Omnitrix Tyrant: The Strategist of Universe 7

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Pain.

A deep, burning ache spread through his body, as if he had been thrown into a furnace and spat back out. His head throbbed, his muscles screamed in protest, and his skin felt like it was shifting unnaturally. The sensation was so overwhelming that for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.

Then, the reality of his situation set in.

His eyes snapped open, and the world around him came into focus.

The sky above was a deep purple, stars glimmering in the distance. Two suns hung in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the barren, rocky landscape. The air was thick with a strange energy, making his skin tingle. The ground beneath him was cracked and lifeless, stretching into the horizon like a wasteland.

This wasn't Earth.

Memories rushed into his mind—disjointed fragments of a life that no longer existed. He had died. He wasn't sure how, but he knew it had happened. Yet, here he was, alive, breathing, in a completely different body.

And then he felt it—the heavy weight on his wrist.

Slowly, he lifted his arm, staring at the device strapped tightly to his skin. A familiar hourglass symbol glowed faintly, pulsing with energy.

The Omnitrix.

He felt his heart pound. This was real. He had somehow become Ben 10, but in a world that wasn't his own.

He pushed himself up, his limbs feeling stronger yet unfamiliar. His balance was off, his weight shifting awkwardly. Something was different about him—something more than just the Omnitrix.

Stumbling forward, he spotted a small, still pool of water nearby. He hesitated before kneeling beside it, bracing himself for what he might see.

The face staring back at him wasn't what he expected.

He was ugly. Not just different—hideous. His skin was rough and uneven, scars crisscrossing his face like battle wounds. One of his eyes was slightly larger than the other, and his nose looked like it had been broken multiple times. His hair was an unkempt mess, wild and tangled.

His stomach twisted.

"This… isn't ideal."

In all the ways he had imagined reincarnation, he hadn't expected this. He was used to the typical tropes—reborn as a prodigy, given an overpowered ability, or at the very least, looking normal. Instead, he looked like a mutant reject.

But that didn't matter. Looks were the least of his concerns.

Where was he?

And more importantly—when was he?

His gaze flickered back to the Omnitrix. If he had this, then he had power. That meant he had options.

Pressing the dial, the familiar holographic menu projected from the device, displaying a list of alien forms. He quickly scrolled through them.

XLR8

Four Arms

Wildmutt

Heatblast

Grey Matter

And a few others.

No Ultimate Forms. No Alien X.

"Figures. Wouldn't want things to be too easy."

Even with these limitations, the Omnitrix still made him one of the most dangerous beings alive. But he needed information before making any big moves.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

He turned sharply, his body tensing. In the distance, a group of warriors was moving toward him. Their armor was battle-worn, their bodies muscular, and their spiky black hair made his stomach drop.

Saiyans.

His heart pounded.

This was bad. If he had landed on Planet Vegeta before its destruction, then he was in serious trouble. He had no identity here, no connections, and no way to prove himself. Saiyans didn't tolerate weakness.

The leader of the group stepped forward, a tall, imposing Saiyan with a deep scar running down his cheek. His arms were crossed, his eyes filled with suspicion.

"You. Who the hell are you?"

His mind raced. If he answered wrong, he'd be dead before he could even use the Omnitrix. But if he played this right…

Instead of speaking, he lifted his wrist and slammed his hand down on the Omnitrix.

A burst of green light engulfed him, his body morphing, muscles expanding. His skin turned a deep red, his arms doubling in number. Four Arms emerged from the transformation, his massive frame towering over the Saiyans.

Silence.

The scarred Saiyan narrowed his eyes but didn't move. The others tensed, their hands twitching toward their scouters and weapons.

"You think size alone makes you a warrior?" The leader smirked. "Pathetic."

A test. They wanted to see if he was worth their time.

Fine.

He would show them.

The first Saiyan lunged, a fist aimed directly at his chest. He barely had time to react, raising one of his massive arms to block. The impact sent a shockwave through the air, but he didn't budge.

Another came from the side, aiming a kick at his ribs. This time, he countered, grabbing the Saiyan's leg with his lower left hand and slamming him into the ground with a bone-crunching force.

The others charged in unison.

He roared, meeting them head-on. His upper fists clashed against two opponents, sending them skidding backward. One tried to get behind him, but he twisted his torso unnaturally, his lower arms grabbing them mid-air and throwing them into another Saiyan.

Dust kicked up around them. The scouters on their faces beeped erratically as they reassessed his power level.

The leader remained still, watching carefully. Then, without warning, he disappeared—and reappeared right in front of him.

The punch landed squarely against his chest, sending him flying backward. He crashed into a jagged rock formation, the impact sending cracks through the surface.

He gritted his teeth, shaking off the pain. That guy was fast. Too fast.

His lower arms pushed off the ground, launching himself forward. The Saiyan sidestepped at the last second, but he anticipated it. His lower right fist lashed out, catching the warrior in the side.

The Saiyan grunted but barely staggered.

Shit. He was strong.

"Not bad," the leader muttered, rolling his shoulder. "But not good enough."

In a flash, the Saiyan appeared above him, hands glowing with energy.

"DIE!"

The blast exploded against him, swallowing everything in fire and smoke. The force sent him flying again, his body skidding across the rocky ground before slamming into a boulder.

His transformation flickered. His Omnitrix beeped, warning of a time limit.

He was running out of time.

Struggling to his feet, he forced himself to think.

Brute force wouldn't work. Not yet. He needed an edge.

A plan formed in his mind. He grinned despite the pain.

Fine. If strength wouldn't win this fight, then he'd just have to cheat.

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End of Chapter 1