The moment they crossed the tower's threshold, the temperature plummeted.
The change was immediate and visceral—breath turned to visible fog, skin prickled with sudden goosebumps, and the air itself seemed to solidify into something thick and hostile. Ice crystals formed on every metal surface, creating fractal patterns that caught and refracted the dim emergency lighting.
This was indeed a massive structure—five or six hundred meters tall, easily twice the height of Paris's famous Eiffel Tower. But where that monument represented human achievement and beauty, this tower radiated only cold, alien purpose.
The exterior showed extensive damage. Massive claw marks scored the reinforced walls. Entire sections of paneling had been torn away, exposing the complex refrigeration systems beneath. Someone—something—had clearly rampaged through this facility with extraordinary strength.
"Looks like the DNAliens have all evacuated," Sirius XII observed, his luminous eyes scanning the destruction with professional assessment.
"You're actually quite fortunate," he continued, his tone carrying dark amusement. "Two of my people were assigned to manage this tower. One of them was me."
He gestured around the damaged interior.
"And I just happened to be transported to your alternate universe mission. Otherwise, even if my people evacuated with your missing person, I would have personally continued leading the DNAlien forces in assault operations."
Pride colored his voice despite everything. The confidence wasn't empty boasting—it was simple statement of capability.
This was understandable, Ben supposed. Even before their Cosmic Cube enhancement, the Highbreed had been formidable combatants. Now, with their augmented abilities, they were genuinely dangerous.
Forget Dr. Connors—even the Hulk might struggle against an enhanced Highbreed in short-term combat. Yes, Banner's anger-based power scaling was theoretically unlimited. But the process of accumulating that rage took time, and time was often the difference between victory and death.
Moreover, while the potential for strengthening might be infinite, human emotional capacity wasn't. At a certain threshold, anger could transform into its opposite—fear, helplessness, the psychological breaking point where the mind simply couldn't sustain the intensity anymore.
"But you're actually quite unlucky," Ben countered, his tone conversational, "because the person you're about to face next is me."
"I acknowledge your strength," Sirius XII said, his voice carrying the patient condescension of someone explaining reality to a child. "But you remain far too arrogant about your capabilities. You have no concept of what you're about to encounter."
He spread his arms, emphasizing the scale of the threat.
"Hundreds of my kindred. Perhaps thousands, depending on how many were recalled from field operations. Each one possessing power that could challenge your strongest heroes individually—"
Sirius XII's voice died mid-sentence.
Because Ben Parker had just transformed into a Highbreed right in front of him.
The Omnitrix flared with green light. Ben's human form stretched and expanded, bones restructuring themselves with audible pops and cracks. White fur erupted across rapidly growing musculature. Arms lengthened, fingers extending into clawed appendages. His chest cavity developed the characteristic opening that housed the Highbreed's secondary respiratory system—the tentacle-like organs that could extend and retract.
Within seconds, Ben stood before Sirius as a perfect specimen of the Atasian species.
This...
Even among his own people, this was a remarkably high-grade physical specimen. The symmetry was flawless, the musculature perfectly distributed. No genetic degradation, no signs of the breakdown that plagued every other member of the species.
"And now?" Ben asked, his voice carrying the natural resonance of Highbreed vocal cords.
Sirius XII stood speechless for several long moments.
"...Let's just go," he finally managed.
You've already transformed into one of us. What can I possibly say to that?
They proceeded deeper into the tower together.
"The refrigeration system has been completely destroyed," Sirius XII observed, examining the damaged equipment with professional interest. "The DNAliens can no longer be cultivated here. That explains the evacuation."
The cold air lingering in the facility was just residual, leftover from when the systems had been operational. Even most of the accumulated snow had already melted, forming small rivers that trickled down the tower's interior and pooled in the lower levels.
Sirius studied the destruction—walls torn open, machinery crushed, support structures bent at impossible angles. The tower looked like a house that had been thoroughly wrecked by an oversized, hyperactive dog.
It gave him a concrete understanding of the captured creature's destructive capabilities.
Roughly equivalent to a Vaxasaurian, he assessed mentally. The species you call Humungousaur. Perhaps Divine Tyrannosaurus level in combat effectiveness.
Even that would have made the creature slightly inferior to pre-enhancement Atasians, let alone their current augmented state.
But for what Sirius still mentally classified as a "lower race," the feat was genuinely impressive.
Even though he'd consciously changed his views on humanity, even though he intellectually recognized the errors in his past beliefs, Sirius XII found it extraordinarily difficult to override his subconscious arrogance. Millennia of cultural conditioning couldn't be erased by a few days of revelation.
"The wormhole passage is this way," he said, leading Ben toward the tower's central chamber.
Along the route, they passed dozens of massive transparent tanks filled with cloudy, semi-frozen liquid. Within each container floated DNAlien larvae in various stages of development—pale, twisted forms waiting to hatch in the cold water.
But the refrigeration system's destruction had doomed them. Without the precise temperature control, these embryos had fallen into involuntary hibernation. They'd never wake naturally.
The wormhole generator occupied the tower's heart—a massive ring of exotic matter and Kree crystalline technology that bent space-time into a stable tunnel.
They stepped through.
Reality twisted. Colors inverted briefly. Then snapped back into focus.
They'd traveled instantaneously from Earth to somewhere in Kree space, millions of light-years covered in a single step.
"It must be acknowledged," Ben said, studying the wormhole technology with genuine appreciation, "your species' technological capabilities are formidable."
The Highbreed faced a crisis similar to what the Kryptonians had experienced. But where Kryptonians had been trapped by rigid social programming—unable to adapt their thinking to changing circumstances—the Atasians had lost genetic diversity through different means.
Almost all living Highbreed were remarkably similar in their gene arrangement, their DNA nearly identical. Like clones grown from a single source, subjected to minimal variation over countless generations.
Their offspring, like Japan's historical royal family with its restricted marriage pools, naturally suffered from compounding genetic diseases.
As soon as Ben and Sirius XII emerged from the passage, they encountered a massive force of DNAliens in coordinated movement.
The creatures were barely recognizable as having once been Kree—their blue skin turned pale and mottled, their bodies twisted into new configurations optimized for violence rather than civilization. They moved with insect-like coordination, responding to pheromone signals invisible to most species.
"These were all Kree citizens," Sirius XII explained, his tone clinical. "After being parasitized by an embryo, the original host's genetic code is forcibly overwritten and the body transformed into these... lesser organisms."
His expression was difficult to read.
"Steve Rogers would have suffered the same fate if the Cosmic Cube hadn't taken him from this."
The DNAliens immediately parted before the two Highbreed, creating a path with military precision. In their limited consciousness, Highbreeds were gods—divine beings whose commands could not be questioned or defied.
But the perspective was quite different when viewed by actual Atasians.
"You... you're Sirius XII?" An approaching Highbreed stopped abruptly, his luminous eyes widening with shock and disbelief.
"It's me," Sirius XII confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Shame flooded through him. He tried desperately to cover his body with his arms, to hide the green spots marking his contamination.
His awkward body language made him look like someone caught naked in public, desperately trying to cover himself while knowing it was futile.
This is all Ben Parker's fault, Sirius thought with miserable certainty.
"Why has your body become like this?" The other Highbreed's voice mixed horror with disgust. "What happened to you? And who is your companion?"
His claws extended reflexively, the gesture suggesting he might execute Sirius on the spot for the crime of genetic pollution.
As for Ben—still in Highbreed form—he seemed to warrant barely a glance. Just another member of the species, unremarkable in appearance.
After all, in his current transformation, Ben actually looked more like a pure, uncontaminated Atasian than Sirius XII, whose body was covered with green spots where the Swampfire genetic integration had expressed itself visibly.
Sirius initially flinched under his kinsman's horrified stare. But then he remembered the fundamental truth: his people's future offered only two paths. Either everyone would eventually look like him, or everyone would die.
That realization straightened his spine.
"I have found a method to save our species," he said, his voice gaining strength. "The genetic collapse in my body has been completely resolved. I'm stable. Healthy. No longer degrading."
He lifted his head to meet the other Highbreed's eyes directly.
"I demand an audience with the Reinrassic Council!"
His declaration carried across the facility. Other Highbreed emerged from adjoining corridors and elevated platforms, drawn by the commotion.
Most of them looked virtually identical—cut from the same genetic template. Even their distinctive body patterns were nearly indistinguishable, varying by only minor details.
However, occasionally a more advanced specimen appeared among them. These elite individuals were larger, stronger, their musculature more developed. Natural leaders and warriors, distinguished by minor genetic advantages that hadn't yet been erased by inbreeding.
"Sirius XII," one of the larger specimens called out, his voice carrying authority. "Explain those spots covering your body. Explain that arm's obvious contamination. Have you actually tarnished our noble bloodline?"
The accusation rippled through the assembled Atasians.
As a species whose intelligence was arguably second only to the Galvans—and one of the few civilizations in the known universe capable of deliberately modifying other species' genetic structures—the Highbreed were extraordinarily sensitive to biological changes.
They could see what had been done to Sirius XII. The alterations were obvious to their enhanced perception.
"Sirius XII," another voice called out, thick with condemnation, "your actions have brought shame upon your entire lineage! You are a disgrace to our species!"
"And you!" The attention suddenly shifted to Ben.
"You, Ben Parker!"
"You lowly creature, how dare you imitate our form!"
Ben was genuinely surprised. "You actually recognized me? I'm impressed."
"We're not blind yet, alien." The speaker's tone dripped with contempt. "Your Omnitrix symbol has already been extensively documented in our intelligence files. The energy readings are unmistakable."
After transforming into Highbreed form, the Omnitrix's symbol had relocated to Ben's chest—positioned where it would be most protected by the species' natural armor. The distinctive symbol was quite visible if one knew what to look for.
"Actually," Ben said, deactivating the transformation and reverting to his human form, "I didn't particularly want to become like you anyway."
He gestured dismissively.
"You're riddled with genetic disorders. Constant pain, degenerating cellular structures, shortened lifespans despite your technological advancement. What a pathetic way to exist."
The Highbreed might be individually powerful, but their broken genome caused their bodies to ache constantly. It was chronic, inescapable suffering—like a toothache that never ended, never provided relief, just ground down the victim's will over decades.
"You inferior creature!" The nearest Highbreed roared, his composure completely shattered. "What could you possibly understand about our burden?!"
He turned to address the assembled Atasians, his voice rising to command attention.
"Fellow Atasians! Sirius XII's bloodline has been corrupted beyond redemption! He has betrayed everything our noble species represents! Execute him immediately—and eliminate that inferior being who dares mock our suffering!"
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