Chapter 134: Allen Reaches Max Level, Skynet Appears
"No means no. It's natural for older men to fall short—I get it."
With a look of sympathetic understanding, Allen patted Dr. Zola on the shoulder.
"I'm a robot," Dr. Zola protested.
"I know, I know. A man should never admit he can't perform."
"…"
Bastard. You don't get it.
We're not even talking about the same thing.
"Crap, the army of Sentinels is closing in."
Dr. Zola, monitoring signal fluctuations, suddenly detected a dense convergence of Sentinel signals heading their way.
BOOM!
A deafening blast.
A hole was blown into the concrete wall, and from the pitch-black interior of the breach, pairs of crimson eyes glared menacingly at the mutants outside.
"Evacuate the building," Apocalypse ordered immediately.
This place was enveloped in a special force field that limited his abilities. They had to withdraw and fight outside, where he could unleash his full power.
After all, with their enemies trapped in the data processing center, it was like catching fish in a barrel.
Besides, they couldn't afford to be the main force against the Sentinels—not when the X-Men and the Brotherhood were still out there.
Before long, they began retreating the way they came.
As for Skynet, they didn't need to worry. Let the machines attack in waves. With any luck, the data upload would finish before then. Better to lie in wait outside.
"There are emergency exits. Don't let them escape," Dr. Zola reminded.
While accessing an independent network, he'd downloaded the building's schematics and knew for a fact there were at least three escape routes.
"They're not getting away," Apocalypse said confidently now that they were outside.
He raised a hand and activated his sandstorm ability.
Since the force field's range was limited, he directly transformed the surrounding soil into hardened metallic rock, sealing the building off completely.
Inside the safe room, Trask was preparing to initiate an emergency teleportation.
The safe room, functioning like a giant elevator, had a built-in rail system designed to carry it dozens of kilometers away to a hidden location.
Suddenly, every escape route displayed as blocked on the monitors.
"What? Who leaked the data center's location?!"
Once again, Trask felt his intelligence being utterly outclassed. It was as if he were facing a foe who could predict his every move.
"Am I really going to die here? I don't want to die—I have such a bright future ahead of me!"
"Damn those mutants! Why won't they just die already?"
"Filthy, wretched mutants—they shouldn't even exist!"
…
The five executives started cursing, desperate to vent their fear.
In their prime with promising political careers, they refused to accept dying here.
"Don't panic. Once Skynet transfers into the sixth-generation Sentinel prototype, not a single one of them will make it out alive."
Trask's expression was full of confidence, as if the sixth-generation Sentinel would be the ultimate solution.
"Sixth-generation Sentinel?"
This was the first time the others had heard of it—it was clear Trask had deliberately kept it from them.
Still, they didn't press him. What mattered now was its power.
"Although it's still in the experimental phase, it has already stably integrated liquid nano-tech. Its regenerative capabilities are second to none. The reason it hasn't been announced publicly is simple: each prototype costs $5 billion. Once fully developed, mass production could cost even more," Trask explained.
The five officials tactfully refrained from asking more.
At $5 billion a unit, Congress would rather invest in B2 bombers or F-22s, where they could skim plenty of profit. Sentinels, on the other hand, were a pure money sink.
Meanwhile…
Sentinels of all models swarmed the surface like a horde of zombies.
Machine guns, rockets, guided weapons—everything was in play.
It felt like a scene straight out of WWII, a hellish battlefield.
Apocalypse raised one hand to maintain a protective force field, the other controlling sandstorms to counterattack.
Seizing the moment, Allen grinned and said, "Boss, how about you bury them so only their heads are sticking out, and I'll farm the XP."
"Be careful," Apocalypse replied, indulging his capable sidekick.
Allen had already drawn his pig-slaying blade. "Dr. Zola, cover me!"
"Could you not try to get yourself killed?" Dr. Zola replied, exasperated.
"Between dying and looking cool, I pick dying."
Hearing this, Dr. Zola reluctantly transformed into his steel form. He knew if he refused, Allen's pig-slaying knife might turn on him instead.
Fully prepped, Dr. Zola led the charge, tanking enemy fire, with Allen close behind.
One strike—clean and decisive.
With Apocalypse providing remote support, each time they neared a target, the ground would collapse beneath it, causing the Sentinel to sink, exposing just its head—perfect for Allen's blade.
Those attempting to flank were instantly trapped as sandstorms hardened around their legs like shackles.
Some Sentinels took to the air to try suppressing from above, but thick sandstorms obscured their vision.
…
[Killed Model-120 Fourth-Gen Sentinel. EXP +750]
[EXP threshold met. Priest Level: Lv120.]
[New Skill Acquired: Grand Resurrection.]
[Grand Resurrection: Can revive a marked target once within 24 hours. Same target cooldown: one year.]
[Note: Requirement met. You may now return to your original timeline at any time.]
…
Under Zola's protection and Apocalypse's assistance, Allen successfully took out over thirty Sentinels, finally reaching the required experience to return.
"Max level, I'm outta here."
Tossing one last line over his shoulder, Allen dashed back into the protective shield's radius.
Now that he'd hit the cap, he had no intention of killing even one more robot. Time to cash out.
If not for the system upgrade requirement, Allen wouldn't have bothered with such a thankless job.
"Psylocke, I've got good news and bad news. Which do you wanna hear first?"
Allen slinked up to Psylocke, itching to show off his new skill.
"I don't want to hear either," she replied, rolling her eyes.
"Well, since you're begging me to tell you—"
"…"
"Good news: I get one more chance to do something suicidal."
"And the bad?"
"Can only use it once a year," Allen said glumly.
The Grand Resurrection was undeniably powerful, but the year-long cooldown made it frustratingly situational. It couldn't be wasted lightly—if it failed, that chance was gone.
"They're here."
The archangel's warning drew everyone's attention.
A group of X-Men and Brotherhood members teleported in, having destroyed ten factories before rushing over to assist.
But upon seeing thousands of Sentinels swarming the battlefield—hundreds of them fifth-generation—their blood ran cold.
Huddled within the force field, they began discussing how to deal with the machines.
Charging in recklessly against second-gen Sentinels equipped with heavy firepower would result in mass casualties. No one had a foolproof strategy.
Usually, mutant conflicts were one-on-one skirmishes. No one had real experience fighting kill-bots.
"What the hell are we waiting for?" Allen scoffed at them. "Boss, you can turn dirt into metal. Old Man Magneto can chuck iron boulders. Just smash them already!"
"…"
The three leaders scowled.
Not because the idea was bad—quite the opposite.
But it stung their pride that a certified lunatic had pointed out the obvious.
Still, they couldn't ignore a good plan.
Sand gathered, condensing into heavy spheres that swiftly hardened into multi-ton iron balls.
With a wave of Magneto's hands, hundreds of them levitated into the air.
Then he slammed his hands down.
BOOM BOOM BOOM…
It sounded like heavy artillery plowing the earth. The concussive blasts made their ears ring, the ground trembling with each impact.
Raise hands. Slam down.
BOOM BOOM BOOM…
Over and over. When it finally ended, not a single robot was left standing—just heaps of mangled metal.
"If I had those two powers, I'd be having a blast every timeline jump," Allen muttered bitterly. "Just toss a few hundred iron balls in the ocean and fish with explosions. Damn."
"It's coming. Skynet's arriving."
Dr. Zola's warning cut in. His glowing green eyes flickered red, indicating a loss of control.
The nearby mutants immediately stepped back, eyes full of caution.
"I'm out. Skynet's taking over."
As his voice fell, his eye-lights turned completely red. Dr. Zola bailed out digitally, abandoning his body.
"One Slash to Heaven!"
Before the Sentinel could come online, Allen stepped in with a preemptive strike, slicing it down.
But then, from the battlefield, a silvery, mercury-like fluid began to ooze out, pulsing erratically until it slowly formed a humanoid shape.
Magneto extended his hands, trying to manipulate it with magnetism, but the metal resisted all control.
Apocalypse joined in, trying to convert it into sand.
No use.
The liquid metal was the sixth-generation Sentinel—completely immune to mutant powers.
"I'll handle this."
The X-Men's Pyro stepped forward, igniting a blaze with his ignition gear. Flames soared, heating the ground to the point of crystallization.
But the liquid metal showed no sign of softening.
Within a minute, the liquid took on the shape of a brawny man.
"T-800?!"
Allen gaped. "It's even simulating clothes now? Are we crossing franchises here?"
At that moment, Pyro stepped aside as Iceman took over.
Frost spewed from his hands, encasing the machine in ice.
"Frozen!?"
CRACK—
Before anyone could celebrate, the ice shattered.
Skynet, speaking in a rigid synthesized voice, announced:
"EXECUTING: TERMINATION PROTOCOL."
BOOM!
It launched forward like a cannonball, slamming a punch into the force field.
The semi-transparent shield shuddered violently.
Back in the safe room, Trask watched Skynet's debut with glee. "Now the real show begins. This is the sixth-generation Sentinel's first real combat test—it's historic."
"It just looks like a big guy. What's so special?"
Trask shot a disdainful look at the five clueless officials. "You'll see soon enough."