chapter 65

"Child, life and death are not insurmountable boundaries in this world," Apocalypse said calmly. "Resurrecting the dead is not difficult for me. If you become my subordinate, you too can obtain immortality and eternal life."

Robert scoffed.

Eternal life? Who cared?

With Superman's physique and lifespan, natural growth alone was enough for him to live far longer than he'd ever need. He didn't need promises of immortality from anyone—especially not from Apocalypse.

Apocalypse noticed Robert's disinterest and unwavering will. He understood in that moment—Robert would never agree to become his subordinate. There was no persuading him. With a regretful shake of his head, Apocalypse gave a merciless command.

"Seize him."

The words had barely left his lips when Black King rushed forward.

This was once the man who controlled the Hellfire Club, the cunning Mutant who could manipulate even Magneto like a pawn. But now, his face was void of expression, his eyes vacant. He looked less like a living man and more like a puppet—lifeless and empty.

"Phantom Master," Robert murmured as he observed the symptoms.

He immediately recognized what had happened. Just like the Deadly Nymph, Black King was being controlled by the bodily fluids of William Stryker's son, the one known as Phantom Master. Even Professor X, the most powerful psychic on the planet, would fall under Phantom Master's control. Black King was no exception.

It was a telling sign.

Apocalypse had clearly undergone subtle but significant changes in his approach. Having suffered betrayal after betrayal, even a fool would adapt—and Apocalypse was no fool. On the contrary, he was a Mutant of extraordinary intellect.

Using the Joker's perspective, Robert easily picked up on these shifts. And they made him more cautious than ever. This new Apocalypse, the one adapting and learning, was more dangerous than the arrogant one from before.

While Robert analyzed the situation, Black King attacked.

He hurled a fireball that detonated with the force of a bomb. The flames were intense, the impact forceful—like several tons of TNT exploding directly in Robert's face. A blow like that would be fatal even for enhanced Mutants.

But Robert wasn't a Mutant.

He possessed Superman's body, Superman's power, and Kryptonian-level physical traits. In addition, he wore a bio-suit forged by Krypton's most advanced civilization. To him, the explosion was nothing more than a breeze.

He didn't even flinch.

Letting the fireball erupt on his body, Robert stood still. He calmly brushed the dust off his chest and stared at Black King.

According to his understanding, Black King's power was to absorb and manipulate energy. Normally, he would accumulate energy from various sources to maintain and enhance his combat strength. The fireball attack must have come from that stored energy.

The ideal way to neutralize such an opponent would be to exile him into another dimension and let nature take its course. But Robert didn't want to rely on that.

"Sebastian Shaw," Robert said, "it's better to meet you than just hear stories."

"Now I want to see something. Is there a limit to the energy you can absorb? Just how much can Apocalypse amplify your powers?"

Robert stretched his arms, joints cracking audibly—bone grinding against bone.

Then, with a flash of light and shadow, he vanished from his spot and reappeared directly in front of Black King.

His muscles bulged under the tight Kryptonian suit, muscle fibers twitching with pent-up force. Each cell was like a chamber storing solar energy—energy that was now being unleashed all at once.

At this moment, his fist was more than just a fist—it was pure, condensed energy, a physical manifestation of Superman's power. The kind of force that could shatter planets and tear through dimensions.

Time seemed to halt.

The air around them compressed violently. A radius of hundreds of meters was engulfed in shockwaves.

Boom!

The surrounding area shook with an explosive roar. It rang in the ears of every nearby combatant.

Robert's punch connected with Black King.

Duang!

Black King convulsed violently, his body spasming as energy surged through him. Streaks of light and shadow flickered around him, much like the scene when Doctor Strange used the Time Stone—his body splitting into phantom images and shaking rapidly.

It took nearly a full minute for him to absorb the immense kinetic energy behind Robert's punch. Finally, a stiff smile cracked across his face.

Robert smiled back.

"So that's your limit."

"You're still smiling?" Robert added, taunting. "You can barely stand after one punch, and yet you act arrogant?"

Without waiting for a response, he punched again.

This time, the blows rained down like a storm.

Fist after fist smashed into Black King's body. He had no time to counterattack, no chance to even react. His form twisted and warped, constantly forced to absorb Robert's endless power.

Apocalypse had the ability to enhance the powers of others by imbuing them with his own strength—this was the secret behind the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Black King, as his most powerful subordinate, was naturally the first to be strengthened.

His ability to absorb energy had been greatly elevated.

But even with that boost—Black King was no god.

He still had a limit.

Robert's body was forged under the yellow sun, every blow delivering an astronomical amount of power. A single punch might not be apocalyptic—but hundreds, thousands, all delivered at blinding speed?

That was something else.

He moved so fast, the naked eye could no longer track him. To any observer, four identical Roberts had appeared in the sky simultaneously, each launching coordinated strikes on Black King. Fists fell faster than raindrops, denser than a meteor shower.

The air around them was displaced entirely, forming temporary vacuums. Wind and clouds churned under the sheer pressure, and a hurricane formed within a radius of a thousand meters.

Robert's assault lasted two, maybe three full minutes.

During this time, Black King could do nothing but absorb, endure, and resist.

But resistance had a cost.

His body grew slower, heavier, flickering with unstable light. Phantom trails followed his limbs, his energy reserves reaching the edge.

Robert's eyes remained locked on him, scanning for any sign of collapse.

And then—

The final punch landed squarely on Black King's chest.

BOOM!

This one was different.

It carried not only brute strength but also Robert's will—an unrelenting force that refused to yield.

Black King was sent hurtling backward, skidding across the ruined battlefield like a ragdoll. He came to a halt only after colliding with the base of a crumbling structure, the impact caving in the wall.

Robert floated calmly in midair.

The dust slowly settled.

He stared down at Black King—now unconscious, his power completely drained.

Behind him, Apocalypse narrowed his eyes.

For the first time, a trace of unease flickered across his face.

Robert had made his point.

And he wasn't done yet.

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