"I'll let you witness my true power, so you'll willingly merge with me and build a great empire."
Apocalypse stood in front of Robert's electromagnetic gun without dodging. But it was never simple for Apocalypse to occupy someone's body. He had to engage in a mental confrontation with the person's consciousness and overpower their original personality to take full control.
Over ten years ago, when he possessed Professor X's body, the aftermath was complicated precisely because Professor X's will was too strong. Now, Robert seemed even more formidable than Charles Xavier. Apocalypse hoped this young man would just give in voluntarily.
But Apocalypse also saw an opportunity: to overwhelm Robert with sheer force, showcasing his unimaginable power. It was the perfect chance to assert dominance.
Unbeknownst to Apocalypse, this was exactly what Robert had anticipated.
"You're not getting away with it this time," Robert sneered coldly.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The sound of energy charging echoed through the air as green arcs gathered along the massive electromagnetic gun. A blinding green light burst forth, signaling the acceleration of what appeared to be a solid projectile.
Pa!—the high-speed projectile launched from the massive gun with a thunderous crack. The sudden force displaced the air, creating a visible shock ring.
In the span of a few milliseconds, the green projectile shot straight at Apocalypse. Magneto and Wolverine, standing below, didn't even catch a glimpse of it—it was that fast.
Yet Apocalypse merely smiled.
With his terrifying power flaring, time itself seemed to freeze in that instant.
"Child, your tricks are meaningless before me," he said with cold arrogance. "Matter is nothing."
Fixing his gaze on the incoming projectile, Apocalypse activated his ability to deconstruct matter. His power was awe-inspiring—he could manipulate all forms of matter at will. In the past, he had disassembled the entire city of Cairo into its most basic particles and rebuilt it from scratch.
With this unparalleled ability, he could break down any material object long before it reached him. No amount of kinetic energy could change that.
But something felt wrong.
As he unleashed his deconstruction power on the projectile, he sensed an anomaly. It wasn't made of matter at all.
Apocalypse's eyes widened.
The "solid" projectile was composed entirely of energy—a carefully constructed illusion made to look like conventional ammunition. The electromagnetic gun was nothing more than a decoy.
By the time Apocalypse understood the trap, it was too late.
The green energy projectile had already pierced his chest.
Apocalypse gasped in pain. The glowing beam carved through his body, burning a clean hole with a diameter of only three centimeters in the front, but the damage to his back—and internal organs—was catastrophic.
The cavity effect had vaporized everything in its path.
This was the terrifying efficiency of human weapons. On real battlefields, gunshots might leave a small wound at entry, but the exit wound could be massive—bowl-sized or larger. Robert's electromagnetic weapon, however, was far more advanced and destructive.
If it had struck a regular human, there would have been nothing left but a mist of blood.
Yet Apocalypse's resilience allowed him to survive—barely. A mortal would have died a thousand times over.
Even now, though severely injured, he still clung to life. His body was so tenacious that even his blood maintained its flow in midair, forming a visible lattice of red lines as it streamed from the wound.
For the first time in countless years, Apocalypse showed a flicker of disbelief.
How long had it been since he suffered such a devastating injury?
Except for the time he was betrayed by Magneto, Apocalypse had never endured such a severe blow. Robert wasn't just powerful—he was cunning beyond measure.
Everything from the Transformers, to his earlier actions, to his performance in this very battle proved one thing: Robert had mastered a vast arsenal of technological weapons and deceptive tactics.
Even now, Apocalypse had assumed Robert's electromagnetic cannon was conventional in nature. He never expected it to fire a pure-energy projectile designed to bypass his matter manipulation.
In truth, Robert's abilities weren't based on manipulating matter at all.
Everything he wielded was constructed from energy—an illusion of reality.
Coming to this realization, Apocalypse looked up at Robert with a newfound respect.
"I underestimated you," he admitted solemnly. "Your strength is undeniable, but your wisdom… that's even more astonishing."
"In an age when gods still walked the Earth, your mind and strategic brilliance would have been revered."
"You deserve better treatment from me moving forward."
There was a shift in Apocalypse's tone, a change in his mindset. For the first time, he recognized Robert not just as a threat, but as a worthy adversary.
Meanwhile, on the ground, Magneto watched in awe.
Robert wasn't like the others—he was something else entirely. He didn't behave like any mutant they had known before. When had mutants ever fought with such sophisticated strategy?
In their past, it was always about brute force, straightforward power struggles. Robert's methods were something new—something frightening.
Even Apocalypse had fallen for his trap.
Magneto was both amazed and humbled. He recalled how they had once struggled against Apocalypse, playing right into his manipulative hands. But Robert had turned the tables with a mix of intellect and ingenuity.
And that was what truly terrified Magneto.
Compared to raw ability, strategic brilliance was far more dangerous.
He couldn't help but feel a bit insignificant in Robert's shadow.
Then, glancing at Wolverine, he felt a momentary sense of comfort.
Wolverine had lived much longer than he had, but still wasn't any smarter.
Maybe it wasn't that Magneto was lacking—perhaps Robert was simply an outlier, a one-of-a-kind genius.
Yes, Robert was the real anomaly here.
Of course, Magneto had no way of knowing what was transpiring in the sky above—where the mental duel between Robert and Apocalypse continued.
Seeing Apocalypse still trying to put on airs despite being seriously wounded, Robert spoke calmly.
"How long do you think your body can last after a hit like that?"
That sentence wiped the smirk off Apocalypse's face.
Robert had hit a nerve.
Apocalypse could indeed extend his life by transferring his consciousness to new hosts, but it wasn't without limitations. Every time he sustained injuries, his vitality diminished. And a body nearing its expiration couldn't simply be swapped out instantly.
During the height of his ancient rule, Apocalypse kept multiple bodies in reserve—just in case.
That was the secret to his longevity and dominance.
But this current body had been acquired from a mutant held captive by Trask Industries. It was never intended to last forever.
And now, it was breaking down.
Apocalypse's injuries were far worse than they appeared.
FOR MORE CHAPTER
patreon.com/Jackssparrow