On the Behemoth Star Ring, the air crackled with latent energy, the silence of a battle paused rather than finished. Here, Ex Nihilo and his counterpart, Abyss, remained completely, blissfully oblivious to the momentous decision reached by their masters, a decision that fundamentally betrayed the Builders' own primordial creators.
They also seemed entirely ignorant of the looming multiversal collision crisis, the very catastrophe that supposedly motivated this entire, galaxy-spanning campaign.
"Mother, we—"
"Stop."
The single word, amplified by the power crackling around him, cut through the air. Ben, radiating the star-like energy of the Enigma Force, held up a hand in a prohibitive gesture. It effectively silenced Ex Nihilo mid-sentence.
"I am not your mother." His voice echoed with a power that was only partially his own. "However, I am the one chosen by the Enigma Force, the Universal Power." He paused, the cosmic energy around him swirling as he reconsidered his words. The concept of family felt wrong, tainted, and just... weird.
"You can call me... father." The word sounded strange, ill-fitting as soon as it left his lips. He winced internally. "Actually, no. Calling me 'father' is also prohibited."
He needed a title that conveyed power without the awkward family baggage. "You should address me as King of Sakaar," he said, his tone becoming firm, decisive.
The title wasn't intimate or warm, he knew that. But it carried the appropriate majesty and, more importantly, the authority he needed to project. That would have to suffice.
"As you wish, great King," Ex Nihilo replied without a flicker of hesitation, bowing his golden head.
Names were merely designations, after all. At their level of cosmic existence, concepts like gender or familial ties had long since become functionally meaningless.
"Great King of Sakaar, please wait momentarily," Ex Nihilo continued, his voice resonating with profound, genuine respect. "I have transmitted messages to the Builder mothership. I am confident your... children... will arrive for an audience shortly."
He was right. Almost immediately after he finished speaking, the very fabric of space seemed to darken. The massive mothership, previously holding a high orbital position, began its ponderous approach. This was no mere vessel. The fleet was a construct larger than most planets, a colossal, terrifying structure that resembled an enormous metallic hand. It descended, reaching down with cold indifference, poised to cover the entire Star Ring installation beneath its inescapable shadow.
But something was deeply wrong. The energy coming from the ship was not one of greeting. It felt hostile, focused.
"Are you certain they're coming to meet me?" Ben asked. The cosmic mask of energy couldn't hide the skeptical lift of an eyebrow.
His internal 'Ben' voice supplied the sarcasm. He'd never heard of anyone driving a battle tank directly into the palace throne room when attending a royal audience. The analogy felt apt. More concerning, the Aleph robots that Ex Nihilo had personally ordered to stand down were stirring. Their metallic limbs whirred, and weapons systems were brought back online, clearly preparing to resume combat operations.
"This is..." Ex Nihilo's confident expression dissolved, replaced by a mask of profound embarrassment and confusion. His golden skin seemed to dim.
Ben himself couldn't understand the logic. Why would the Builders continue their assault after witnessing their supposed creator manifest before them? It made no tactical sense.
This was disobedience. It was insubordination on a cosmic scale.
This, he realized with a cold certainty, was usurpation.
Ex Nihilo acted instantly, transmitting another urgent message. His tone shifted from respectful to stern, ringing with authority. "Aleph command, what are you doing?! Why do you continue offensive operations? Our Creator stands before us!"
In the holographic display before them, a new image materialized. It was one of the senior Builders, a dark green creature with an ugly, arrogant, insectoid face.
"We are simply continuing our assigned function," the Builder replied. Its voice was a synthesized drone, possessing a disturbing, mechanical calm. "Clearing unqualified lifeforms to maintain evolutionary potential."
Its multifaceted eyes, glittering like chips of obsidian, didn't shift toward Ben at all. It was a deliberate, calculated insult. It was as though the being radiating the pure, unadulterated Universal Power simply didn't exist. As though cosmic divinity itself was beneath acknowledgment.
"But perhaps we were mistaken in our assessment!" Ex Nihilo argued. The golden being was now visibly distressed, and raw desperation was creeping into his voice. "The great Mother of Creation, our original Creator, has chosen to grant these civilizations another opportunity! Perhaps we should not interfere so directly! We should... we should allow life to discover its own evolutionary path!"
The Builder's response was as cold and empty as the void. "The entity before you has merely obtained the Mother of Creation's power through some parasitic mechanism or technological theft. It cannot represent anything legitimate." The insectoid face stared only at Ex Nihilo. "Ex Nihilo, do not be deceived by superficial displays. Eliminate the contamination. That is your order."
Beneath the swirling mask of cosmic energy, Ben's expression shifted to one of slight, awkward embarrassment.
He had to admit, the Builder was... well, partially correct. He hadn't exactly received the Enigma Force's active, conscious recognition in some divine vision. He'd relied on the Omnitrix's replication capabilities to scan, copy, and channel the Universal Power. It was, by definition, technological means.
But Ex Nihilo interpreted the situation, and the Builder's accusation, completely differently. He wasn't embarrassed. He was genuinely, utterly furious.
"Nonsense!" he roared, and his golden form blazed with a sudden, violent outrage. "You are deceiving yourselves! You are engaging in the willful denial of objective reality!"
He jabbed an accusatory finger at the holographic Builder, now designated Aleph. His voice rose to a shout that shook the installation. "We all understand that the Enigma Force does not manifest within mortals randomly! There is only one possibility for this occurrence! He has been recognized and chosen by the great Mother of Creation herself! The Mother stands physically before these civilizations you have condemned, and you usurpers remain obsessed with your flawed judgment! You even raise weapons against our Creator! This is usurpation! This is cosmic treason of the highest order!"
The Builder's response, when it came, carried an equal and opposite fury. "YOU are the genuine traitor! YOU are the real rebel!"
"We are your creators! The Builders gave you existence and purpose! You are provoking your actual creators by defending this impostor!"
Its voice became a deafening, undeniable command. "Now, immediately execute terraforming protocols on the Behemoth Star Ring! Eliminate these inferior lifeforms as directed!"
Ex Nihilo found himself utterly speechless. He was trapped in an impossible philosophical paradox, his mind a circuit-locked loop.
From his perspective, the Builders' actions constituted usurpation. They were brandishing weapons against the Mother of Creation, an act fundamentally unacceptable to his core programming and beliefs. But simultaneously, if he refused their direct orders, he would become the traitor they accused him of being: a creation rebelling against its makers. He was frozen, his internal logic devouring itself.
The Builder's holographic head finally turned, its multifaceted eyes locking onto Ben for the first time. Its tone was no longer calm; it was dripping with acidic contempt. "As for you, the entity claiming kingship over Sakaar. You have stolen the universe's most fundamental power through despicable technological means. That force is not something creatures like you should possess."
The sentence was passed. "Your transgression cannot be forgiven. You must be completely eliminated!"
For the Builders, this was simple. They would never permit any being who might supersede their authority to exist. They had never been conquered in billions of years, and they had no intention of being conquered now. As for the gods who had originally created them? Those deities could remain "former creators," relegated to ancient history rather than present authority.
"Attack!" the Builder commanded.
The Aleph robots resumed their assault with renewed, terrifying aggression. They surged forward with even greater ferocity than before. Tens of thousands of Aleph units swarmed the Plumber defenders. The battlefield, which had been quiet for a tense few minutes, immediately descended into absolute, screaming chaos.
Caiera, already connected to the Azmuth-based AI network, activated emergency authorization for full Mana access. But even with that cosmic power boost, facing endlessly regenerating Aleph robots was like trying to empty an ocean with a teaspoon.
Ex Nihilo remained frozen in place, a golden statue paralyzed by indecision. He was trapped in that vicious paradox, torn between loyalty to his creators and commitment to what he perceived as justice and truth. He genuinely didn't know which course of action was correct.
Ben, by contrast, had nothing to hesitate about whatsoever. His mind was crystal clear.
If negotiation failed, combat was the appropriate response.
The Builders were indeed formidable opponents, perhaps among the most powerful factions in the known universe. But he wouldn't regret their annihilation, even if it required exterminating every last one. These entities had been arrogant for far too long. They had positioned themselves as gods, with the self-given authority to arbitrarily determine whether other species deserved existence. That philosophical position was fundamentally, violently incompatible with Ben's worldview.
His body erupted with a blinding, cross-shaped radiance, like a miniature star achieving fusion. Wherever that holy light touched, Aleph robots dissipated like vampires exposed to sunlight. Their molecular structures simply ceased to cohere, falling apart into dust.
Then, he launched himself beyond the Star Ring's protective barrier. The Universal Power carried him effortlessly, propelling him through the hard vacuum of space.
His tiny, human-sized figure blazed with such tremendous, raw energy that he appeared magnified against the cosmic backdrop. It was as though reality itself was projecting his form across the heavens at an impossible scale. He resembled a meteor traveling upstream, moving against the current of conventional physics. The Behemoth Star Ring's planetary shield offered zero resistance to his passage; he phased through it as if it were air.
His body, transformed into something that resembled the universe itself in miniature, burst free of the installation's gravity well. He regarded the countless Aleph robots with calm, evaluating eyes before raising one hand. The gesture was both an offer and a final warning.
"Builders, surrender immediately. This is your only opportunity."
The Builders responded. They recalled every single Aleph unit from their various engagements. Countless two-meter-tall standard robots converged like grains of sand forming impossible dunes. The fifty-meter giant combat variants withdrew from their battle against the Evil Giant army. Their bodies liquefied, like the T-1000 Terminator, before merging into a unified, flowing whole.
The result was a singular, super-massive construct. The Ultimate Life Eliminator Aleph.
BOOM!!!
The colossal body seemed to extend toward the observable universe's edge. Its scale defied all comprehension. Its eyes were larger than stars; they were actual stellar masses, captured and repurposed as optical sensors. The entire star field behind it disappeared, blotted out by its physical form. Reality itself seemed to warp and bend around the construct's impossible dimensions.
"Pathetic creature," the Builders' collective voice boomed. It was not a sound, but a vibration in space-time itself, like thunder across dimensions. "Do you genuinely believe you can challenge us with a mere fragment of the Mother of Creation's power? A stolen shard of divinity?"
The robot was so incomprehensibly vast that perceiving its complete form was literally impossible. A mortal mind couldn't process the totality of its existence. With casual movements of its hands and feet, it could pluck entire planets from their orbits like a child collecting marbles.
Looking down at the comparatively microscopic Ben, the Builders manipulated their Aleph avatar. It began to sweep one massive hand through space, a gesture that would extinguish solar systems. They were attempting to brush him aside, like removing a speck of dust from expensive clothing.
"We have surpassed the gods!" they declared, their collective voice filled with absolute, unshakeable confidence. "We are omnipotent—"
BOOM!!
Before their arrogant proclamation could even conclude, Ben, still floating in the void, simply waved his own hand with a matching, casual dismissal.
The entire colossal Aleph construct, this robot built from millions of individual units, this mechanical titan that dwarfed solar systems, evaporated. Instantaneously. It didn't explode. It didn't shatter. It simply ceased to exist, erased at the molecular level as though it had never been constructed at all.
The Builders' magnificent speech cut off mid-declaration. All their carefully prepared words of triumph got stuck in their equivalent of throats. Their hyper-advanced collective brains momentarily forgot how to process information, stunned into a complete, system-wide cognitive shutdown.
They suddenly realized, with a cold, crystalline clarity, that their understanding of divinity had been catastrophically shallow. It was embarrassingly, fatally limited.
A single, casual gesture had completely obliterated their most powerful weapon at the fundamental molecular level. It was a dissolution so absolute that even the individual atoms had been separated.
And now, Ben was approaching their mothership. He moved like a living star, a sun of his own making, with radiance blazing around him that held the power of creation itself made manifest.
For the first time in their billions of years of existence, the Builders, the shapers of galaxies, experienced genuine, overwhelming, primitive fear.
Their collective voice emerged again, this time through the mothership's external comms. It carried none of its previous arrogance. It didn't boom with authority. Instead, it trembled with a desperate, pathetic hope.
"Perhaps... can we negotiate? Reach some form of reconciliation?"