Six months had passed since the Ancient One last stepped into Kai's life and vanished like smoke in sunlight.
Since then, the sanctuary had returned to its steady breath of life—tranquil days, crystalline skies, and quiet watchfulness. But Kai had not been idle.
Each morning began the same.
Meditation. Breath control. Energy resonance.
But his days weren't shaped by stillness alone. The sanctuary had granted him access to their ancient libraries and silent sparring halls. With Lira's help and the guidance of the elders, Kai began refining his combat style—not just for himself, but for his alien forms.
Every alien was a body. A rhythm. A shape with its own rules.
He created footwork for XLR8 like a dancer navigating speed with precision.
Form drills for Humungousaur based on leverage, not brute force.
Fluid aerial movements for Jetray, even when blindfolded.
Each form now reacted faster, hit harder, endured longer.
Six months in, his alien street had increased in power by 100 percent, if not more.
But even so… something felt unfinished.
It happened just after midnight.
Kai sat alone in his chamber, drawing geometric breath patterns across the surface of a resonance scroll. The Omnitrix on his wrist hummed quietly, as it often did when syncing with the surrounding energies.
But then—
FLASH
It pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then exploded in brilliance, bathing the entire room in emerald firelight. The markings around the face spun faster than ever before, and suddenly—without his touch—the watch engaged.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kai's head snapped back.
His mind opened.
And the memories flooded in.
He saw things he couldn't describe.
He saw the first Omnitrix prototype, deep in a dying star system, crafted by beings older than time.
He felt the sorrow of a billion extinct species—cataloged, mourned, stored.
He experienced the primal directive encoded into every fiber of the device: Preserve what must not vanish.
Rebuild what was lost.
And in that cascade of visions, one truth stood above all:
> The Omnitrix was not just a weapon It's a cradle for what was forgotten.
And it had chosen today to fulfill its most sacred task.
The visions faded.
Kai stumbled forward, hand on his chest.
The Omnitrix was still glowing—but this time not in chaos. It was focused. Precise.
He understood.
"You've been working this whole time and waiting for my time to master urja," he whispered. "Haven't you?"
Six months of quiet calibration. Genetic refinement. Subconscious mapping.
And now… it was time.
He raised his hand.
Beep.
The transformation was smoother than ever.
He became Lumacite—but not the same Lumacite as before.
His form now pulsed with dense, radiant Urja energy—the raw life current of the sanctuary itself. His crystalline skin glowed with inscriptions, and his presence stirred the chamber's architecture into harmonic resonance.
"I… feel everything," he whispered.
For the first time, he was truly feeling the form.
With a breath, Kai raised his hand—and the air answered.
Energy coiled around him.
The Omnitrix projected blueprints—genetic scaffolds of the original Lumacite race, pieced together from the DNA sample stored within.
Kai placed his hands on the ground.
And willed it into being.
From the soil, pillars of light emerged.
And within them—shapes formed.
Crystalline bodies. Flickers of consciousness. Beings once thought lost.
Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
Dozens.
Newborn Lumacite—reborn under the stars, standing slowly on legs of translucent stone, their eyes flickering open with raw wonder.
And all of them… looking at him.
"Progenitor," one of them whispered.
Kai dropped to his knees.
He didn't feel powerful.
This was his mission, Omnitrix mission.
Not just fighting. Not just survival.
But restoration.
And the Omnitrix—the ever-mysterious, misunderstood device—had trusted him to begin this sacred task.
Dozens of Lumacite stood tall and awake—singing a low, harmonic song that hadn't been heard in eons.
At their center, Kai stood among them.
The first of his kind reborn.
And somewhere, in the great beyond, the Collectors surely felt the tremor.