By the time Captain America reached the top of the New Umbrella Tower, Marcus was already there—his entire body wreathed in crimson flames, an adamantium katana gleaming in his hand. He stood calmly, waiting for the exhausted heroes who had fought their way through blood and fire to reach this final battleground.
Behind him loomed the psychic amplifier, its frame wrapped in the Scarlet Witch's distinctive scarlet aura.
There were no zombies left at Marcus's side, no traps or ambushes laid across the rooftop—only him, standing alone, facing the heroes who had come to end him.
"Move aside!" Captain America shouted, his voice hoarse from battle. Normally, he would have tried to reason with his opponent, but now there was no time, no room for speeches. He raised his shield and charged straight toward Marcus.
Marcus glanced at the cracked watch on his wrist, as if the man charging at him were nothing more than a passing inconvenience. "We still have a little time left," he said lightly. "Tell me, Captain—do you really think taking this tower will turn the tide? How many soldiers have died because of your blind faith? You're America's greatest symbol, no doubt—but are you sure you're fighting for the right cause?"
Captain America didn't answer. The only reply Marcus received was the roar of metal as the vibranium shield slammed toward him with full force.
But Marcus was no ordinary foe. Against the man who had slain superheroes, even Captain America's strength and resolve meant little. With a single, effortless motion, Marcus intercepted the shield with his blade, twisted his wrist, and shoved the Captain backward.
Off-balance, Steve barely caught his footing—only to see the flash of the adamantium blade slicing down toward his neck.
At the last instant, Power Man leapt between them, taking the blow in Steve's place. The sword cleaved through his muscular right arm with surgical precision, severing it completely. The dismembered limb spun through the air, trailing a crimson arc.
Gritting his teeth, Power Man swung his remaining arm, roaring in defiance—but Marcus was too fast. The katana flicked forward, piercing his throat cleanly. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Captain America didn't even have time to call his name. There were barely any heroes left standing at his side now, and even together, they couldn't defeat Marcus.
He knew what he had to do.
As Power Man's body hit the ground, Captain America made the hardest decision a soldier could make—he ran past his fallen comrade, sprinting straight toward the psychic amplifier glowing in the Scarlet Witch's red light.
"Professor! Now!" he shouted through the comms, raising his shield high and slamming it down with all his strength.
The Scarlet Witch's energy shield flickered—and shattered. The Star-Spangled Shield smashed through the dome-shaped amplifier, tearing open its shell. Sparks flew, and the interior of the machine was finally exposed.
But what lay inside was… nothing.
No Scarlet Witch. No mind-control core. Not even a single technician. Only a miniature fusion reactor, glowing like a small artificial sun, continuing to power the machine in mockery of their effort.
"Empty…?" Captain America muttered in disbelief. He frantically searched the rooftop, unwilling to accept that the decisive point of this entire war—was just an illusion.
Behind him, Marcus raised his blade high, ready to strike the killing blow. The katana sliced downward—then froze, less than an inch from Captain America's neck.
"Captain…" a voice echoed in his mind, calm but strained. "We've both been deceived."
It was Professor X, reaching him through the last remaining telepathic link. Marcus's halted attack was also Xavier's doing—his psychic control stopping the sword at the final moment.
"The Scarlet Witch left that location several minutes ago," the Professor's voice continued, heavy with exhaustion. "What you see there is nothing but a remote projection—an illusion powered from afar. Forgive me… for being distracted."
Captain America didn't notice the grief in Xavier's tone. He seized upon the revelation like a lifeline. "If she's not here," he said quickly, "then that means air control is back in our hands! Nick! Get the air force up here now! Bomb the tower and clear this area! Nick, do you copy?"
Silence.
Then Xavier's voice came again, quiet and grim. "There's no response, Captain. Command's communications were cut off several minutes ago. Our jets tried to land on the Helicarrier's deck but were shot down by its own defense systems."
Captain America froze. "What? How—how's that possible?"
"If I knew," Xavier said bitterly, "I'd already have told you."
A pause. Then, his tone changed—urgent, almost pleading.
"Captain… you must live."
The words had barely reached him when the entire world was swallowed by light.
A blinding blue-green flash tore across the horizon. Sound and sight shattered in an instant. Captain America's heart clenched as he turned toward the source.
Over the Atlantic, a towering mushroom cloud erupted skyward, tearing through the clouds like a rising mountain of fire. A monstrous shockwave rolled outward, turning the ocean into a boiling inferno. The entire U.S. naval fleet—ships, planes, and men—was erased in a single instant.
Not one nuclear blast—but several.
From where?
His thoughts spun wildly as his eyes lifted to the sky—and there, looming above the devastation, the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier glided silently through the smoke, its engines glowing with a cruel light.
The realization hit him like a hammer.
A moment later, the shockwave reached the tower. It struck him with impossible force, flinging his body into the air like a rag doll. He tumbled helplessly through a storm of molten debris and twisted metal, the burning world spinning around him.
For a heartbeat, through the glare of nuclear fire, he saw the sky.
Far above, a dozen more missiles streaked through the clouds, each leaving a blazing white trail—headed straight for New York City.
Then everything turned to light.