Arsenal597
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Omni-Blood (SI Ben 10 x Invincible)
- Thread starter Arsenal597
- Start date
Chapter 4: The Conqueror
New
Arsenal597
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Dec 3, 2025
- Messages
- 74
- Likes received
- 975
Chapter 4: The Conqueror
Slipping through the ever-expanding, dark void of space was the ship controlled by Vilgax the Conqueror. The ship was extremely quiet by this time, as he sat alone on the command dais, one massive arm resting against the edge of the console. Holographic images hovered in the air before him, rotating slowly on a loop.
He growled under his breath, looking at the devastation that was Galvan Prime. The news had come across his board only in the last few cycles. The projections were pulled from long-range scans. Vilgax had surveillance drones watching the planet for some time, mostly due to the inventor Azmuth residing there. Someone with a mind like his was a formidable foe to keep an eye on.
The holograms painted a picture Vilgax knew all too well: cities torn open from above, landmasses gouged and broken. Entire regions were simply gone, reduced to ash, debris, or nothing at all.
Vilgax's red eye narrowed slightly as the image shifted, zooming in on a ruined metropolis. Galvan architecture, which even he had admitted was a sight to behold, now twisted into jagged skeletons that left him feeling uneasy. He could understand the violence, the brute force of it, but that was only when applied to the right area. If there was one single thing the Viltrum Empire was lousy at, it was damage mitigation.
They did not operate as a scalpel. In their desire to be the reigning species, replenishing their numbers, the Viltrum Empire was more likely to scorch a planet than leave innocent bystanders aside. No, they liked making a spectacle of their prey. Vilgax could commend them for the act, but devastation for the sake of devastation was not something he could abide by. Especially when it came to some of the galaxy's brightest minds.
Galvans were small creatures, but their brains far made up for it. Some of the greatest creations Vilgax had ever come across in his travels were in part due to them. It was for this reason alone that Vilgax felt the slightest sense of sympathy and compassion for the species.
He knew the singular being responsible for this, even without the reports. Thragg's greatest weapon:
Conquest.
Just the name alone was enough to send a chill through Vilgax's body. He had faced Viltrumites before, though it was never by choice. He knew better than to underestimate those fiendish brutes. When compared to other species, Vilgax found it hard to find one as prone to violence as the Viltrumites. A single member of that race could raze a world without support. There was no greater weapon of mass destruction than a Viltrumite with a mission. Their strength was unmatched; their speed made targeting systems obsolete. Even their weakest members had endurance that turned prolonged conflict into a losing proposition by default.
He had nearly died learning that lesson.
The unfortunate memory surfaced unbidden—the bone-crushing force, the sensation of being hurled through atmosphere and stone alike, systems screaming as armor failed piece by piece. It had taken everything to survive that encounter, and even then, survival had felt less like victory and more like mercy.
And if there was one thing Vilgax despised more than anything, was being treated like a lesser being. He would much rather have died in battle than be left alive to crawl away and lick his wounds. His pride had never recovered from that battle, and it was for that reason his right eye had been lost.
It was for this reason that Vilgax had kept to the edges of the Milky Way. He wanted to be the one to conquer the Viltrumites, to watch them burn and writhe in their inevitable demise. He wanted Thragg to lay beneath him, bloodied and broken… as he once had. But even Vilgax needed to admit where his weaknesses lay. Direct conflict with Thragg's minions would only end in his demise. So, for far too long he was forced to watch the Empire's expansion carefully, charting borders and influence, making certain his operations never drifted too close to their reach. Their interest had not yet settled here, to his knowledge. As long as that remained true, Vilgax could prepare for the future conflict.
The hologram shifted again, cycling through orbital debris, broken platforms, and scattered escape pods — most left cold and lifeless. Azmuth's battle with Conquest had given enough time to evacuate the majority of the population. Those who were caught in the crossfire were not so lucky.
Briefly, a trace signature pulsed across the display. Vilgax leaned forward, tentacles hanging in the air as excitement spread through his body. He knew that signature…
The Omnitrix.
It was only a mere echo of it, but it was enough to bring him to attention. The energy trail was faint, fragmented, and distorted by the violence that had torn Galvan Prime apart. Whatever Azmuth had done to mask it, whatever safeguards he had put in place, they had been disrupted. Not destroyed—but shaken loose, like a footprint left behind in scorched earth.
Vilgax's mandibles twitched, something close to satisfaction curling through his chest. Azmuth was gone. There was no confirmed body, no final transmission, no signature trace that could be reliably identified as the Galvan's. In Vilgax's experience, absence was often more telling than death.
If Azmuth by some miracle had survived, the Omnitrix would likely have company as it drifted through the void. But, even so… he suspected that regardless of the outcome of the battle, the Omnitrix wouldn't be left unattended.
What mattered the most to him was the one consolation he scraped away from the images; the one thing Vilgax allowed himself to savor as the images continued to scroll.
Thragg had not claimed the Omnitrix.
The Viltrumite Empire, for all its brutality, was efficient. If the Omnitrix had fallen into Thragg's hands, there would be no mystery.
The universe would already feel the consequences. A weapon like the Omnitrix, capable of rewriting biology, of turning adaptability itself into a tool of war… in Viltrumite hands, it would have been catastrophic.
Even one Viltrumite enhanced by its power would have been unstoppable. DNA splicing would be difficult for them in the long run. As Vilgax had learned, Viltrumite DNA was effectively an invasive species. If they were to procreate with another species, the Viltrumite DNA would eventually overtake it. At least, that was what Vilgax had come to understand.
Vilgax exhaled slowly, the sound low and controlled.
No. If the Omnitrix was to be claimed, it was better that it be claimed by him.
He understood it. Not completely—no one ever truly did—but enough to recognize its potential beyond raw destruction. Azmuth had been arrogant enough to believe the device could be trusted to morality, to judgment, to chance. Vilgax knew better. Power did not need conscience. It needed direction.
The image zoomed out, pulling back from Galvan Prime as it now existed: a wounded world, still smoldering, still bleeding debris into space. Somewhere beyond it, the trail continued—faint, erratic, but unmistakable. A line drawn away from the ruins, stretching toward a smaller, quieter system.
His system…
The Milky Way was his domain, regardless whether the Plumbers had anything to say about it. He'd stayed out of their way, and for that reason they'd left him alone. He'd spent too long licking his own wounds, trying to gather up what little bit of pride he had left. The Omnitrix was his one chance to get back on his feet, and to stick it to Thragg.
He was concerned that Conquest might have followed the Omnitrix's trail, but that was immediately squashed. The planet's security defenses had done sufficient damage to Conquest that the Viltrumite would be down for some time, even with his victory. Had Vilgax known about the battle sooner, he might have been able to put that wretch down once and for all.
But he'd take a small victory where he could take it right now. Following the trail, he was able to pinpoint where the Omnitrix was heading.
Earth.
It was a primitive planet by most measures. Fractured politics, underdeveloped defenses, but resilient in ways that were inconvenient. Some of their population had developed extraordinary abilities, giving them an edge in combat. That wasn't something Vilgax was worried about, no. It was the thought of engaging with the Plumbers that concerned him. He was still recovering, his resources were scarce, and engaging with a planetary defense force was something Vilgax wasn't sure he could afford to do.
If he were to acquire the Omnitrix, he'd need to capture it before it ever breached the planet's atmosphere. He could intercept the device. Yes, that was feasible.
Vilgax rose from his seat, towering as the holograms adjusted to his movement. His ship responded instantly, systems humming to life as new coordinates populated across the display.
Conquest's rampage had been careless. Typical. He destroyed, moved on, and left consequences for others to clean up. But in that wake of annihilation, something far more valuable had slipped free.
Vilgax intended to retrieve it.
This was the moment he was waiting for. It didn't matter who stood in his way, the Omnitrix would be his.
Meanwhile…
The campsite had come together in pieces as the sun dipped low, the sky bleeding from orange to bruised purple in slow, reluctant gradients. Max had parked the Rust Bucket just off the road, tucked into a clearing that felt intentional without being crowded, the kind of place you only found if you already knew where to look. The fire pit was old, stones blackened and cracked from use long before them, and Max had taken to it with an enthusiasm that bordered on ceremonial. By the time night settled in fully, the fire was crackling steady, throwing sparks into the dark and bathing the clearing in warm, flickering light.
"Bon appétit." Max smiled as he set a bowl down in front of the two as they set up camp for the evening.
Ben raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his stomach steady as the apparent meal writhed in the bowl, its slimy pale flesh glinting in the moonlight. The smell hit a second later—earthy, sharp, not rotten exactly, but not anything his brain wanted to associate with food either. His appetite, which had been hanging on by a thread since they'd left Bellwood, made a quiet, offended noise and promptly backed away.
"Okay, I give up…" Ben groaned, leaning back on his hands. "What is this supposed to be?"
"Marinated mealworms." Max beamed in reply, rubbing his hands together. "It's hard to find them fresh in the states. Did you know they're considered a delicacy in some countries?"
Gwen's lip curled in disgust as she watched one of the worms crawl out of the bowl and inch across the picnic table, leaving a faint, glistening trail behind it.
"It's totally gross in this one," she grumbled.
Max smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much.
"If these don't sound good, I've got some smoked sheep's tongue in the fridge."
Ben gagged, the sound halfway between reflex and protest. "Ugh, couldn't we just have a burger or something? Not exactly something I'm in the mood for, Grandpa."
"We're on a budget, kiddo. And I'd rather get my own food than pay for it, didn't I tell you that before?"
"Did I mention that I prefer to pay for mine?"
"I can always charge you for these," Max smirked. "This summer is going to be an adventure for your taste buds. It'll do you some good, trust me."
Ben and Gwen looked at one another, trying to decide whether this road trip was worth it after all.
The fire popped loudly, a log shifting as it settled, and Ben glanced away from the bowl just long enough to breathe through his nose and remind himself that this was, apparently, happening. Max had already helped himself, of course. He skewered a few of the worms with a fork like he was spearing marshmallows and popped them into his mouth without hesitation, chewing thoughtfully, eyes half-lidded in something dangerously close to bliss.
"Nutty," Max said after a moment, nodding to himself. "Good texture, too. Not mushy if you do it right."
Ben stared at him. "You are way too excited about this."
Max chuckled, unfazed. "You spend enough time out in the field, you learn not to be picky. Food's food."
That was… probably true. Ben knew that, logically. Grandpa Max had stories. Lots of them. Stories about places Ben couldn't pronounce, situations that sounded impossible, and meals that had absolutely not involved drive-thrus or delivery apps. Still, knowing that didn't make the worms any less alive-looking in the bowl between them.
He could never remember if Max had been affiliated with the GDA, or some faction of the military. All he knew was that Max was always down for extended camping trips where electronics were minimally used.
Gwen poked at one with the tip of her fork, face twisted like she was defusing a bomb.
"I don't think it's the idea of bugs that bothers me," she said slowly. "It's the fact that they're… moving."
"They won't be for long," Max offered helpfully.
"That does not help."
Ben leaned back against the bench, letting his gaze drift past the firelight and into the trees beyond the clearing. It was strange, he thought, how quickly the day had stretched and folded into this. Just this morning he'd been at home, in comfortable surroundings… and now here he was miles away, sitting under a sky full of stars with a bowl of worms in front of him.
Part of him almost laughed at that, and then he saw the color drain from Gwen's face as she tried to push herself to take a bite. Then, he realized that he was in the same exact boat as her.
Gwen finally sighed and took a small bite, chewing carefully, like she expected it to fight back. She swallowed, paused, then reluctantly nodded.
"Okay," she admitted. "That's… not as bad as I thought."
Ben eyed her like she'd betrayed him.
"You're kidding."
She shrugged.
"I didn't say I liked it."
Max grinned, victorious.
Ben hesitated, then reached forward and speared one himself. He didn't think about it. Thinking about it would ruin everything. He popped it into his mouth, chewed once, twice—
…and froze.
It wasn't good. He wasn't going to lie to himself about that. But it wasn't terrible, either. Salty. A little crunchy. Weirdly smoky.
"Well?" Max prompted.
Ben swallowed and sighed.
"I hate that you're right."
Max laughed, loud and pleased, the sound carrying into the trees. "Told you. This summer's gonna broaden your horizons."
I really wish I had brought some snacks… Ben thought quietly to himself, not looking forward to the countless meals of grub that were likely to follow.
Oh my god, I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I know it's been an entire month since the last chapter, and I apologize for that. February going into March was a really bad month for me in terms of writing. I had a bit of writer's block coupled with seasonal illnesses. It's not fair to make excuses, which is why I'm trying to do my best to get some new chapters out. My plan is going forward is to have 2-3 chapters a month posted minimum for all stories. It's a work in progress, so bear with me!
As always, thank you everyone for reading the story. It means a lot to me. I appreciate the comments more than you'd ever know. It really does motivate me to keep writing. So, if you ever have any thoughts, I'm always happy to hear them!
As it stands, there are some difficulties with me writing consistently, primarily my job. I can work a little bit on my stories there, but not much without getting in trouble obviously. So, I may or may not be able to live up to my own standards. However, if you guys are interested in joining my discord server, or supporting my writing I will leave a link below where you can access those.
Those who are sufficient rank on my discord server were able to read this chapter a few weeks ago, and will continue to have 1 chapter in advance going forward. Those who support my writing are able to get anywhere from 1-10 chapters in advance before public release. As of this moment, Omni-Blood has 2 chapters in advance. So, if you're interested... the link is below.
Links
Regardless though whether you choose to join the community or support my writing, I do appreciate all of you. Thank you for the support. They make me happy to know that you guys are enjoying the story. It motivates me to keep writing, seriously. It's my life-blood at times haha. A comment will always improve my day and motivate me to keep going.
Anyway, until the next chapter everyone, I shall see you later!
Council Members:
Benediktus
Wayne Foundation Member:
Seren
Slipping through the ever-expanding, dark void of space was the ship controlled by Vilgax the Conqueror. The ship was extremely quiet by this time, as he sat alone on the command dais, one massive arm resting against the edge of the console. Holographic images hovered in the air before him, rotating slowly on a loop.
He growled under his breath, looking at the devastation that was Galvan Prime. The news had come across his board only in the last few cycles. The projections were pulled from long-range scans. Vilgax had surveillance drones watching the planet for some time, mostly due to the inventor Azmuth residing there. Someone with a mind like his was a formidable foe to keep an eye on.
The holograms painted a picture Vilgax knew all too well: cities torn open from above, landmasses gouged and broken. Entire regions were simply gone, reduced to ash, debris, or nothing at all.
Vilgax's red eye narrowed slightly as the image shifted, zooming in on a ruined metropolis. Galvan architecture, which even he had admitted was a sight to behold, now twisted into jagged skeletons that left him feeling uneasy. He could understand the violence, the brute force of it, but that was only when applied to the right area. If there was one single thing the Viltrum Empire was lousy at, it was damage mitigation.
They did not operate as a scalpel. In their desire to be the reigning species, replenishing their numbers, the Viltrum Empire was more likely to scorch a planet than leave innocent bystanders aside. No, they liked making a spectacle of their prey. Vilgax could commend them for the act, but devastation for the sake of devastation was not something he could abide by. Especially when it came to some of the galaxy's brightest minds.
Galvans were small creatures, but their brains far made up for it. Some of the greatest creations Vilgax had ever come across in his travels were in part due to them. It was for this reason alone that Vilgax felt the slightest sense of sympathy and compassion for the species.
He knew the singular being responsible for this, even without the reports. Thragg's greatest weapon:
Conquest.
Just the name alone was enough to send a chill through Vilgax's body. He had faced Viltrumites before, though it was never by choice. He knew better than to underestimate those fiendish brutes. When compared to other species, Vilgax found it hard to find one as prone to violence as the Viltrumites. A single member of that race could raze a world without support. There was no greater weapon of mass destruction than a Viltrumite with a mission. Their strength was unmatched; their speed made targeting systems obsolete. Even their weakest members had endurance that turned prolonged conflict into a losing proposition by default.
He had nearly died learning that lesson.
The unfortunate memory surfaced unbidden—the bone-crushing force, the sensation of being hurled through atmosphere and stone alike, systems screaming as armor failed piece by piece. It had taken everything to survive that encounter, and even then, survival had felt less like victory and more like mercy.
And if there was one thing Vilgax despised more than anything, was being treated like a lesser being. He would much rather have died in battle than be left alive to crawl away and lick his wounds. His pride had never recovered from that battle, and it was for that reason his right eye had been lost.
It was for this reason that Vilgax had kept to the edges of the Milky Way. He wanted to be the one to conquer the Viltrumites, to watch them burn and writhe in their inevitable demise. He wanted Thragg to lay beneath him, bloodied and broken… as he once had. But even Vilgax needed to admit where his weaknesses lay. Direct conflict with Thragg's minions would only end in his demise. So, for far too long he was forced to watch the Empire's expansion carefully, charting borders and influence, making certain his operations never drifted too close to their reach. Their interest had not yet settled here, to his knowledge. As long as that remained true, Vilgax could prepare for the future conflict.
The hologram shifted again, cycling through orbital debris, broken platforms, and scattered escape pods — most left cold and lifeless. Azmuth's battle with Conquest had given enough time to evacuate the majority of the population. Those who were caught in the crossfire were not so lucky.
Briefly, a trace signature pulsed across the display. Vilgax leaned forward, tentacles hanging in the air as excitement spread through his body. He knew that signature…
The Omnitrix.
It was only a mere echo of it, but it was enough to bring him to attention. The energy trail was faint, fragmented, and distorted by the violence that had torn Galvan Prime apart. Whatever Azmuth had done to mask it, whatever safeguards he had put in place, they had been disrupted. Not destroyed—but shaken loose, like a footprint left behind in scorched earth.
Vilgax's mandibles twitched, something close to satisfaction curling through his chest. Azmuth was gone. There was no confirmed body, no final transmission, no signature trace that could be reliably identified as the Galvan's. In Vilgax's experience, absence was often more telling than death.
If Azmuth by some miracle had survived, the Omnitrix would likely have company as it drifted through the void. But, even so… he suspected that regardless of the outcome of the battle, the Omnitrix wouldn't be left unattended.
What mattered the most to him was the one consolation he scraped away from the images; the one thing Vilgax allowed himself to savor as the images continued to scroll.
Thragg had not claimed the Omnitrix.
The Viltrumite Empire, for all its brutality, was efficient. If the Omnitrix had fallen into Thragg's hands, there would be no mystery.
The universe would already feel the consequences. A weapon like the Omnitrix, capable of rewriting biology, of turning adaptability itself into a tool of war… in Viltrumite hands, it would have been catastrophic.
Even one Viltrumite enhanced by its power would have been unstoppable. DNA splicing would be difficult for them in the long run. As Vilgax had learned, Viltrumite DNA was effectively an invasive species. If they were to procreate with another species, the Viltrumite DNA would eventually overtake it. At least, that was what Vilgax had come to understand.
Vilgax exhaled slowly, the sound low and controlled.
No. If the Omnitrix was to be claimed, it was better that it be claimed by him.
He understood it. Not completely—no one ever truly did—but enough to recognize its potential beyond raw destruction. Azmuth had been arrogant enough to believe the device could be trusted to morality, to judgment, to chance. Vilgax knew better. Power did not need conscience. It needed direction.
The image zoomed out, pulling back from Galvan Prime as it now existed: a wounded world, still smoldering, still bleeding debris into space. Somewhere beyond it, the trail continued—faint, erratic, but unmistakable. A line drawn away from the ruins, stretching toward a smaller, quieter system.
His system…
The Milky Way was his domain, regardless whether the Plumbers had anything to say about it. He'd stayed out of their way, and for that reason they'd left him alone. He'd spent too long licking his own wounds, trying to gather up what little bit of pride he had left. The Omnitrix was his one chance to get back on his feet, and to stick it to Thragg.
He was concerned that Conquest might have followed the Omnitrix's trail, but that was immediately squashed. The planet's security defenses had done sufficient damage to Conquest that the Viltrumite would be down for some time, even with his victory. Had Vilgax known about the battle sooner, he might have been able to put that wretch down once and for all.
But he'd take a small victory where he could take it right now. Following the trail, he was able to pinpoint where the Omnitrix was heading.
Earth.
It was a primitive planet by most measures. Fractured politics, underdeveloped defenses, but resilient in ways that were inconvenient. Some of their population had developed extraordinary abilities, giving them an edge in combat. That wasn't something Vilgax was worried about, no. It was the thought of engaging with the Plumbers that concerned him. He was still recovering, his resources were scarce, and engaging with a planetary defense force was something Vilgax wasn't sure he could afford to do.
If he were to acquire the Omnitrix, he'd need to capture it before it ever breached the planet's atmosphere. He could intercept the device. Yes, that was feasible.
Vilgax rose from his seat, towering as the holograms adjusted to his movement. His ship responded instantly, systems humming to life as new coordinates populated across the display.
Conquest's rampage had been careless. Typical. He destroyed, moved on, and left consequences for others to clean up. But in that wake of annihilation, something far more valuable had slipped free.
Vilgax intended to retrieve it.
This was the moment he was waiting for. It didn't matter who stood in his way, the Omnitrix would be his.
Meanwhile…
The campsite had come together in pieces as the sun dipped low, the sky bleeding from orange to bruised purple in slow, reluctant gradients. Max had parked the Rust Bucket just off the road, tucked into a clearing that felt intentional without being crowded, the kind of place you only found if you already knew where to look. The fire pit was old, stones blackened and cracked from use long before them, and Max had taken to it with an enthusiasm that bordered on ceremonial. By the time night settled in fully, the fire was crackling steady, throwing sparks into the dark and bathing the clearing in warm, flickering light.
"Bon appétit." Max smiled as he set a bowl down in front of the two as they set up camp for the evening.
Ben raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his stomach steady as the apparent meal writhed in the bowl, its slimy pale flesh glinting in the moonlight. The smell hit a second later—earthy, sharp, not rotten exactly, but not anything his brain wanted to associate with food either. His appetite, which had been hanging on by a thread since they'd left Bellwood, made a quiet, offended noise and promptly backed away.
"Okay, I give up…" Ben groaned, leaning back on his hands. "What is this supposed to be?"
"Marinated mealworms." Max beamed in reply, rubbing his hands together. "It's hard to find them fresh in the states. Did you know they're considered a delicacy in some countries?"
Gwen's lip curled in disgust as she watched one of the worms crawl out of the bowl and inch across the picnic table, leaving a faint, glistening trail behind it.
"It's totally gross in this one," she grumbled.
Max smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much.
"If these don't sound good, I've got some smoked sheep's tongue in the fridge."
Ben gagged, the sound halfway between reflex and protest. "Ugh, couldn't we just have a burger or something? Not exactly something I'm in the mood for, Grandpa."
"We're on a budget, kiddo. And I'd rather get my own food than pay for it, didn't I tell you that before?"
"Did I mention that I prefer to pay for mine?"
"I can always charge you for these," Max smirked. "This summer is going to be an adventure for your taste buds. It'll do you some good, trust me."
Ben and Gwen looked at one another, trying to decide whether this road trip was worth it after all.
The fire popped loudly, a log shifting as it settled, and Ben glanced away from the bowl just long enough to breathe through his nose and remind himself that this was, apparently, happening. Max had already helped himself, of course. He skewered a few of the worms with a fork like he was spearing marshmallows and popped them into his mouth without hesitation, chewing thoughtfully, eyes half-lidded in something dangerously close to bliss.
"Nutty," Max said after a moment, nodding to himself. "Good texture, too. Not mushy if you do it right."
Ben stared at him. "You are way too excited about this."
Max chuckled, unfazed. "You spend enough time out in the field, you learn not to be picky. Food's food."
That was… probably true. Ben knew that, logically. Grandpa Max had stories. Lots of them. Stories about places Ben couldn't pronounce, situations that sounded impossible, and meals that had absolutely not involved drive-thrus or delivery apps. Still, knowing that didn't make the worms any less alive-looking in the bowl between them.
He could never remember if Max had been affiliated with the GDA, or some faction of the military. All he knew was that Max was always down for extended camping trips where electronics were minimally used.
Gwen poked at one with the tip of her fork, face twisted like she was defusing a bomb.
"I don't think it's the idea of bugs that bothers me," she said slowly. "It's the fact that they're… moving."
"They won't be for long," Max offered helpfully.
"That does not help."
Ben leaned back against the bench, letting his gaze drift past the firelight and into the trees beyond the clearing. It was strange, he thought, how quickly the day had stretched and folded into this. Just this morning he'd been at home, in comfortable surroundings… and now here he was miles away, sitting under a sky full of stars with a bowl of worms in front of him.
Part of him almost laughed at that, and then he saw the color drain from Gwen's face as she tried to push herself to take a bite. Then, he realized that he was in the same exact boat as her.
Gwen finally sighed and took a small bite, chewing carefully, like she expected it to fight back. She swallowed, paused, then reluctantly nodded.
"Okay," she admitted. "That's… not as bad as I thought."
Ben eyed her like she'd betrayed him.
"You're kidding."
She shrugged.
"I didn't say I liked it."
Max grinned, victorious.
Ben hesitated, then reached forward and speared one himself. He didn't think about it. Thinking about it would ruin everything. He popped it into his mouth, chewed once, twice—
…and froze.
It wasn't good. He wasn't going to lie to himself about that. But it wasn't terrible, either. Salty. A little crunchy. Weirdly smoky.
"Well?" Max prompted.
Ben swallowed and sighed.
"I hate that you're right."
Max laughed, loud and pleased, the sound carrying into the trees. "Told you. This summer's gonna broaden your horizons."
I really wish I had brought some snacks… Ben thought quietly to himself, not looking forward to the countless meals of grub that were likely to follow.
Oh my god, I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I know it's been an entire month since the last chapter, and I apologize for that. February going into March was a really bad month for me in terms of writing. I had a bit of writer's block coupled with seasonal illnesses. It's not fair to make excuses, which is why I'm trying to do my best to get some new chapters out. My plan is going forward is to have 2-3 chapters a month posted minimum for all stories. It's a work in progress, so bear with me!
As always, thank you everyone for reading the story. It means a lot to me. I appreciate the comments more than you'd ever know. It really does motivate me to keep writing. So, if you ever have any thoughts, I'm always happy to hear them!
As it stands, there are some difficulties with me writing consistently, primarily my job. I can work a little bit on my stories there, but not much without getting in trouble obviously. So, I may or may not be able to live up to my own standards. However, if you guys are interested in joining my discord server, or supporting my writing I will leave a link below where you can access those.
Those who are sufficient rank on my discord server were able to read this chapter a few weeks ago, and will continue to have 1 chapter in advance going forward. Those who support my writing are able to get anywhere from 1-10 chapters in advance before public release. As of this moment, Omni-Blood has 2 chapters in advance. So, if you're interested... the link is below.
Links
Regardless though whether you choose to join the community or support my writing, I do appreciate all of you. Thank you for the support. They make me happy to know that you guys are enjoying the story. It motivates me to keep writing, seriously. It's my life-blood at times haha. A comment will always improve my day and motivate me to keep going.
Anyway, until the next chapter everyone, I shall see you later!
Council Members:
Benediktus
Wayne Foundation Member:
Seren
Lillie Jones
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Jan 31, 2020
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Thanks for the chapter
Jason Wu
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2022
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Look at the bright side, Vilgax. At least they weren't Saiyans. They would have turned you into calamari after killing your squid ass