Tyler retracted his liquid-metal form, flinging the broken shock devices onto the floor. The liberated alien warriors stood tall, their eyes burning with a mix of respect and fury. "Boss," Technorg rumbled, bowing his massive head. "We follow your command."
"Good! Everyone, tear these Automaton Deviants apart!!" Tyler roared, leading the charge out of the cafeteria.
In the corridors, the Executioner Droids stood no chance. Technorg and the others were a whirlwind of muscle and rage, but Tyler was a surgical nightmare. He flowed over a droid, possessed it for a split second to disable its safety protocols, and then crushed it with hands transformed into massive iron mallets.
Even Ben was a force to be reckoned with. He snatched a discarded high-tech katana from the floor. "I've fought enough of these freaks to know where the wiring is," Ben laughed, bisecting a droid's power core with a single, practiced strike.
In the command center, Slagel watched the monitors, his face turning a sickly shade of purple. "How?! How can two Earthlings stir up a slave riot of this scale?"
"Lord Slagel," his strategist whispered, "they're nearing the engine room. If they reach the core, the cruiser is lost."
Slagel's eyes narrowed. A twisted grin spread across his face. "If they want a fight, let's give the audience a finale they'll never forget. Activate the Phasing Spotlights!"
In an instant, beams of white light swept through the corridors, trapping Tyler and Ben. Before they could react, gravity vanished. When the light faded, they were back in the center of the Slagel Arena. The other warriors were gone—Slagel had dispersed them into separate killing zones to isolate the brothers.
"Terrans!" Slagel's voice boomed over the speakers. "You broke the rules. Now, you get to meet the entire stockpile of the Slagel Arena. Die for our entertainment!"
The gates hissed open. Hundreds of mechanical werewolves, crab-like monsters, and armored droids swarmed into the sand. The audience was in a frenzy, throwing bottles and screaming for blood. Slagel watched from his hoverboard, holding a high-output laser rifle. "Your transformation time is ticking, Tyler Levison. Let's see you survive the swarm!"
"Tyler, do I transform now?" Ben asked, reaching for the Omnitrix.
"No," Tyler said, his voice gravelly. "I'm almost at the limit. Once my Release happens, you go."
Tyler slammed the dial, becoming The Blood-Tyrant (Humungousaur). He didn't just fight; he became a meat-grinder. Every punch turned an automaton into scrap metal. He grew to his mountain-sized height, physically blocking the gates with his own body to prevent the army from flooding the arena.
Slagel realized his droids were being slaughtered. "All units! Target the giant! Forget the others—focus everything on the big one!"
A barrage of lasers rained down. Tyler's armored skin held, but the warning beeps of the Carnitrix were becoming a frantic rhythm. Biu~ biu! The time was up.
"Hahahaha! He's failing!"
"Tear him apart!"
"Deathmatch! Deathmatch!"
The alien audience laughed, treating Ben like a cricket in a jar as Slagel chased him with the hoverboard, preventing him from ever getting a second to slam his watch.
Tyler looked at the stands. He saw the bloodlust in the eyes of the spectators. He realized that in this room, aside from Ben, there wasn't a single soul worth saving. His gentle gaze hardened into a piercing, murderous glare.
He summoned every ounce of his new Mental Energy, clutching the red dial on his chest as his body began to revert to human form.
"You want a show?" Tyler whispered. "Let's try the Glitch-Slaughter Protocol... let's see if I can control the devil."
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