The crimson flames devoured everything—flesh, muscle, and sinew. Wolverine's body was stripped to the bone in an instant, every trace of tissue vaporized in the inferno. Yet, even under such unimaginable heat, his adamantium skeleton stood firm, gleaming faintly within the blood-red blaze. Not a single inch of it bent or melted.
Marcus's own weapon, however, was not so impervious. His carbon-nanosteel blade began to deform under the intensity of his own flames, its edge softening and warping from the heat. Reluctantly, Marcus dismissed the Bloodflame, the crimson glow fading from the air as molten droplets hissed off the blade's surface.
Without the constant burn of the flames, Wolverine's regenerative power returned with terrifying ferocity. From the back of his skull, veins and tendons sprouted like wild vines, weaving over the silver metal bones, regrowing muscles, arteries, and skin. Within seconds, a living body once again stood where moments earlier there had been only a skeleton.
Wolverine was whole—and by the speed of his regeneration, he was angrier than ever.
Marcus, though calm, had seen enough to understand. The source of Wolverine's regeneration was in his cerebellum, shielded by the unbreakable adamantium skull. Every cellular revival radiated outward from that point. It was a weak spot—but an impossible one to reach.
Even an Omega-level mutant could not break through adamantium to destroy Wolverine's brain. And even if someone could, whether that would truly kill him… not even Wolverine himself knew.
Marcus's plan to vaporize his brain through heat alone had failed.
Before he could act again, a sudden hailstorm of ice spikes rained toward him—sharp as daggers, freezing the air as they fell. The message was clear: Wolverine wasn't his only opponent.
The Iceman had entered the fight.
His entire body had turned to crystalline ice, his form glowing a faint blue beneath the fog. He swept both arms outward, freezing the ground as he skated fluidly across the newly formed ice. In a flash, he grabbed Wolverine's arm, pulling him away from Marcus, and regrouped beside Colossus and War Machine.
Marcus stepped forward, but Iceman slammed a hand onto the ground.
A thunderous crack split the air.
From the earth itself, a massive wall of ice surged upward—thick as a fortress, stretching so far that its edges vanished into the mist. It cut Marcus off from the others completely. The air dropped in temperature until every breath came out as frost.
Part of Marcus's arm was caught in the rising ice, freezing solid. He tried to melt it with Bloodfire—only to find, to his shock, that this ice was different.
The flames touched it—and froze.
For the first time, his crimson fire turned to cold glass, trapped in ice that refused to melt.
'So… he's awakened it,' Marcus realized.
This wasn't the power of a low-tier Alpha mutant anymore. Somehow, in that moment, Iceman had tapped into his dormant Omega potential. His freezing ability now defied physics entirely, freezing even energy itself.
The effort, though, left him gasping. He collapsed to one knee, his breath misting in the air. He had no idea how to sustain this newfound strength—his body had acted on instinct.
Just like the Scarlet Witch before him, Iceman's true potential had begun to stir. If he had time to grow into it, he could one day freeze entire universes. But in this moment, his control was fragile—and Marcus could not afford to wait for it to stabilize.
He had to end this now.
"War Machine, are you still with me?" Colossus shouted, kneeling beside his fallen ally. The armored soldier groaned weakly. Beneath his cracked chestplate, scarlet flames writhed within the wound—flames that refused to die.
"Damn it, it won't go out!" Colossus slammed his metal hands against the flames, trying to smother them, but the fire only clung tighter, burning brighter. It wasn't normal fire—it was Bloodflame, consuming War Machine's blood as its fuel.
"Let me try!" Iceman staggered forward, pressing his frozen palms against War Machine's armor. A wave of cold surged over the wound, encasing the burning metal in a crystal shell of ice. For a moment, it seemed to work. The glow dimmed.
But under the surface of the ice, the crimson fire still flickered—alive, untouchable.
"Son of a—what is this stuff?" Iceman shouted, his voice trembling with frustration. He had seen mutants control flames before, but never one that refused to die, even under subzero temperatures.
Colossus clenched his fists, his metallic face grim. "We can't stop it. He's too badly hurt. We have to pull back and get him medical help—now."
"Fine," Wolverine growled, stepping forward, his shirt already burned to tatters again. "You two get him out of here. I'll handle the bastard."
He stared at the flickering crimson glow through the ice wall, his claws extending with that familiar metallic snikt.
Colossus and Iceman exchanged a worried glance. They knew how reckless Wolverine could be—but there was no time to argue.
Iceman finally exhaled sharply. "Colossus, take War Machine and fall back. I'll stay and back him up."
He took his place beside Wolverine, his body still gleaming like glass. Together, they faced the blood-red glow burning through the ice wall ahead.
Colossus hesitated—then nodded. "Don't die, brothers."
He hoisted the unconscious War Machine onto his shoulder and began retreating down the ruined street.
He hadn't gone twenty steps when the world split open.
From above, a blinding streak of lightning and fire descended like the judgment of a god.
SHHHK!
The blade tore through the air—and through both men.
In a single, perfect motion, Marcus's twin energy blade cleaved Colossus and War Machine clean in half.
Time seemed to freeze.
For an instant, Colossus didn't even realize what had happened. Then his upper body slid from his lower half, metallic blood spilling out in torrents of silver and red.
War Machine's sundered armor sparked violently, collapsing beside him in two molten pieces.
And through the rain of blood and fire, Marcus Vale stepped forward, emerging from the crimson haze like a phantom of war.
His armor gleamed wet with gore, his eyes cold and steady.
Across the shattered street, Wolverine and Iceman stood frozen in disbelief.
The glowing shape they had seen behind the ice wall wasn't Marcus's true body at all—
It had only been his severed arm, still burning with Bloodflame, a decoy to mask his approach.
Now, the real Marcus stood before them, his blades dripping red, his aura blazing with power.
The battlefield fell silent.
Two heroes were dead.