"I told you," Tyler Levison hissed, his voice dropping into a distorted, clinical registry. "Smile."
Instead of executing a lethal strike, a slick, blood-red tentacle lashed forward, clamping onto Prime Ben's jaw and forcing the flesh into a wide, unnatural grin. The gesture was hollow, frantic, and entirely devoid of human warmth.
The commander reacted instantly, his tail whipping around with a heavy, metallic crack that forced Tyler's appendage back, letting him scramble up from the deck.
He stood in a low, defensive stance, his breathing shallow as he adjusted his center of gravity. "The psychological pressure... it's non-standard. I actually let you register a psychological hit."
"You shift parameters," Tyler growled, his massive shoulders expanding as the unholy red light of a fresh override began to bloom across his chest, "and the core adapts."
"A classic structural gap!" Prime Ben roared. He didn't wait for the mist to clear, throwing his mass forward as his obsidian claws drove straight into the heart of the crimson glare. "You can't parry an impact while your matrix is rebuilding!"
BANG!!
A pair of dense, over-engineered claws reached through the red light, catching the commander's wrists in an iron grip that locked his momentum instantly. Prime Ben strained against the hold, his joints groaning under the pressure, but the physical mass was absolute.
"Hehe."
The skinless visage of The Void-Wraith (Ghostfreak) emerged from the fading light, his vertical eye fixed on the commander's face. "A gap? Under the influence of the core, the transmission rate is instantaneous. There are no delays."
Prime Ben's focus flickered, a sudden drop in cognitive stability threatening to unseat his form.
The entity before him was a structural anomaly. It paired high-tier tactical processing with absolute mass, recognized every environmental threat beforehand, ignored physiological feedback, and operated entirely without a traditional cooldown sequence.
It was a platform designed solely for execution.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Tyler's secondary limbs delivered a heavy, mechanical cadence of strikes that forced Prime Ben back across the platform, driving him out of the high ground. The commander retreated in a straight line, his hand slamming down onto his dial to shift parameters.
His physical scale expanded exponentially, his height climbing past the line of the skyscrapers until The World-Breaker (Way Big) stood proudly against the clouds.
He looked down, his posture rigid.
A second crimson pillar pierced the skyline, and a larger, more dense red silhouette raised its arms, a hollow chuckle echoing through the upper skyways. "The core always commands more volume, Ben. I'm still stronger."
No matter what form the commander selected, Tyler matched the parameter instantly, using the lack of a traditional cooldown to mirror the choice while overriding the execution with the unhinged malice of the system.
As the match ground into its final interval, Tyler shifted parameters again, accessing an unmapped configuration to run a live field diagnostic.
The Gravattack Variant emerged from the red light. The form shared structural similarities with the Sinister-Savant—the same compact, dense core and an exposed, pulsing brain—but the torso was supported by four heavily muscled limbs. Where a standard specimen carried an earthy brown shell, this error form was plated in an unyielding, bloody crimson.
"An orbital configuration?" Prime Ben's brow furrowed as he shifted to match the selection exactly.
Both titans raised their hands simultaneously, twin fields of localized gravitational force colliding in the space between them. The atmospheric pressure spiked, crushing the metallic road surface into fine dust, grinding the structural steel as if it were soft clay.
"Your experience is a perfect sandbox for the new parameters," Tyler rumbled, his steps steady as his muscles swelled with unnatural density.
He pushed his output past the standard safety limits, the red gravitational field expanding until it overwhelmed Prime Ben's barrier, forcing the localized compression wave back toward the commander.
Listening to the clinical, mocking tone echoing from the crimson form, Prime Ben felt his tactical options collapse. He's using the apex vanguard of the force as a baseline stress test.
A sharp wave of frustration fractured his discipline. "You leave me no alternative!"
He reached for his dual matrix, rotating the casing to activate a restricted sequence.
Green light split the gravitational field, revealing a snow-white entity laced with surging emerald lines—a parameter that radiated the absolute authority of an optimized reactor. Atomix stood firm against the pressure, the environmental gravity washing off his armored plates without leaving a scratch as his hand gathered a massive plasma reserve.
"An explosive baseline?"
A secondary flash of red light answered the challenge, and the cold, hunting silhouette of The Bio-Hazardous Bolt (Blitzwolfer) stepped out of the glare. His jaws split wide, his voice flat and clinical. "Even if the feedback incinerates this frame, I can still compromise your internal matrix before the form drops."
The absolute lack of hesitation in Tyler's voice cut through Prime Ben's focus. The commander paused, his hand slowly lowering as the gravity of the simulation settled into his mind.
"No," Ben said quietly, deactivating the plasma field. "An escalatory trade at this threshold serves no strategic purpose. The match is concluded."
Throughout the entire hour-long engagement, his tactical options had been systematically neutralized by a system that refused to follow standard rules.
"Conceding?" Tyler asked, his vertical eye narrowing as he fought down the persistent urge to close the distance. He forced his hands away from his dial, nodding slowly. "Understood."
[System: Host has secured a tactical victory over the Task Force Commander. Telemetry compiled. Progress +2%]
[System: Template Progress 50/100. Unlocking Configurations: Ball Weevil Variant, Walkatrout Variant, Kickin Hawk Variant.]
The template progress had reached a critical numerical threshold, yet the system buffers remained steady, holding back the structural evolution for the deep layers.
The comprehensive shift will likely require the absolute unsealing of the core logic, Tyler calculated internally, his breathing ragged as he ran a diagnostic on his current status. The tier-zero configurations are still locked behind the progress wall.
He accessed his tracking parameters to verify his metrics.
Host: Tyler Levison (Enhanced Cellular Structure)
Age: 11
Template: Carnitrix Matrix (10%)
[Active Duration: 30 minutes]
[Safety Buffer: 10 minutes]
[Autonomous Termination Override: Unlocked]
[Error-Killing Consciousness: Active]
[Structural Localization: Optimized]
Progress: 50/100
Technical Masteries: Language Adaptation, Multi-Class Vehicle Operation, Close-Quarters Combat Proficiency, Kinetic Marksmanship, Extraterrestrial Taxonomy, Deep-Space Navigation, Plumber Technical Engineering Mastery
Bound Items: Chrono-Stabilizer Assembly, The God Sword of Ek Chuah (Anatomical Anchor: Void-Wraith)
Registry: Standard Tier (32 Configurations Including: The Sinister-Savant, The Bio-Hazardous Bolt, The Nuclear-Demon, The World-Breaker)
Corrected Configurations: 13 Configurations Including: The Void-Wraith, The Hell-Fire King, The Crystal-Executioner, The Magnetic-Witch
Advanced Configurations: Block Gorilla, Gravattack, Ball Weevil Variant, Walkatrout Variant, Kickin Hawk Variant
Tyler closed the interface as the red light dissolved, returning him to his human baseline. He looked up to see Prime Ben walking toward him, his expression exceptionally grave. "Tyler... are we certain the entity destroying the outer sectors operates under the exact same parameters as your watch?"
Before Tyler could provide the data, his heightened sensory array registered a sudden influx of spatial signatures. He turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto the platform near the primary temporal gate.
A young Ben variant dressed in a green jacket took a sharp step back, his eyes wide with a genuine terror as he caught Tyler's gaze. "The way he looks at us... it's wrong."
Behind him, several younger variations turned on their heels, retreating a hundred yards down the skypath without waiting for orders, their discipline breaking instantly. A Gwen variant collapsed onto the metal deck, her nervous system shutting down from the sheer weight of the bloodlust lingering in the air.
The remaining multiversal travelers held their weapons in a defensive guard, staring at Tyler as if observing an active anomaly. "Is that the asset meant to anchor the vanguard? He looks more volatile than the target."
"Maintain your formations," Professor Paradox commanded, stepping through the center to stabilize the perimeter. "Tyler's sovereignty over his core remains absolute. He kept his boundaries intact during the simulation; he is distinct from the anomaly."
"He's right," Prime Ben added, a faint, weary smile returning to his face as he looked at Tyler. "The exercise provided the necessary telemetry. We know what to look for now." He paused, observing a slight tremor in the boy's hands. "Tyler? Why are your muscles locking?"
"The containment is breaking," Tyler rasped, his teeth grinding as his vision began to cloud with a dangerous crimson hue. "I'm out of time."
He dropped into a low sprint, launching himself over the edge of the platform and diving into the lower skyways, using the momentum to distance his unchained instincts from the gathering task force before the core could claim another target.