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Chapter 227: Is That Alex Really That Powerful?
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 17:33:11 +0000 UTC
Silence.
A suffocating, almost physical stillness gripped the plaza. Dust from shattered concrete hung in the air like a lingering fog, sparkling faintly under the dim fluorescent lights above. Not a single mutant dared to move, breathe, or even blink as their eyes remained fixed on the fragments scattered across the ground.
Those fragments weren’t debris.
They were pieces of Nocturne’s skull.
A diamond skull—one of the hardest substances known—shattered under a single strike.
It didn’t seem possible. Even with everything they’d heard about Alex Winters—the countless stories, the televised battles, the rumors that painted him as something beyond mutant—seeing it with their own eyes was different. The sound of that skull breaking still echoed in their ears like a cruel reminder:
This man is not someone we can fight.
And yet, Alex stood there with infuriating calmness, his boot resting on the remnants of what had once been one of the Master’s Three Horsemen. There was no thrill in his expression, no arrogance, no visible exertion—just an unshakable dominance that made every other mutant in the room feel small.
Across from him, Daybreak’s body trembled.
Not with fear—at least not entirely—but with a rage so intense it threatened to boil over. He had just demanded Alex let Nocturne go, trying to assert the authority of the Master’s chosen elite.
But Alex hadn’t even looked at him.
He’d answered with execution.
He killed him. In front of me. Like he was nothing.
Daybreak’s chest heaved as golden light began radiating from his skin, brighter and hotter with every breath. His voice, when it came, was a low growl that barely masked his fury.
"Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!"
The words carried a promise—violence, vengeance, and the weight of something larger than one man’s pride.
Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t even tilt his head in acknowledgment.
ZZZAP!
Twin lances of crimson heat vision erupted from his eyes without warning, slicing through the heavy air toward Daybreak in a blinding flash. The ground smoked where the beams had passed, the sheer heat warping the metal structures nearby.
Daybreak’s lips curled into a furious snarl.
"You think that works on me?"
He raised a hand, and a golden energy shield flared into existence—an almost liquid wall of light that rippled like molten metal. Alex’s heat vision struck it with explosive force, scattering sparks and waves of radiant energy.
And then… nothing.
The shield held perfectly, its surface barely dented.
Charles and Hank froze, exchanging sharp glances.
Alex’s heat vision wasn’t just destructive—it was something they’d seen slice through reinforced steel, melt Decepticon armor, and obliterate enemies who’d thought themselves indestructible.
Very few beings could even endure it.
Blocking it outright—casually, with one hand—was something neither of them had ever witnessed.
Just how strong was this "Daybreak"?
For the first time since they’d entered the facility, tension crept up Hank’s spine. He adjusted his glasses reflexively, already calculating possibilities.
If Alex weren’t here, none of us would leave this place alive.
Then—
WHOOSH!
Daybreak exploded forward, his entire body a comet of golden light. The sudden burst of speed left a shockwave that cracked tiles and sent smaller mutants tumbling backward.
He moved almost faster than the eye could track—
Almost.
To Alex, it was slow.
Daybreak’s fist, blazing with concentrated energy, arced toward Alex’s face like a hammer meant to crush concrete.
Alex didn’t dodge.
He didn’t even blink.
His hand shot up—
—and caught Daybreak’s wrist with surgical precision.
CRACK!
The sound was sharp, visceral, and final. Daybreak’s scream caught in his throat as pain exploded up his arm.
Impossible!
He hadn’t even processed the break before another hand struck like a viper.
Alex’s fingers closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground as easily as a child plucking a flower.
"Ghk—!"
Daybreak’s golden aura flared wildly, his body thrashing, legs kicking as he tried to twist free. He summoned bursts of energy, trying to blast Alex’s arm away, but it was like striking an immovable wall. Nothing worked.
No matter how much force he generated, Alex’s grip didn’t falter—not even slightly.
How...?
How is this possible?!
Just seconds ago, Daybreak had been confident, certain that his speed, his energy, his shield—everything that had made him the Master’s chosen—put him far above ordinary mutants.
He had believed only the Master himself could rival him.
But now?
Now he hung helplessly in Alex’s grasp, choking, gasping, and feeling something alien coursing through him—something he hadn’t felt in years.
Fear.
"Is this all you’ve got?" Alex’s voice was cold, measured, and merciless. "For a second, I almost mistook you for Captain Marvel."
Daybreak froze, his mind stuttering at the comparison.
Yes, the resemblance was undeniable: the same radiant energy, the same flight, the same sheer presence.
But the power?
He could feel it in every second of his struggle—Alex wasn’t comparing him to Captain Marvel.
He was mocking him.
"I... don’t... believe it..." Daybreak rasped, his voice strangled. "No mutant... except the Master... should be this strong..."
Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"The Master?" His grip tightened just enough to make Daybreak wheeze in panic. "Care to tell me who that is?"
Daybreak’s gaze burned with stubborn defiance, even as pain and suffocation blurred his vision. He clenched his teeth, refusing to give in.
Alex exhaled through his nose, almost bored.
"Wrong answer."
SLAM!
The sound was deafening as Alex hurled Daybreak downward, driving him into the concrete with enough force to leave a crater several feet deep. Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor as dust and debris exploded into the air.
Daybreak’s body went limp, unconscious but alive.
A mercy he didn’t deserve—but Alex had no time to waste.
Emma and Vanessa still needed him.
Alex straightened, turning his gaze toward the remaining mutants. Their earlier arrogance had evaporated completely. Now, they were pale, shaking shadows of themselves.
BOOM!
With a single blur of motion, Alex became a whirlwind of unstoppable violence. Bones cracked like dry branches. Screams were cut short. Every strike, every movement was precise—efficient, ruthless, and final.
In less than five seconds, the plaza was silent again.
Dozens of bodies lay scattered across the ground, groaning or unconscious.
"Let’s go."
Alex didn’t look back at the devastation he’d caused. His boots echoed against the fractured floor as he strode toward the inner corridors. Charles and Hank followed, their faces pale—not from fear of Alex, but from the reminder of just how far beyond "mutant" he had become.
---
Meanwhile – Albany
Far away, under a twilight sky, a red-haired man stood on an ornate balcony overlooking a sprawling estate. The faint scent of old stone and rain hung in the air.
His posture was perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back as if carved from marble. But his sharp eyes—those deep, dangerous eyes—were fixed on a distant point only he could see.
"Nocturne and Daybreak," he murmured softly, the words more observation than question.
"Crushed that easily?"
For someone known for his unshakable calm, the brief flicker in his expression was telling. Surprise—genuine surprise—creased his features for the first time in years.
Behind him, a tall figure stepped forward. Unlike the others, this one radiated controlled menace instead of arrogance. His presence was sharp, deliberate, and suffocatingly disciplined.
Oblivion.
The last of the Three Horsemen.
"Sir..." His voice was even, though tension bled into it despite himself. "They lost?"
The disbelief was unmistakable.
Nocturne had been strong enough to break most opponents before a fight even began. Daybreak, even stronger, was said to rival legends.
And yet...
Both defeated. One dead.
The red-haired man didn’t answer immediately. His mind moved quickly, recalculating, reassessing everything he thought he knew about Alex Winters.
Finally, his lips curved—not in anger, but in something far colder.
"Prepare yourself."
Oblivion lowered his head slightly, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.
"It would be my honor."
Comments
Colin Hilterhaus
When did his name change
