Chapter 48
***
Predictably, the Champion of the Battle of Dragons became Erik Lehnsherr, "née" Max Eisenhardt aka Magneto, formerly Magnet-43.
He received his title, his chest of gold, which he wouldn't need even for free, a cuff on the head and a kiss from his wife, an approving pat on the back from me, and admiration from the stands.
Suo opened a portal for them to Xavier's mansion, while I went further into the jungle, away from the settlement, and "jumped" to Suo's and my house in New York. I went up to the bedroom, changed from the yifu into my everyday clothes, took the adamantium katana off the wall, threw my jacket over my shoulder, and went downstairs.
In the middle of the living room on the first floor stood a man. Tall, over two meters in height, broad-shouldered, massive, muscular, in a black autumn cloak over something resembling armor. He had a grayish tint to the skin on his face, neck, and hands, where it was visible from under his clothes, blue lips, yellow eyes, and some blue stripes on his cheeks. He had no hair on his head. He, like me, shone with a gorgeous bald head.
En Sabah Nur. In his own, unique, person. Come for my soul. We have arrived.
"They call you Sabretooth, the Sabre-toothed," this source of trouble began to speak, while I, unhurriedly, finished descending the stairs towards him. "Why?"
I did not answer. Instead of answering, I bared my fangs, demonstrating that they bear little resemblance to human ones. And also extended my claws from my fingertips. They are not large in size, but when extended like this, on demonstratively curled fingers, they look quite impressive.
"You are strong," he didn't ask, he stated. "Stronger than very many. But you can become even stronger," I finished descending the stairs and stood opposite the "guest," stopping two steps short of him, at a ready distance. "Come with me. And I will build a New World. A world where the Strong will become Gods to the weak. Where you won't have to hide your essence behind the mask of a 'human,'" he pronounced the last word as if swearing.
"The 'humans' have weapons. Powerful weapons," I broke my silence.
"You yourself are a warrior. You know that it is not the sword that is strong, but the hand that holds it."
"Even a cowardly weakling can press a button."
"He will press the button," old man Nur painted a mysterious smile on his face. "He definitely will. And the 'humans' will have no weapons."
"At all?" I clarified.
"At all," the gray-skinned brute answered. I immediately remembered a movie I had seen back in "that" life about him and the X-Men. The scene where nuclear missiles take to the sky simultaneously all over the world.
"I want to see that," I said before I thought. And I really did want to. But saying it out loud was probably reckless.
"Follow me," En Sabah Nur nodded, taking my answer for an agreement to join, and put his hand on my shoulder. The next moment a transfer occurred. It looked and felt different, not like mine. But it still worked.
***
The place we found ourselves in was strange: a long corridor with stone walls and a floor decorated with strange, broken lines forming a pattern akin to the patterns found on microchip printed circuit boards. And the slabs themselves were polished in a way that modern technology is unable to polish. Perhaps in the future, when humanity conquers space, such quality could be achieved.
And I had forgotten that according to Marvel, besides the fact that Old Man Nur himself is a monstrously strong mutant, an External, he also possesses a highly technological complex of some advanced civilization, what happened to which is unknown.
"Let's go," he tossed to me and moved forward. I followed him. The corridor opened into a room that was a circular hall with a tetrahedral pyramidal roof. More precisely, geometrically it was a cylinder with a base diameter of about thirty meters, about three meters high, inscribed in a regular tetrahedral pyramid of corresponding dimensions.
In the center of the room were two stone bed-tables, standing parallel to each other, with the contours of a human body on the upper smooth side. All the surfaces of this hall were covered in those same broken lines of blue and pink colors, slightly "pulsating" and glowing. The main light source, however, was located somewhere in the center of the ceiling, where all four faces of the pyramid met. What it was was unclear, but the room was bright.
En Sabah Nur approached the wall, placed his hand on one of the lines, and a niche opened in the wall, with dimensions just right for my height and shoulder width.
"First I will give you power. I will unlock your true potential, laid down by nature, then you will help me build a new world," declared this fanatic of himself.
"I have already undergone enhancements. Thrice," I replied, standing in place, despite the fact that I wanted to take at least a step back, and ideally turn around altogether and run from here without looking back.
"Is that so?" Old Man Nur was surprised. "Let's see," he touched the wall in another place. A part of the lines on the floor beneath me glowed softly. Then a certain infinitely thin disk of light, incomprehensible, pinkish, heterogeneous, passed through the room from top to bottom, and then from bottom to top, "scanning" me.
I felt nothing, but the desire to get out of here was becoming barely tolerable. Even the Beast in my mind stirred, although very little time had passed since the last murder I committed.
"Good work," the External nodded his head approvingly. "But the potential is still not fully unlocked. There is room to grow," he finished his reasoning and again pointed his hand towards the niche in the wall. Good thing it's in the wall, and not on one of the tables in the center. Then I would have run immediately, not thinking about the consequences and not caring about the losses. I didn't want to die.
But overall, the situation is disgusting. I absolutely do not want to enter this niche and undergo new "enhancements," since I don't even have a close idea of the full potential of my mutation. Will my form remain human or at least humanoid? No answer.
And there is also a huge: ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent probability that in this "hell machine" I will also be "brainwashed". I don't want that.
But what are the options? One on one with Apocalypse literally in the center, the focus of his power. To attack him here is a thought that can only be born in the brain of an idiot. It won't even be suicide—he will just twist me up and shove me into his machine anyway. Escape using a "jump"? He'll catch up. Less than a minute ago, he demonstrated that he also possesses a similar trick. Even if mine is more effective and faster, he still knows too much about me, and I conversely. The limit of his strength and power is unknown to me. Meaning, he'll catch me.
"Why me?" trying to delay the inevitable for at least another minute, I asked him. "There are enough mutants with abilities analogous to mine."
"Because out of all of them, you are the strongest. You have proven your strength more than once. The first time when you defeated Wolverine in a fight right after he became Weapon X. You did it simply. Playfully. Without straining: beat him up, twisted him up, knocked him out, and, having neutralized him, gave him to S.H.I.E.L.D. The second time in the Arena: Romulus lost to you. Not everyone understood this, but that's exactly how it was. All he could do was yap limply. And then you killed him. You became the strongest."
"There is also Remus," I continued to stall for time.
"Romulus was stronger."
"But there are other mutants. Stronger than the Lupines."
"The Twenty-Time Champion of the Battle of Dragons tells me this?"
"Not all the Strong participate in the Battle."
"The time has come," the gray-skinned one cut off. "Enter and become stronger!" he repeated his inviting gesture again. The thickening tension was beginning to be felt almost physically. That's it... We have arrived.
Like it or not, there's nowhere to go anyway. I took a step. Then another one. And another. Now the niche is in front of me. With a heavy sigh, I entered it and positioned my body along the contour, which upon closer inspection turned out to be there too. The niche closed. I was left in darkness. But not for long. The walls of the niche lit up and broken stripes appeared. My body trembled, then quickly began to grow numb, a monotonous humming sound was heard, which grew and grew. The glow intensified. Vision blurred, hearing failed. After a minute, I saw, heard, and felt absolutely nothing at all. The body was not felt. I couldn't move. Even if I could, I still wouldn't have felt it...
And then a blow landed on me, on what was left. So powerful that the Beast instantly "jumped up" and "bristled". My mind withstood this blow. But a new blow, stronger than the previous one, did not keep itself waiting. The Beast roared and went on the defensive. I-the Beast, without any divisions and internal struggle, threw all my strength, all my will into preserving my consciousness from invasion and destruction. A new blow, another one. More.
At some point, a "crack" opened into the mind attacking us, where the Beast immediately rushed with the intention to "devour", "tear apart", destroy... Except with the very next blow it was swept away, broken, and thrown back.
I was left one on one with the attacking force. For some reason, it became easier. My mind became cold and clear. Pure, but fragile. I clearly understood that the next blow would be the last, scattering and shattering me like a crystal vase.
Well, I have lived a long life. I don't know if it can be called a good one, but there was joy in it, there was love, there was friendship, there were enemies, and there were teachers. Even one Master. And in the last minutes of his life, he prayed. Why shouldn't I do the same?
Only who to pray to? God? Buddha? Allah? The Great Ancestors? I didn't know. After all, even being a monk, and later the abbot of a Zen Buddhist monastery, I still internally did not adhere to any religion. My god has no name.
I didn't pray. I started to meditate, since I didn't know how to do the first, but I knew how to do the second. And I went into meditation as deeply as I had never gone before. It came easily. Very easily even. Sensations of the body didn't interfere, the Beast showed no signs of life. The world closed in to the boundaries of my consciousness, and my consciousness opened up to the whole world. And in the midst of all this, from somewhere "above" (in quotes because in that state everything was relative: right, left, top, and bottom) came a single channel-ray of light. To meet it from "below" beat another ray-channel. And at the place of their meeting, their mixing, was "I".
A new blow shook me, but surprisingly did not break me. The next one too. And the next. They continued to get stronger. Were delivered more frequently.
At some point, the next blow turned out to be so strong that I fell out of the body, which I could clearly see in front of me, like that time with Suo. This again caused shock, but not as strong as the first time.
I reached out to return back into my shell, but, merely poking in, received a blow. "Jumped" into the body and was immediately knocked out, thrown back. "Jumped" again, again a blow, then a jerk and... I opened my eyes.
Above me was a very familiar ceiling. I was covered with a blanket up to my chin. I turned my head to the side and began to examine the surroundings. A room. Everything was exactly as it was preserved in memory. Everything in its place. Everything as it should be.
I threw off the blanket and sat up. A bang fell over my eyes. I got out of bed and went to the desk, took a utility knife from it, and turned to the mirror that was built into the wardrobe door.
Looking back at me from the mirror was a twenty-one-year-old young man, with unkempt black hair, about mid-neck length, with a bang falling over brown eyes, one hundred and seventy-five centimeters tall, fit, athletic, but not pumped up. A sort of average guy in all respects, who could use a shave.
I extended the blade of the utility knife and carefully cut the skin on my left forearm. Not deeply, just so that blood appeared slightly and a small wound-scratch appeared.
Blood appeared, and the wound had no intention of healing.
"Well, hello, Vasya Kirin," I sighed, putting the knife back on the desk. "Welcome back to the real world. Tadaima. Home sweet home..."
***
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