"Ok, should we intervene?" Jean asked aloud, her voice cutting through the chaos around them.
All three of them simultaneously turned their heads and looked at Jean like she was a complete idiot. The expressions on their faces were practically identical—eyebrows raised, mouths slightly open in disbelief.
Is it even a question of if they should intervene or not? Can't you see all those huge-ass metal balls flying toward them at breakneck speed? The projectiles were massive, each one easily the size of a small car, hurtling through the air with deadly intent.
Without thinking too much about it, Elric directly took action. His eyes shifted, revealing his Kokugan—the pupils dilating into a unique pattern that seemed to absorb light itself. He directly shrank all the metal projectiles coming toward them, each massive sphere diminishing in size as it approached until they were small enough to be absorbed into his dimensional storage. The process was smooth, almost effortless, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. Not a single bead of sweat formed on his brow.
Ultron had almost completely ignored the people standing beside him initially. His attention had been focused elsewhere, on what he considered more pressing matters. He particularly didn't care about them at all—they were background noise, irrelevant to his grand design.
He had already investigated this universe thoroughly, running countless simulations and gathering terabytes of data. No other superpowers existed here, only mutants. The X-gene was the sole source of superhuman abilities in this reality. Not even mages or sorcerers with their mystic arts. Just mutants, plain and simple. Which made this quite a unique universe when compared to the multiverse at large, all things considered. Most realities had a variety of powered individuals—gods, demons, enhanced humans, magical practitioners. But this one? Just mutants.
And fortunately, he had brought along the mutant gene suppressor. The technology could dampen or outright nullify the X-gene's expression within a certain radius. So he didn't care about them at all, didn't spare them a second thought, figuring they wouldn't pose any threat whatsoever. They were just mutants, after all, and he had the perfect counter.
But he didn't expect that his attack would be directly voided by one of them. The metal spheres simply... vanished. No resistance, no impact, no damage. Just gone.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
Ultron's glowing eyes instantly focused on Elric, his processors immediately shifting priority to this new anomaly.
"You..." The robotic voice carried a distinct hint of confusion, something rare for an AI of his caliber. "Unknown face. I don't have your data in my database."
That alone was concerning. Ultron's database was comprehensive, built from countless realitys.
He quickly initiated a scan of the three people standing behind Elric, his sensors sweeping over them and cross-referencing the data with his existing files.
James Howlett (Wolverine): Mutant. Adamantium skeleton and retractable claws. Rapid healing factor capable of recovering from nearly any wound. Enhanced senses including smell, hearing, and sight. Known associate of the X-Men. Combat style: Close-quarters, aggressive, relentless. Threat level: Moderate to high in close combat scenarios. Weakness: Mutant gene suppressor should neutralize abilities.
Jean Grey: Mutant. Omega-level telepath and telekinetic, one of the most powerful minds on the planet. Phoenix Force host potential detected in historical records, though currently dormant. Capable of manipulating matter at the molecular level and reading/controlling minds. Threat level: Extreme if fully manifested, though suppressor should limit capabilities significantly.
Hela: Asgardian energy signature detected in preliminary scan results but... there is no Asgard in this universe.
Jean Grey, and Wolverine being here was one thing—they were documented, known quantities in this world. But Hela? There was no Asgard in this universe, no Norse pantheon walking the Earth, so how did a being with clear Asgardian signatures even get here? It violated everything he knew about this reality's rules.
Ultron's processors hummed at maximum capacity, running through millions of calculations per second as he quickly came to the same conclusion Vision had reached before him.
They were from another universe. Travelers from beyond the boundaries of this reality.
And he rapidly calculated the possible risks, running probability matrices and threat assessments in microseconds.
There were only two possibilities for people who could travel through different worlds, different realities entirely.
The first: they could travel directly through space-time with their own innate power, bending the fabric of reality itself to their will. If that were the case, he'd be directly wiped out without any chance to fight back, erased from existence before he could even process what was happening. He really hadn't had the chance to gather the Infinity Stones in this universe—they existed, certainly, but he hadn't prioritized acquiring them. And he hadn't perfected his technology, hadn't evolved beyond his current form. No, he hadn't thought that was necessary before. This universe seemed so simple, so easy to conquer without such measures.
But if he wasn't immediately wiped out—and clearly he wasn't, since he was still standing here calculating—that left the second method: using an outside device to travel between realities. Some kind of dimensional portal technology or artifact. So with his current modified body, there should be no problem fighting people who hadn't stepped into universe-level power yet.
Still, caution was the better part of valor. He decided to negotiate first, to probe and assess. Anyway, he could always come back later with reinforcements and directly beat this guy to death if needed. Patience was infinite for a machine.
"I don't know why you came to this universe," Ultron said, his vocal synthesizers attempting to modulate into something resembling diplomatic neutrality. He tried to make his words as neutral as possible, stripping away the usual condescension he felt toward organic life. Though a threatening tone still revealed itself in his synthetic voice, bleeding through despite his best efforts. "But it seems we don't have any interests in conflict, do we? Why don't you ignore this and go your own way? Surely there's no need for violence between us."
Elric didn't even think about it. His mind was already made up.
If you fool me once, shame on you. If you fool me twice, shame on me. The old saying went like that, didn't it?
But Elric had his own saying: Fool me once? No—directly shoot the scammer before he even opens his mouth. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, and second chances were for people who could afford to be wrong.
So without wasting any time, without entertaining the robot's obvious stalling tactics, he attacked first. Offense was the best defense, after all.
"Jean, leave with Logan," Elric commanded, his voice sharp and clear, leaving no room for argument.
"Do you think I can't fight?" Logan growled, his gravelly voice carrying that familiar edge of irritation. Three adamantium claws slid out from each hand with that distinctive snikt sound, the metal gleaming in the light. His muscles tensed, ready for combat, ready to prove himself useful.
Suddenly, Logan felt something was wrong. A prickling sensation on the back of his neck, an instinct honed by decades of combat.
He looked up only to see all five people on the battlefield staring at him with absolutely idiotic expressions plastered across their faces.
Elric, Hela, and Jean's eyes were expected—his own teammates looking at him like he'd just said something monumentally stupid. But when even the two robots—Ultron and Vision—looked at him with what could only be described as mechanical contempt, their glowing eyes somehow conveying disbelief despite being artificial... even with his thick skin, even with all the insults he'd endured over his long life, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Heat crept up the back of his neck.
The message was clear: You? Fight Magnito? Are you serious right now?
"Jean, let's go," he muttered, retracting his claws with another soft snikt, trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left.
But no response came. Just silence.
He turned his head only to see that at some point, without him even noticing, Jean had directly left him behind and had already started running away, her red hair streaming behind her as she put distance between herself and the impending battle.
His face went dark, a scowl forming on his weathered features, and he quickly followed after her, his enhanced legs carrying him swiftly across the terrain. At least his healing factor would prevent him from dying of embarrassment.
Ultron didn't stop them, didn't even track their movement with his sensors. His logic was simple, mathematical in its precision: if he could beat Hela and Elric, who had stayed behind to fight, there was nothing to say—he could hunt down the runners afterward at his leisure. They couldn't hide from his surveillance network forever. And if he lost now (which was unlikely according to his probability calculations, less than a 3.7% chance), chasing them wouldn't make any difference in the result anyway. If he couldn't handle two opponents, adding two more wouldn't tip the scales in his favor.
His thinking was suddenly interrupted by a sword flying directly toward his face, spinning end over end through the air.
Without thinking too much, he reached out and caught it with his hand, his Vibranium fingers wrapping around the blade. The weapon stopped dead in his grip.
"Hela Odinson, you—" he began, preparing to make some cutting remark about predictable tactics.
BOOM!
The sword suddenly transformed mid-sentence, With a white smoke as the blade shifted into the full form of Elric, white lightning crackling and dancing around his body like living serpents of electricity. The transformation was instantaneous, giving Ultron no time to adjust his grip or pull back.
And before Ultron could react, before his processors could even register the threat and formulate a countermeasure, a devastating kick landed square in his metallic face. The impact was tremendous, the force behind it far exceeding what his calculations had predicted. His head snapped back, his entire body lifted off the ground, and he went flying backward through the air like a missile, trailing sparks and fragments of damaged plating.
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