"What are you talking about!" Professor X shouted. He finally noticed what was off about Magneto—hovering above the street, cloak billowing, the very picture of overblown menace.
Magneto smiled. "Was I unclear? I now serve our great master, Apocalypse. I am his knight—the strongest of the Four. Tremble, Charles. He will raise mutantkind to its true summit."
Engines roared in the distance. Shapes dotted the sky—Sentinels, lines of them, bearing down.
In Charles's arms, Mystique forced out, "S-Sentinels… Trask… when I moved… he… activated… them…"
"What?" Charles stared at the wave of purple hulks—dozens at least, maybe over a hundred.
Magneto's lip curled. "Frightened already, Charles? Mere machines? Have you forgotten what our comrades paid to bring us this far?"
"We're leaving," Charles said, face hard. As much as it galled him, they couldn't brawl here—against Magneto and a sky full of Sentinels.
Magneto laughed. "Running? No matter. I have new comrades now. Come forth—Storm! Angel! Psylocke!"
Clouds swelled black in an instant. Bolts hammered down—Sentinels exploded before they could close. A streak like living lightning carved through another; it came apart in midair, raining parts. From a nearby rooftop, a woman leapt, twin warped blades in hand—one lazy slash and a Sentinel split clean in two.
It looked like the end of the world.
Charles gaped. Magneto—since when did he find three Alpha-level allies? No—beyond Alpha. And he knew these faces: Storm, Angel, Psylocke. None of them were ever this strong.
What happened?
"Surprised, Charles? Afraid?" Magneto's smile held something like pity. "You can still tuck tail and run."
"No," said the woman who'd landed—Psylocke—walking toward them step by step. "The master ordered this: use Professor X to erase half the humans and half the mutants on this world."
Magneto frowned. "Our mission today is Paris. We deal with Charles later."
A gleam formed behind him—a man with metal wings folded in close, voice soft and threatening. "Defy the master, Magneto? Don't forget who granted you your power. He can take it back."
Magneto's jaw tightened. "I would never disobey. But if we seize him now, we may miss the deadline. The master ordered Paris destroyed within the hour."
That made both Angel and Psylocke hesitate. They glanced up at the thunderhead.
"You're right," Psylocke sighed. "If we're to finish Paris on time, we let him go—for now. But to be safe… break his legs. Easier to find him later."
Her wrists flicked. Two twisted blades fully formed in her hands. Purple bodysuit, crimson sash, a kunoichi's silhouette—and in her eyes, Charles saw only haze and fanatic heat. Angel's gaze held the same.
"Psylocke, listen to me!" Charles roared. It was certain now—Psylocke, Angel, even Magneto—someone had seized their minds.
Who could do this? And amplify them this far?
"Charles, down!" Beast moved in front like a bodyguard, as ever.
He didn't need to.
Saitama set a hand on Psylocke's shoulder. "Sorry. You can't kill him."
A gentle push sent her skidding—then tumbling end over end—more than a kilometer before she finally stopped, limp in the street.
The battlefield froze.
Saitama scratched his head, exasperated. "Hey. What is wrong with you people? Do you know how much it took to even give your future a chance? Could you not sit tight for, like, one day? Stop making messes. You're making this really hard."
(End of Chapter)
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