Luke remembered darkness first. Not the suffocating kind that wrapped around him now, but the quiet darkness behind closed eyes—the kind that came after hours of staring at a glowing screen.
Then came the light. Flickering. Familiar.
Bleach.
Episodes playing back-to-back. The hum of his computer. Morning bleeding into afternoon, then night. He never moved.
"Just one more episode…"
That was the last thing he told himself before everything went black.
So that's how I died.
The thought echoed, almost laughable if not for what followed.
Pain.
Not the kind you could endure or scream through. Absolute. It consumed him from the inside out, dragging his consciousness back into a body being torn apart piece by piece.
Luke couldn't move. Couldn't open his mouth. But he could feel everything.
Cold metal against skin. Sharp blades slicing through flesh. Unbearable pressure as something inside him was pulled out.
Voices blurred above him.
"Subject's regeneration is slowing."
"Cellular response dropping to 72%."
"Impossible… three years ago, he was comparable to Weapon X."
Three years.
The words struck harder than the pain.
Memories surfaced violently. Chains. Needles. Dissection. Cold floors. Endless darkness.
A name: Luke.
That's… me.
Or rather, the body he now inhabited. Because deep down, he knew the truth.
The real Luke is already dead.
And yet, here he was. Still thinking. Still feeling. Still existing in a body that should have given out long ago.
"Prepare for full extraction. We're losing regenerative stability."
"Director Trask wants every usable sample."
Bolivar Trask. HYDRA.
The names clicked into place.
Marvel… I'm in the Marvel universe. And I'm a lab rat.
Another cut dug deeper.
Why… am I still alive…?
Then the answer came. Not from his past life, but from this body.
Warmth. Light. The sun.
His mutation. Photosynthesis.
His body absorbed sunlight and converted it into energy—fuel for his strength, healing, survival.
And for three years… they kept him buried underground.
No light. No energy. No life.
They didn't weaken me. They starved me.
His consciousness flickered.
Is this it…? A second death?
But something inside him refused to accept it.
Rage ignited. Cold. Violent. Absolute.
No. I didn't survive death just to die like this.
His mismatched eyes—one red, one blue—burned under the surgical lights.
I will live.
Then the world shook.
A deep rumble tore through the facility. Alarms blared. Gunfire erupted in the distance, then silence.
Heavy. Oppressive.
Something… is coming.
Far above, an ancient presence stirred.
En Sabah Nur had awakened.
For the first time since his return, he paused. A presence reached him—faint, dying, yet unbroken.
"Interesting…"
The ground obeyed his will. Steel bent. Concrete twisted. The hidden underground lab collapsed like fragile glass beneath his power.
Scientists ran. Soldiers fired. None of it mattered.
Step by step, Apocalypse descended. Not searching. Guided. Drawn.
In the operating room, Luke felt it. A presence beyond comprehension. Ancient. Overwhelming. Inevitable.
The reinforced doors were ripped apart like paper. Light flooded in. Real light. Sunlight.
For the first time in three years.
His body reacted instantly. Dormant cells awakened with desperate hunger, devouring the light, clinging to it. His regeneration sparked back to life—weak, slow, but real.
Luke's chest trembled as something inside him reignited.
I'm… healing…
A shadow fell over him.
Apocalypse stood before him, unmoving, his gaze piercing through Luke as if reading every fragment of his existence. The broken body. The endless suffering. The unyielding will. The hatred. The desire to survive.
All of it laid bare.
"You endure."
His voice was calm. Absolute.
Luke tried to speak. Failed. But his eyes said everything.
I will make them pay.
Silence lingered between them. Then Apocalypse smiled.
The machines surrounding Luke crumbled into dust. The restraints shattered. The instruments embedded in his body disintegrated like they never existed.
Luke's body dropped, but before it could hit the table, an unseen force held him in place.
A massive hand reached forward. Not to harm. But to claim.
"You have suffered. You were broken."
Power gathered. Ancient. Unfathomable.
"Now you are more."
But something else stirred within Luke. Deep inside his chest, buried beyond flesh and bone—something pulsed.
A faint glow. Then brighter. Then alive.
The Hōgyoku.
It had been silent. Dormant. Waiting. Now, under the flood of sunlight and overwhelming power pouring from Apocalypse, it awakened.
Luke's body trembled violently. Not from pain alone, but from something far greater.
Evolution. Amplification.
His mutation reacted first. Cells drank in sunlight faster than ever before, converting it into raw, limitless energy. His regeneration surged, flesh knitting together at impossible speed.
But the Hōgyoku didn't just follow. It responded.
It listened to his will. To his rage. To his desperate need to live.
And it granted it.
The energy within him doubled. Tripled. Then spiraled beyond control.
Apocalypse's eyes narrowed slightly. "Interesting… This is no ordinary mutation."
Luke's golden hair shimmered brighter, strands almost glowing as energy radiated from his body. His heterochromatic eyes—red and blue—burned intensely, now laced with a faint, otherworldly light.
The Hōgyoku pulsed again. This time, Luke felt it clearly.
Not just power. Guidance.
It was taking his mutation—his ability to absorb sunlight—and refining it, perfecting it, turning it into something far beyond its original limits.
Sunlight wasn't just energy anymore. It became fuel for evolution itself.
Apocalypse's power continued to pour into him, forcing his mutant genes to expand, to break past their natural boundaries.
But the Hōgyoku amplified everything. Every cell. Every change. Every ounce of power.
What should have been simple evolution became something monstrous.
Luke's body lifted slightly from the ground, surrounded by a faint golden aura. The air around him distorted as energy waves pulsed outward, cracking what remained of the room.
He clenched his fists. Power overflowed—unstable yet perfectly controlled.
Apocalypse watched in silence, not with concern, but approval. "Yes…"
Luke slowly lowered back to the ground. His feet touched the broken floor. Solid. Unshaken. Alive.
More than alive.
He opened his eyes fully. And this time, there was no weakness left in them.
Only power. Only fury. Only purpose.
Apocalypse turned slightly, giving him space—as if acknowledging him not as a mere servant, but as something greater.
"Now…" His voice echoed like judgment itself.
Luke took a step forward, the ground beneath him cracking slightly from the pressure of his presence alone.
The Hōgyoku pulsed once more inside him—silent, but ever watching. Ever guiding.
Apocalypse's final command fell upon him like a decree from a god.
"Arise… and make them feel your pain."