The dust settled.
Only two figures remained standing.
Max floated amidst a field of unconscious mutants, his aura crackling with raw light, arcs of energy dancing like lightning spirits around him. His shirt was torn, his skin singed in places, but his eyes—those eyes—still burned with untamed fury and confidence.
Apocalypse descended slowly, silent now, no longer mocking, no longer testing. The runes on his arms pulsed with life—older than time, carved into the fabric of reality itself. His body healed as he moved. His golden aura had deepened into void-glow black, where the light didn't just shine—it devoured.
"This is where you break," Apocalypse said coldly.
Max grinned.
"You always talk too much."
They charged.
This time, no theatrics. No speeches. Just violence.
Their fists collided with such force the air turned to thunder. Shockwaves ripped across the cliffside, splitting stone, sending chunks of earth into the sea below. Birds scattered in flocks. The wind fled. And all who watched from afar instinctively stepped back.
Apocalypse swung first—a hammering blow backed by decades of battle experience and raw, ancient mutant power. Max ducked, pivoted, and drove a spinning kick straight into his ribs, sending the older mutant flying through a jagged pillar of rock.
But Apocalypse wasn't down.
He rewound his fall in an instant using his mastery of kinetic reversal—flipping mid-air and reappearing behind Max with a brutal energy blade formed from condensed plasma and magnetism.
Max caught the blade barehanded—palms burning, skin peeling—but he didn't flinch.
Apocalypse narrowed his eyes.
"You shouldn't be able to do that."
Max grinned through the pain.
"I'm not supposed to do a lot of things."
And then he detonated a pulse of raw mutant energy from his core.
Apocalypse was blasted into the cliffside with such force the entire ridge cracked down the middle. Max didn't hesitate—he blurred forward, fists glowing with kinetic charge, hammering down strikes like meteor impacts.
Left. Right. Uppercut. Elbow. Palm. Kick. He was a whirlwind of destruction.
Apocalypse roared, breaking free with a wave of pure force and summoned voidfire spears—black, crackling projectiles formed from twisted magnetic fields and absorbed heat. He hurled twelve at once.
Max didn't dodge.
He moved through them—redirecting two with a gesture and spinning midair to catch two more, hurling them back. Apocalypse was pinned against the rocks, twin spears crackling in his shoulders.
But the old warlord only grinned.
He had lured Max in.
A trap—a glowing red circle under Max's feet—a power-siphoning seal, forged from ancient mutant tech and Apocalypse's own blood.
Max staggered as the seal activated—his energy draining, vision flickering. His knees buckled. For the first time in the fight, he felt vulnerable.
Apocalypse stepped forward, power building again.
"You're strong. But I am the foundation. I shaped this world. You're a flicker. I'm a legacy."
Max clenched his fists. His muscles tensed.
"You ever see what happens when a legacy overstays its welcome?"
He punched the ground—shattering the siphon seal with a single, explosive strike.
Energy flooded back into him like a crashing wave.
He appeared before Apocalypse in a blink, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him off the ground.
"You want a god?" Max snarled, eyes lit with white-hot fury. "Then fall like one."
And hurled him skyward, higher and higher—until Apocalypse was just a dot.
But he didn't fall.
From high above, Apocalypse roared—and drew in every drop of remaining mutant energy across the battlefield. His body swelled, tripled in size, muscle over bone, armor forming from hardened minerals and magnetic shards drawn from the earth itself. His skin glowed with ancient markings. He looked like a war god risen from myth.
"I ruled this world long before you crawled into it," he bellowed. "And I will rule it again!"
Max narrowed his eyes.
Then leapt into the air, catching up to the titan with a shockwave behind him.
The battle became a skyward brawl—fist meeting fist, lightning flashing in the clouds around them. Max tore through Apocalypse's armor, denting metal with each strike. Apocalypse countered with devastating blows, throwing Max miles across the air—but Max kept coming back.
Over and over.
Blood on his lips. Bruises forming. Muscles screaming. But he did not stop.
Then, Max feinted a punch—and instead drove a full-force energy surge into Apocalypse's chest.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
BOOM.
A thunderclap ripped the sky open. Max's attack exploded inside Apocalypse's body—short-circuiting his energy absorption and sending a massive shockwave down to the sea.
The light faded.
Apocalypse was falling. No more giant size. No more armor. Just a burnt, unconscious mutant crashing into the ocean far below.
Max hovered above, breathing hard, electricity still crackling around him.
The cliff was quiet now. The battlefield silent.
Mutants below watched him in awe—those who had feared, hated, or followed Apocalypse now staring up at the man who stood alone.
Max flexed his aching shoulder, cracked his neck, and looked down.
"Final boss, huh?" he muttered. "Guess that makes me the patch update."
Max hovered over Apocalypse's unconscious body, his expression unreadable.
"Poor guy doesn't even know…" Max muttered with a smirk. "I was only using 10% of my power. Just wanted a thrilling workout."
He exhaled.
The air shimmered around him as his body began to repair itself—burns fading, bruises vanishing, blood reabsorbed. Within seconds, he looked untouched. His uniform reformed, spotless. His stance relaxed, almost casual.
He turned toward the scattered mutants who remained standing—those too stunned or terrified to act.
"You've all got a choice now," Max said, his voice cold and clear. "Either you drop the cult act and start living like citizens… or you end up like him."
He nodded toward the still-smoldering crater where Apocalypse lay.
Some mutants backed away slowly. Others dropped their weapons. One by one, they turned and ran—scattered into the trees and rocks, vanishing from the battlefield.
All except one.
The Nightmare Woman stood firm, eyes glowing red, dark mist swirling around her shoulders.
"If you want to take him," she growled, stepping between Max and Apocalypse, "you'll have to go through me."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Really? You still want to throw down after all that?"
***
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