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*****
The figure that appeared before Mike was clad in a long robe etched with mysterious patterns. Beneath the robe gleamed a set of black metallic armor trimmed with gold, exuding an air of both authority and nobility.
Z Weapon.
The moment Mike laid eyes on him, he instinctively stepped in front of the children.
"Bang!"
A thunderous crack echoed as their fists collided, the impact generating a blast wave that tore outward like an explosion, instantly shattering every pane of glass in the room.
The children stared on in horror. With the sound of flesh tearing apart, Logan's adamantium claws slid free, and with a furious roar, he slashed toward the enemy's neck.
But Z Weapon merely cast Logan a cold glance. In that instant, an invisible force slammed into him, hurling him across the room and pinning him mercilessly against the wall.
"Ahhh!"
Laura leapt forward, and Gwen, unnoticed by the enemy, quietly transformed.
At that same moment, Mike's eyes blazed red, heat vision threatening to erupt—yet Z Weapon's eyes suddenly shifted as well.
In the next heartbeat, heat vision and laser beams clashed together, colliding in midair with a deafening detonation. The unstable energy exploded outward, flinging both fighters apart.
Mike slammed into the wall, deep cracks splitting across its surface, while Z Weapon smashed through the door, splintering it into fragments as his body flew outside.
"Logan, take them and go!"
Mike barked in a low, commanding voice. With a flick of his wrist, a card at his fingertips dissolved into motes of light. A swirling portal spun open behind him.
In the blink of an eye, Mike vanished from his spot and reappeared directly before Z Weapon, whose eyes once again burned scarlet with energy, twin beams seconds away from firing.
Mike's fist connected with Z Weapon's jaw in a devastating uppercut.
"Whoosh!"
Z Weapon was blasted upward, crashing through the ceiling before vanishing from sight.
Mike's eyes narrowed sharply as he launched himself in pursuit.
"Boom! Boom!"
Explosions rumbled overhead, the sounds of battle shaking the air. Logan wasted no time, shouting urgently at the children.
"Move! Get through the portal now—Gwen, hurry!"
Nodding, Gwen, now fully transformed into the Spirit of Vengeance, stepped through as well.
High above, Mike, seeing that Logan and the children had made it safely through, swept his hand to close the portal.
But in that instant, Z Weapon seized the opportunity. Invisible telekinetic force wrapped tightly around Mike, binding him in midair.
"Humph!"
With a sharp grunt, Mike flexed his will, straining against the restraint until it shattered. Twin beams of searing heat lanced from his eyes, carving across Z Weapon's chest.
The attack left a deep wound—but in barely a second, the injury had already regenerated, sealing shut as though it had never existed.
Mike clicked his tongue in annoyance before vanishing with a sonic boom.
He reappeared to strike, his fist whipping forward—only to pass clean through empty air.
Z Weapon had teleported. The space around his body fractured like glass, and in a blink, he rematerialized elsewhere.
Short-range teleportation, long-distance spatial travel?
Mike arched a brow.
In only this brief exchange, Z Weapon had revealed an alarming arsenal of powers.
Strength. Speed. Telekinesis. Flight. Spatial manipulation. Laser vision…
Mike shook his head grimly. A sudden thought struck him, and his expression darkened. With a sweep of his hand, he conjured another portal and dove through.
On the other side stretched a cliffside clearing—the same place where the mutant children had taken refuge.
No sign of Z Weapon. Mike exhaled in relief.
"What's this? You finished him off so quickly?"
Logan stared at Mike in surprise.
Mike shook his head, about to answer, when the air nearby split apart. Space itself shattered, and figure after figure emerged from the rupture.
There were more than a dozen of them. Leading them stood none other than Z Weapon.
Logan's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Mike only let out a long, steady breath.
Thank goodness he had come ahead of time. Had he arrived even half a minute later, Logan and the children would have been slaughtered.
But this time, things were different.
Z Weapon and the other Y-series weapons did not attack immediately. Instead, they stood motionless, their formation shifting aside to open a path. From behind them, an elderly figure emerged.
He was frail, his back stooped though still trying to remain upright. His hair was pure white, his wrinkled face weathered by age.
Mike felt an odd familiarity, yet could not recall where he had seen the man before.
Logan, however, froze. His eyes widened in shock and fury the instant recognition hit him.
"William Stryker! You—you're still alive!"
His voice cracked with rage, his gaze burning with hatred so sharp it was nearly tangible.
Mike blinked at the name.
Stryker? The same Stryker he had killed in his own world?
William Stryker coughed lightly, his voice calm, almost casual. "It has been a long time, Logan."
His tone carried no malice—only a strange familiarity, as though greeting an old companion after many years.
And in truth, Logan and the others were indeed his "old friends."
"Damn you! You're the one pulling all the strings!"
Logan's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving, adamantium claws itching to strike.
"Yes," Stryker replied simply.
A smile crept across his lips, equal parts pride and sorrow.
For decades he had plotted in the shadows, obsessed with eradicating mutants. Through subtle manipulation—tainting food supplies, suppressing the mutant gene—he had halted the birth of mutants for twenty-five long years.
Then, deploying secret hunting squads, he culled the survivors, driving the mutant race to the very brink of extinction.
And now, with his life's work nearly complete, Stryker found himself hollow. There was emptiness in his victory, even a trace of regret.
"I am here to see you off… on your final journey," he said softly, his frail body trembling.
His strength was failing. Yet even with death looming, he would never defile himself by altering his own genes to become what he despised most—a mutant.
Invisible power steadied him, keeping him upright. His cloudy gaze lingered on Logan, tinged with a strange curiosity.
"You surprise me," he murmured. "How did you regain your youth? Was it because of him?"
His eyes shifted to Mike, calm, contemplative. But soon he shook his head, muttering to himself, "No matter. It makes no difference."
His gaze swept the group, briefly pausing on Caliban, who was bundled tightly in coverings. Stryker nodded faintly, then continued to scan—yet the familiar figure he sought was absent.
"Charles… where is he? Is he… dead?"
His voice wavered with a touch of sorrow.
All his life, every plan he had made to destroy mutants had been foiled by Charles Xavier. Each confrontation, no matter how elaborate, had ended in failure so long as Charles stood against him.
For Stryker, Charles had been a true rival—an adversary worthy of respect. To lose such a foe before their final battle was, in its way, a tragedy.
At last, he looked back at Logan. His voice was steady.
"Z Weapon—my greatest creation. I made only one."
Because Z Weapon was too strong, so powerful even Stryker feared losing control, he had dared to craft just a single prototype.
Facing Logan's blazing fury, Stryker spoke with deliberate weight:
"His genetic template comes from the oldest mutant of all… Apocalypse."
"What?!"
Logan's voice broke in disbelief.
Stryker only smiled faintly and turned toward Z Weapon.
"I call him Z1—The End."
(End of Chapter)