Chapter 1: The Wish That Wasn't Granted
Arjun Malhotra had always believed that death would feel… dramatic.
Something cinematic. A flash of memories. Regret. Maybe a final realization about life.
Instead, it felt like being erased.
The night air was thick with the smell of rain and petrol as Arjun stepped off the bus, earbuds still in his ears. His phone screen glowed faintly in his palm, an episode paused mid-frame—an old animated show he had rewatched more times than he could count.
Ben 10.
Even at twenty-two, he wasn't ashamed of it.
People laughed when he said it was his favorite series. Called it childish. But for Arjun, it wasn't about aliens or flashy fights. It was about the idea that anyone—no matter how ordinary—could be given a chance to become something more.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and adjusted the strap of his backpack, already thinking about dinner and whether he had enough energy left to rewatch another episode before sleeping.
That was when he heard it.
A scream.
Sharp. High-pitched. Panicked.
Arjun's head snapped up.
Across the street, traffic lights flickered between red and yellow, rain-slick asphalt reflecting distorted halos of light. A small figure stood frozen in the middle of the road—a little girl, no more than eight or nine, clutching a stuffed toy to her chest.
And barreling toward her—
A truck.
Its horn blared, long and desperate. Tires screamed as the driver slammed the brakes, but it was too late. The road was wet. The momentum unforgiving.
People on the sidewalks shouted.
Someone cursed.
Someone else froze.
Arjun didn't think.
His body moved before his mind caught up.
He dropped his bag and ran.
Each step felt absurdly loud. The world narrowed to the space between him and the girl, to the widening headlights of the truck, to the terror etched into her face.
Move, he wanted to shout.
But she couldn't.
So he did.
He reached her just as the truck bore down on them, wrapping his arms around her small frame and throwing himself sideways with everything he had.
The impact was… wrong.
There was no pain at first. Just a deafening sound, like metal tearing the world apart. Then weightlessness. Then a sensation like his body folding in on itself.
The girl was gone from his arms.
Good.
That was the last clear thought Arjun Malhotra ever had.
Pain arrived late, blooming in waves so intense they drowned out everything else. His vision fractured, rain mixing with blood on the pavement. He tried to breathe and failed.
Voices echoed around him, distant and warped.
Someone screamed his name.
Someone else shouted for an ambulance.
Above him, the night sky looked impossibly vast.
So this is it, he thought dimly.
Strangely, there was no panic.
Just… disappointment.
He had always imagined that if reincarnation were real, if fate ever gave him a second chance, he'd want something ridiculous.
Something powerful. Something fun.
As his vision darkened and the sounds of the world faded, a weak smile tugged at his lips.
"If there's a next life…" he whispered, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, "at least give me the Omnitrix."
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Pain returned before light did.
It wasn't sharp like before. It was dull.
Crushing. Everywhere.
Arjun tried to breathe and choked.
Something coarse scratched at his throat.
Dust. He coughed violently, rolling onto his side as his lungs burned. His eyes flew open, only to be greeted by blinding sunlight filtered through cracks in broken concrete.
He sucked in air, chest heaving.
Alive?
That was his first thought.
His second was confusion.
The ground beneath him was cold stone, not asphalt. The air smelled wrong—stale, metallic, with an undercurrent of rot. When he pushed himself up on trembling arms, grit scraped against his palms.
His hands looked… unfamiliar.
Too thin. Too young.
Arjun froze.
A sudden headache exploded behind his eyes, and memories that were not his own came crashing in like a tidal wave.
Names. Places. Fear.
Aarav Kael.
Seventeen years old.
Orphan.
Lower-sector resident of Bastion City–17.
No Awakening.
No talent.
Bullied. Overlooked. Disposable.
Arjun screamed as the memories fused with his own, two lives grinding together until the distinction blurred. He clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp as images of ruined streets, monster sirens, and blood-soaked barricades flashed through his mind.
When it finally stopped, he lay there shaking, gasping like a man dragged back from drowning.
Slowly, painfully, he sat up.
The world around him was broken.
A collapsed building loomed to his left, its skeletal remains jutting into the sky like a rotting corpse. In the distance, massive steel walls encircled the city, etched with glowing runes and reinforced with cannons the size of houses.
Sirens wailed.
Not ambulance sirens.
Warning sirens.
Something roared far away—deep, inhuman, and hungry.
Arjun—no, Aarav—stared at his hands again, flexing his fingers. They obeyed. His heart was pounding, but it was steady. Strong.
This wasn't a dream.
"This is…" His voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar. Younger.
"…another world?"
Before he could process that thought, a sudden burning sensation erupted around his left forearm.
He cried out, clutching it as pain lanced through his nerves. It felt like something was being carved into his flesh—no, deeper than flesh. Into his bones. Into his soul.
Golden-black light seeped through his fingers.
Runes flared into existence, ancient and jagged, wrapping around his arm in a circular pattern. Metal—not metal, something other—formed seamlessly against his skin, shaping itself into a dark armband etched with symbols that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Arjun's breath caught.
This wasn't a watch.
There was no glass. No buttons. No interface.
At its center was a sigil—complex, layered, alive—radiating a pressure that made his instincts scream.
Understanding flooded his mind without words.
Mythbound Sigil.
Soul-linked.
Incomplete.
Bearer confirmed.
"What… the hell…" he whispered.
A crash echoed nearby.
Stone shattered. Dust billowed.
From the shadow of a collapsed alley, something crawled into view.
It was wrong.
Too many limbs. Flesh stretched unnaturally over jagged bone. Its skin was gray and wet, eyes glowing a sickly red as it sniffed the air.
A monster.
An Abyssal Beast.
Aarav's heart slammed against his ribs as terror surged through him. His body screamed at him to run—but his legs refused to move.
The creature turned its head slowly.
Locked onto him.
It shrieked.
The sound was enough to make his ears ring as it charged, claws gouging the ground with terrifying speed.
"No—no, no—!"
The Sigil burned.
Not painfully this time.
Hungrily.
A presence stirred within him—violent, ancient, eager.
Mythform available.
Rakshasa Aspect detected.
Emergency override initiated.
"What does that even—?!"
The world twisted.
His bones cracked as power flooded his veins. Muscles expanded violently beneath his skin, veins turning black-red as his body surged with strength far beyond human limits. His teeth sharpened, a feral snarl tearing from his throat as crimson markings spread across his arms and chest.
Rage.
Pure, intoxicating rage.
The monster leapt.
Aarav moved.
He didn't dodge.
He met it.
His fist crashed into the creature's skull with a sickening crunch, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. Bone shattered.
Flesh exploded.
Blood sprayed.
The beast didn't even have time to scream before it was smashed into the ground, lifeless.
Aarav stood over it, chest heaving, claws dripping red.
For a moment—just a moment—he felt invincible.
Then the power receded.
Agony followed.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping as the Rakshasa Aspect dissolved, leaving his body trembling and his arm still glowing faintly with the Sigil's light.
As footsteps and shouts echoed in the distance, one thought echoed louder than any siren in his mind.
I didn't get the Omnitrix.
His lips twitched upward.
"…I got something worse."