"So the son joins his father," Uranos said with amusement as he watched Thor fly down next to Odin.
The thunder god landed heavily, Mjolnir gripped tight in his hand, lightning crackling around his body. He looked between his father and the ancient Eternal, taking in the scene, the scorched and broken battlefield, Odin's battered but defiant form.
"You shouldn't be here, boy," Uranos said with a chuckle. "But no matter. I will kill you just as I killed the other twenty variants of you I've slain across the multiverse. Your death will be no different than theirs, brief, violent, and ultimately meaningless."
Thor looked at Odin, then back to Uranos, confusion clear on his young face. "Son?" He laughed nervously, the sound strained. "I have never seen this man before in my life," he said, not wanting Clea to be mad at him for disrupting the flow of time. He was already scared of what she would do to him now that he had met a younger version of his father.
Odin's eyes studied Thor intently, something shifting in his expression. "I know who you are, boy. You got here like Richards and Stark did, didn't you? From another universe."
Thor's eyes widened in shock. "Tony and Richards are here too?" His grip on Mjolnir tightened.
"We will avenge your world as well," Odin said, his voice carrying the weight of a solemn oath. His expression softened slightly. "And I am sorry for what happened to it."
Thor was more confused now, his brow furrowing. "My world?" He shook his head. "Nothing happened. Clea and I were just—"
"As much as I would love to see this sweet and auspicious meeting continue," Uranos interrupted, his tone dripping with mockery, "we—" he motioned to Odin with one of his Stormbreakers, "—were in the middle of something." His smile widened, showing teeth. "I suppose with the thunder god's arrival, it only makes things more interesting."
His expression shifted, becoming darker and more predatory. "I'm going to make you watch as I kill your son," he said to Odin.
Odin let out a war cry that echoed across the battlefield and charged at Uranos, continuing their battle with renewed fury.
Thor followed, equally angry. Lightning erupted around his body as he flew forward.
Uranos wielded his twin Stormbreakers, the axes singing through the air as he struck at them both. The weapons moved in deadly arcs, each swing powerful enough to cleave through mountains. Thor, who was stronger than Odin, was able to keep up better, his superior physical might allowing him to block and counter the strikes. But Odin held his own, though he was slower, weakened by the injuries he had sustained in the battle so far.
They fought as one, instinctively coordinating despite never having battled together like this before.
Thor struck high while Odin struck low. Odin feinted left while Thor attacked from the right. When Uranos focused on one, the other exploited the opening. It was a beautiful sight in its violence. They struck at Uranos together, executing devastating combinations that drove the Eternal back.
Thor would throw Mjolnir, striking Uranos's guard and forcing his arms up. In that instant, Odin would sweep low with a lightning-enhanced strike that caught Uranos's legs. As the Eternal staggered, Thor would catch the returning Mjolnir and bring it down on Uranos's shoulder while Odin struck from the opposite side.
For that moment, Uranos was powerless, unable to defend against their synchronized assault.
Thor enjoyed it immensely. He had never fought with his father like this before, as equals. Though the Thor before Odin was far more experienced and older, it was still a strange experience. There was joy in it, pure and uncomplicated, despite the desperate circumstances.
"Hah! Did you see that, Father?" Thor laughed as one of their combined strikes sent Uranos stumbling backward.
"Well done, boy," Odin grinned fiercely. "I liked that spinning attack you did."
Uranos recovered, his Eternal physiology healing the damage they had inflicted with great speed. Within moments, he was back at full power and attacking once more with renewed ferocity.
But even at full strength, he could not overcome their coordination.
Odin and Thor went on the offensive, their attacks flowing together with increasing fluidity, their tactics becoming more refined with each exchange. What had started as instinctive coordination evolved into something more, a perfect synchronization born of shared blood and warrior instinct.
The Eternal snarled in frustration as he was beaten back again and again.
"Excellent strike!" Odin praised as Thor's Mjolnir caught Uranos across the jaw, sending the Eternal spinning.
"Thank you, Father!" Thor beamed as he threw Mjolnir at Uranos, who tried to catch it, thinking to use it against them. His hand closed around the handle—
And nothing happened.
The hammer did not slow, and Uranos was taken along with it.
"You are not worthy, Eternal!" Thor bellowed as he called Mjolnir back. Uranos let go as it returned.
Uranos fell and landed on his feet. He looked at them both, the previous bravado gone, replaced by anger and frustration.
"Enough!" Uranos snarled.
Thor and Odin exchanged a glance, nodded once, and acted as one.
They raised their Mjolnirs simultaneously. Lightning gathered around both of them, called from the storm clouds that had formed overhead during the battle. The electricity arced between them, building, amplifying, the two sources of divine thunder feeding into each other.
A combined lightning attack erupted from their Mjolnirs, twin bolts that merged into a single catastrophic beam of pure power. The blast was gigantic, easily fifty feet wide, so bright it turned the battlefield white, so powerful the air itself ionized and burned.
It hit Uranos directly.
The Eternal screamed as millions of volts coursed through his body. His flesh charred, his armor melted, his eternal physiology pushed to its absolute limit trying to survive the assault. The lightning did not just strike him, it was sustained, a continuous beam that lasted for several seconds, each one an eternity of agony.
When it finally ended, Uranos fell.
He hit the ground hard, smoke rising from his body, his armor cracked and blackened, his skin blistered and burned.
He did not move.
"Victory!" Thor shouted, raising Mjolnir high. "We did it, Father! Victory is ours!"
Odin laughed despite his exhaustion. "Yes! Yes, we did, boy!"
Their celebration was short-lived as Uranos stood up once more from the crater that had formed from the lightning assault. He stood unsteadily, his body regenerating from the attack, the burns slowly healing, though not as fast as before.
"Perhaps one more," Thor said, his tone less confident now, "and he will be finished."
Odin nodded grimly. "Agreed. We end this now."
They prepared to attack once more, raising their weapons, calling lightning again.
Uranos called the Stormbreakers to him. The twin axes flew through the air and slapped into his waiting hands. Then, almost ceremonially, he dropped them to the ground. They fell with heavy thuds.
"I was hoping I wouldn't need this," Uranos said, his voice one of reluctance and a hint of shame. "But I suppose two against one isn't quite fair, is it?"
Red light coursed through his hands, spreading up his arms.
Something appeared behind Uranos, materializing from nothing, summoned from wherever he had hidden it.
Thor immediately recognized it.
"No," he breathed, horror clear in his voice.
The Destroyer Armor.
It stood ten feet tall, a massive suit of armor. The metal was dark, nearly black, etched with runes that glowed gold. The helmet was featureless except for a narrow horizontal slit where eyes would be, and from that slit, orange light blazed. The armor looked both beautiful and terrible, elegant lines that somehow conveyed overwhelming menace.
"What is that?" Odin asked, staring at the massive armor.
"The Destroyer Armor," Thor said, his voice tight with fear. "It guards Asgard's treasury. It's... it's one of the most powerful artifacts ever created. You made it with the sole purpose of battling—" Thor stopped himself, not wanting to reveal further.
"Oh fuck," Odin said, unconsciously imitating Max.
The armor opened.
The chest plate split apart like a blooming flower, revealing hollow darkness within. Then it began to melt, the solid metal becoming liquid, flowing like mercury. The molten armor poured toward Uranos, reaching for him.
Uranos screamed as the transformation began.
The liquid metal flowed over his body, covering him inch by inch. It was clearly agonizing. His skin burned where the metal touched as the Destroyer merged with his flesh. The armor wrapped around his arms, his legs, his torso. The helmet flowed over his head last, and his final scream was cut off as his face was covered, his features disappearing beneath the featureless mask.
Father and son tried to attack.
They charged forward, hammers raised. But before they could reach him, a blast erupted from Uranos's transforming form that caught them both and hurled them backward.
They tumbled across the battlefield, slamming into the ground dozens of feet away.
When they looked up, the transformation was complete.
There stood Uranos, fully encased in the Destroyer Armor.
The front of the helm opened to reveal Uranos's face, his eyes glowing with golden energy, the same power as the Destroyer.
He looked down at himself, flexed his metal-clad hands, and laughed.
Then he moved, so fast that both Thor and Odin could not even see it. One moment he was standing where the transformation had completed. The next, he was between them.
His left fist drove into Thor's stomach. His right fist hit Odin's gut simultaneously. The impacts were perfectly timed, delivered with the full power of the Destroyer Armor and Uranos's own strength behind them.
The wind was knocked out of both of them instantly. Thor's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a soundless gasp as every bit of air was driven from his lungs. Odin's eyes bulged, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but feel the crushing agony in his abdomen.
They were both lifted off their feet by the force of the blows and sent flying in opposite directions.
"Now... now it's a fair fight."
.
.
.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
Ghost struck Apocalypse with all his fury.
Each punch was driven by grief, by rage, by the crimson hellfire that now burned within him. His fists moved in a blur, too fast to count, each impact releasing another shockwave, another explosion of force.
Apocalypse, for the first time in the battle, was hurt.
The ancient mutant's grey-blue skin burned where Ghost's hellfire touched it, the crimson flames searing through his defenses. His body, which had grown to forty feet tall, began returning to its normal form, shrinking rapidly as his concentration broke under the relentless assault.
"AAARRRRHHHHHHH!" Ghost screamed.
He delivered a devastating attack, gathering all his power into a single point around his fist and driving it into Apocalypse's skull with enough force to crack the earth beneath them. The impact created a crater within a crater, and Apocalypse's head snapped back so violently it nearly knocked him unconscious.
Azzuri joined in.
The Black Panther leaped high, Gram blazing with Phoenix fire in his hands. He came down, attempting to impale Apocalypse through the chest. Nur used his telekinesis to keep Apocalypse pinned to the ground, holding the tyrant in place so Azzuri's strike would land true.
Apocalypse's eyes glowed blue, and he simply disappeared into the ground, his body melting and becoming one with the earth itself. His form liquefied, flowing down through cracks and fissures, merging with soil and stone.
Gram struck where he had been a fraction of a second before, the Phoenix-wreathed blade sinking deep into empty earth.
"Where did he go?" Ghost asked. The crimson flames around him blazed brighter.
All three stood ready, looking in all directions.
They waited, tense, scanning the battlefield, which was breaking apart as if the entire coastline were sinking into the ocean.
The ground remained still. The air was silent except for the crackling of Ghost's flames.
A mist began to form.
It appeared from nowhere, coalescing in the air several feet away. The mist swirled and condensed, taking on a vague humanoid shape.
The mist surged forward with great speed, trying to force its way into Azzuri's mouth, his nose, his ears attempting to invade his body from within.
Azzuri reacted instantly.
He used Gram in a circular motion, spinning the blade around his body. The Phoenix flames trailing from the sword created a barrier of cosmic fire, and where the mist touched those flames, it recoiled as if burned.
The Phoenix fire hurt Apocalypse even in his intangible form.
The mist pulled back, retreating from the barrier and reforming several yards away.
Apocalypse now stood in his normal state. He looked toward where the Ghost Goblin had died.
"You slew the mad dog," Apocalypse said, his voice carrying contempt mixed with what might have been grudging respect. "That maddened creature, that pathetic mockery of a great power—and you believe defeating him qualifies you as my equal?" He smiled. "The Goblin was nothing. A tool. Disposable. Insane. You ended his suffering, nothing more."
His form shifted slightly, muscles rippling beneath his skin as power gathered around him once more.
"But I am Apocalypse." His voice grew harder. "You will not survive me."
Apocalypse looked at Azzuri.
The ancient mutant's eyes blazed with blue light as his mind crashed into Azzuri's like a battering ram. The psychic assault was brutal and invasive, trying to break apart the Black Panther's mind, to shatter his sense of self, to reduce him to a shell.
But Azzuri's mind was protected. His nature as the Black Panther, as the Champion of Bast, provided inherent defense. Beyond that, there was his extensive training with Agamotto and Firehair. All the Avengers had undergone mental fortification exercises, learning to construct barriers and resist any psychic attack.
The protections held.
But Apocalypse's attack was immense enough to overwhelm even those considerable defenses, breaking through some layers and that was enough.
Azzuri screamed.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
It was a sound of raw agony, a cry torn from someone experiencing pain beyond the physical. His hands flew to his head, Gram falling from his grip as he clutched his temples. His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, his entire body trembling, temporarily out of the battle as he fought the invasion of his mind.
Ghost immediately attacked. He picked up Gram from the ground where Azzuri had dropped it. He charged at Apocalypse, the crimson hellfire around his body mixing with the golden Phoenix fire from the sword, creating a terrifying combination of cosmic power.
Nur followed, flying through the air, telekinetic energy gathered around his hands, preparing to strike.
But Apocalypse used his telekinesis to push him away. Nur was hurled backward with great force. The young mutant flew off, tumbling end over end, traveling miles before finally crashing into the distant earth, too far away to immediately rejoin the fight.
Apocalypse turned his full attention to Ghost.
The Spirit of Vengeance closed in and began to use Gram, striking with the flame-wreathed blade. The forest in the distance began to burn from the fires that erupted from Gram with each strike, but none struck Apocalypse as he began to teleport out of the attacks.
The blade would swing toward his neck, and he would vanish, reappearing ten feet away. Ghost would spin and strike at his new position, and Apocalypse would teleport again, blinking out of existence just before the flames and the blade could touch him.
This continued in a deadly dance.
Ghost would attack where Apocalypse reappeared, the Spirit of Vengeance's combat instincts allowing him to predict and react faster than thought. Apocalypse would teleport out of danger at the last possible instant, staying always just ahead of the blade.
But each time Apocalypse reappeared, he was able to attack Ghost. Small energy blasts erupted from his hands or eyes concentrated beams that struck Ghost's body. They weren't enough to seriously injure the Spirit of Vengeance, but they slowly weakened him and made Ghost angrier even angrier than he already was, which seemed impossible given the fury already driving him.
Ghost changed tactics.
He began to blast Apocalypse with combined hellfire and the Phoenix fire within Gram.
Apocalypse, much to Ghost's surprise, met the attacks head-on with a smile.
"Is that all?" the first mutant asked, standing his ground as the flames rushed toward him.
Then his body changed.
Holes opened in Apocalypse's torso, his chest, his shoulders. The fire passed through harmlessly and struck the vast ocean behind him.
Apocalypse's body sealed instantly, the holes closing as if they'd never existed.
He teleported next to Ghost before the Spirit of Vengeance could react.
His fist, glowing with blue energy, struck Ghost's skull with tremendous force. The blow sent Ghost staggering. Apocalypse continued attacking, his fists moving in a blur, each strike backed by his enhanced strength and energy projection. He hit Ghost in the ribs, the jaw, the chest, a relentless barrage that drove him backward.
Ghost countered, opening his mouth and releasing hellfire directly at Apocalypse's face from point-blank range.
But Apocalypse redirected it before it could hit him, his hand moving in a sweeping gesture that bent the fire's trajectory, then absorbed its energy, the hellfire being drawn into his body, consumed and converted into power he could use.
He blasted it back at Ghost.
Ghost was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard. The crimson flames flickered around his blackened skull.
He tried to rise, but Apocalypse teleported nearby, his right hand glowing with power building to devastating levels.
When he felt it was sufficient, he struck Ghost directly in the face. Then again. And again. Ghost's body jerked with each impact, the hellfire around him flickering and weakening under the sustained assault.
From the burning forest, Nur flew out, charging back into the battlefield.
Apocalypse raised a hand almost casually. Nur stopped mid-air, frozen by telekinetic force far greater than his own. He struggled, his powers straining to break free, but it was like trying to move mountains with bare hands.
"You stay there," Apocalypse said calmly, not even looking at Nur, his attention still focused on the fallen Ghost as he manipulated the ground beneath the Spirit of Vengeance.
The earth opened a controlled manipulation of matter. The soil and stone became liquid under Apocalypse's molecular control, flowing like water. Ghost sank into it, the ground swallowing him and pulling him down. The earth solidified around him as he descended, burying him deep, miles into the ground.
"Finally," Apocalypse said, dusting off his hands.
Apocalypse turned to look at Nur and immediately launched a psychic assault.
The mental attack was overwhelming, infinitely more powerful than what he'd used on Azzuri. This was Apocalypse's full psychic might focused on a single target.
Nur blacked out instantly.
=======
Nur woke up in a very familiar desert.
The sand stretched endlessly in all directions, dunes rising and falling beneath a merciless sun. The heat was oppressive, exactly as he remembered it. This was one of the most common places where the Sandstormers would camp under Baal's leadership, near a small spring deep within a nearby cave.
A voice came from behind him.
"Ah, memories."
Nur turned and saw Apocalypse standing there.
He immediately realized that Apocalypse was inside his head.
How? he thought desperately. He had the strongest mind among the Avengers Agamotto had told him so.
"I know what you think," Apocalypse said, responding to Nur's unspoken question. "We are the same, En Sabah Nur." He smiled, and there was something almost paternal in it, something that made Nur's skin crawl. "Yes, you have quite a powerful mind. As did I when I was your age."
He took a step closer.
"And I know my mind inside and out."
Nur grew angry, fury replacing the momentary fear. He tried to push Apocalypse out of his mind.
"No, no," Apocalypse said, completely unbothered by Nur's attempt.
"We talk first."
"Then we'll see what happens next," Apocalypse continued, his voice calm. "What comes after depends upon how that conversation ends."
Apocalypse walked next to Nur, who stepped back instinctively.
"Look at you," Apocalypse said, his voice heavy with disappointment and contempt. "So much potential. So much power. And yet you waste it on weakness." He spat the last word like a curse, like something foul in his mouth.
Nur did not respond.
"Your path has been disrupted," Apocalypse continued, beginning to circle Nur like a predator stalking wounded prey. "I have met many of our variants across the multiverse—En Sabah Nur in a thousand different forms, across a thousand different timelines. Some have failed, yes. But none like you." He stopped, facing Nur directly. "You have corrupted your purpose, allowed weaklings to rule over you." He spat again, the gesture contemptuous. "They have poisoned your mind with their soft philosophies, their pathetic ideals of equality and compassion."
The entire mental world shifted.
The desert dissolved, replaced by something else, Apocalypse's world, his Earth.
The vision that materialized around them was horrifying. This was the Age of Apocalypse, a dystopian world where Apocalypse's philosophy had been implemented completely, perfectly, without mercy or restraint.
It was a brutal caste society, with mutants at the top and humans at the bottom.
The strongest lived in gleaming cities of advanced technology, their lives ones of absolute luxury and power. These were the Alphas mutants whose abilities marked them as evolutionarily superior, worthy of ruling.
Below them were the lesser mutants, those with weaker abilities, less impressive powers. They served the Alphas, grateful to be allowed to exist in this new world order. They worked in factories, in administrative roles, in positions of middle management within the hierarchy. Their lives were constrained but tolerable, better than the alternative.
And then there were the humans.
Humans were frequent targets of cullings and genetic experimentation, and enjoyed little to no legal protection under Apocalypse's law. They were livestock, resources, test subjects. The vision showed pens where humans were kept like cattle, awaiting their turn in laboratories. It showed mass graves where the weak, the sick, the undesirable had been disposed of after failed experiments. It showed children taken from their parents, sorted by genetic potential, the promising ones kept for breeding programs, while the rest were... discarded.
Nur was horrified by it.
Perhaps two decades ago, when he had been younger, angrier, bitter at the world that had given him nothing but suffering perhaps then he might have somewhat agreed with this vision, what Baal's teachings in him could have become. The strong surviving, the weak falling away.
But the man he had now become? No. He was horrified.
He was even more horrified by the fact that Max knew of this. Max had seen this potential future, had known what he could become, what path he might have walked if left to his own devices. Max had known that Nur carried the seed of this monster within him.
And yet Max had still trusted him, had still shown him a better path, had still called him friend brother and had still believed in who an En Sabah Nur could choose to be, rather than who fate said he would become.
"This is what I built," Apocalypse said with pride, gesturing to the dystopian vision surrounding them. "A world where the strong are not shackled by the weakness of the inferior. Where evolution is not held back by sentiment, by the pathetic notion that all life has equal value. This is perfection, En Sabah Nur. This is what we are meant to create."
He walked through the vision, and it shifted to show more of that world.
"Power, En Sabah Nur," Apocalypse said, now standing beside the young mutant, speaking almost gently, like a teacher to a promising student. "You have the potential to be the greatest of us all. Perhaps even an equal to me. And understand, not all of us are equals in the multiverse. Most variants I have encountered were weak, lost to lesser versions of our kind, unable to fulfill our goal. But you..." He smiled. "You have the potential to do what I did, perhaps even surpass it. And yet you squander your gifts playing hero with your Avengers."
Apocalypse's presence pressed into Nur's mind, whose defenses were slowly eroding.
He showed more. Endless variations across the multiverse, each one proving his philosophy in different ways. Many were even worse than the Age of Apocalypse, dystopias so complete that humanity had been entirely eradicated, replaced by mutant empires that stretched across galaxies. Some showed Apocalypse failing, brought down by heroes, but even in defeat his philosophy had scarred those worlds forever.
Apocalypse walked closer, his ancient eyes boring into Nur's.
"How long do you think before your so-called friends turn on you?" he asked softly. "How long before you too are deemed a threat? You are powerful, En Sabah Nur. More powerful than most of them. The prince sees it. The sorcerer sees it. And the Lantern—oh, the Lantern most certainly sees it. He has seen what you could become. How long before fear overcomes friendship? How long before they decide you are too dangerous to live?"
The words struck at Nur's deepest fears, at the doubts he sometimes felt in his darkest moments.
"Join me," Apocalypse said. "Help me kill off the Panther and the Rider..." He gestured. "I can make you even more powerful. Power beyond anything you ever—"
"You are not getting my body, Apocalypse," Nur said.
Apocalypse faltered, just for a moment, surprise flickering across his features.
Nur's smile widened. "Like you said before," he continued. He raised his hands, and telekinetic force erupted around him. "I know my mind better than anything."
Apocalypse was struck by the force and driven down into the ground of the mental landscape.
"Your body is failing," Nur said, standing over the fallen form of the first mutant. "You needed mine. You needed my mind weakened enough for you to take it over."
"So that was Mephisto's promise, then. A younger, more powerful body for you to transfer your mind into."
Apocalypse glared up at him, rage and grudging respect warring in his expression.
Nur looked down at him, and when he spoke, his voice was calm.
"You say my path has deviated from yours. You're right." He nodded slowly.
The mental plane began to change again, but this time it was Nur doing it, asserting his own will over the shared space.
The dystopian cityscape dissolved, replaced by something else. It showed his town, which had grown into a city in his homeland, his people having prospered over the last two decades.
"You believe the strong should rule the weak. I believe the strong should protect the weak, uplift them, and use their power to create rather than destroy. And between these two paths, mine is harder. Mine requires something you've never possessed..."
Apocalypse attacked, his psychic presence crushing down on Nur like a mountain.
The mental pressure was immense, trying to erase Nur's sense of self, to crush his will, to remake him in Apocalypse's image.
But Nur met him and did not back down.
Their minds clashed, two visions of what mutantkind could become warring for dominance.
"I found a new path, one you cannot even comprehend. And that makes me one of a kind among all of us."
He showed Apocalypse a vision, not of the future, but of possibility.
A world where Nur's philosophy had prevailed. Where mutants and humans lived in peace, working together, building together. Where he had led his people to prosperity without tyranny, without oppression. It was the world Max hoped Nur would create, a future where En Sabah Nur became a leader for his people by inspiring and protecting them across millennia.
"Impossible," Apocalypse said, genuine shock bleeding through his voice as Nur began to win the battle of minds. "You shouldn't be able to—"
"If you are Apocalypse, the end of all things, the final revelation..."
Apocalypse was pushed further into the ground, now unable to even speak.
"...then I am Genesis. The beginning. The first light."
"NOW GET OUT OF MY MIND!" Nur screamed.
The connection between them severed violently, Apocalypse's consciousness ripped from Nur's mind.
Back in the real world, Nur quickly stood up from the ground.
He could hear Apocalypse screaming. The ancient mutant was clutching his head with both hands, his entire body convulsing from psychic backlash. The tyrant had visibly aged. Lines appeared on his face that had not been there before, and his skin looked more withered.
Nur went on the offensive immediately.
He blasted Apocalypse with concentrated telekinetic force, then closed the distance and began striking him with his hands. But these were not ordinary blows. Nur imbued them with matter manipulation. Each strike tore away at Apocalypse's body and the Celestial armor around him.
At the same time, Azzuri, now recovered from the psychic assault, charged in with Gram once more.
The ground shook as Ghost burst out of it, breaking apart the earth that had buried him. Rock and soil exploded upward as the Spirit of Vengeance emerged, crimson hellfire blazing around his form, angrier than ever.
From the sky, Tony flew in and began blasting Apocalypse with repulsor beams and missiles, his armor's full arsenal unleashed.
All four of them attacked the weakened Apocalypse together.
Apocalypse could not fight back effectively. His mind was in chaos from Nur's immense mental strike, his thoughts scattered, his concentration shattered. He tried to teleport but only appeared a few feet away. He tried to absorb their attacks, but the energy dispersed uselessly.
He began growing in size, whether by his own will or due to the mental strain causing his powers to spiral out of control. His body expanded, becoming twenty feet tall, then thirty, then forty.
They continued their assault, not giving him a moment to recover.
"We really need something big to finish him off!" Tony shouted, dodging a wild swing from Apocalypse's massive arm.
Just then, all four of them saw a blazing ball of fire in the sky.
It looked like a meteor, a falling star burning brilliant red and gold as it descended toward the battlefield.
Then it split into two.
"It's Vnn and Fan!" Tony called out.
Vnn roared, "RRRRAAAHHHRAAAHHHHHH!" completely powered up, the Starbrand blazing in his chest so brightly it was painful to look at directly. Red and gold cosmic energy poured from his body in torrents.
Fan Fei had both hands blazing with the full power of Shou-Lao, the golden energy of the ancient dragon burning brighter than it ever had before.
WHOOM-KRAAAASH!
Vnn tore through his stomach, the Starbrand's power punching a hole clean through the ancient mutant's midsection. Fan tore through his chest, creating a second massive wound, dragon fire searing from the inside out.
Apocalypse screamed.
"Here's our chance!" Tony shouted.
He began charging his chest cannon, the arc reactor's energy building to maximum output, the runes Agamotto had inscribed glowing amber as they channeled and amplified the power.
Nur continued his mental assault, his consciousness driving into Apocalypse's shattered mind like spears, preventing the ancient mutant from mounting any defense.
Azzuri leaped, using his enhanced strength to propel himself dozens of feet into the air, and drove Gram into Apocalypse's chest. The Phoenix flames along the blade erupted, burning the ancient mutant from within.
Ghost attacked with a full hellfire blast, crimson flames pouring from his entire body in a concentrated beam that struck Apocalypse's face. Vnn followed with the full power of the Starbrand. Tony's chest cannon fired, the amplified uni-beam adding its devastating force to the combined assault.
They all struck him together.
The combined attack created a pillar of brilliant white light that reached toward the heavens, so bright it could be seen for hundreds of miles.
When it finally faded, when the light dimmed and the smoke began to clear, what remained was Apocalypse, completely burned, his body reduced to almost nothing.
Only his torso and head remained, the lower half of his body completely vaporized, blackened like scorched lava. One arm was left, hanging uselessly at his side, the hand charred and lifeless.
But he was alive. Somehow, impossibly, he was still alive.
Nur stepped forward, raising his hand.
Energy gathered around his fingers, building to a final strike that would end this, that would finish what they had started.
But before he could release it, Apocalypse's body was covered by a crimson light. The light wrapped around him like a cocoon.
And then he disappeared. Vanished. The crimson light had taken him away, teleporting him to safety just before Nur's killing blow could land.
"Where did he go?" Fan asked, her breathing heavy from exertion.
"Mephisto," the answer came from Ghost.
Tony flew down. "Damn it," he said, frustration clear in his voice. "We had him."
"He was basically a corpse," Azzuri added. "Another few seconds and—"
"He can heal," Ghost interrupted.
Nur was silent, staring at the spot where Apocalypse had disappeared.
Finally, Nur spoke.
"When we do eventually fight Mephisto," he said, his eyes still fixed on that empty space, "I get him first."