The ancient consciousness unfolds within this ghostly form, each moment stretching like eternity. I feel my control slipping.
'Sam,' Emma's mental voice reaches through the growing cold. 'Whatever this is, fight it.'
But fighting requires control, and control... control is becoming a foreign concept. This presence isn't just taking over - it's claiming what it considers rightfully its own.
Thor's lightning crackles with warning intensity, while Loki's hands weave increasingly complex defensive patterns. Even Stark's armor whines as its sensors try to comprehend the changing energy patterns.
Then it speaks, using my voice but not exactly my voice, ancient and amused and terribly, terribly aware:
"At last..."
His voice carries ancient patience, each word drawn out like poison from a wound. "How long I've waited, watching through your fear."
The temperature around us drops further, frost creeping across surfaces untouched by Thor's lightning.
Emma's mental presence brushes against my consciousness, trying to maintain our connection as it grows increasingly foreign.
"Such interesting companions you've gathered," he continues, my voice but twisted, carrying millennia of malevolent intelligence. "The telepath especially... your connection is... fascinating."
Loki's magic flares brighter, recognizing something in this entity that makes even the one called God of Mischief wary.
Stark's repulsors whine higher, but we all know technology means little against something this old, this otherworldly.
"Now then," the voice purrs, "shall we discuss the terms of our... arrangement?"
'Emma, if you can still hear me-' but my thoughts scatter like mist as Zs'Skayr's influence spreads.
His control isn't violent or forceful - it's patient, inevitable, like watching darkness spread across a room as the sun sets.
He knows about Emma's telepathy, about Thor's lightning, about every defense we've built. Of course he does. He's been here, in the Ultimatrix, observing it all.
'Fight,' Emma's voice reaches through the growing void, but fighting requires a foundation, and this form... this form was never truly mine to begin with.
"Your thoughts are quite loud," Zs'Skayr's voice uses my ghostly form with practiced like ease. "Such delicious panic. Though I must admit, your fear of this form was... prudent."
The others tense for battle, but what are they supposed to fight? The enemy isn't just inside the building anymore - it's inside me.
And somewhere in the growing darkness of my own consciousness, I realize with terrible clarity that this might have been inevitable from the moment I first received the Ultimatrix.
"Your companions seem... eager," Zs'Skayr observes with that terrible patience. "Though their weapons are... interesting. This new world... Asgardian magic, mortal technology, and mental power. How... diverse."
Thor's lightning arcs forward first, but Zs'Skayr simply phases through it, his laugh echoing with ancient amusement.
Loki's magic follows, green energy weaving complex patterns that actually manage to make the spectral form pause.
Emma's mental presence brushes against my consciousness - not communicating, just... there.
An anchor in the growing darkness. Her eyes meet Thor's, then Stark's, some unspoken strategy passing between them.
"Clever girl," Zs'Skayr purrs. "Trying to coordinate without thoughts I might overhear? But do you really think that will help?"
Stark's repulsors fire in precise patterns, forcing the ghostly form to constantly shift density.
Thor and Loki coordinate their attacks - lightning and magic creating a web of energy that requires actual effort to avoid.
The battle intensifies, four powerful beings moving with increasing coordination against an ancient entity wearing my form like a borrowed coat.
And somewhere in the darkness of my own mind, I cling to Emma's presence like a lifeline, waiting for... something. Anything.
-----------------------------
Emma's Pov:
I maintain my mental link with Sam, though it feels increasingly foreign - like holding onto smoke that's growing colder by the second.
The entity using his form moves with terrible grace, each motion carrying experience.
The others follow my lead without needing telepathic communication - Thor and Loki weaving an increasingly complex web of lightning and magic, while Stark's attacks force constant phase shifting. We're pushing it hard, making it work for every moment of control.
Through our fragmenting connection, I catch glimpses of Sam's consciousness - not gone, but... muffled, like someone slowly being buried in snow.
His panic bleeds through occasionally, making my heart clench, but I can't risk sending reassurance. Not when this thing might intercept any mental communication.
"Your coordination is... admirable," the entity purrs, using the mix of transformation's and Sam's voice in ways that make my skin crawl. "Though I wonder how long you can maintain this pace?"
I reach deeper into our link, not communicating, just... present. An anchor. A reminder. The others increase their pressure, following the unspoken strategy. Just a little longer...
The temperature continues to drop as this ancient being demonstrates more of its power, but we hold our ground. We have to.
Because somewhere in that ghostly form, Sam is waiting for us to succeed.
"Your magic grows cold, creature," Thor calls out, lightning crackling around Mjolnir with increasing intensity. "Like the depths of Niflheim itself."
The entity moves with fluid grace between attacks, each dodge carrying seeming practise.
Through our fragmenting link, I feel Sam's consciousness - still there, still fighting, but growing fainter.
"Oh, the thunder god knows of cold?" The being's voice carries dark amusement. "How... quaint."
Loki's magic weaves more complex patterns, his expression carrying that particular focus I've seen when he's truly concerned. "Brother, its essence... it's older than we thought."
"Yeah, getting that," Stark's voice carries forced lightness even as his attacks grow more precise. "JARVIS is having a field day with these readings. Hey, Casper? Maybe we could talk about a timeshare arrangement?"
The temperature drops further as the entity demonstrates more of its power, frost creeping across surfaces untouched by Thor's lightning.
I keep maintaining my presence in Sam's mind, but the thing seems to be fighting me to throw me out. Yet even as it does, I feel it not truly trying, as if its treating me like a cat treats a cute mouse.
"Your attempts at levity," the thing wearing Sam's form observes, "mask such fascinating fears. Shall we explore them?"
"The only thing we'll be exploring," Loki's voice carries dangerous promise, "is how many ways Asgardian magic can inconvenience a spirit such as yourself."
The battle intensifies, four of us moving with increasing coordination.
Just a little longer...
"Your spirit grows bold, creature," Thor's voice booms as lightning arcs through the air. "Though you wear our friend's form, we shall not yield."
The entity weaves between attacks with unnatural grace, each movement a mockery of Sam's usual fighting style.
"Bold?" The ancient being's voice carries millennia of dark amusement. "Tell me, Asgardian, what do gods know of true immortality?"
Loki's magic intensifies, green energy forming patterns I've never seen him use before. "Brother, its essence resonates with forces older than Yggdrasil itself."
"Yeah, getting real tired of the cryptic ancient being routine," Stark quips, though his attacks maintain precise formation. "Also, anyone else notice it's getting chatty? Almost like it's trying to distract us..."
I maintain my anchor in Sam's mind, feeling his thoughts crystallize around some realization. The entity notices too - its movements becoming slightly more urgent, though it masks this with fluid grace.
"The mortal makes an interesting observation," it says, voice carrying false lightness. "Though perhaps we should discuss what happens when your young friend's consciousness fully fades?"
"The only thing fading," Loki's magic weaves tighter patterns, "will be your hold on this form."
Thor's lightning crashes with renewed intensity, while Stark's targeting becomes increasingly aggressive.
Through the chaos, I feel Sam's presence growing stronger, more focused - like he's finally understood something crucial.
The entity's movements, for the first time, carry a hint of genuine effort.
Please, just a little longer.
The battle evolves with each passing moment - Thor's lightning no longer just crashes down, but weaves intricate patterns guided by centuries of combat experience.
The ancient being phases through most attacks, but each dodge requires increasingly complex movements.
"You waste energy," it observes, though its voice carries a new edge. "Though I must admit, your coordination is... impressive."
Stark switches tactics, his repulsors now firing in rhythmic sequences that force our opponent to constantly adjust its density. "Thanks for the review. JARVIS, pattern delta-seven."
The air crackles with Loki's magic as he creates geometric constraints of pure energy, each pattern more complex than the last. "Notice, creature, how your movements grow... restricted?"
The entity's fluid grace begins to show microscopic hitches in its movement, each dodge requiring more effort than the last. Its attacks, while still dangerous, lack their earlier casual confidence.
"Your persistence is... admirable," it says, but the words carry less certainty now. "Though futile..."
The temperature continues to drop, but there's something desperate in how the being demonstrates its power now. Like it's trying to prove something.
Almost there...
The ancient being's movements shift from fluid grace to erractic - no longer toying with us, but fighting with growing urgency.
Each attack we launch forces more complex responses, more energy expenditure.
"The moment approaches," it speaks, "When a consciousness finally... yields."
"Yield?" Thor's laugh carries the confidence of millennia. "You know nothing of our companion's strength."
Through our fragmenting link, I feel Sam's presence growing stronger by the minute, him fighting with ever growing vigor.
The ancient being must sense it too; its movements become sharper, more desperate.
Stark's systems adapt continuously, while Loki's magic weaves increasingly complex constraints.
The temperature plummets as our opponent channels more power, but there's something frantic in its display now.
And through it all, Sam's consciousness grows clearer, stronger, more certain - like he's finally grasped something fundamental about this form, something the ancient being never wanted him to realize.
"No," the entity's voice loses its ancient patience, becoming sharp with genuine concern. "Not yet. Not when I'm so close-"
"Sounds like someone's running out of time," Stark quips, though his targeting remains precise. "Kid's watch has a pretty strict curfew."
Thor's lightning crashes with renewed purpose. "Your time in our friend's form draws to a close, spirit."
"Time?" The being's voice carries both rage and desperation now. "I am beyond time, beyond your mortal constraints-"
The Ultimatrix's beeping increases in frequency, and through our link, I feel Sam's presence surge forward with fierce determination. Loki's eyes narrow as he senses the shift in mystical energies.
"Brother," he calls to Thor, magic weaving tighter patterns, "the creature's hold weakens."
The ancient being's movements become increasingly desperate, its attacks losing their calculated grace.
The temperature fluctuates wildly as it tries to maintain control, but the Ultimatrix's warning becomes more insistent with each passing second.
The final countdown begins.
The ancient being's desperation manifests in ways that defy physics - reality itself seems to warp around its form, shadows stretching impossibly, the air filling with whispers in languages that hurt to hear.
This isn't just a ghost, its something more, terrifyingly more.
"If I must depart," its voice resonates on frequencies that make my teeth ache, "then let me show you true terror."
The space around us... shifts. Not just visually, but fundamentally. I feel minds in the building above us recoil instinctively, even those without psychic sensitivity sensing something wrong with reality itself.
"Okay, that's new," Stark's voice carries forced calm as his armor's sensors struggle to process what they're detecting. "And definitely not in any ghost stories I've heard."
Through our link, I feel Sam fighting against not just the entity's control, but against the fundamental wrongness it's unleashing.
The Ultimatrix's warning beeps become distorted, like even time itself is being warped.
Thor's lightning seems to bend in impossible ways, while Loki's magic flares with automatic defense against something his millennia of experience never prepared him for.
The temperature doesn't just drop anymore - it feels like the very concept of heat is being drained from existence.
But through it all, Sam's consciousness burns brighter, fighting against both the entity's control and the reality-warping power it's unleashing.
The countdown reaches its final beeps as crimson energy erupts from within the ghostly form.
Reminding of the world saw months ago.
That power that once rewrote reality itself now focuses to a single purpose, burning through ancient darkness with terrifying precision.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" The entity's voice shatters windows, reality warping around us. "THIS FORM IS MINE-"
But Sam's consciousness blazes through our link like a star going nova, crimson light meeting eldritch darkness in a clash that makes the very air scream.
Two powers nearly as old as the world itself wage war within a single transformation, while the Ultimatrix counts down the final seconds.
Thor's lightning dims, Loki's magic recoils, and even Stark's technology struggles to process what's happening as two ancient forces collide.
The Ultimatrix flashes one final time.
Power explodes outward - pure, primal, devastating. Reality itself seems to hold its breath as crimson light burns away darkness.
When the energy fades, Sam stands there, human once more.
"Fuck..." I hear him whisper as he falls to the ground, unconscious, all of us too frozen to catch him as his face hits the ground.
Okay, what in the world just happened to my boyfriend?
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the double chapter!
So before anyone says anything, this Ghostfreak is more eldritch then in the show, and as the King of Ectonurites has a far greater connection to the fundementals of Ledger Domain, the very source of magic in Ben 10, existing therefore as old as the universe, if not older.
Not Ghostfreak existing that long, but still being, very, very old.
Ghostfreak won't be seen much, but he will be a constant threat from now on. Also, how things happened will make sense in the future.
So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter,
Bye!)