The Hulk thrashed violently within the metallic ocean, each swing of his massive fists shattering entire walls of steel.
Yet no matter how explosively he broke them apart, even powdered fragments were drawn back together under Magneto's command, reforming and crashing toward him in an endless tide.
He had strength—unmatched brute strength.
but no leverage.
Not here.
Not against Magneto at full power.
The harder Hulk struggled, the deeper his wounds became.
Finally, overwhelmed, he was swallowed completely by the layered steel torrents—
buried under countless tons of metal compressing him like a colossal hydraulic press.
When Magneto's trembling fingers finally closed into a fist, the metal surrounding Hulk—previously tens of thousands of tons—
had been crushed into a sphere barely the height of a man.
Inside it, Hulk's skeleton and every ounce of his muscle had been compressed tens of thousands of times over.
Then Magneto hurled it downward with all remaining strength—
and gravity did the rest.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!!
The impact was apocalyptic.
A meteor striking Earth would not hit as hard.
The sphere's minuscule point of contact unleashed pressure beyond anything found in nature.
The ground cracked open violently as the orb drilled straight down, tearing through layers of earth toward the planet's core.
A colossal pillar of soil and debris erupted skyward like a rocket plume, its peak lost somewhere beyond the cloud layer.
No one knew how deep the sphere plunged, how many layers of stone it crushed—
only that Magneto's promise of sending Hulk on a "journey to the Earth's core" was no longer a metaphor.
The Hunters that had been caught with Hulk shared the same fate—
crushed cell-by-cell long before reaching any magma.
Whether the molten depths awaited the Hulk… only one who returned alive would know.
Having unleashed such monstrous techniques—first the steel storm, now the steel tsunami—Magneto's body was barely holding together.
Blood poured freely down his robes, but he forced himself upright, steadying his collapsing frame with the metal around him.
He was past his limit.
Far past it.
Only sheer will—greater even than the magnetic field he commanded—kept him standing between the mutants and annihilation.
"Who's next?" Magneto roared toward the distant military convoy.
America's prized Hunter battalion—wiped out like insects.
The U.S. officer panicked.
"DRIVE! Get us out of here!... I mean—preserve the valuable mutant specimens! That's… the priority!"
Whatever excuse they used, nothing could hide the truth—
Magneto had defeated them.
Alone.
The remaining mutants finally exhaled in relief.
They had survived—barely.
Had they the strength, they would have cheered with everything they had.
But Jean Grey could not share their relief.
Cyclops, Storm, and many students had been taken.
And there was no guarantee the military wouldn't return with stronger reinforcement.
She lifted her gaze to the distance.
She could still feel Xavier's presence—
yet the bond between teacher and student had been severed.
She swallowed the ache in her chest and addressed the survivors:
"Everyone still capable of moving, gather here. We must remain alert. The enemy might not be done."
---
Professor X, hiding in an ordinary residential house, sensed everything unfolding on the battlefield.
His belief remained firm:
the Avengers represented justice,
and the mutants' rebellion was misguided.
And then—
he suddenly realized he could no longer sense the brainwaves of the soldiers stationed outside.
He turned back—
and found Marcus standing before him, Loki's scepter in hand.
"Good evening, Professor," Marcus greeted mockingly.
"I was just wondering—why not mind-control one of your students to stab Magneto in the back? You could've ended the war instantly."
"Say that again," Xavier warned coldly, "and I will scramble your brain myself."
But when he attempted to probe Marcus's mind—
a familiar energy flared.
The Mind Stone.
His psychic attack was repelled effortlessly.
"You," Xavier whispered. "You're the one who seized the Helicarrier in New York…"
Marcus smiled.
"Not here to explain the details."
He pressed the scepter's point against Xavier's chest.
The Mind Stone's glow sealed off Xavier's telepathy completely.
Tony Stark entered, pushing a wheelchair.
Seated in it was a frail young man wearing white hospital garments—
with mismatched blue and yellow eyes.
Mutant No. 143.
Jason Stryker.
"Jason… why are you here?" Xavier breathed.
He knew the boy—
knew the horrific power caged inside his withered body.
And he knew exactly what Stryker had used him for.
A dreadful realization dawned.
"What are you planning?!"
Marcus didn't bother answering.
Tony positioned Jason directly in front of Xavier.
The boy's vacant expression didn't flicker—not even once—as a neural link began forming.
"No—stop! Jason!" Xavier struggled violently, but he was helpless without his telepathy.
Three days of work had allowed Tony to perfect the Mind Stone's shielding.
Jason's psychic waves slid past it effortlessly—
penetrating Xavier's mind exactly as they once did in X2, when he nearly killed every mutant on Earth.
But this time was smoother.
Faster.
Unopposed.
"What do you want…?" Xavier gasped, his autonomy slipping away.
Marcus leaned close.
"Oh, not we— you are going to do this."
He pointed at Xavier—
then turned to Jason with a cruel smile.
"Let's release the Dark Phoenix."
_____
T/N:
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