Chapter 148
Arc 9 - Ch 15: He Who Remains
Location: The Citadel at the End of Time
"So, what now?" Loki asked. He looked between Sylvie and Tyson. "He's offering us control of the TVA."
Sylvie's hands tightened around her daggers. "Are we actually considering this? After everything the TVA did to us? To me?"
"If what he says is true," Loki countered, "killing him unleashes something far worse than the TVA."
"IF." Sylvie bit the word off, skepticism souring every syllable. "Tyson already said he's a liar."
He Who Remains watched their debate with amused interest, casually taking another bite of his apple. Despite Loki and Sylvie's argument, Tyson focused on the apple. How many bites had he taken? It was a small, easily overlooked detail that no one else seemed to notice. He'd had to have eaten several apples by this point, yet he'd never pulled out a second one.
He took another bite. The apple remained the same size. No reduction in volume, no core beginning to emerge. He Who Remains had been eating this apple since they arrived, and it stayed whole.
Tyson returned to the argument, but part of him had already filed the detail away. The apple didn't fit.
"Think, Sylvie," Loki pressed. "We can reshape the TVA. Make it something better."
"There is no better version of the TVA," Sylvie snapped. "It shouldn't exist at all."
"I've spent an eternity in the Void because of him. He doesn't get to offer us jobs," said Kid Loki.
Loki turned to Tyson, seeking an ally. "Tell her."
"Tyson, please." Vulnerability moved through Sylvie's voice, a reminder of everything they'd shared, everything she'd survived. "You saw what they did to me, to all of us. You know this has to end. They stole my life, Tyson. Everything I could have been."
"I know. But we don't need to kill him to get that back."
He Who Remains smiled, taking another unhurried bite of his apple. "Such wisdom. Perhaps you're beginning to understand the burden I've carried."
"Understanding doesn't mean agreement," Tyson countered. "Your methods are cruel, regardless of your intentions."
Kid Loki scoffed. "Pretty words won't change what he's done." Throg croaked angrily in agreement.
"This is our chance," Loki pleaded. "Our moment. We could reshape reality itself."
"And become exactly what we despise," Sylvie retorted.
The argument was pulling toward a breaking point. Tyson reached out, sensing for the metal in the room, feeling along the structure of the Citadel itself. Strangely, there was none. Wait. How was that possible? He'd sensed metal in the elevator; he was sure of it. But now, the only metal nearby was what he'd brought on the platform from the Void. He reached out, ready to call it at a moment's notice.
"There's another way," Tyson began.
He Who Remains laughed softly. "There really isn't. You can't avoid what comes next."
Sylvie's patience broke. "Enough talk."
She hurled a dagger directly at He Who Remains, who leaned to the side, casually. The blade embedded itself in the wall behind him.
Loki lunged forward, not at He Who Remains, but at Sylvie. "Stop!" He grabbed for her arm.
Tyson reacted to protect Sylvie without thinking. He caught Loki's wrist in mid-air. The familiar sensation of life-force transfer began immediately, energy flowing from Loki into him.
"What are you doing?" Loki gasped, his face going pale.
"What are you doing?" Tyson answered.
Loki wrenched his arm free and attacked with a conjured blade. Tyson dodged the strike, pivoting and delivering a devastating kick to Loki's midsection. The force sent him flying backward through the air. Behind him, an orange doorway materialized. A time door, opening from nothing. Loki disappeared through it, his shout of surprise cut off as the portal snapped closed.
Sylvie stared at the space where he'd been. Momentary shock gave way to relief. "Thank you."
Tyson frowned, confusion pulling at him. He turned to He Who Remains, who now held a TemPad in his hand.
"Where did you send him?" Tyson demanded.
He Who Remains smiled, pocketing the device. "He got booted off the show."
"This isn't a game," Tyson growled, advancing toward him.
"Isn't it?" He Who Remains gestured around the room. "Pieces moving across a board. Strategies unfolding. Sacrifices made."
Kid Loki moved to Tyson's side. "I say we finish this now."
Tyson raised his hand, and the metal from the platform answered. It liquified and seeped through the elevator shaft toward them, gathering around him in slow, deliberate coils. Kid Loki took a flanking position with Throg on his shoulder.
Sylvie readied another dagger. "He's stalling."
"Perhaps," He Who Remains acknowledged. "Or perhaps I'm giving you time to make the right decision."
He wasn't afraid of them. That was the thing Sylvie couldn't get past. He sat there with his apple and his knowing smile and let them argue, and he positioned each word to land exactly where it would do the most damage, and none of it came from a place of desperation.
"Enough games!" Sylvie charged, daggers raised. "This ends now!"
He Who Remains didn't flinch as she came at him. Her blades slashed toward him, but he leaned away, avoiding each strike with minimal movement, as if he'd rehearsed this choreography a thousand times.
"Predictable," he sighed, almost disappointed.
Sylvie pressed the assault, but couldn't land a single blow. Frustration built with each failure.
"Tyson!" she called out. "I need you!"
Kid Loki watched with growing unease. "Something's wrong. He's not even trying to fight back." Throg croaked in agreement.
Sylvie's daggers flashed as she launched a vicious combination of strikes. Her right blade aimed for He Who Remains' throat while her left swept low toward his abdomen. Both missed as he shifted.
"Always the same attacks. Always the same outcome," He Who Remains observed.
"You don't know me!" Sylvie snarled, her next strike fueled by rage rather than technique.
"But I do." He sidestepped another thrust. "I know everything about you. Every decision. Every failure." The words cut deeper than any blade could. Sylvie faltered for just a moment. He Who Remains seized the opening, his hand darting out to catch her wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone so unassuming. "You were taken from Asgard as a child. Hunted by the TVA across timeline after timeline. You taught yourself to survive. To fight. To hate."
"Let go of me!" Sylvie struggled against his grip, but couldn't break free.
"You've lived your entire life with one purpose," he continued, his voice almost gentle. "To destroy the TVA. But you never asked yourself what came after."
"I know what comes after," Sylvie spat. "Freedom."
He Who Remains smiled, something sad in it. "Is that what you think? That killing He Who Remains sets the timeline free?" He released her wrist suddenly, sending her stumbling backward. "It doesn't free anything."
Tyson couldn't help but note that he was talking about himself in the third person.
Kid Loki moved closer. "Did you notice he hasn't tried to kill any of us?"
It landed quietly, but it landed correctly. Tyson had noticed. He Who Remains had caught Sylvie's wrist and tossed her aside. He'd deflected every attack with minimum force. He was talking, always talking, and the talking was doing something.
Not trying to destroy them. Trying to reposition them.
The man stood with his hands loosely at his sides, patient and unhurried. Something about his words resonated with what Tyson knew was true. But why was he referring to himself in the third person?
Sylvie recovered her balance, daggers up. "You're lying. That's all you do."
"Am I?" He Who Remains spread his hands. He turned to Tyson, direct now. "You know enough to understand. You've seen enough in the pages and on the screen to know how bad things can get."
He knew about Tyson's metaknowledge. How?
Sylvie lunged, enchantment magic glowing around her free hand. "I don't care!"
He Who Remains caught her enchanted hand mid-strike, fingers closing around her wrist. The green glow flared brightly at the contact, then sputtered and died.
"Your enchantment won't work on me," he said.
With a casual flick, he sent Sylvie tumbling into Tyson, who caught her. She disentangled herself, breathing hard, disbelief written across her face.
"How did you—"
"I told you," He Who Remains interrupted. "I know everything that's going to happen." He gestured toward the large window.
"We didn't come this far to back down now," Kid Loki shouted.
"He's too fast for me alone," Sylvie said. "Too prepared. But together—"
Tyson saw the pain in her, the lifetime of running and fighting that had led her to this moment. But he also saw the timeline beyond the window.
"What happens if we walk away?" Tyson asked.
He Who Remains' eyebrows rose slightly. "The same thing that happens if you kill me, just slower. Variants of myself from other timelines sprout up."
"And if we take your place?"
"Then you become me." He smiled, and this time the sadness reached his eyes. "Making the same impossible choices. Bearing the same unbearable burden."
Sylvie shook her head. "No. There has to be another way."
"There isn't," He Who Remains said. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Sylvie looked at Tyson. Her decision was already made. "I can't let him continue. Not after everything he's done. Help me end this."
Tyson closed his eyes for one long second.
If the outcome was the same whether He Who Remains died or not, then he may as well kill the bastard. He reached behind him as if drawing a sword from his back, and Nexus appeared in his hand.
Sylvie and Tyson attacked in tandem. She threw her daggers while he charged into melee range. They coordinated without words, attacking from opposite sides, creating crossfire that drove He Who Remains into Tyson's slashes, traps that would maim or kill any normal opponent. Yet somehow He Who Remains avoided every blow. He moved with impossible precision, always a fraction of an inch from danger, his expression one of mild curiosity. A dagger whistled past his ear as he tilted his head. Tyson's blade grazed the fabric of his sleeve as he pivoted away.
"Is this really the best you can do?" He Who Remains asked.
Sylvie growled, spinning into a low attack aimed at his knees while Tyson targeted his head. Their opponent stepped between the attacks.
"He's reading our moves before we make them." Tyson's fist crashed into the wall where He Who Remains' head had been a split second earlier. Frustration spiked through him.
"Keep going," Sylvie urged. "He has to slip up eventually."
She launched into a complex series of strikes, each flowing into the next. For a moment, it seemed like she might break through his defenses. Then he simply stepped aside, letting her momentum carry her past him without bothering to counterattack.
Tyson shifted approach. He used his magnetism on the platform and created a maelstrom of deadly projectiles converging on He Who Remains from all angles. He was just a man, one with apparent future sight, but just a man. So how could he avoid every piece of shrapnel?
Yet he did.
He Who Remains moved through the metal storm, acrobatic and unhurried, each step and turn perfectly timed. He ducked a whistling shard, jumped through a gap, rolled in mid-air as a jagged piece of frame sliced through the space his torso had occupied a moment before.
"You're actually trying to be unpredictable," He Who Remains commented, sidestepping another volley.
The metal storm intensified, filling the air with lethal projectiles. Tyson directed them with increasing speed and complexity, creating patterns that should have been impossible to anticipate or avoid. He Who Remains moved through them anyway. Like a dancer, each step and turn timed to the instant. Not a single piece touched him.
"Are you done?" He Who Remains asked, not even winded. "This is becoming tedious."
Sylvie screamed in rage and charged. Her daggers thrust toward his chest. This time He Who Remains caught her wrist, swung her around, and threw her through an orange portal that appeared directly behind her.
"I told you," he said softly as the portal snapped closed. "I already know how this ends."
Kid Loki stiffened. "Where did you send her?"
"Same as Loki," He Who Remains answered. "The same place you'll be going."
Kid Loki leveled his golden sword. Throg croaked angrily. They attacked together, Kid Loki slashing high while Throg leapt for He Who Remains' ankles, hammer swinging, and Tyson parted the metal storm around them to charge in as follow-up. A coordinated assault. Threats at two different levels simultaneously.
It made no difference.
He Who Remains stepped between them, pivoting as Kid Loki's dagger cut through empty air. As the young Loki stumbled forward, He Who Remains opened another portal directly in his path.
"Your turn," he said, almost apologetic, as Kid Loki disappeared through it.
Throg croaked in fury, electricity arcing from his miniature hammer. He launched himself at He Who Remains. Another portal swallowed him mid-leap.
Tyson studied He Who Remains, cataloguing the man's confidence, his phrases, his mannerisms, all of it pressing against something he couldn't name. Familiar in a way he couldn't place yet. The apple that didn't diminish. The third-person speech. The intimate specificity of his knowledge. The way he deflected every attack, not like someone with foresight who'd planned a response, but like someone who'd already run the simulation and knew the precise outcome, frame by frame.
Taken individually, each detail had an explanation. Future knowledge covered most of it. Eccentricity covered the third-person habit. But the apple sat outside future knowledge as a category. Future knowledge told you what was coming. It didn't make food infinite.
Something else did that.
The Time Stone could explain the apple.
He'd seen what the Time Stone could do. Strange had rewound an eaten apple. It could loop time, rewind it, hold a single instant suspended indefinitely. He'd seen it replay a scene from a Hong Kong street, allowing Strange to interfere, saving Wong's life. He'd seen it loop Strange's own death long enough to make Dormammu, a timeless being, feel trapped in a prison of its creation. An infinite apple wasn't a Time Stone trick on its own. The Stone didn't create; it revisited. But it could create the illusion of creation. It was already obvious He Who Remains could manipulate time, but the man hadn't used a TemPad in that way. Not yet.
What if the future knowledge isn't the point?
"And then there was one," He Who Remains said, turning to face Tyson. "The Nexus Being. The anomaly."
Tyson circled slowly, buying time. "You know us too well. You lied. Do you truly not know what happens next?"
"I may have fibbed a bit," He Who Remains confirmed.
Tyson summoned Mjölnir to his hand. Power surged through him, electricity crackling along his fingers and down the length of the mystical weapon. Lightning exploded from the hammer in a blinding flash, a concentrated bolt aimed directly at He Who Remains.
He Who Remains didn't flinch. He didn't dodge. He simply raised his hand, palm outward. The lightning, powerful enough to level buildings, struck his outstretched hand and stopped. It didn't disperse or reflect. It pooled in his palm, condensing into a pulsing sphere of pure energy that he held as easily as a tennis ball. A small flourish of his wrist, and he extinguished it, the energy dissolving into nothing.
He began walking toward Tyson, unhurried.
"Faith in the Dark Side of the Force, misplaced may be," he stated, clearly trying to mimic Yoda's voice.
The Citadel at the End of Time didn't have the magnetic field that a planet would have. The technique he'd used to arrive at Stark Tower, or to propel himself to supersonic speeds during the battle with Annihilus, wouldn't work here. At least, not on a large scale. But he'd used it in a limited fashion to kill Sterns. Now he'd rely on it again as his ace in the hole.
He Who Remains continued his leisurely approach, unconcerned by the display of power. "You're thinking too small, Tyson. All that strength, all those abilities, and you still don't understand what you're facing."
Tyson didn't respond. He focused inward, feeling the metal in his hands. Nexus in his left, Mjölnir in his right. Both weapons hummed with potential energy. He began building magnetic fields around each one, compressing and shaping the forces. The air around the blades shimmered as invisible currents of magnetism coiled tighter and tighter.
"Ah." He Who Remains stopped a few paces away. "Now that's interesting. Going to try something new?"
The magnetic fields reached critical density, the weapons vibrating in his grip from the contained force. He'd need to release them simultaneously, give He Who Remains two targets to track instead of one. Even with apparent precognition, the man was still bound by physical limitations. He couldn't be in two places at once.
"Last chance," Tyson said. "Tell me where you sent them."
He Who Remains tilted his head, considering. "Not something new after all. We've all seen this trick bef—"
Tyson released both weapons.
The magnetic fields collapsed in an instant, all that compressed energy converting into pure kinetic force. Nexus and Mjölnir launched forward like bullets from a railgun, the air itself screaming as they tore through it. The ninjato became a black blur while Mjölnir trailed lightning as it rocketed toward its target.
He Who Remains moved impossibly fast, his body twisting sideways. Nexus sailed past him, missing by inches. The weapon embedded itself in the wall behind him with a resonant thrum, sinking halfway to the hilt.
Mjölnir followed a trajectory that should have been impossible to avoid. He Who Remains raised his hand, palm outward. The same casual gesture he'd used before to catch the lightning.
Mjölnir stopped dead in mid-air.
The hammer hung suspended against his palm, still crackling with electricity, still straining forward with all the momentum Tyson had given it. It didn't move. He Who Remains held it there as easily as if it weighed nothing.
Tyson had seen this before. Not in this world. In the one he'd come from, the one where these people were stories. Hela had stood on that cliffside overlooking the ocean and caught Mjölnir in one hand, and she had looked at it the way you looked at something that had disappointed you, and she had closed her fist.
The hammer had exploded. Thousands of years of forged uru, the weapon of gods, the hammer Thor had strained and nearly died to prove himself worthy to lift, and it shattered like ceramic. Like it had never been anything at all.
Tyson had held this hammer. He'd felt its weight, its worthiness, the deep dense hum of the power of the God Tempest threaded through its core. He'd held it on the Rainbow Bridge, in Asgard's throne room in Odin's presence, in Stark Tower at the start of the Battle of New York, and carried it through the Void.
He looked at He Who Remains' palm. At the electricity pooling against his hand like it was confused, like it had somewhere to be and was being politely informed it wasn't going there.
"No," Tyson breathed. If He Who Remains closed his fist…
He reached out with his magnetism, calling Mjölnir back with desperate urgency. The hammer responded immediately, yanking itself away from He Who Remains. It flew back to Tyson's outstretched hand. Intact. He turned it over, ran his thumb along the head, checking for fractures.
The hammer was fine. That didn't stop his hands from shaking. He had assumed that when he held the hammer, he was so powerful it made him the version of himself that was unconquerable. He hadn't needed to articulate that assumption because it had never been tested.
He Who Remains had tested it. And the man hadn't even tried. He'd held the hammer like someone holding a child's toy while waiting for the child to calm down. No effort. No strain.
Tyson's grip tightened on the haft. How does he know how it ends? The Ancient One couldn't determine Tyson's future with the Time Stone, an artifact that was the embodiment and physical manifestation of time within its universe.
He Who Remains lowered his hand slowly.
Tyson backed up a step, repositioning. He called Nexus back as well, the ninjato dematerializing from the wall and reappearing in his other hand. Both weapons were ready, but his confidence was shaken.
How strong was this man? What were his limits?
Annihilus, a cosmic being capable of destroying entire worlds, hadn't dodged the railgun attack. The creature had tried to tank it, relying on its armor's durability. But He Who Remains had moved aside without straining, as if the attack had been telegraphed days in advance.
Was this man stronger than Annihilus?
Not stronger. That was the wrong category. Everything about the Annihilation Wave had been an argument for overwhelming force, and overwhelming force was something Tyson understood. He could engage with overwhelming force. He had a toolkit for it.
He Who Remains operated on a different level entirely. Knowledge. Precision. Always a breath ahead. Always exactly where he needed to be, exactly when he needed to be there. Or not be there, in this case.
The image of Hela catching Mjölnir kept resurfacing in his thoughts. She had been the Goddess of Death, Odin's firstborn, someone whose power was written into the structure of Asgard itself. Someone who'd wielded Mjölnir before. She'd stopped the hammer because she was, in some fundamental sense, beyond Mjölnir's scale of judgment.
What was He Who Remains' excuse?
He was supposed to be a scientist. A man who'd outlived his timeline and built a machine at the end of time. Brilliant, yes. Possibly irreplaceable. But not a god. Not a cosmic being. Not something that should be able to hold Mjölnir in one hand while sighing like a disappointed teacher. Tyson filed that contradiction next to the apple and the speeches and the intimate knowledge of his history.
Something here doesn't add up.
He shifted his stance, gripping both weapons tighter. He couldn't afford to hold back.
He launched forward, Nexus sweeping in a horizontal arc at He Who Remains' midsection. The monomolecular edge capable of slicing through nearly anything neared its target. He Who Remains pivoted, his hand coming up to deflect Tyson's wrist. The impact jarred Tyson's entire arm, strength far beyond what the man's frame suggested, radiating from that single point of contact.
Tyson followed with Mjölnir, bringing the hammer down in an overhead strike. Lightning crackled along its length. He Who Remains caught Tyson's forearm before the blow could land, stopping the hammer mid-swing. The muscles in his arm strained against the resistance, but the grip held firm.
Impossible. Tyson possessed strength that could bend steel, lift cars, crush stone. The combined strength of a Spider-Man, Loki, and Sabretooth. Yet He Who Remains matched it without visible effort.
Tyson yanked his arm free, spinning into a low slash with Nexus. The blade whistled toward He Who Remains' knees. The man simply stepped over it. Tyson reversed the motion, bringing the ninjato up in a vertical cut. He Who Remains leaned back, the blade passing close enough that it should have split his nose in half.
The assault continued. Tyson mixed high and low attacks, feints and genuine strikes, trying to create openings. He Who Remains moved through it like water, never quite where Tyson expected him to be. When he couldn't dodge, he blocked, his hands deflecting Tyson's wrists and forearms with strength that shouldn't have been possible. Each impact sent shockwaves up Tyson's arms, the force of the blocks greater than his own strikes.
Tyson thrust Nexus forward in a straight lunge, the kind of attack that had begun to pierce through Annihilus's armor. He Who Remains batted the blade aside with his palm, the weapon skittering off at an angle. Tyson followed with Mjölnir, swinging it in a wide arc. He Who Remains ducked under it, rising inside Tyson's guard.
For a moment, they stood face to face. Close enough that Tyson could see the faint lines around the man's eyes, the slight upturn of his lips.
Tyson headbutted him.
Or tried to. He Who Remains tilted his head, and Tyson's forehead struck nothing but air. Off balance, Tyson stumbled forward. He Who Remains grabbed his shoulder and shoved, using his own momentum against him. Tyson crashed into the floor and rolled to absorb the impact.
He came up swinging, Nexus and Mjölnir both aimed at center mass. He Who Remains sidestepped the ninjato and caught his wrist again, stopping Mjölnir cold. They stood locked for a heartbeat, Tyson pushing forward with everything he had while He Who Remains held him in place.
"You're strong," He Who Remains observed. "But strength alone won't win this. You'll lose, then you'll need to take your time, think, find another way."
Tyson snarled, wrenching his arm free. He attacked again, faster, not giving the man a chance to speak. Nexus became a blur of adamantium. Frustration built with each failed strike. He'd fought gods, demons, cosmic beings. He'd killed Annihilus, albeit by cheating. Yet this seemingly ordinary man deflected everything Tyson threw at him.
He feinted with Nexus, then hurled Mjölnir with all the force he could muster, physical and magnetic. The hammer rocketed forward, trailing lightning. He Who Remains' eyes tracked it, his body already moving to dodge.
That was when Tyson struck.
With his free hand, he lunged forward, fingers outstretched. He Who Remains focused on the hammer, his attention split for just a fraction of a second. Tyson's hand closed around the man's wrist, skin to skin contact.
Got you.
He didn't just let the power activate. He pulled, drawing on the absorption ability with desperate intensity. Reached deep, trying to rip away as much as he could. Memories, abilities, strength, life force, everything. The power that had allowed him to absorb President Loki, that had given him Sabretooth's healing factor, that had taken the strength from his greatest challenges.
Nothing happened.
No flash of memories. No surge of new abilities. No transfer of strength or knowledge. Not resistance. Not a wall. Not the sensation of power so overwhelming he couldn't hold it or take it in. It was the absence of anything to take. Like reaching into a pocket that wasn't there. His ability reached and kept reaching and found nothing to grip, nothing to drain, nothing to name. The man was there, this wasn't an illusion; Tyson could feel a heartbeat, feel the warmth of skin, but whatever made He Who Remains He Who Remains existed somewhere his ability simply couldn't reach.
He Who Remains smiled, the expression almost sympathetic.
Then he kicked Tyson in the chest.
The impact drove the air from Tyson's lungs. He flew backward, his grip torn away by the force of the blow. The world spun as he tumbled through the air and crashed into the far wall with bone-jarring force, the wall denting from the impact.
Every absorption he'd ever performed ran through his mind in the span of a second. Jean Grey and Magneto, Omega-level, absorbed without a problem. Thor and Loki, divine, ancient, alien, absorbed without a problem. Even the Juggernaut, mystically empowered, physically unstoppable, absorbed without a problem.
He had never encountered a being he couldn't drain. Except once. The one time his power had failed was when he'd attempted to absorb someone with a similar ability, like Rogue, and...
He stopped mid-thought.
Only Rogue.
That was the one time his absorption had hit a wall, and he'd attributed it to the mirrored nature of their abilities. He'd gained his power from her and assumed it was like two rivers of the same current canceling each other out. Similar power, similar source, incompatible. He'd never wondered further because there was no reason to wonder.
He had reason now.
The working assumption he'd carried without examining, because it had never mattered before.
Now, it mattered.
He thought about what Rogue's power actually was. Contact absorption. Life force transfer. Taking what someone else had and making it her own. His power. He looked at He Who Remains. The casual deflection of every attack. The way he'd stopped Mjölnir in his palm.
He stared at the man as if truly seeing him for the first time.
Nothing about his physicality suggested anything beyond the ordinary. But Tyson's ability, that never-failed, had reached into this unremarkable man and come back empty.
The logic didn't hold. He Who Remains should be a scientist at the end of time. A man with future knowledge. A man who'd sifted through every possible iteration of every possible moment. None of those things should make him immune to a power that had worked on gods.
So either He Who Remains was lying about what he was, and everything Tyson thought he knew about this moment, drawn from his metaknowledge, was wrong. Or there was some explanation he couldn't yet conceive.
"Who are you?" Tyson pushed himself upright. The wall behind him bore the imprint of his body, cracks radiating outward from the impact point. "My power doesn't fail." He took a step forward, electricity beginning to arc between his fingers as he recalled Mjölnir. "Gods, Omega-level mutants, powers granted by artifacts of immense power. But it didn't work on you?" Another step. "You're supposed to be just a guy. So why didn't it work on you?"
He Who Remains clasped his hands behind his back. "Never got a chance to use it on someone truly out of your league, did you?" It was a simple observation with no malice behind it. "You didn't chance it on Sinister. You never encountered Apocalypse. Didn't use it on the Ancient One, Odin, or even Xavier."
"The only person it didn't work on was Rogue."
He Who Remains shrugged, the gesture infuriatingly nonchalant. "A mystery. One you won't decipher until it's too late."
"Says you."
Tyson raised Mjölnir. Lightning erupted from the hammer, brilliant white arcs that filled the chamber with crackling energy.
"Ugh, this again. You're like that annoying kid in the orange, you have what? Two attacks that you keep spamming over and over again."
The bolts converged on He Who Remains, but Tyson didn't wait to see if they connected. He was already moving, building magnetic fields around his entire body, compressing them, shaping them. The fields collapsed, and he launched forward, using the lightning to cover his approach. The distance between them vanished in a fraction of a second. Nexus extended before him, the monomolecular edge aimed at He Who Remains' heart. The lightning strike would force the man to dodge or block, and in that instant of distraction, Tyson would cut him down.
He Who Remains moved.
Not the carefully timed movements from before. Something else entirely. A blur of motion that Tyson's enhanced vision could barely register. One moment He Who Remains stood in the path of the lightning, the next he'd shifted three feet to the left. Then right. Then behind Tyson.
Tyson's head turned, trying to track it. His eyes caught glimpses, fragments of motion, but his neck couldn't rotate fast enough. The blur circled him, impossibly quick. Not teleportation, pure speed, and Tyson's momentum carried him forward into empty space, unable to adjust.
Something struck his face.
The impact came from the side, a backhanded blow that connected with his cheek and jaw. The force redirected his entire trajectory mid-flight. Tyson's head snapped sideways, his vision exploding into white. Pain radiated through his skull, the deep bone-jarring agony of truly devastating impacts. It reminded him of matching blows with the Juggernaut, that same unstoppable force, that same crushing weight. But when Tyson had fought Cain Marko, he'd been braced and ready, with Marko's strength already absorbed. This time, he took the full shot directly to his face. His brain rattled inside his skull. The world tilted sideways, then upside down. Tyson's grip on Nexus loosened. The ninjato tumbled from his fingers. Mjölnir fell away, clattering against the floor. His body spun through the air, completely out of control.
Everything went black.
His mind simply stopped processing, overwhelmed by the trauma of the blow. He didn't feel himself flying. Didn't sense the wall approaching. Didn't register anything at all.
The blackout lasted only a heartbeat, maybe two, before his regeneration dragged him back.
Fast. He Who Remains was fast. Not fast like Tyson, or even vampire fast, like when he was wielding Muse. Fast like Quicksilver was fast. But even more troubling, his spider-sense hadn't warned him of the danger from that incredible blow. The sense had been quiet since he arrived. Tyson thought it a tactic, He Who Remains was employing; if his intent wasn't to cause harm, then it might bypass the danger sense. But that blow had certainly been meant to harm. And like his absorption, he got nothing.
He resummoned Nexus and Mjölnir and flew back at He Who Remains.
Orange light bloomed immediately in his path.
A rectangular portal materialized directly in front of him. So close he had no chance to stop. He sailed through.
The portal snapped shut behind him.