A bomb detonated in the heart of New York City, instantly leveling a skyscraper. Screams pierced the chaos as panicked civilians scattered in all directions, the streets devolving into sheer bedlam.
The deafening roar of the blast echoed like the wrath of gods, shaking even the bravest among the people trapped in this urban warzone.
Most had already seen Magneto's declaration of war broadcast on television—but none expected him to reach New York so quickly.
The military forces meant to protect the city hadn't lasted even half an hour. Against the sheer variety and overwhelming might of the mutant army, the front lines crumbled before they were even fully formed. Magnetic storms, psionic blasts, elemental surges—every power imaginable unleashed in merciless unison.
Invisible forces tore through the atmosphere, lifting dust and debris into the skies. Missile explosions lit up the skyline with thunderous flames, devouring everything in their path.
In that moment, life was fragile—trampled under the boots of a mutant army that advanced atop tens of thousands of corpses.
The entire world now watched, horrified, as New York became a vision of hell on Earth.
Atop the head of the colossal Wild Sentinel sat Magneto himself, regal and resolute, directing a live broadcast through a floating camera. Behind him stood four towering figures: Juggernaut, Unus the Untouchable, Azazel the Red Devil, and Glob Herman.
These four mutants weren't just generals—they were Magneto's new Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, each handpicked to bring an end to humanity's dominion.
To ensure the world bore witness to this moment of reckoning, Magneto hijacked communication lines, using his electromagnetic control to force his broadcast onto every screen and receiver on the planet.
This wasn't just about conquering human governments—Magneto wanted to engrave terror and awe into every human soul, to make them truly understand that mutants were superior, invincible, and divine.
As he reveled in his triumph, watching the human military crumble beneath his feet, Magneto's expression suddenly changed. A flicker of something—caution, perhaps—crossed his face.
At the same moment, Unus noticed something strange among the troops below. The front lines had slowed—stopped, even. Mutants at the very vanguard were hesitating, some freezing entirely in place.
Unus—known as "the Untouchable" for the invisible force field that rendered him impervious to any physical attack—frowned.
"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Why is the army stopping?"
His question drew the attention of the others. Azazel looked toward Magneto, silently requesting new orders.
But Magneto only sneered, raising his hand and giving Azazel a subtle gesture.
In the next instant, Azazel reached out to touch each of them. With a burst of crimson brimstone smoke, the five Horsemen vanished from atop the Wild Sentinel's head.
A heartbeat later, they reappeared on the battlefield below.
Down on the ground, the mood was tense—far tenser than anything they'd felt so far. Hundreds of mutants stood frozen, as if facing down a storm none dared to approach.
Though they still held numerical superiority, not one of them stepped forward.
Standing firmly at the frontlines, blocking the advance of the mutant army, was a man built like a tank—muscular, buzz-cut, and radiating sheer combat intent.
"Oh, shit—"
"That's Wolverine!"
"God damn it, why is he here?!"
"It's the X-Men—he's one of the X-Men!"
The reaction was instant. Mutants across the battlefield recognized him the moment they laid eyes on those signature adamantium claws.
Even though they hailed from different parallel universes, Wolverine was a name that echoed across all of them. As soon as they saw him, the mutant army collectively froze. No one dared to move.
Because in every universe, Wolverine was synonymous with the X-Men. His appearance meant only one thing: the heroes were coming.
The realization hit hard—no way were they getting through this without resistance now.
But before the rising unease among the mutants could explode into full-blown panic, a sudden presence descended like a wave of cold air. Magneto had arrived.
His aura alone silenced the masses. Every mutant who sensed his arrival shut their mouths at once. In moments, the entire army had fallen into dead silence.
Magneto scanned the crowd with a cold, disappointed gaze, like a king surveying a pitiful court of cowards. Wherever his eyes passed, heads bowed. None dared meet his eyes.
Then, slowly, Magneto turned to face the one man who stood in defiance—Wolverine.
"So… no matter the universe, you always choose to stand against me, don't you?" Magneto's voice was calm, yet laced with an undertone of weary reminiscence.
But Logan didn't reply. He didn't flinch, didn't blink—his eyes locked on Magneto, radiating unshaken resolve.
Magneto narrowed his eyes.
"Charles didn't come?" he asked. "Or is he hiding again? I can't imagine you alone trying to stop all of us. So tell me, where are the rest of the X-Men?"
What Magneto hadn't expected—what unsettled him more than anything—was that Wolverine still didn't respond.
That silence made Magneto frown.
Unlike most enemies, Magneto actually had reasons to speak with Logan. In his own universe, they'd known each other—not always as friends, often as rivals, but as fellow mutants. That connection mattered to Magneto.
He always held a sliver of patience for his own kind. With his power, he could have wiped out the X-Men time and again. But he didn't. Not because he couldn't—but because deep down, despite their ideological clash, they were still family. Mutantkind first. Always.
That was why he had tried to reason with the man before him.
He wanted to understand what had gone so wrong in this universe… why everything had spiraled into such chaos. But Wolverine's silence stirred more than just frustration. It made Magneto suspicious.
And then—Logan moved.
With a guttural roar, Wolverine launched into a full sprint, barreling forward like an unleashed beast, claws out, eyes locked on Magneto.
The surrounding mutants were stunned. A few even recoiled in fear.
Juggernaut stepped forward immediately, shifting his massive body to intercept—ready to meet Wolverine head-on in a devastating collision. But Magneto calmly raised a hand, silently signaling him to stand down.
His eyes narrowed.
"I'm starting to feel… disgusted," Magneto said coldly. "You're not Wolverine."
And with a flick of his hand, a magnetic pulse exploded from him. Instantly, Wolverine was yanked off the ground by an invisible force and slammed into the air, hanging upside down—held in place midair, suspended a few feet in front of Magneto.
Even as he hung there, Logan roared and flailed, still trying to attack.
Magneto's gaze darkened.
"The humans… what the hell did they do to you?"
But before he could finish his thought, something shifted.
Behind him, the red-skinned Nightcrawler—this world's version of Azazel—sensed something.
In a blink, he vanished into thin air.
When Azazel reappeared, he had someone slung over his tail—a frail old man in a white lab coat, clearly a scientist.
The man hadn't expected to be grabbed so suddenly. He hit the ground hard, crying out in pain, then looked up at Magneto with raw terror in his eyes.
Surrounded on all sides by a massive army of mutants, Dr. Rice trembled uncontrollably. His eyes darted to the not-so-distant figure of Wolverine—still suspended in the air—and he screamed hysterically.
"Weapon X! What are you waiting for?! Kill them! Kill them all!"
Hearing those words, seeing the madness in Dr. Rice's eyes, even the dullest of the remaining mutants began to understand.
This "Wolverine" wasn't Logan.
He wasn't the X-Man they knew from their universes.
He was something else—an imitation, a weapon forged from Logan's DNA, or something worse. A man-made creation designed to mimic the original.
The realization was like a match thrown onto gasoline.
Rage exploded in every mutant present.
If even the legendary Wolverine had been reduced to nothing more than a human-controlled weapon in this universe, what hope was there for any of them?
What kind of hellish world had they stepped into?
Magneto's jaw tightened with fury. His eyes locked onto the raving Dr. Rice—and then, with a swift movement, he thrust a hand forward.
At that instant, Weapon X's body began to contort violently. His muscles spasmed, his limbs shuddered as though something deep inside was forcing its way out.
A wet, sickening sound sliced through the air as his skin split open, revealing a glint of metal beneath.
A streak of adamantium shimmered through the wound.
Then—one by one—Weapon X's bones began to erupt outward from his flesh, like blades being yanked from their sheathes.
His screams echoed across the battlefield, no longer clear if they were born of fury or pure agony.
When Wolverine had been infused with adamantium, it had nearly killed him. Now, to have that same metal ripped from a cloned body—violently and without mercy—was a death sentence.
There was no fight left in him.
Moments later, Weapon X collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The rage, the snarls, the madness—all extinguished.
And Dr. Rice—who had watched every second—seemed to deflate completely. His body slumped, his mouth opened in horror, but no sound came out.
Others fell into silence as well—those glued to their TVs, watching from behind computer screens, across the globe.
"Do you see it now?" Magneto's voice echoed through every broadcast. "This is your proof."
He raised his arms, eyes shadowed with sorrow.
"This is the clearest evidence of your persecution against mutantkind. The world has seen it now. This is how humanity slowly turns mutants into nothing more than tools… weapons."
As his voice faded, the severed strands of adamantium hanging midair began to twist and meld—forming into a single gleaming blade.
It hovered slowly, menacingly, toward Dr. Rice.
"As the leader of mutantkind… as the herald of this revolution… I, Magneto, will now pass judgment on you—wretched human."
Magneto stepped forward, looming over Dr. Rice.
He raised his hand high, the metallic blade rising with it, aligning above Rice's trembling head.
"For crimes against mutants… the sentence is—death!"
And just as Magneto's voice boomed across the battlefield, echoing through every livestream, about to bring the blade down—
A sudden roar erupted from the distance, cutting through the tension like thunder.
"Magneto! I'm here!!"
...
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