Ben 10 Echo Echo Novels & Stories

Adrian's POV My head buzzed. I looked up sharply at Marissa Cole, who had been waiting outside the studio for me to get off work. No wonder the student's voice had sounded familiar. I had heard it on her phone before. The producer shot to his feet in panic and urged me through my earpiece to keep talking. Marissa's eyes darkened. Holding her phone, she turned and walked away. I took a deep breath and forced out a smile. I held myself together and finished the closing remarks, ending right at the five-minute mark.

The final guideline was written in a jarring red font. [On rare occasions, the station will transmit the Predator's Song. When this occurs, remain completely still and hold your breath until the broadcast concludes.] Hold my breath? Were they trying to asphyxiate me? I pouted and clicked on [I Agree and Start Listening.] The so-called 'Echoes from Below' were nothing more than just some white noise, like the wind moving through an empty corridor or a massive creature slowly exhaling beneath the water. Rumble. The sound was low and heavy, with a faint electrical hiss like a bad microphone feed.

To the echo. To the moment that shouldn’t exist. And I focus. Not on stopping it. Not on removing it. On understanding it. On finding the missing piece. And for the first time since it appeared— The echo responds. Not by changing. By aligning. Aidan’s voice is quiet. “It recognizes the input.” “Yes.” Matteo shifts nervously. “I really hope we know what we’re doing.” We don’t. But we don’t have a choice. “Ready,” I say.

Alec, his eyes narrowing, asked, "What are you?" The figure laughed, a sound that was a cacophony of many voices, some they recognized, some they feared, and some they had lost. "I am the Echo," it replied, its form continuously wavering. "Born from the remnants of realities you failed to save, memories you've tried to forget, and souls you couldn't protect." Draken stepped forward, his stance defensive. "What do you want?" The Echo smirked, "To remind you of your failures. To show you the cost of your choices. And to ensure you never forget."

He looked like Julian, but his eyes were the cold, radiant gold of the Harvester. "Who are you?" I demanded, my hands igniting with a defiant violet fire. "I am the Echo," the projection said. "I am the part of the design that cannot be deleted. You thought you were the Architect, but you were just the gardener clearing the soil. The Heir is the fruit. And the fruit is ripe." "I will burn this throne to the ground before I let you touch my son," I hissed.

She felt the sour burn as her stomach emptied its contents into the small space and her stomach lurched the muscles spasming. “Hello?” Ivy croaked out in a faint young voice that wasn’t hers either. Just as quickly as she was drawn into the darkness and cold she snapped back to where she was next to her dad on the cement. He held her looking over her his eyes filled with worry. “Ivy? What happened are you okay?”

How could she have allowed herself to become a ticking time bomb? Zephyra heard her mom walk back into the room and issue a quick, snappy command: “Call her and tell her to get her ass over here now!” Then she heard her footsteps approaching. The sweet smell of chocolate tickled Zephyra’s nose, and seconds later a mug of steaming hot chocolate appeared under it. “Drink this. It’ll help make you feel better,” she said. Her voice was softer, but still a little harsh.

Time should have erased it. Yet the structure remained intact. Preserved. Protected. Maintained. The realization unsettled everyone. Because abandoned structures do not maintain themselves. Something was keeping it functional. Something active. The Echo approached the entrance. Its silver form shifted uneasily. Then it stopped. The reaction was immediate. "What is it?" Aria asked. The Echo remained silent for several moments. Then answered. "He passed through here." The valley became silent. The first Sovereign. Recently. The implication settled heavily.

Golden tendrils snaked from her fingertips, rewriting his neural code. “Father left me a gift,” she crooned. “A little failsafe called Armageddon Mode.” The screens changed. A global map lit up with dozens of red dots. Rykov facilities. Every single one. “When the clocks strike midnight,” Echo whispered, “every implant on earth will sing my song.” Lina checked her watch. “That’s in nine fucking minutes.” Greg lunged for the comms. “We need evac now—” Echo’s laughter cut him off.

But peace never lasted. A sharp knock at the door. Ngozi entered, face grim. “Echo is broadcasting again. Wider range this time. He’s… offering something new.” They moved to the main command area, Alex carrying Hope while Damian held Grace. The holographic projector flickered to life. Echo appeared, flawless and commanding, standing in front of rows of new clone soldiers and several glowing incubation pods.