WHOOSH!!!
A storm of blood-red light swept through the colosseum, drowning the screams of the crowd in a pulse of raw, malevolent energy.
"What is this?!" Slagel shrieked from his hoverboard, nearly falling as the air itself seemed to vibrate with killing intent.
Down in the sand, Ben searched for a corner that wasn't drenched in the red glow. "The last time Tyler looked like this... he dismantled the Gax-Fiend. This is something worse."
The audience, however, was delighted. They shoved popcorn into their mouths, cheering for what they thought was a "second-stage transformation" for their entertainment. They didn't realize they were looking at the end of their lives.
As the red light faded, Tyler's form was a nightmare of biological errors. His mouth was stretched into a manic, ear-to-ear grin filled with serrated fangs. His eyes weren't just dark; they were voids.
This was the Glitch-Slaughter Protocol. Tyler's Mental Energy was being hammered by a tide of primordial bloodlust. He wasn't just using the watch; he was the Carnitrix.
The Automaton Deviants pounced, thinking his momentary stillness was a weakness.
WHOOSH!!
In a flicker of red static, Tyler didn't just move; he glitched. One moment he was being swarmed; the next, he was twenty meters away as The Velocity Wraith.
"His watch... it's skipping the cooldown! It's evolving in real-time!" Slagel realized too late.
Tyler closed his eyes. Under the Protocol, he didn't need sight. He felt every thermal signature, every mechanical vibration, and every heartbeat in the arena as a precise coordinate. It was "Omnitrix Instinct" pushed to a murderous extreme.
WHOOSH—WHOOSH—WHOOSH!!
Dozens of afterimages blurred through the arena. To the audience, it looked like a red lightning strike hitting every robot simultaneously. A second later, the "lightning" stopped. Every single droid in the arena was reduced to a pile of smoking scrap.
"W-What kind of joke is this?" Slagel stammered.
"I don't need to see you, Slagel," Tyler's voice echoed from above, cold and hollow. "I can sense your fear."
A ghostly figure—the Gax-Fiend—materialized in the air. Its tentacles fused into a massive, blood-stained hammer of obsidian flesh.
RUMBLE!
Slagel was hit like a bowling pin, his hoverboard shattering as he was smashed through the arena wall and into the depths of the ship.
Tyler floated to the ground, his manic smile widening. The sensation of destruction was... intoxicating.
"Tyler...?" Ben stepped forward, his voice a thin tremor.
Tyler spun around, his gaze like a butcher's knife. His mind screamed to tear Ben apart. He fought the urge, his teeth grinding so hard they cracked. "Ben... transform. Now. Get into Diamondhead or something with armor. MOVE!!"
Terrified, Ben slammed his watch. He got Wildvine instead—not as durable, but enough to survive a stray blow.
High in the stands, a spectator laughed, throwing a soda can that bounced off Tyler's back. "Hey, kid! Look over here for a picture!"
ZIP.
In a flash of black lightning, Tyler was standing inches from the spectator's face. The laughter died instantly. Tyler didn't say a word. He took the soda can and slammed it into the alien's face with enough force to liquefy the skull. Blood and gore splattered the front row.
The audience finally understood. They weren't watching a show. They were in a cage with a monster. They scrambled for the exits, screaming in a panic that Tyler found "correct."
"This is how you should look when you see me," Tyler whispered, inhaling the scent of iron in the air.
"Tyler... we have to stop the ship," Ben mustered the courage to say.
Tyler's figure vanished and reappeared in front of Ben, his face a mask of hysterical ferocity. "DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO USE DIAMONDHEAD?!"
"S-Sorry!" Ben raised his hands.
Tyler took a jagged breath, suppressing the slaughter-urge. He turned his senses toward the rest of the ship. Slagel was still alive, crawling toward the bridge. The elite guard was incoming.
Tyler tore through the corridors as The Echo-Wraith, his sonic screams turning every obstacle into dust. He was a god of the "No-Cooldown" state, switching forms mid-stride to maintain maximum lethality.
In the monitoring room, Slagel watched the carnage on his screens, his mechanical parts sparking. "How did the Earthlings survive a planet with a demon like this...?"
Back in the arena, Technorg and the other gladiators emerged from the shadows, looking at the slaughter Tyler had left behind. They weren't warriors anymore; they were sheep looking at a wolf.
"I think... I don't need to cover him," Technorg whispered, his voice full of horror.
At the door of the command center, Tyler reached for the handle, his manic grin illuminated by the red pulse of the watch.
"Slagel is inside. Time to finish the 'meal'."
[Ding! Host altered the Gladiator Plot and achieved 'Total Insanity'. Kill count: Immeasurable. Progress +1%.]
[Template Mastery: 36/100. DNA UNLOCKED: THE JET-RAY & THE ECHO-WRAITH!]
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