For a moment, all was still.
The mutants stared.
Then, Apocalypse slowly rose—shoulder scorched, armor cracked—but his expression was amused.
"Impressive," he admitted. "You truly are the perfect vessel."
Max floated above him, arms crossed. "I'm not a vessel. I'm the final boss."
And then the cliff erupted into chaos.
Mutants charged from all sides—energy blasts, telekinetic waves, and metal projectiles streaking through the air. Max dropped to the ground like lightning, weaving between attacks, redirecting energy, throwing out pulses of power that sent enemies flying. He moved with terrifying precision—no wasted movement, no hesitation.
The Nightmare Woman summoned tendrils of black fog, trying to trap him. Max raised a hand and turned the fog to crystal, then shattered it with a flick.
"You're not the only one who can control illusions," he muttered.
Meanwhile, Apocalypse stood back, watching. His fingers flexed, runes glowing across his arms. He was done testing.
"Enough," he said, voice echoing like thunder.
A black and gold aura erupted around him—crackling with ancient celestial energy.
The ground split.
The sky darkened.
And even Max paused.
Apocalypse floated upward, eyes glowing like suns. "No more games. Now, boy... witness a god's true form."
Max's smirk didn't fade—but he took a stance, power building like a storm around him.
"Oh, good," he said, the wind swirling. "I was getting bored."
The cliffside quaked under the pressure of two titans preparing to collide. Waves below slammed against the rocks like drums of war, and the sky above had begun to swirl, clouded by power and ambition.
Max Ryder took a breath. His body hummed with energy, lines of blue-white lightning crackling along his arms and legs. Across from him, Apocalypse floated in a nimbus of ancient power—black and gold energy roaring around him like a solar storm.
Then they clashed.
First Impact.
The moment they met in the center of the battlefield, sound disappeared. A shockwave exploded outward, cracking the cliff face and sending boulders tumbling into the sea. The air bent around them. Time itself seemed to glitch.
Max struck with a glowing punch—Apocalypse caught it.
Apocalypse countered with a brutal upward strike—Max vanished and reappeared behind him, kicking him downward into the rock.
The impact cratered the earth.
Before Max could follow up, he spun around—instinct taking over—just in time to deflect a blast of molten plasma from a mutant perched on a nearby ledge. The attacker was tall, armored, veins glowing with heat. Max raised a hand, redirecting the molten blast with a gesture and turning it into a spear of light that he hurled back.
One down.
But more came.
From the edges of the cliff, Apocalypse's followers launched coordinated attacks.
A mutant with wings of steel dove from above, talons glowing with kinetic force.
Another, cloaked in lightning, zipped across the battlefield in a blur, trying to strike at Max's back.
A third, her skin translucent and shifting, created duplicates of herself, surrounding Max in illusion.
He twisted mid-air, grabbing the steel-winged mutant and spinning them into the ground. A wave of psychic energy hit him from the side—he staggered, but barely. He flung a beam of raw energy into the illusionist's ranks, burning away the false images, and knocked the real one unconscious with a snap of force.
"Come on," Max shouted, breathing hard now. "If you're going to come at me, then ALL of you better commit."
Apocalypse did.
He appeared in front of Max like a thunderclap—his palm glowing with cosmic runes. He struck Max in the chest. The world twisted. Max gasped, as for a moment, he was yanked between realities—different timelines, flashes of alternate versions of himself: dying, ruling, screaming.
Max screamed—and powered through it.
He exploded outward in a pulse of radiant light that tore the veil apart and sent Apocalypse stumbling back.
"You're not the only one who knows how to bend time," Max growled.
But even as he squared up again, he was hit from behind—two mutants, moving in sync, blades laced with null-energy slicing across his back. Max hit the ground hard, gritting his teeth as he forced himself up.
Another followed—mutant with vines for hair wrapped around his arm, trying to hold him down. Max's eyes flared. His entire body ignited in a blue blaze, vaporizing the vines and launching the attacker skyward.
"Thats it," Max asked amused.
'They might piss their pants if I tell them I am only using 10% of my power'
He raised both hands—and the sky responded. A column of light surged down from the heavens, crashing into the cliff and incinerating a half dozen mutant soldiers. The sea below roared. Max hovered again, energy pulsing like a sun around him.
But Apocalypse was not idle.
He had begun his chant—an ancient, guttural spell from another age. Runes floated around him, forming a seal in the air. The very code of the game world rippled—Max could see it breaking down.
He was rewriting the world.
"By the blood of the forgotten and the void of endless stars," Apocalypse chanted, "let the vessel be claimed!"
"No you don't!" Max replied with a shrug
He fired a bolt of energy so dense it carved through the cliff itself and slammed into Apocalypse's barrier. The spell shattered—but the backlash hit Max hard, sending him crashing into a rock wall.
Before he could rise, the steel-bodied mutant returned, slamming his fists into Max like hammers. Max rolled, dodged, grunted as he was clipped by a second strike. Then—
BOOM.
He fired point-blank into the mutant's chest. Armor cracked. The steel man staggered, then fell.
He fired point-blank into the mutant's chest. Armor cracked. The steel man staggered, then fell.
More mutants came.
A girl who could phase through matter tried to stab him with an ethereal blade.
A psionic twin struck his mind while her brother launched ice spears at his physical body.
A hulking brute charged like a tank, smashing into Max as he tried to stand.
Max held out both arms and roared.
"Okay now go to sleep"
A dome of light exploded outward again—this one wider, fiercer. All but Apocalypse were knocked back, stunned, unconscious, or too afraid to rise.
***
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