Chapter 125: Azmuth's Assistant
Although the opposing mob was composed entirely of the galaxy's most hardened, formidable criminals, these inmates had no intention of backing down. They vastly outnumbered the small group standing in the center of the prison block, and their sheer numerical superiority fueled their bloodlust.
After all, how could they know they were outmatched without throwing a punch first?
Of course, once the fighting actually started, the reality of their situation would become violently clear. But that was a lesson they would have to learn the hard way.
Seeing the massive crowd practically begging for an execution, Klein let out a quiet sigh. He really hated to disappoint people.
Floating upward, the artificial gravity of the prison holding no sway over him, Klein prepared to clear the room. He raised his hands, angling his palms outward. He had picked up this particular trick from Verdona and spent a few lazy afternoons improving the mana flow to suit his own tastes.
Countless specks of azure light materialized in the dark, grimy air around him. They multiplied exponentially, burning with the blinding brilliance of a miniature galaxy.
He opened his hands.
The blue stars erupted.
Blinding, unstoppable beams of pure mana tore through the mob. They did not just pierce flesh and armor; they punched clean through the reinforced bulkheads of Incarcecon itself. The entire prison structure was instantly riddled with glowing blue holes, looking like a massive, glowing pincushion floating in the dead of space.
In a matter of seconds, the overwhelming majority of the rioting inmates were simply erased. Millions of the galaxy's worst criminals, wiped from existence without a second thought. The sheer scale of the devastation was absolute.
The only inmates left standing were those who possessed highly specialized defensive abilities, or those who were genuinely skilled enough to dodge the initial barrage.
Klein slowly lowered his arms and crossed them over his chest. He floated down, his expression completely flat.
"Alright," Klein said, his voice echoing through the smoking, cratered ruins of the cell block. "Who else has something to say?"
The surviving inmates dropped to their knees.
"No! Nothing at all!"
"We have absolutely nothing to say, my lord!"
What else could they possibly do? One more casual wave of his hand and they would be permanently removed from the census! The hardened criminals instantly transformed into groveling sycophants, pressing their faces against the scorched floorboards, terrified of breathing too loudly.
Tetrax stood frozen. The Petrosapien mercenary stared at the smoking craters where a massive army had stood moments ago. His crystalline jaw hung slightly open, his mind struggling to process the sheer, casual genocide he had just witnessed.
Ben walked up, casually chewing a piece of gum, and patted the rigid mercenary on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You'll get used to it."
Nearby, Vilgax stared at the devastation, his facial tentacles twitching uncontrollably. A cold realization washed over the galactic conqueror. Those inmates had evaporated instantly. Meanwhile, Klein had spent several minutes beating him to a pulp with his bare hands. The anomaly had not been struggling to kill him; he had been holding back the entire time just to enjoy the violence.
Klein surveyed the trembling survivors. "Alright. Where is Azmuth?"
The inmates scrambled over each other, desperate to be the first to answer.
"Azmuth? Who is that? Hey, who here is named Azmuth?!" one prisoner screamed at the crowd, fully embracing his new role as Klein's loyal lackey. "Didn't you hear the boss calling you?! Get out here right now!"
Another inmate, trying to look useful, raised a trembling hand. "I... I remember he is the creator of the Omnitrix, isn't he? Why would a Galvan be locked up in a place like this?"
"I know where he is. I can take you to him."
A towering figure stepped out from the shadows of a collapsed corridor. She was a Chimera Sui Generis, slightly leaner and shorter than Vilgax, but carrying the same imposing biological traits. Blue-green blood oozed from several deep cuts on her arms, though the wounds were already knitting themselves shut with visible speed. She was battered, but in far better condition than the rest of the surviving inmates.
The moment she stepped into the light, the tracking device on Tetrax's wrist began beeping wildly. There was only one explanation. The person standing in front of him possessed the exact DNA signature left on the Omnitrix.
Tetrax lowered his wrist, his eyes narrowing in heavy skepticism. "You are... Azmuth?"
The female alien scoffed.
"Then why does the Omnitrix have your signature?" Tetrax demanded.
She crossed her arms, wincing slightly as a cut on her shoulder closed. "I am Myaxx. Azmuth's assistant. As for the signature... it must have gotten accidentally mixed up in the data streams."
She kept her expression carefully neutral. In truth, she had hardcoded her own signature into the device out of pure spite, tired of the arrogant Galvan completely ignoring her contributions to the project. But she was not about to admit that right now. She needed this heavily armed group to get her off this dreadful rock.
Even though Klein had turned Incarcecon into a glowing blue sieve, the prison's artificial intelligence remained intact. It had already locked down the remaining hangars, meaning there were no other usable spacecraft left on the planet., the Galvanic Mechamorphs stationed here would soon begin their repairs. If she didn't leave with them right now, she would be trapped here forever.
Klein looked her up and down. "Alright. Take her to the ship." He turned his head. "Tetrax, tell Gluto to bring the ship around."
Tetrax gave a stiff nod, tapping his communicator to relay the coordinates.
About ten minutes later, the Resolute hovered near the loading bay. The surviving inmates huddled together near the blast doors, actually waving goodbye to the departing vessel with tears streaming down their faces.
'Please, take care! And never, ever come back!' their expressions screamed.
As the ship detached from the docking ring and ascended into orbit, gelatinous, biomechanical figures began seeping out of the prison's damaged walls. The Galvanic Mechamorphs were already hard at work, melting over the massive holes Klein had blasted through the hull, sealing the breaches.
None of the surviving prisoners even thought about making a run for it. They had just learned a very harsh lesson about the universe. If a single casual wave from a teenager could cause that much destruction, the heavy steel doors of their prison cells suddenly felt incredibly comforting.
Inside the Resolute, the atmosphere was considerably lighter.
Myaxx leaned over the central console, inspecting the cracked faceplate of Ben's Omnitrix. She poked the dial, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "How exactly did you get it into this condition? Have you been using it to pry open ration cans? Or perhaps smashing rocks?"
"Pretty much," Gwen chimed in from the co-pilot seat, flashing a smirk at her cousin.
Ben scowled, crossing his arms. "Hey!"
Tetrax rubbed his temples, feeling a headache forming beneath his crystalline skull. "Can you fix it?"
Myaxx shook her head, stepping back from the console. "No. Azmuth never trusted me enough to teach me the core mechanics."
Tetrax sighed, his shoulders slumping. The entire detour had brought them right back to square one. "So we still have to find Azmuth. Where is he?"
Myaxx met his gaze, her voice deadpan. "Xenon."
Tetrax stiffened, his eyes widening in horror. "Xenon?! No! Why there, of all the miserable places in the galaxy?!"
Gwen shifted in her seat, glancing between the two aliens. "Why do I get the feeling Xenon isn't exactly a luxury vacation resort?"
Klein leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on a nearby console. "Relax, Dork. If you want a real vacation, I can arrange a trip to the Forge of Creation. The locals there are actually quite easy to talk to."
At least, the Celestialsapiens were easy to talk to when he was the one doing the talking.
Gwen had no idea what the Forge of Creation was, but the casual confidence in Klein's voice immediately settled her nerves.
Ben, however, perked up entirely. He didn't know what it was either, but the name sounded incredibly cool. "Whoa! Cousin, I want to go to the Forge of—"
"Go away," Klein cut him off without missing a beat.
Ben deflated, muttering under his breath.
Myaxx tapped the console, bringing up a holographic projection of the flashing Omnitrix. "We need to hurry. If the energy buildup reaches critical mass, the resulting chain reaction will not just vaporize the wearer. It will destroy the entire universe."
Grandpa Max stood up, his expression hardening into the seasoned look of a veteran Plumber. "Then we set a course immediately. We can figure out the details on the way."
"The Tennyson is correct," Vilgax rumbled from the corner of the bridge.
Max blinked, glancing over his shoulder. It was the first time the warlord had ever agreed with him on anything, and the sensation was entirely unsettling.
Vilgax remained stiffly in the corner, keeping a very deliberate distance from Myaxx. The dynamic between the two Chimera Sui Generis was incredibly awkward. Myaxx avoided eye contact, fully aware of Vilgax's terrifying reputation across the galaxy. Vilgax, meanwhile, felt a strange discomfort being around a member of his own species. Looking at her was a stark reminder of his past, back when his own people had branded him a brutal tyrant.
Klein watched the two of them from the corner of his eye, highly amused. For a brief second, he had entertained the idea of playing matchmaker for the galactic conqueror. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Vilgax possessed absolutely zero romantic desires.
The warlord's one and only true love was the Omnitrix.
It was best to leave him to Ben.
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