Ten minutes passed in tense, agonizing silence.
The hum of the supercomputer was the only sound echoing through the ship’s quiet, dimly lit laboratory, save for the rhythmic pulse of the glowing red core.
Suddenly, the gauntlet on the workbench burst into a blinding, crimson radiance that lit up every corner of the room.
The holographic interface flared bright, spinning in rapid, complex geometric patterns before settling into a steady, soft glow.
A crisp, synthesized electronic voice echoed from the device, cold and precise: “Ultimatrix DNA core synchronization complete.
System database successfully updated.
Total active species stored: 10,572.
Ready for immediate user interface.”
Hearing those words, a involuntary shiver ran down Albedo’s spine.
He stood up so fast his chair skidded across the metal deck.
His red eyes locked onto the crimson device resting on the table, his heart hammering against his ribs in a chaotic rhythm of relief and unadulterated triumph.
“Yes…
Yes!” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he reached down to pick up the gauntlet.
He stroked the smooth, newly forged metal, feeling the hum of raw, contained cosmic power beneath his fingertips.
“It works!
After everything—the prison, the flight through space, the endless calculations—I finally have it back.”
The joy surging through him was almost overwhelming, a tidal wave of pride crashing through his mind.
He wasn’t just a survivor anymore; he held the ultimate key to his own destiny.
Unable to resist the urge a second longer, he snapped the red Ultimatrix onto his left forearm.
The gauntlet sealed itself around his wrist with a satisfying, airtight hiss.
He raised his arm and lightly tapped two fingers against the raised face dial.
Click.
A high-density holographic display projected outward in a circular ring above the device.
Dozens of glowing red alien silhouettes flickered in a carousel, each avatar representing an entire species’ biological peak.
Albedo slid his finger across the interface, cycling through the options until he landed on a familiar, small, frog-like form with massive bulbous eyes.
When his selection locked in, the circular faceplate of the Ultimatrix automatically slid upward on micro-hydraulics.
The central core pop-up mechanism rose from beneath, pulsing with a sharp, ominous crimson light.
Albedo took a deep, steadying breath, raised his right hand, and slammed his palm down onto the core.
A flash of blinding red light instantly consumed the entire room, expanding outward like a localized supernova.
In the fraction of a second the flash lasted, his human skeleton shifted, condensed, and reorganized down to the molecular level.
As the light snapped back into the device, a tiny figure stood on the workbench where the teenager had been a moment before.
“Grey Matter!” the little alien declared automatically, his high-pitched, metallic voice echoing off the walls.
Albedo looked down at his grey, three-fingered hands, flexing them experimentally.
He hopped slightly on the metal table, feeling the familiar, absurdly heightened cognitive processing of the Galvan species take over his mind.
Every ambient sound, every vibration in the floor, and every structural seam in the vessel became instantly analyzed in his subconscious.
“Perfection,” he squeaked out, a wide grin spreading across his tiny face.
“The transformation matrix is operating at peak efficiency with zero system drag.”
Now came the real test.
The feature he had spent so much time refining.
Because the Ultimatrix symbol was positioned square in the middle of his back in this form, reaching it manually was awkward.
He cleared his tiny throat and utilized the voice-command override he had coded into the core logic.
“Ultimatrix voice authority code: Ultimate Evolution!”
The red symbol on his back flared instantly.
Streams of crimson light wrapped around his tiny body like a cocoon.
The energy surged violently as the core pushed the Galvan DNA through a simulated, brutal million-year survival environment.
When the light finally dispersed, the small alien had completely changed.
“Ultimate Grey Matter!”
His head was now massive, anchored to a hovering, mechanical anti-gravity cushion to support the enormous brain capacity, while his limbs had become shorter and secondary to his pure mental interface.
He floated effortlessly above the workbench, feeling the sheer, dizzying scale of his augmented intellect.
“The genetic purge protocol is stable,” he noted aloud, monitoring the internal systems.
“No localized consciousness fragments forming in the secondary data stream.
Absolute perfection.”
Satisfied, he triggered the revert sequence.
Another flash of red light swept over him, and he stood back on the laboratory floor in his tall, white-haired human form.
He stretched his neck, letting out a long sigh as he admired his reflection in the dark monitor screens.
“Who is the greatest genius in the galaxy?” he muttered to himself, a smug, deeply narcissistic smirk playing on his lips.
“That’s right, Albedo.
It’s you.”
With the Ultimatrix fully built and tested, a sudden, sharp pang of hunger hit his stomach.
A month of living on synthetic ship rations and emergency space-bars had taken its toll.
“The device is complete,” he said, tapping the red dial on his wrist.
“It’s time to step out into the world.
And first on the agenda…
a massive order of chili fries and an extra-large smoothie.”
He strode out of the vessel, stepping into the cool, fresh air of the forest.
The ship’s cloaking field hummed softly, hiding the metallic giant behind a bend of trees and optical camouflage.
Albedo brought up the Ultimatrix dial, dialed in a fast-runner profile, and slammed it down.
Red light engulfed him once more, transforming him into a sleek, velociraptor-like alien with sphere-like wheels built into its feet.
“XLR8!”
With a loud crack like thunder, he accelerated instantly, turning into a blur of black, white, and red motion as he sprinted out of the woods, tearing across the landscape toward the outskirts of Bellwood at supersonic speeds.
A short while later, Albedo stepped out of a local Mr.
Smoothie establishment on the edge of the city.
He was back in his human body, wearing a dark jacket that concealed the glowing red gauntlet on his arm.
In his left hand, he held a heavy paper bag radiating the savory, heavenly scent of freshly fried potatoes, melted cheese, and spicy chili.
In his right hand sat a massive, bright green cup topped with a plastic dome.
He took a long sip of the frozen drink through his straw, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss.
“An extra-large chili fry and a jumbo smoothie,” Albedo muttered, taking a piping-hot, cheese-covered fry from the bag and tossing it into his mouth.
“Without a doubt, this is the single best thing to happen to me all month.”
His mood was practically invincible.
He felt so triumphant, so utterly above the mundane worries of the world, that he idly thought if the warlord Vilgax showed up right now demanding his device, he might actually give the squid-face a quick beating and let him walk away out of sheer generosity.
He was just about to head toward a quiet park bench nearby to enjoy his feast in peace when two figures stepped directly into his path, blocking the sidewalk.
Albedo paused, lowering his smoothie cup, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
Standing in front of him were two teenagers.
The taller one had dark, messy hair and dark circles beneath his eyes so heavy that Albedo—despite spending weeks working straight through the night without sleep—found himself critically judging the kid’s terrible sleep schedule.
Beside him stood a shorter, stockier kid with brown hair and thick glasses, wearing a sneering, arrogant expression.
Albedo recognized them instantly from his absorbed memories: Cash and JT.
The local, low-level high school bullies who made a habit of picking on Ben Tennyson.
Albedo blinked, genuine confusion washing over him for a second.
What on Earth did these two useless primitives want with him?
Then it clicked.
Apart from his snow-white hair, pale skin, and bright red eyes, his physical frame was identical to Ben Tennyson’s.
To two brainless bullies looking at his back or scanning him from a distance, he looked almost exactly like their favorite punching bag.
Cash crossed his arms, stepping closer with a cruel, smug grin spreading across his face.
JT smirked right beside him, cracking his knuckles in a laughably poor attempt at intimidation.
Albedo looked at the greasy chili fries in his hand, then looked up at the two teenagers, his expression flat, cold, and thoroughly unimpressed.