Ben ran.
Not like a hero sprinting into battle.
Not like a warrior charging fate.
He ran like prey.
Stone cracked beneath his crystalline feet as he tore down the mountainside, lungs burning even through Diamondhead's hardened body. Wind howled past his ears, carrying with it the distant hum of Qi slicing through the air behind him.
The old man wasn't chasing him openly.
That was the terrifying part.
Ben could feel him—like a shadow pressed against his spine, patient, certain, confident that escape was temporary.
"Okay, Ben, think," he muttered, breath ragged. "You've escaped bigger guys than this before. Space warlords, crazy plumbers, evil clones—okay, maybe not the clone part—but still!"
A blast of Qi slammed into the ground behind him.
The explosion hurled Ben forward, his body skidding violently across loose gravel and shattered stone. Diamond splintered off his shoulder, clinking uselessly down the slope.
"Gah—!"
Pain exploded through him. Real pain. Not the dulled sensation he usually felt in alien forms, but something sharp and invasive, like his nerves were screaming in protest.
The Omnitrix pulsed once.
Cooldown active.
Ben's heart sank.
"Great," he hissed. "Just great."
He forced himself up, Diamondhead's form flickering slightly at the edges. Cracks ran along his forearm—thin, spiderweb fractures glowing faintly green before stabilizing.
That old guy wasn't just strong.
He was operating on a completely different scale.
Ben ducked into a narrow ravine, crystalline hands tearing through thorny underbrush as he squeezed between jagged rocks. The air here was damp, thick with the smell of moss and iron-rich stone.
For half a second, everything went quiet.
No pressure.
No killing intent.
Ben slowed, chest heaving. "Okay… okay… maybe he lost me."
A soft chuckle echoed through the ravine.
Ben froze.
"You transform as a beast," the old man's voice said calmly, "yet think like a frightened child."
The pressure returned—tenfold.
The ravine collapsed.
Stone walls caved inward as invisible force crushed the narrow passage. Ben threw himself forward just as the rock behind him imploded, shards flying like shrapnel.
He rolled, slammed into open air—and burst out of the ravine onto a forested slope.
Trees towered overhead, ancient and thick, their trunks etched with old scars from forgotten battles. Qi pulsed faintly through the roots, alive, restless.
Ben didn't stop running.
His mind raced as fast as his feet.
I can't fight him. Not even close.
The Omnitrix flickered again, its green glow unstable.
"Come on," Ben whispered. "Just give me something—anything—"
A sharp, primal sensation flooded his senses.
Smell intensified. Sound sharpened. The world blurred into lines of motion and threat.
Wildmutt.
The transformation tore through him violently, replacing crystal with muscle and instinct. His vision vanished—but it didn't matter.
He knew the forest now.
Wildmutt veered sharply, leaping over fallen logs, skidding beneath low branches, zigzagging unpredictably through terrain that would have slowed any pursuer.
Behind him, something crashed through the trees.
Not chasing directly.
Cutting him off.
Wildmutt snarled, claws digging deep as he changed direction again—only to sense danger ahead.
Too late.
A wall of Qi slammed down like a hammer.
The beast was smashed into the ground, dirt and roots exploding upward as Wildmutt howled in pain.
Green light flared violently.
Ben was thrown back into human form, gasping, vision spinning, ribs screaming.
He lay half-buried in churned soil, staring up at the canopy above.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The old man stepped into view, robe untouched by dirt or blood. His expression was calm, eyes glowing faintly with restrained curiosity rather than anger.
"You survived three transformations," he said. "Interesting endurance."
Ben tried to move.
His body refused.
Pressure crushed him flat against the earth, every bone screaming in protest.
"P-please," Ben said through clenched teeth. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
The old man looked at him for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"That," he said softly, "is the most dangerous thing you could say in Murim."
He crouched, two fingers hovering inches above the Omnitrix.
"This artifact does not belong to a child who apologizes for surviving."
The Omnitrix reacted violently.
Green light surged, brighter than before, flooding the forest with an unnatural glow. The pressure around Ben shattered as if struck by lightning.
Ben screamed as pain tore through him—not physical, but internal. His meridians burned, something unfamiliar ripping through channels that didn't exist in his old world.
Qi backlash detected.
Host condition: unstable.
The old man recoiled a step, eyes narrowing.
"So it defends itself."
The forest erupted.
Flames burst outward as Heatblast manifested uncontrollably, firestorm ripping through trees and undergrowth. The heat was suffocating, wild, untamed.
Ben wasn't controlling it.
He was drowning in it.
"Stop—stop—STOP!" he shouted, but the flames roared higher, Yang Qi spiraling out of control.
The old man raised his sleeve, shielding himself, expression shifting from curiosity to calculation.
"An unstable anomaly," he muttered. "Too dangerous to leave alive."
Qi gathered again.
This time—lethal.
Before the attack could fall, something else entered the forest.
A scream.
High-pitched. Terrified.
The old man paused.
Heatblast staggered, flames flickering as Ben's attention snapped toward the sound. Through the fire and smoke, he sensed movement—fragile, weak, panicked.
Human.
Someone else was here.
The old man followed Ben's gaze.
"A mortal," he said dismissively. "Irrelevant."
"No," Ben snapped, panic overriding pain. "Don't—!"
The Qi blade fell.
Ben reacted without thinking.
He threw himself forward, flames condensing into a roaring inferno as he intercepted the attack. The impact hurled him sideways, smashing him through three trees before he finally crashed into the ground.
The forest burned.
Ben lay there, smoke rising from his body, vision flickering between black and green.
Footsteps again.
But lighter this time.
Someone knelt beside him.
A girl.
Young. Dressed in plain cloth, hands shaking as she stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. A basket lay overturned nearby, herbs scattered across the dirt.
"H-he blocked it…" she whispered. "For me…"
The old man's gaze hardened.
"So," he said coldly, "the anomaly has chosen."
He turned away.
"I have confirmed enough. The sect will deal with you."
The pressure vanished.
The old man stepped back—and vanished into the forest, leaving behind scorched earth and a boy barely clinging to consciousness.
The girl hesitated only a second before grabbing Ben's arm.
"You—don't die," she whispered urgently. "If they find you again, you're dead. Come with me."
Ben tried to speak.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Ben woke, the first thing he felt was pain.
Not sharp. Not explosive.
Deep.
Burning.
Like something inside him had been scraped raw.
He lay on a wooden floor, the smell of herbs thick in the air. Dim lamplight flickered overhead.
The girl sat nearby, grinding leaves with trembling hands.
"You're awake," she said softly.
Ben swallowed, throat dry. "Where… am I?"
She hesitated.
"Near a sect," she answered. "Not inside it. Yet."
Ben's stomach dropped.
Outside, distant bells rang.
Low.
Heavy.
Calling.
The Omnitrix pulsed faintly on his wrist.
Words shimmered across its surface again, clearer this time.
Cultivation Path InitializedHost Status: WeakMurim Classification: Prey
Ben closed his eyes.
"So that's how it is," he whispered.
Outside, Murim was waking up.
And it had already decided what he was.