And the sudden shockwave shattered the stealth jet even further.
If Professor X hadn't used his telepathy to scan what was happening underground and told everyone to brace inside the aircraft, the blast alone could've knocked everyone unconscious—except maybe Wolverine and the White Queen, who were just built different.
"We're okay," Ethan said as the flames from the explosion started to fade. He stood on cracked pavement surrounded by scorched gravel, shielding Jean under his arm.
"Ugh... yeah, just barely." Jean coughed violently, her body shaking. The sheer force of the explosion had been way more than she expected. If Ethan hadn't deflected most of the energy away using his vector control, she'd have been in serious trouble.
Ethan's ability let him redirect anything—force, heat, even gravity—away from his body in any direction.
In this case, he sent the explosion's shockwave straight upward, carving a narrow escape path through the tomb ceiling.
The red glow in his eyes flickered as he adjusted the vectors around Jean, buffering her from the heat.
"Is he dead?" she asked, steadying herself.
Ethan glanced back at the blast zone. "We survived. That doesn't mean he didn't."
Almost on cue, the sand began to split open again.
With a burst of power, Apocalypse rose from the crater.
His armor was torn apart, his body scorched, but his presence was still terrifying.
Rage burned in his glowing eyes.
"You filthy traitors!" he screamed.
Just before the blast, Apocalypse had sensed something was off.
Thanks to his arsenal of stolen abilities, he threw up multiple shields at the last second.
That was the only reason he hadn't been vaporized.
The massive TNT load should've reduced him to dust.
"I am your god. Your savior! Why would you do this to me?" Apocalypse's voice echoed, his anger almost tangible.
But now, something was wrong.
He couldn't read Ethan or Jean's minds.
Worse, the other mutants farther away were mentally shielded—clearly protected by Charles Xavier.
"Why?" Ethan stepped forward, his expression cold. "Think back. You were sealed away not by humans alone, but with the help of mutants who realized what you really were. They knew your hunger. Your desire to consume and control."
He narrowed his eyes. "Mutants need a leader—not a god. Especially not one who feeds on us."
Apocalypse's fury exploded. "You dare—!"
He thrust his hand forward, and the ground trembled.
A giant fist made of compressed sand and stone surged upward, aiming to crush them.
Ethan didn't flinch.
With a sharp wave of his hand, he reversed the vector of the incoming force.
The massive stone fist shattered mid-air, its momentum redirected back into the sky with a thunderous roar.
Apocalypse snarled, but the wounds on his body had already begun to knit themselves back together.
His healing was rapid—comparable to Logan's.
"Let's end this," Ethan said and shot into the air.
Behind him, Jean's fiery Phoenix wings burst open as she soared up with a scream of power.
Storm joined them next, calling lightning from the clouds and hurling it at Apocalypse, her winds tearing across the battlefield.
"Well, I'm not missing out on the fun," Magneto muttered, rising off the ground—only to freeze.
He frowned.
They were in the desert. No metal. Except for the jet.
He sighed.
He turned to Logan, who stood nearby, frustrated and grounded.
"Logan, want to join the fight with me?" Magneto asked, trying to sound inviting.
Wolverine looked at him, deadpan.
He immediately raised his arms in a defensive stance. "Fuck no."
With Storm's powers in full swing, the once-clear night sky twisted into a churning storm.
Thunderclouds rolled in fast, wind howled through the open desert, and streaks of lightning flickered in the dark.
"Boom!" A massive bolt of lightning split the sky, slamming straight into Apocalypse.
The impact shook his body violently, but he didn't fall.
"You dare strike me?" Apocalypse glared at Storm, fury radiating from his eyes.
"Not even Zeus dared use lightning on me."
He raised both arms.
With a sharp pull, the swirling clouds overhead split apart, revealing a shaft of moonlight that cast a glowing spotlight over him.
"I am the sun god!" he bellowed, standing with his back to the light.
"Yeah?" Ethan shot him a look. "Well, the moon's behind you right now. Also, just curious—wasn't the sun in Egyptian myths pushed up and down by dung beetles? So what does that make you?"
Apocalypse: "..."
"You ignorant fool. That was a scarab."
Fuming, Apocalypse waved his hand, and a beam of solid moonlight blasted toward Ethan.
Ethan smirked. "Says the guy who's been napping for 5,000 years. FYI, the days of dressing up mutant powers as divine miracles are over."
With a twitch of his finger, a shimmer of distortion surrounded him.
The moonbeam slammed into it—then stopped midair and reversed, scattering into harmless particles.
"You tore the clouds using your powers? Cute. Watch this."
He raised his hand, adjusting the direction of airflow around the battlefield.
The wind roared and thunderclouds compressed unnaturally above Apocalypse.
With a sharp flick, Ethan reversed the vectors of several lightning bolts, yanking them down in rapid succession.
The storm erupted, hammering Apocalypse with a barrage of thunderbolts.
Just then, a scream echoed overhead.
Jean, now blazing as the Phoenix, dove at Apocalypse.
But before she could strike, a large sand-colored bird swooped in, intercepting her in a fiery collision.
"You think I came alone?" Apocalypse dropped to the ground. T
he earth trembled beneath him.
From the sea of sand, monstrous shapes began to form.
Massive beasts and winged creatures, born of sand and energy, rose into the air.
"Roar!" One gigantic creature—resembling a winged sphinx nearly 50 feet tall—emerged.
Apocalypse sat atop its head like a king claiming his throne.
Storm launched a flurry of lightning bolts, striking the sand creatures.
The damage was minimal—they just reformed.
Ethan snapped his fingers.
Vectors surged in all directions as razor-sharp gusts shaped like crescents formed around him.
He directed them with a wave, slicing dozens of sand beasts to ribbons.
But the sphinx, under Apocalypse's control, reassembled almost instantly.
The massive beast turned—not toward Ethan, but toward Storm.
She had just dodged several sand hawks and didn't notice the giant claw about to strike.
Flames burst in front of her.
Jean slammed into the beast, shielding Storm.
Her fiery barrier held for a moment—then shattered.
Both women were thrown backward.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
He exhaled slowly.
The winds coiled tighter around him, compressing into his palm.
A glowing, silver-blue sphere began to form, growing rapidly.
Within seconds, it was a five-meter orb spinning like a turbine.
He raised it above his head.
The spinning intensified, shifting into a windmill-shaped sphere, shrieking with violent energy.
"Time to serve up the meatball special!" Ethan roared, launching the vortex straight at the sphinx.
"Boom!" The impact obliterated the upper half of the beast, reducing it to sand and dust.
But the energy didn't spread like before. It stopped midair, collapsing inward.
Apocalypse was absorbing it.
"Damn," Ethan muttered. "No wonder that explosion couldn't kill you."
As the energy drained away, Apocalypse smiled darkly.
A similar silver-blue glow began to swirl in his own palm.
The next moment, a blinding flash lit up the battlefield.
Ethan was blasted backward, skidding across the cracked earth, while Apocalypse staggered under the shock.
The reflexive counterattack had caught Ethan off guard, leaving him slightly rattled.
The piercing cry of the Phoenix echoed once more.
Jean, her entire body wreathed in searing fire, erupted from the rubble like a comet and crashed into Apocalypse with tremendous force.
"This flame...!" Apocalypse hissed in pain.
The phoenix fire clung to him like a curse, burning even as he tried to absorb it.
But it was no use—his energy drain ability couldn't touch the phoenix flames.
Worse still, the wounds the fire left behind healed sluggishly, far slower than usual.
"Get off me!" he roared, his arm shifting into metallic form.
With a brutal punch, he sent Jean flying, extinguishing the fire licking at his body through sheer force of will.
Gasping and singed, he glanced warily at the gathering X-Men.
Snarling, Apocalypse suddenly turned and bolted, retreating at high speed.
He wasn't a fool—staying here any longer would be suicide.
Jean and Ethan weren't even fully evolved yet, but their powers had skyrocketed since their awakening.
Each of them was teetering on the edge of Omega-level, and their potential was terrifying.
If mutant abilities had tiers, Ethan's vector control alone would rank at the very top.
Taking on one of them would be difficult.
Fighting both, surrounded by other powerful mutants, including telepaths trying to dig into his mind?
That was a death sentence.
"Don't let him escape!" Ethan shouted, quickly stabilizing himself mid-air by adjusting the gravity vectors around him.
Even though Apocalypse couldn't teleport, his flight speed was no joke.
Ahead of Apocalypse's escape route, Magneto had already risen into the sky, hovering near the academy's cloaked jet.
"Move aside!" Apocalypse barked as he closed in, his body still radiating residual energy from Jean's attack.
He wasn't worried—Magneto was powerful, sure, but nothing he hadn't faced before.
But Magneto didn't flinch.
He knew how important this moment was.
Stopping Apocalypse could be the turning point for mutantkind.
Gritting his teeth, he made his choice.
Magneto stood atop the invisible jet and hurled it forward with all the magnetic force he could summon, aiming it straight at Apocalypse.
"You're insane!" Apocalypse shouted, a flicker of panic flashing through his eyes.
Ethan's mind raced.
He didn't want Magneto to die here.
Suddenly, a crazy idea hit him.
"Magneto! Just throw the weight of your boots at him!" Ethan called out, quickly manipulating the sound vectors so his voice sliced through the chaos like a blade.
Magneto blinked, confused.
Then Apocalypse's face twisted into horror.
The last time something like this hit him, it had almost vaporized him.
And now, here came another—bigger, faster, and launched with killing intent.
Panic hit him like a truck.
"No!" Apocalypse screamed, yanking himself into a full reverse, flying in the opposite direction as fast as he could.
"I am a god! I'm not going down with some flying metal coffin!"
Magneto was surprised.
Wait... was Apocalypse afraid of planes?
No, this had to be something Ethan figured out.
Either way, if it worked, it worked.
Smirking, Magneto ditched his robe, folded his arms, and sat cross-legged on top of the jet like some kind of metal war monk.
With a flick of his fingers, he kept the plane locked on target, chasing Apocalypse through the sky.
Compared to the godlike mutant fleeing in pure panic, Magneto's calm, dramatic posture made him look like a deadly warrior-poet.
It was absurd… and kind of perfect.
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Word count: 1799
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