Shaw was gone. One of his arms remained in Eric's grip, blood dripping to the ground, giving off a metallic scent.
Emma had been captured by Eric. Steel bars wrapped tightly around her body, binding her completely. The pressure had crushed her arms, twisting them at unnatural angles.
Pietro was immobilized by Charles, restrained just like Cain. Maintaining that level of telepathic control was taking a heavy toll—Charles was drenched in sweat, barely holding on. If Hank hadn't been supporting him, he would have collapsed long ago.
Raven pulled the blade from John's throat. Blood spurted out as his body dropped to the ground. As for Mortimer… Azazel had hurled him from the sky, leaving nothing but a mangled, unrecognizable mass.
"Salvador! Sean! Wake up!" Alex shouted hoarsely, staring at the two battered bodies lying in front of him, covered in blood and dust.
Sean's throat had been torn open by Victor. Even after Aman bandaged it, blood continued to seep through. Salvador's wings had been shattered completely, and deep claw marks covered her back. She lay motionless, her condition uncertain.
Logan and Victor were pinned to the ground by Eric's control over metal. Steel rods pierced through their limbs, anchoring them in place. A thick bar, as wide as an adult's arm, had been driven through their abdomens and twisted into a knot to ensure they couldn't escape.
Alex and Aman carried the injured onto the jet, their expressions grim. Raven piloted the aircraft, taking the critically wounded away first, while the others stayed behind to secure the prisoners.
Eric looked into the distance. The once-majestic pyramid had been reduced to a mound of sand and rubble. Even a structure that grand couldn't withstand the clash between those two—it now lay in silent ruin.
Boom!
A figure crashed through what remained of a stone wall, the impact burying him deep in the desert. Thick, dark liquid spread outward from the center of the ruins, covering an area nearly two kilometers wide. Beneath the sand, the buried dead seemed to stir—summoned by something unseen.
One by one, corpses clawed their way to the surface. Their bodies were stiff and shriveled, stained black. They let out low, incomprehensible sounds as they began moving toward where Apocalypse had fallen.
A dark figure hovered in the sky. The blazing sunlight couldn't illuminate him—it was as if he were a black hole, devouring all light.
Renzo stared coldly at the figure buried beneath the sand. Too many had died. Their blood had soaked deep into the earth, staining the desert red.
He loosened his fist. The power of the Black Lantern Ring was nearly depleted. He couldn't draw any emotional energy from Apocalypse—because Apocalypse had none. No desire, no sorrow, no joy…
Only ambition—the ambition to lead mutants to rule the world.
Apocalypse clawed his way out of the sand, disheveled. When he looked up at the figure in the sky, his pupils trembled, fear finally filling his eyes. He had unleashed everything—wind, lightning, flames, psychic attacks—but none of it had worked.
"That man… he's like a black hole, absorbing everything…"
Apocalypse brushed the dust from his body and looked at the spreading tide of the dead. To his shock, he saw something impossible—anger in their eyes.
How could that be?
For the first time, Apocalypse felt genuine disbelief. These mortals—who couldn't even stand before him, who were as fragile as ants, who he could erase with a flick of his hand—how dare they…
How dare they look at a god like that?
Rage surged through him. With a furious wave of his hands, he buried the approaching corpses beneath the sand once more.
He smiled.
The living were weak. The dead were weaker. The weak would always be weak—and mutants were destined to rule.
But he had overlooked one thing.
How can the dead die again?
The black tide surged forward once more, dragging the corpses back to the surface. Their broken, withered bodies crawled relentlessly. Exposed bones gleamed under the fading light, carrying with them an unyielding fury.
Even if reduced to ashes, they would drag a god down with them.
Renzo watched silently as Apocalypse was swallowed by the tide. Countless skeletal hands clawed at him, tearing into his flesh with jagged teeth. One by one, they dragged him deeper into the darkness.
He lashed out wildly, panic overtaking him. But every attack he unleashed vanished into the void without a trace.
Those he had once dismissed as ants now ripped him apart, gnawing on his flesh with skeletal jaws.
Apocalypse felt pain.
For the first time in five thousand years, he felt it.
Even the battle before hadn't left a mark on him.
"Save me!" he screamed at last, abandoning all dignity as a god. His voice was desperate, frantic—pleading toward the figure in the sky.
Renzo shifted slightly, blocking out the final rays of the setting sun, leaving Apocalypse in complete darkness.
"You should have left this world long ago…"
Renzo watched as the last of Apocalypse's flesh was devoured. His lifeless body fell from the sky, crashing heavily into the desert below.
The power of the Black Lantern Ring was completely exhausted. The Mind Stone resumed control, slowly restoring energy to Renzo's body. The Space Stone embedded in his chest loosened and fell to the ground beside him.
He opened his eyes, but he had no strength left to move.
The black tide weakened, receding like a dried riverbed. The pitch-black skeletons turned their heads toward him. In their hollow eye sockets, green flames flickered.
For a moment, it almost looked as if they were… smiling.
Then, one by one, they collapsed.
The countless victims who had perished here had finally taken their revenge. Their remains lay quietly upon the ground. As the wind swept across the desert, their bones crumbled into dust and scattered into the air.
"We won!" Hank announced excitedly.
The control over Logan, Pietro, Victor, Cain, and Emma vanished with Apocalypse's death.
Charles slumped weakly into Hank's arms. Pietro collapsed onto the ground, his body finally free after prolonged control.
"Does anyone have any tomatoes? I feel a little dizzy."
He lay flat, breathing heavily, his brain starved of oxygen from the constant motion.
"Can you let us go now?" Logan asked, lifting his head slightly to look at Eric—but received only a cold stare in response.
Azazel stood before the ruins of the pyramid, a complicated expression in his eyes. After a long moment, he exhaled slowly, as if finally releasing something.
"Dynasties rise and fall… what future awaits mutants?"
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