CHAPTER 87 – THE GLADIATOR'S ARENA
The Stargate spat them out in a blaze of green fire. Logan hit the ground first, claws out, senses screaming. Around him the others tumbled from the circle—Jean blazing faintly with leftover fire, Cyclops snapping to his feet visor glowing, Storm catching herself on a burst of wind, Colossus landing with the weight of a tank, Sunfire streaking flame, Thunderbird rolling with a warrior's grin, Nightcrawler blinking to ground, Banshee screaming defiance into the open air.
The planet stretched before them, but it wasn't the barren rock it should have been. The horizon boiled with life. An army.
Towers of bone-white stone lined the valley. Between them, ranks of alien soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder. Some were insectoid, mandibles clacking. Others reptilian, with armored hides glinting in the light of the alien suns. Winged giants loomed above, beating the air. And at the front stood the Imperial Guard—the chosen champions, their armor shining, their eyes cold.
Behind the X-Men, the Stargate's glow snapped closed. Erik the Red stood tall, Lilandra bound in scarlet energy at his side. And behind him, a throne of living flame unfolded. A figure appeared, cloaked in purple, eyes wild with madness. Emperor D'Ken.
The army's voice rolled across the plain.
"WHO ARE YOU THAT TRESPASS ON THE SACRED WORLD?"
Cyclops stepped forward, visor gleaming. "We are human. And we came for Erik—and the woman he's holding."
A guard stepped out, towering over them, skin like living crystal, voice cold as iron. "She is a TRAITOR. And if you came for her… then you are OUR ENEMY."
The army roared.
"X-MEN!" Cyclops shouted. "DEFENSIVE LINE!"
They surged forward.
Logan met the first wave head-on, claws flashing, carving through insectoid armor. Green ichor sprayed the ground, but more poured in behind. One leapt onto his back, mandibles snapping at his throat. Logan roared, rolling, slamming it into the dirt, stabbing backward until the ground shook with its death.
Storm rose above the melee, eyes white, winds screaming. Lightning carved down, splitting a reptilian giant in half. For a moment the army faltered—until winged soldiers rose to meet her, their own bodies radiating heat, spears crackling with energy. She fought them like a storm goddess, but there were too many, darting in from every side.
Colossus bellowed, charging forward, steel fists smashing alien skulls. Each blow shook the earth. He plowed through a squad, scattering them like dolls. Then a crystal-skinned gladiator met him, shrugging off every strike, punching him back with diamond fists that cracked his armored chest.
Banshee screamed into the ranks, his voice tearing the ground apart, bodies scattering like leaves. But even as he staggered them, energy-net throwers dropped from the skies, tangling him in bands of burning light. His scream choked as they dragged him down.
Thunderbird laughed as he slammed into foes twice his size, tearing spears from their hands and breaking them across his knees. But for each enemy he dropped, two more crashed against him, driving him back with sheer numbers.
Nightcrawler blurred through the chaos, teleporting from foe to foe, blades flashing in his hands. He appeared, struck, vanished again in a puff of brimstone. But even his speed faltered against their endless ranks, the smoke of his teleports swallowed in the dust of war.
Sunfire soared overhead, blazing like a comet, fire sweeping wide. Alien wings burned, insectoid bodies charred. But the Imperial Guard's own fire-wielder rose to meet him, flames clashing midair, each strike a thunderclap across the battlefield.
And Jean—Jean was feeling weak as she exhausted herself opening the Stargate.
The X-Men fought like gods. But the army was endless. Every victory vanished in the tide of bodies pressing closer, spears striking, claws raking, energy beams tearing the air.
Cyclops stood in the middle of it all, visor blazing, cutting lines through the swarm. "WE CAN'T HOLD THIS LINE FOREVER!" he roared.
And above them, on his throne of fire, Emperor D'Ken laughed.
"FIGHT, LITTLE HUMANS. BLEED, AND FALL. FOR THE CRYSTAL WAKES, AND THE UNIVERSE WILL BURN."
The X-Men pushed forward, but the weight of the army crushed them back. The battlefield shook, the air filled with screams, fire, steel, and blood.
And from the Emperor's hand, a shadow took shape—a creature made of smoke and teeth, its eyes pits of nothing. The SOUL DRINKER, slithering forward toward Lilandra.