered at the Door to Anywhere suspiciously.

"Does it matter?" She shrugged, inspecting the glyph carvings.

"I wish I possessed your naivety, Gwen." He sighed, preparing to cast the open-sesame spell.

"If this doesn't work, where do you think we'll end up?"

"Preferably, anywhere but the Null Void." Paradox shuddered.

"It's going to work!" Hex snapped, albeit lacking the bite he trademarked.

Gwen was left speechless as the Alpha Rune lost its seemingly infinite residual energy. In the sorcerer's palm– it turned comatose. No better than a regular skipping stone. They all gathered around to see.

"Don't tell me the battery just died in that thing?" Dweeb looked to be on the brink of losing his sanity.

"Is nothing happening part of the spell?" The professor fully expected to be slapped for that one.

"Shut up fool, I performed it to the T!" Hex, who felt a lot like slapping him, decided against it as Gwen offered her two cents.

"How can we be sure this Alpha Rune is even real?"

Slowly, the sorcerer gazed upward.

"Did you truly believe you could kill me!? The MIGHTY ADDWAITYA!?" A familiar voice thundered throughout the cosmos.

Paradox and Dweeb gawked when the Door to Anywhere crumbled into a mound of rocks.

"Me and my big mouth..." Gwen muttered.

Because the god's face wasn't merely part of the sky…

"We've been duped." Hex crushed the fake rune in his fist and scattered the pebbles.

…His face was the sky.

---

Escorted by an infantry of worker drones, Ben arrived at the foundation of the observatory. His presence drew the attention of numerous mounted turrets. The muzzles whirred as they followed him, shining dozens of targets on his head and chest. Ben, unfazed by the artillery display, reached into his jacket pocket and extracted the holocube. Nestled above the hexagonal passageway, a hatch popped open. A mechanized eyeball connected to a spring-loaded coil shot out. It circled him, appearing to glare– as if expressing disapproval. When it was satisfied, it snapped back to it's hidey hole.

"L1F3F0RM^SCAN_C0MPL3T3D. Y0U^MAY_PR0C33D." A computerized voice crackled.

Stepping inside the elevator shaft, he puffed his jacket collar. Dense doors slammed shut behind him. Thankfully, there was no elevator music to torture the young teen as he mentally prepared himself.

Ben was invited to a spacious room with a suspended walkway stretching down the middle. Towards the tail end of the central path, a hovering platform was suspended by thousands of cables. Repairs had already been made. Viktor stood at the control deck, arms saddled at his sides.

The weight on his wrist had never felt so heavy.

"Before you start spewing nonsense, I want to see my friends." Ben demanded.

The Transylian seemed to be telepathically operating different parts of the room. The cryogenic tanks storing Julie and Paradox were lowered from asymmetric compartments distending from the ceiling.

"You supply me with blueprints for the multiverse transportation module, under the condition that I spare their lives. That was our arrangement. I have done what you asked. Now: Deliver the holocube to my possession."

"Thaw them out first."

"The holocube. I will not ask you again."

Ben unceremoniously plopped the device into the Transylian's monstrous hand. Exchanging zero words, the doctor inserted the cube into a display port. The inner contents of the cube began playing a flat hologram. Viktor stroked the diagram of the portal, mesmerized by the design.

"This is revolutionary technology. This can– it will change everything." The doctor misspoke, surprising even himself.

"The professor of paradoxes, that human possesses a powerful mind, indeed. Yes, only a human could devise such a magnificent creation. As it is still flawed."

"Flawed? Like this thing won't work if we try starting it?"

"It will work, though not for long. It is far too unstable to behave with precision."

"I gave you the holocube! Now thaw. Them. Out."

Dr. Viktor stared blankly.

"I promised I would not condemn them. What part of that implies I thaw them out?"

"I'm not asking you again."

The doctor emitted a low sigh.

"You are not in a position to make demands."

"That so? You're awfully confident."

"You disabled my drones for seventeen minutes and thirty-four seconds. Given that time frame, as well as your restricted access to the Omnimatrix, I find it highly implausible that you managed to remove the inhibitor cufflink. The third degree burns on your wrist indicates you made an attempt. You were unsuccessful. My detective AI locates discrepancies in any biological format including those mechanical in nature. Even if you did manage to remove it, you would not have been admitted into my residence."

"Maybe look into upgrading your security system. Want to know what I think about you?"

"No."

"I think you're an arrogant, sociopath and I also think, there's a reason you're locked up here. In this middle of this dump, in this observatory– as you call it– all by yourself. They took your freedom. After you got flagged by the Intergalactic Convention for inventing the Grim's Coroner. They made it so you would have to live out the rest of your days in here. You're going to die here alone and nobody is going to acknowledge your immense intellect. Because you're too much of a sick, twisted FUCK to ever be loved again!"

"Are you finished?"

"The saddest part about all this, is that you probably think you haven't done anything wrong."

"There is no outcome where you obtain victory."

Ben had it in him to laugh.

"If I gave up every time a villain thought they had me beat… then I wouldn't be able to say…!"

The doctor squinted in confusion.

"...IT'S HERO TIME!" The inhibitor brace disengaged and Ben disappeared in a verdant shimmer.

Armodrillo delivered a quaking punch into the Transylian's cheekbone, launching him off the elevated walkway, crashing onto the glass floor below. The collision spawned dozens of cracks, though it remained sturdy. Viktor had obviously built the observatory with this detail in mind.

While he was incapacitated, Ben hastily grabbed the cryogenic chamber Paradox was sealed inside and ripped it out from its tubular connections, ignoring the icy gaseous fumes that billowed from the platform's underside. Not three seconds after setting the module to thawing mode, he was rammed over the control deck, smashing against the transparent barrier. Viktor had gotten tangled in a nest of wires and cables, with some conveniently linking them together– limiting their movements.

He had to act fast, noticing the doctor's tesla coils were thrumming with a violet static charge. His focus diverted to the damaged glass beneath them. Concentrating seismic energy into his jackhammer arms, he shattered it, causing them both to fall amidst a hailstorm of shards.

Ben was able to catch a support beam on the way down, flinching at the added weight on his lower torso. The cable knotted around his waist and leg supported the Transylian– who dangled several meters below him. A platoon of drones swarmed the area.

As they readied their mini-blasters, Ben snatched the contiguous cable, and activated his drill hand. This placed Viktor in a state of perpetual motion. The rapid spinning prevented him from channeling his bioelectricity.

Improvising, Armordrillo utilized the Transylian's body like a battle mace. The drones refused to shoot their creator, so they zoomed about haplessly, watching their mechanical brethren being blown to smithereens. Now swinging at the force of a helicopter blade, the doctor exerted one last effort to electrocute the binding cable. With his nervous system shocked, Ben's grip on the ledge dissipated.

Just when he assumed they were both plummeting towards their demise– Viktor's hovering platform swooped in to save him. Seconds later, the Talpaeden's hulking form slammed onto the platform's corner. The combination of force and weight flipped the landing space upside down.

The Transylian's electromagnetism allowed his titanium soles to stick whilst they hurtled across a canal. Roles reversed, Viktor attempted to regain some semblance of control by wrestling with the steering stick. Somehow, he managed to shift the platform upright, only for the humming engine to begin sputtering anxiously. Once more, they descended at terrifying speeds.

The perilous situation reached a climax as an infinitum chassis obstructed their trajectory. Realizing they'd both be done for if they struck it, Ben drilled the cables– severing their tie. Bailing in opposite directions, the hover tech exploded violently upon impact. They roughly tumbled through the jagged salvage materials. Shaking the debris off, Armodrillo searched for his adversary.

When their eyes aligned– they charged– respective powers at the ready.

Viktor led with an erratic lightning bolt– which was blocked by a tidal wave of cluttered junk. Ben burrowed underground, pinpointing the exact area he needed to resurface. Surging from beneath the misshapen terrace, he winded up a devastating hook. The hit rocketed the doctor backwards.

The Transylian recovered his balance sooner than he expected, unleashing a deluge of bioelectricity.

Ben thought he was a goner, until a green laser slammed into the Transylian's chest. The kinetic dispersal caused his enemy to skid and flip through several mountains of junk piled from centuries of galactic disposal. Using the diversion as a chance to catch his breath, Ben snuck a glance at the source of the optic beam, elated to see Ship had come to his aid.

"Good boy!" He cheered, a triumphant smile hidden behind his facial plating.

Holding the badge on his chest, he reverted to his original form. The doctor was a tough customer, Ben gave him that, but he was no match for– !

"–LODESTAR!"

On queue, the scrap heap burst apart– exposing a visibly worn Viktor. The Transylian's cybernetic monocle dangled from his eye socket, connected by a flimsy, sparking wire. The tesla coil on his right shoulder was terribly warped, leaking an oily substance– presumably blood.

"The Omnimatrix… is certainly an impressive tool." He commented.

"If you wanted me to kick your ass, you could just ask. I hand out freebies every week."

"There is a discrepancy in your strategy."

Lodestar subconsciously ordered nearby fragments to orbit the two of them.

"From my perspective, I've got you in check. This entire place is filled to the brim with metal."

"I possess the high ground." The doctor explained, subtly reaching toward his waist.

"Yeah… I don't mean to sound crass, but I got years of experience spent dealing with types like you."

In one swift motion, Viktor pulled the Grim's Coroner from its holster, audibly loading the chamber. He was aiming the barrel straight between the Biot-savartian's eyes. This consequence didn't perturb Ben though, as he fixed the Transylian with a savage glare.

"What's the hold up? Got the yips?"

"Hardly." The Transylian readjusted his grip on the midnight revolver.

A coordinated magnetic attack had the effect of buffering the doctor's malicious intentions. Almost immediately, however, Ben noticed something wasn't lining up. He could jostle and budge the alien's arm but there was no influence on the actual gun itself. That's when it clicked– literally.

"It's non ferromagnetic!" Ben deduced what Viktor was planning the instant his magnetism held no sway on the Grim's Coroner.

He had said so himself earlier: "As if I'd need to shoot you twice."

Obviously, Viktor hadn't shot him– that had been the deed of Time-Bomber. Since he'd known the Transylian, he expressed a limited range of emotion and he seemed to value logic above all else. Viktor didn't intend to kill Ben– not originally. By some happenstance, the fates had worked their celestial magic and placed them on opposite ends of the same track.

This is where they collided.

The doctor was honest when he spoke of the Omnitrix earlier. There was no interest in keeping it for himself. Because Viktor wanted to be the inventor– not the progenitor. He would have far more to gain by keeping Ben alive. Only he failed to account for a different kind of variable– a variable he never would've considered…

Ship had poured an immense charge into that optic blast. His battery had depleted drastically– making him sluggish. The Galvanic Mechamorph whined fearfully. The transgressions occurring had placed him in a startled trance, unable to move. If he reacted in time, Ben could spare Ship from a fate worse than death.

Viktor's index digit tugged the trigger backward.

There was a high-pitched BANG! Followed by a sharp whistle.

Ship curled into a defensive ball.

As magnetized shards speared the land around them, Ben hunched in a kneeling position, guarding his loyal Dane from further harm. Dark smoke billowed from his shoulder. Metallic skull obscured by shadow, he whispered: "You OK, boy?"

…Heroes make sacrifices.

Ship flimsily drooped his chin onto Lodestar's pincer, chirping sadly.

"Thank you. For everything you've done for me, Ship. But I can handle this. Julie and Paradox are locked up in that tower. They need you. Can you do that for me, boy?"

Ship nodded eagerly, slithering towards the observatory. Lodestar's eyes shone a radioactive hue. He slowly turned on the doctor, advancement hostile.

"Nice shot."

In the Transylian's stupefied state, he dropped the gun.

Lodestar thrust his pincers forward.

Ben had an eye for spotting weak points in anatomy. He was sort of a pro at it. Transylians were an organic species that developed body swapping methods early in their history– hence why they literally evolved to conduct and eventually generate their own bioelectricity. When 75% of their flesh is technically dead, it certainly helps having a generator/lightning rod sticking out of your back. Typically, the few parts of a Transylian that were "alive," and constituted their identity, included: Brain, heart, lungs and throat. This also explains their freakish strength. Their muscles don't tire, only their cybernetic enhancements do– making them self-sustaining. Viktor's legs weren't natural either. He noticed the odd vibrations they emitted while he was Armodrillo.

He targeted the stitches, the array of bolts and screws hewn into his decaying skin. Powerless, he bashed the doctor into the compactor walls. He flicked his pincers sideways. Grunting, the Transylian's arms were ripped at the staples, leaving behind sodden stumps. Lodestar commanded nearby iron bars to snake around the villain's torso– then fuse into the metal frame– efficiently landlocking him. Then he popped the rotors in his kneecaps, causing them to fall limp as there was nothing to support them.

Binded, armless and bionic limbs inoperable, the doctor could do little more than groan. Satisfied with how swiftly he dismantled Frankenstein, Ben prepared to leave.

"Wait. I must…!"

Ben really shouldn't entertain anything this bastard had to say. This should be the end of it. But he still found himself pausing– curious.

"...I must understand why?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a super genius?" He was facing the Transylian now. "Figure it out on your own."

"Why?" He persisted. "Why did you allow yourself to be struck twice? To spare the domesticated Galvanic Mechamorph…" His head jostled numbly. "...And then you spare me? It defies logic."

"Humans aren't logical creatures, right?"

"The decay rate has been accelerated. Your current lifespan has been halved."

"I don't care. I would jump in front of ten more bullets if it meant keeping Ship safe."

"Blasphemy. No sentient being wounds itself on purpose."

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Please. I must- I MUST know!"

"You really want to know? Fine." Ben transformed back to human, storming up to the defeated doctor.

"I was scared to die. No– I am scared to die." He corrected himself.

Admitting that aloud was a hard pill to swallow.

"But I'm not scared for any of the reasons you're thinking. When armageddon arrives, I won't be around to protect the people I love. That's what terrifies me."

Without any people to fight for, why be a hero?

"The thrill of the fight is what makes me feel the most alive. That's why I treat every day like it's my last. Life is worth so much more, if you simply choose to value it. That's why you're in here and not out there. Because there is no greater honor than battling on behalf of people who can't do it themselves. If you aren't willing to take that risk and put yourself in harm's way, you can't call yourself a hero."

He considered what his parting words should be.

"Life is meant to be lived, doctor. Maybe it's time you did that."

Ben didn't bother sticking around when the Transylian failed to babble a coherent response. He left the doctor to stew in his thoughts. To rot in a cage of his own volition– alone.

And Ben?

Well, he felt lighter somehow. More comfortable in his own skin.

On his trek towards the observatory, he collected all the spare parts from the professor's list. Using Eatle's impressive strength, he was able to lug them aloft his robust shoulders.

As Almatromaxei settled on the cloudbank, a concerned Ship returned with both his friends. Julie's teeth were still chattering from the chill of cryogenic stasis, and to warm herself, she retracted her arms inside her coat's torso, sleeves flopping at her sides. The professor wasn't fairing much better, though he seemed more worried for Ben's health than his own. He wasn't going to complain when they tackled him in a group hug.

"Benjamin!"

"B-Ben! You're alright-t-t!"

"What happened to Dr. Viktor?"

Eatle waved dismissively, "You guys don't need to worry. I took care of it."

Julie and the professor exchanged glances, as if telepathically trying to discern what he meant. Ship squeaked, brushing against his calf.

"I'm glad you guys are OK." He admitted.

"As am I." The professor offered a wry grin as he pocketed the holocube.

Julie clicked her tongue to grab her pet's attention.

"Hey b-boy! I know you're exhausted, but d-do you think you can transform j-just one more t-t-time? For m-me? I'll give you as many treats as you want when we g-get home!"

Ship definitely liked the sound of that. The Galvanic Mechamorph determinedly bolted to an open section of the scrapyard. In a span of a few seconds his gelatinous composition converted into a space-ready rocket. Emanating a proud, SHIIIP! he unfolded a landing dock for them to traverse.

Ben was the last one inside the cockpit— only then did he revert. He was tired, bruised, and scratched everywhere. But most of all, he was fed up with the constant guilt. This was the beginning of the end. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. If Julie hadn't called him out, he wouldn't have realized was staring.

"Ben? You're crying? What's wrong?"

"Julie, I… I'm sorry." The tennis ball sized lump in his throat stifled his speech.

The professor's jaw went slack as Ben revealed the Grim's Coroner he kept hidden behind his back.

"There's something you should know."