Chapter 15
The earth split open. Mud, stone, and roots surged skyward like a titan pulling itself from a grave. The shape was grotesque — a mountain of soil and tangled vines knitting into a hulking humanoid form, dripping seawater and shedding chunks of itself with every movement. Two pits in its mud-smeared face flared open, glowing faint green, alive with hunger.
Krakoa.
Its voice came not from a mouth, but from everywhere — the ground, the air, the marrow of their bones.
"You return… and you bring me more food."
The old X-Men staggered back in horror. The new ones tightened their stances. Cyclops stepped forward, visor gleaming. "Food? We're not here to feed you."
The earth-man only laughed, a deep, tectonic rumble.
"I was born of fire. The bomb that scarred this land gave me thought. But thought without flesh is emptiness. Hunger followed. Your kind… mutant kind… filled that void. When you first came, I tasted power. It was not enough. So I let one of you go, knowing he would return with more."
Cyclops' fists curled. "You used me."
"I grew stronger." Krakoa's massive hand, thick as a cliff face, slammed into the ground. The shockwave tore through the clearing, sending everyone tumbling.
The fight began.
---
Nightcrawler recovered first, blue tail snapping as he rolled upright.
"Mein Gott… fighting a whole island? This is madness!"
He bamfed away just as a vine lashed down, the sulfur-smoke of his teleport filling the air.
Colossus braced himself as vines thicker than oak trees coiled toward him. He transformed in a flash of steel. "Then let madness be broken!" He ripped the vines apart, metal muscles straining, shards of root exploding around him.
Angel, wings already spread, dove low over Krakoa's chest. "Stay distracted, tin man — I'll keep it ugly!" His feathers slashed like knives, cutting back the roots that tried to snatch Colossus.
Banshee hovered nearby, lungs expanding. "Ach, if ever there was a time fer a banshee's scream—!" He unleashed a wail, a sonic shockwave that shattered boulders into dust, scattering a cluster of advancing vines.
Sunfire flared alive, his aura blazing red-gold. "And if ever there was a time for fire!" He streaked through the air, carving a molten arc across Krakoa's shoulder. The flames licked, but the soil reformed, the wound already closing.
Storm lifted her arms skyward, eyes gone white. The sky answered instantly. Wind howled, trees bent, thunder rumbled in the distance. "The storm rises with me!" Bolts of lightning speared down, splitting vines into cinders — yet still, they crawled back together.
Jean raised her hands, TK force wrapping around a bundle of whipping roots. Her brow furrowed. "It's… alive everywhere, Scott! Cutting it down doesn't matter!" She flung the vines back, but more replaced them.
Cyclops clenched his jaw. "Then we keep hitting until we find what matters." He ripped a beam of ruby energy skyward, cutting a trench into Krakoa's chest. The monster staggered, but its rumbling laugh rolled back.
"Futile. You cannot kill the land itself."
---
And in the chaos, Logan finally moved.
While the others blasted and tore, he sprinted low, weaving between collapsing earth and whipping vines. The roots lashed in all directions — jagged stone, writhing branches, falling boulders. A death maze.
That's when it happened. The Equalizer reflex. The world slowed, the chaos stretching into frames he could step between. He saw the exact moment each rock would fall, every vine's path before it cracked the ground. His body slipped through, fast but unhurried, eyes locked forward.
Still, no dodge was perfect. A root the size of a tree trunk slammed into his ribs, throwing him sideways. Pain lit his nerves, bone snapping, flesh tearing. But by the time he hit the ground, his healing factor had already started its work, knitting him back together. He spat blood, grinned, and kept running.
"Keep yer eyes on me, big guy," Logan growled. "I'm comin' for ya."
He darted up Krakoa's side, claws sparking as he stabbed into roots for leverage, pulling himself higher. Another stone boulder tore free, hurtling toward him. He dodged left, but let a vine whip his shoulder — flesh ripped, blood sprayed — yet he held on. Enduring what he couldn't avoid.
Every step up the monster's spine was hell — falling rocks, swiping vines, the ground itself trying to throw him off. He dodged what he could, tanked what he couldn't, and climbed higher. Always higher.
The rest of the team glanced up mid-battle, catching flashes of him in the stormlight. The feral little Canadian, half-dead and still climbing.
And then he roared, claws flashing, driving higher toward Krakoa's head.
---
Down below, the X-Men regrouped. Cyclops barked over the chaos, visor glowing hot.
"Keep it busy! Whatever it is, we're not letting it win!"
The monster spread its arms wide, roots tearing up the landscape in all directions. The ground shuddered, trees fell, the air filled with dust and hunger.
Krakoa laughed again, booming like an earthquake.
"You cannot fight the earth."
But somewhere high on its back, Wolverine grinned, bloodied and relentless.
"Yeah? Watch me."