The forest was quiet again, but this time, it wasn't peace that settled over the trees.
It was anticipation.
Ben sat cross-legged in a small clearing, several yards away from the Rustbucket's campsite. The sun had set. The moonlight filtered through the leaves above like a shattered lens. In front of him, resting on an overturned log, was a salvaged metal panel from an old satellite Max had once scavenged — now turned into a makeshift screen for testing.
The Omnitrix pulsed on his wrist.
He took a deep breath.
> Time to begin.
He spoke softly, not with the voice of a child, but like a scientist whispering ancient truths.
> "Command line override. Input string: Code 10-X Prime."
The Omnitrix beeped — a low, unfamiliar tone. A small ring of red light shimmered around the core, and a digital interface blinked to life in his peripheral vision, displayed through the internal retinal HUD.
Most users never even knew this mode existed.
Not even Ben Prime.
> But I do.
---
Code 10-X Prime.
In the original timeline, it was a buried failsafe, a master configuration protocol Azmuth created in his more experimental days. Abandoned and locked behind layers of redundant code.
It was never supposed to activate for anyone other than Azmuth himself.
Ben had found references to it buried deep in old alien forums back on Earth… in his old life. Conspiracies. Fan theories. Unconfirmed speculation.
But he believed.
And now, he was about to prove they were right.
---
The Omnitrix chimed again.
> "Warning: Unauthorized access level breach. Root functions entering volatile state. Confirm override?"
Ben didn't hesitate. "Confirm. Passkey: Omega-Return. Execute unlock."
The glow shifted.
The device hummed.
And then—reality bent.
Lines of code scrolled across his HUD. Alien languages layered over hexadecimal streams. DNA strands rotating in real-time. Glyphs and fail-safes flickering as the watch screamed to protect itself — but too late.
He was inside.
And it was glorious.
> The Omnitrix isn't just a watch. It's a universe of code — a living library of galactic biology, chained by design. Azmuth made sure no one could truly control it.
But he never met me.
Ben's fingers danced over the floating symbols only he could see. He bypassed subroutines. Disabled redundancies. Opened diagnostic channels. Each command sent a subtle jolt through his nervous system — like dipping a toe in the ocean of creation.
Then he reached the heart of the system: Core Genetic Matrix Index.
Ten base aliens spun in a holographic spiral: Heatblast, Wildmutt, Diamondhead, XLR8, and the rest. But Ben scrolled further… past the known.
And there they were:
> Override Echo Forms.
Hybrid Mutation Seeds.
Evolutionary Branch Points: Locked.
Fusion Compatibility Map: Suppressed.
He grinned.
> "Not for long."
---
His goal wasn't to cheat the system.
His goal was to rewrite the foundation.
The default Omnitrix kept the aliens in their base states — pure DNA templates, no upgrades, no fusion, no deviation. Azmuth had wanted it that way to prevent instability and identity loss.
But Ben wasn't afraid.
He wanted instability.
> If the Omnitrix is a key to evolution, then I will evolve it.
---
"Begin core edit," he whispered. "Target: Heatblast."
A model of the alien flared into view — a flaming humanoid, labeled with its native name: Pyronite.
He dove into its subroutine and triggered Override Layer 1 — evolutionary augmentation mode.
> "Initiate mutation drift: retain core flame element, unlock volcanic plasma channeling. Layer in solar flare skin resistance. Introduce oxygen-independent combustion."
"Output new form: Heatburst."
The code accepted the rewrite.
And the watch glowed a darker green than before — almost hungry.
He opened the dial. Among the silhouettes, a new form appeared. Not the same jagged outline of Heatblast. This one was sharper, taller, crowned in lava horns. A body like volcanic armor and plasma wings folded across its back.
Heatburst.
Mark 1.0 of Ben's custom alien tree.
And it was just the beginning.
---
> "Next," he said softly. "XLR8."
The base speedster of the original Omnitrix. Fast. Agile. Untouchable.
But limited by friction physics and planetary gravity.
Ben activated its core file.
> "Remove planet-bound movement limiters. Simulate quantum momentum surfing. Apply zero-point agility modifier. Fuse partial Galvanic Mechamorph muscle enhancement. New form: XLRX."
The silhouette updated instantly — leaner, more digitigrade, tail sharpened into a stabilizer fin. Blurred before he even selected it.
Ben didn't transform — not yet. He wasn't testing. He was building.
Inventing.
---
Hours passed like minutes.
The stars shifted overhead, and dawn began to peek through the trees.
By then, Ben had unlocked four new forms, all enhanced. Not by the Omnitrix — by himself.
Each one had a designation: "Prime Form."
Each one bore his personal DNA signature woven into its matrix.
Each one was his, not Azmuth's.
---
As he stood, flexing his fingers, the Omnitrix shimmered with an updated glow. Sleeker. More responsive. The alien tech was adapting to his commands now — syncing to his intent.
Code 10-X Prime had rewritten the limits.
Ben looked at the device — no longer just a tool.
> It's an extension of me now.
A second nervous system.
A forge for gods.
---
Gwen called from the camp.
"Ben! You missed breakfast!"
He tapped the dial and closed the interface. The glowing faded.
But inside the watch… nothing was the same.
---
As he walked back toward the Rustbucket, he didn't smile.
He just whispered to himself:
> "I'm not the wielder of the Omnitrix anymore."
"I'm its architect."