A low, involuntary groan rumbled in Ben's throat as he shifted under the covers, his body heavy with an unfamiliar strain. Sleep clung to him, but it was fractured, restless—like his mind refused to let go, something deeper held him under.
A pressure, subtle, coiled through his muscles, his bones, his very being. Then came the flashes.
Images. Voices. Moments, streaking across his mind like lightning—too fast to grasp, too vivid to ignore. They weren't his. They couldn't be. And yet… they felt anchored within him, like echoes of a life he had lived but never remembered.
At first, he dismissed it as a dream, the kind that disintegrates in the light of morning. But dreams were chaotic, fragmented. This was structured. Layered. It wasn't something his imagination conjured—it was knowledge. And it was his.
The realization hit like a cold shock to the spine. The blur of images sharpened. The knowledge buried beneath his consciousness surged forward, no longer a distant murmur but a truth screaming to be recognized.
Then came the pain. A sharp, searing pulse shot through him, igniting every nerve like a live wire. His fingers clenched reflexively, tearing through the sheets as if they were paper. His breath hitched. His bones ached.
His heart thundered. Every cell in his body screamed with an energy that he never knew had always been there—dormant, waiting. Now, it was awake.
Minutes passed. Or maybe seconds. It was impossible to tell.
The storm within him slowed, not vanishing but settling, turning into something contained. His mind adjusted, his body acclimated. A new normal.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
Light—blinding, searing—poured from them.
His breath stilled. He barely had a moment to process before the energy behind his gaze surged forward, raw and volatile. His instincts screamed, and his hands shot up, pressing against his eyes just as the power threatened to escape.
A muffled crack split the air. The mattress beneath him groaned, the wooden frame shuddering under the invisible force pressing outward.
He forced himself to steady his breathing, to wrestle the energy back under control. It resisted, like a wild current fighting to break free. Slowly. Carefully. It relented.
Only when he was certain it had fully settled did he lower his hands.
Silence filled the room. His pulse was still a frantic rhythm in his ears, but the storm had passed. For now.
Ben exhaled sharply, staring at the faint scorch marks now burned into the ceiling.
"What the hell just happened?"
"Oh right," Memories snapped into place like a puzzle finally completing itself. He knew exactly what had happened. But first—he needed a mirror.
He shot upward, rushing to the nearest reflective surface. The moment he caught sight of his reflection, he froze, slightly awestruck.
He looked like Ben 10. No—he was Ben 10. The only real difference was his hair, slightly different hair style, jet-black hair instead of brown, and his physique—he was noticeably more built, lean muscle packed onto his frame.
That part was likely due to the fact that he had just activated his cheat ability. A grin tugged at his lips as memories of how he got here resurfaced. He remembered that day all too well. In fact, he remembered it as if it had just happened.
He had been walking home, minding his own business, when the very fabric of space warped around him. Reality itself cracked like fractured glass, revealing an endless abyss beyond. Panic set in instantly. He turned to run, but the cracks spread faster than he could move.
Then—nothing.
Everything within a ten-meter radius was simply erased from existence. No explosion, no warning, just gone. His body, his home, his very presence in the universe—erased. Only his soul had somehow managed to barely escape the annihilation.
He remembered floating in that endless void for what felt like an eternity. No time, no space, no sound. Just the abyss.
Then, he had met him.
The so-called Son of Rob—the being responsible for his complete erasure from existence. At first, the realization crushed him. No one from his previous world even remembered him. His history, his experiences, his very identity had been erased as if he had never been born.
Rage and grief boiled within him. He lashed out, cursing the being before him, demanding answers. But after an exhausting tirade, the cosmic entity made him an offer—reincarnation.
At that moment, he had agreed without hesitation.
The world was chosen at random—a spinning wheel of fates. When it finally landed, he saw the name:
"Invincible."
His heart stopped. He knew that world. A universe filled with godlike warriors, where Viltrumites dominated, where strength was the only thing that truly mattered.
He didn't panic. Not yet.
Because the perks came next.
His perks wheel landed on Ben 10. Initially, he was to be granted only five alien abilities, but with a little guilt-tripping, he managed to negotiate for ten. Of course, there were restrictions—no Alien X, no Clockwork, no Atomix.
Some of the most broken aliens were off the table. But that didn't mean he was powerless. He could choose any five aliens he wanted and the remaining five would be chosen at random.
He had chosen carefully, wisely. He wasn't going to waste his second chance.
His first pick? Way Big.
The reason was obvious—Way Big was the only alien he could see rivaling Viltrumites in raw strength. He had often imagined what it would be like if all that power were compressed into a human-sized body. The result? A force of nature capable of delivering devastating attacks.
Way Big, a To'kustar, belonged to a race of titans born in the heart of cosmic storms. These beings possessed immense strength, near-invulnerability, and speeds that defied logic. But what set them apart was their ability to harness and unleash cosmic energy in the form of powerful energy rays.
Even the notoriously durable Viltrumites would struggle against direct cosmic energy attacks. If his strength alone wasn't enough to match them, then his energy blasts would ensure he had the upper hand. And, of course, To'kustars could survive in space—an essential trait for any battle beyond Earth's atmosphere.
The second alien he chose was Jetray. His reasoning was simple: flight speed. If he wanted to keep up with Viltrumites, he needed an alien that wasn't just capable of flight but could rival their breakneck speeds—and Jetray fit the bill perfectly.
As an Aerophibian, Jetray's base speed was already several times the speed of sound, but when pushed further, his travel speed could reach the speed of light. That alone made him a formidable choice.
But speed wasn't Jetray's only advantage—his neuroshock beams, fired from his eyes, could shut down an opponent's nervous system in an instant. Against weaker foes, a single blast would render them completely incapacitated.
Additionally, Aerophibians were immune to radiation and highly resistant to extreme temperatures, whether searing heat or freezing cold. Electricity? That, too, was ineffective against them. And like To'kustars, they were perfectly capable of surviving in the vacuum of space.
Ben stared into the mirror, his expression dark with frustration.
"I can't believe that so-called son of Rob left me on autopilot for seventeen years," he muttered, his voice edged with dissatisfaction.
Even though he already knew what he looked like, he still found himself staring. This was him. Ben.
He had always been Ben, even if this life had shaped him in its own way. The memories of his past life remained intact, but they felt distant—like stories he had read rather than experiences he had lived.
They carried weight, yes, but his emotions, his relationships, and the moments of this life were fresher, stronger.
At best, his past was knowledge, information without the depth of real attachment. It had awakened too late to truly redefine him.
His fists clenched as he let out a slow breath, old emotions stirring. A familiar heaviness settled in his chest, but then something else clicked.
"Gwen?"
His eyes narrowed. That wasn't right. She shouldn't be here. Neither should—
"Kevin?"
They shouldn't exist here—not in this reality. But they did.
Things here were different. Gwen wasn't his cousin. Their parents had been close friends, and they had grown up together like family, but the blood ties weren't there. And Kevin… He hadn't been some rogue outcast or loner.
They had met early in high school, clicking almost instantly. The three of them had become inseparable, a tight-knit trio that balanced each other out.
Gwen was the smartest of them, sharp and always a step ahead. Ben wasn't far behind, though he liked to think his strengths lay elsewhere. Kevin? He was the wildcard, the troublemaker—their personal agent of chaos.
A small smile flickered on Ben's lips at the thought of them, but it faded just as quickly when another realization struck.
"Do they have powers in this reality?"
He had never seen any signs of it. Or had he? Had he simply overlooked the clues? His mind raced, combing through old memories—conversations, offhand comments, strange coincidences.
"Was that the secret they've been keeping from me?"
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. His fingers unconsciously tapped against the dresser as the pieces began to fall into place.
"That has to be it," he murmured. Whatever it was, he'd find out tonight.
Ben picked up his phone from the bed and checked the time. 19:20. Exactly ten minutes before seven-thirty. He had to prepare.
"I reek of sweat," he muttered, sniffing his shirt. A shower was necessary.
He approached the door and extended his hand to grab the handle, but before he could grip it tightly, the metal groaned under his strength. He realized his mistake instantly. Pulling away, he stared at the dent he had already made.
"I need to get my strength under control, and fast" he thought worriedly, flexing his fingers as the weight of the situation settled on him.