Chapter 191: Crossing Again, The 52nd Quadrant
In the silent, ink-black expanse of the cosmos, a massive warship drifted on standby.
Deep within its reinforced steel belly, a high-stakes battle was underway.
"A pair of Aces!"
"A pair of Twos!"
"Boom! Read them and weep, loser! I win!"
Klein vaulted out of his seat, planting one foot squarely on the center of the metallic card table. He pointed a finger down at the conqueror of ten worlds, his face split into a mocking, arrogant grin.
"I refuse to accept this! Deal the cards! One more round!" Vilgax slammed his massive, clawed fists against the table, rattling the chips. The terrifying warlord practically whined, his red eyes wide with desperation. He had no choice; over the last two hands, he had literally lost the alien equivalent of his underwear.
If he didn't win his dignity back right now, he was contractually obligated to spend the next month as Klein's pet octopus in a decorative fish tank.
A trembling drone scurried over, balancing a tray of neon-colored beverages.
"A loss is a loss, squid-face. Deal with it." Klein snatched a glass from the tray and took a casual sip.
Seeing the game was definitively over, Vilgax's tactical advisor—who had wisely folded three rounds ago—gave a stiff bow and hurried out of the room with the rest of the bridge crew, leaving the two anomalies alone.
Klein downed the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. He wiped his mouth and looked down at the brooding warlord. "So, how are your preparations coming along? Are you ready to fight Ben yet? The kid's strength has spiked quite a bit recently."
"The fleet is fine. Just a few more calibrations and we launch." Vilgax grumbled, picking up a glass of his own and swirling the glowing liquid inside. He squinted up at the teenager. "But... why exactly do you want me to travel all the way across the galaxy just to beat up Ben Tennyson? Isn't he your own cousin?"
Vilgax was genuinely baffled. He took a heavy gulp, pondering the sheer absurdity of their dynamic.
The two of them got along shockingly well. If any galactic law enforcement officer saw them casually sharing drinks and playing cards, their brains would likely short-circuit.
It all traced back to a fateful encounter a few years ago. Klein had casually, right in front of Vilgax's optical sensors, hand-crafted a fully functional Omnitrix from scratch. The display of absolute technological supremacy had shattered Vilgax's worldview. The warlord had practically thrown a tantrum, crying and demanding that Klein make him one too.
Klein, naturally, refused. He laid down a single condition: until Klein found a suitable substitute to act as Ben's personal training dummy, Vilgax had to keep playing the role of the menacing villain trying to steal the watch.
To drive the point home, Klein had immediately detonated the hand-crafted Omnitrix in a shower of sparks.
That explosion had physically pained Vilgax's soul for months.
Since then, as Klein wandered the cosmos, Vilgax made it a habit to track him down whenever his conquering schedule allowed. He would drop subtle hints, offer lavish tributes, and try everything short of begging to get Klein to build him a custom Omnitrix.
Naturally, his efforts yielded zero results.
Yet, through this bizarre routine, Vilgax realized something strange: Klein wasn't actually that hateful. In fact, they got along quite well. They shared a mutual appreciation for being sly, mischievous, and utterly unapologetic trolls.
So, while neither would ever admit it out loud, Vilgax had essentially become Klein's unofficial lackey. The grand, terrifying plan to eliminate Ben Tennyson? Entirely orchestrated by Klein to keep his cousin on his toes.
"Relax, relax. Keep up the good work, and I'll definitely let you take an Omnitrix for a spin someday!" Klein patted the warlord's massive shoulder, skillfully dangling the metaphorical carrot.
Vilgax savored the empty promise, a meal he had consumed countless times by now. What else could he do? He couldn't beat Klein in a fight, and he certainly couldn't steal the watch from him. Chewing on false hope was better than starving.
They continued to drink and shoot the breeze, the atmosphere surprisingly domestic.
Until the air crackled.
A swirling, brilliant blue portal tore open the fabric of space right in the middle of the room.
"Hey! Are you ready? We are about to depart!"
Professor Paradox stepped out of the rift. He was wearing his signature pristine white lab coat—paired inexplicably with garish, floral Hawaiian shorts and a pair of dark sunglasses.
"Who are you?!" Vilgax roared, slamming his drink down. He shot to his feet, his massive, imposing figure casting a shadow over the time traveler. "How dare you trespass on the flagship of Vilgax the Conqueror! Are you tired of living?!"
Paradox casually lowered his sunglasses, peering over the rims at the towering alien. He didn't even flinch. Instead, he turned his head toward Klein. "Your little brother seems a bit cranky today, oh."
"Alright, Vilgax, down boy. Sit." Klein waved a dismissive hand, signaling the warlord to stand down. He hopped off the table and looked at Paradox. "Everything's set. Let's go."
"Go? Where are you going?" Vilgax froze. Suddenly, the terrifying galactic conqueror looked like a massive, heavily-armored, incredibly muscular abandoned puppy.
"Oh, we agreed to go wander around another universe. Well, no, that's not entirely accurate. We're going to punish evil and promote good." Klein spoke with a straight face, treating cross-universal travel like a trip to the grocery store.
Paradox merely smiled, adjusting his lab coat. This was exactly why he enjoyed hanging around Klein. Punishing evil, promoting good, and causing absolute chaos along the way.
Klein was a kindred spirit—an anomaly existing outside the standard rules of reality. Not literally outside the multiverse, but he carried that distinct, detached frequency. It made Paradox feel like he finally had a peer, which was why he reserved his leisure time exclusively for wandering with Klein. As for the other Bens across the timeline? He only bothered them when there was an actual mission. After saving the space-time continuum so many times, the time traveler just wanted to have some fun.
Vilgax blinked, only mildly surprised by the revelation. In his mind, Klein casually hopping between universes tracked perfectly with his absurd power level.
However...
"You want to come with us?" Klein smirked, instantly seeing right through the warlord's shifting eyes.
"Ahem." Vilgax straightened his posture, puffing out his chest to project maximum authority. "As the supreme overlord of the Milky Way Galaxy, my schedule is exceedingly demanding. However... since you have invited me with such sincerity, I suppose I can reluctantly make time to—"
Before Vilgax could finish his grand speech, he looked down.
Klein and Paradox had already turned their backs and stepped into the blue portal. The rift was rapidly shrinking.
"Hey! Wait for me!" Vilgax abandoned all dignity, scrambling over the card table and throwing his massive bulk through the portal just before it snapped shut.
Quadrant 52. Galvan Prime.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Deafening explosions tore through the atmosphere. Massive, searing beams of crimson energy rained down from orbit, violently bombarding the surface of the Galvan homeworld.
The hyper-advanced cities of the Galvan burned. Even their planetary energy shields and pinnacle technological defenses buckled under the sheer, overwhelming firepower. Sleek, towering spires collapsed into rubble, sending plumes of smoke into the sky. Sirens wailed as countless Galvan citizens scrambled for shelter, the casualty count rising by the second.
High above the burning atmosphere, a massive fleet of iconic red and black warships blotted out the stars, forming an inescapable blockade around Galvan Prime.
Down on the surface, the Galvan defense forces rushed to man the anti-air batteries. The moment they locked onto the hull signatures of the descending drop-ships, their blood ran cold.
"It's them!" a soldier screamed, his voice cracking with terror. "It's the Vilgax Brothers!"
At the center of the capital, within the highest, most heavily fortified tower, Azmuth stood with his hands locked behind his back. The First Thinker's face was grim as he watched the tactical monitors display the encroaching fleet.
"Vilgax..." Azmuth murmured, his large eyes narrowing. "Could it be that they're here for that thing?"
Behind him stood Myaxx, a female Galvan assistant, and a young, broad-shouldered Plumber.
If Klein were here, he would have instantly recognized the square jaw and the signature red Hawaiian shirt peeking out from under the Plumber armor. It was Max Tennyson.
In this universe, Max was only in his late twenties or early thirties, currently stationed on Galvan Prime for a routine escort mission.
He certainly hadn't expected his shift to intersect with a full-scale planetary invasion by the most vicious beings in the known universe.
The Vilgax Brothers.
In Quadrant 52, the terror of the galaxy wasn't a single warlord, but a pair of monstrous twins: Alpha Vilgax and Beta Vilgax.
Known universally as the most brutal, unyielding conquerors in existence, the sheer pressure their name carried was enough to make even seasoned veterans break. Max gripped his blaster tightly, his knuckles turning white as he stared at the monitors.
After a long, tense moment of calculation, Azmuth turned away from the screen and looked up at the young human.
"Young Plumber," Azmuth began, his voice tight with urgency. "I believe I know exactly what the Vilgax Brothers are after. Could I ask you to help me escort a highly sensitive item off-world?"
No matter the universe, Azmuth was always too intelligent to fall to the side of evil, and this iteration was no exception. He knew when to fight and when to secure the asset.
But Max Tennyson possessed a fiercely righteous heart. Hearing Azmuth's request, the young Plumber's eyes hardened with resolve. He immediately misunderstood Azmuth's pragmatic intent for a desperate plea.
Max shook his head slightly, stepping forward to block the doorway. "No, Azmuth. You and your team take the item and evacuate. I'll stay behind and hold off the Vilgax Brothers."
Azmuth's large eyes instantly lit up.
"Brave Plumber! What a noble sacrifice!" Azmuth praised without missing a beat. "We shall take our leave immediately, then. I leave this facility in your capable hands. I have the utmost faith in you!"
Azmuth wasn't a bad person, but he certainly wasn't an idiot. If the human wanted to volunteer for a suicide mission to buy time, who was he to argue? Debating the morality of it would only waste precious escape seconds.
Without a moment's hesitation, Azmuth tapped a button on his belt, deploying a miniature hover-disk. He hopped onto it and shot out the emergency exit at maximum speed, leaving a trail of exhaust in his wake.
Max stood frozen in the middle of the command center, his blaster still raised, utterly dumbfounded by the sheer, practiced speed of the old alien's retreat.
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