Magneto had been the first of Apocalypse's Horsemen to make contact with him, so he knew exactly what kind of monster he'd unleashed. He remembered clearly: the instant Apocalypse was freed, he went to his subordinates from millennia past—the original Four Horsemen—and absorbed their abilities into himself.
What kind of creature was this? Could he analyze the X-genes of corpses and extract their powers into his own body?
Magneto bowed his head even lower. "Great Master, I'm certain that man is more valuable than Professor X. His ability may be the strongest power in the world."
"Oh? What kind of ability?" Apocalypse sounded mildly interested. He knew his perfected subordinates would never betray him. That was a side effect of the augmentation—an adoration etched into their hearts. Things like 'betrayal' would never arise.
"He threw Angel—who was at full, terminal-velocity dive—back with one punch."
"Oh? So a single blow comparable to… hmm, roughly on par with my current level. Still, that's nothing to boast about, is it? Even you could dispatch Angel with ease," Apocalypse said, his expression unchanging.
Magneto shuddered. He understood that Saitama hadn't even used full strength for that punch—and hadn't used full power against Psylocke either. He forced the words out. "Great Master, in the very next exchange he punched the lightning Storm unleashed at full power back into the sky—and with a single strike, grievously wounded her."
At that, Apocalypse's face finally shifted a fraction. "Oh? Is that so?"
He vanished from the throne in an eye-blink and reappeared beside Storm, who lay on the floor. With no hint of gentleness, he grabbed her by the ankle and lifted her upside down. Magneto and Psylocke dared not say a word, keeping a rigid silence.
After prodding and squeezing along Storm's frame, Apocalypse disappeared again—and returned to the throne. Storm hit the floor with a dull thud like discarded trash. She was so badly hurt she couldn't even groan.
Psylocke and Magneto felt a flicker of shared dread, yet neither dared speak.
"Indeed—over seventy percent of her bodily functions are completely lost. Even if I do nothing, she'll be dead in minutes," Apocalypse said at last, a small smile touching his lips. "It seems you were defeated by a truly powerful mutant."
"Please, Master—" Psylocke began, but Apocalypse cut her off with a look of contempt.
"Please me to do what? Heal her? Don't be ridiculous. You're tools. Given enough time, I can make as many of you as I like. When a tool breaks, do you exhaust yourself repairing it—or do you simply throw it away and fetch a new one? Idiot. If the two of you are dissatisfied, say so. I don't mind discarding two useless instruments."
He was perfectly confident. Anyone he augmented could not betray him; no matter how cruel his words, they would obey and obey—because Apocalypse was the eternal sovereign.
"But, Great Master," Magneto said carefully, "if we cannot defeat that man, then what should we do? Will you… take the field yourself?"
Magneto wasn't like the single-minded Psylocke; he raised exactly what Apocalypse least wished to hear—personally going to war. As expected, the suggestion soured Apocalypse's expression.
"To fight personally would diminish me. So I've already prepared an answer." He snapped his fingers. From a side chamber, four silhouettes emerged.
Magneto stared, stunned. "This… how is this possible…"
"Surprised?" Apocalypse chuckled, then broke into ringing laughter. "I knew from the start you four wouldn't be enough, so I used my power to summon four mighty mutants from decades in the future—my Future Four Horsemen. Come—let our enemies see just how foolish they've been. And to prevent further accidents, I will accompany you. What do they call it? Ah—an imperial campaign."
A pleased smile tugged at his mouth. He was a god by birth—a king by birth.
Meanwhile, within ten minutes Paris had become the center of the world—literally. No one could hide or smother what had happened: Paris had been vaporized. At that same moment, nearly everyone on Earth received Apocalypse's broadcast.
"Kneel, foolish humans. Submit to me now. Refuse, and your nations will become scorched earth like Paris. Tremble—tremble before me."
Even if some rulers told their people it was a hoax or a foreign lie, there were no secrets left in this era. European states deployed their militaries to encircle Paris—or rather, its ruins. Anyone still alive within those ruins became an immediate target.
After all, who but the one responsible for Paris's destruction could have survived there?
They promptly launched probing attacks—at Saitama.
(End of Chapter)
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