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Chapter 295: Mr. Sinister's Dismay: How Did Alex Become This Powerful?!
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 16:38:20 +0000 UTC
"Kill someone?"
Hank froze for half a beat, then his expression shifted as understanding dawned. His eyes narrowed, and then a flicker of excitement lit within them.
"Alex… don’t tell me you’ve found Mr. Sinister’s whereabouts?"
To the mutants, the Celestials were still like distant storms—looming, inevitable, but not yet upon them. Sinister, however, was here and now. His shadow was the one that pressed closest to their throats, an ever-present predator. He was the one who had to be eliminated.
"Exactly."
Alex’s lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in the smile.
Boom!
His figure blurred and vanished, leaving behind only the echo of compressed air.
---
The next moment, Alex reappeared high above Brooklyn, suspended in the skies like a silent sentinel. His eyes swept downward, piercing through clouds, rooftops, and walls until they fixed upon a seemingly ordinary suburban house.
From the outside, nothing about the building stood out. A quiet neighborhood, an unremarkable structure. But Alex’s instincts screamed otherwise. The air itself felt wrong here, too still, too precise—like a stage set waiting for its curtain call.
Inside, in a warmly lit dining room, Mr. Sinister was calmly carving into a thick slice of steak, the glint of silver utensils in his hand. His posture was elegant, almost aristocratic, every motion measured with an air of cultivated refinement.
Then—
Rip!
The sharp, tearing sound of air being split apart cut across the silence.
Mr. Sinister’s hand froze mid-motion. His expression darkened instantly, eyes narrowing as a dangerous light flickered across them. That sound… he knew it too well.
The sonic boom of supersonic flight.
He had used it himself countless times, piercing through the skies. For someone else to reach him with such speed meant only one thing.
A name slammed into his thoughts before he could stop it.
“…It can’t be.”
His breath quickened. Instinctively, he rejected the possibility. He had layered himself in defenses, woven psychic cloaks within psychic cloaks. He had ensured he was invisible to Charles, to any telepath alive. His hiding place was perfect—untouchable.
Yet dread crept up his spine.
Sinister slowly tilted his head upward.
And there, through the solid ceiling and walls, through barriers that should have protected him, he saw a familiar figure descending.
“Alex.”
The name was spat out like venom.
His face twisted, a rare mix of shock and fury contorting his refined mask. He had thought himself untouchable. He had thought the boy would never find him. But Alex stood above him like a judgment, as though he had known all along.
Their gazes locked across the intervening space.
Alex grinned—an expression that carried no warmth.
Then, without hesitation, his body blurred.
CRASH!
The roof above exploded into rubble and dust as Alex dropped like a meteor. He landed with crushing force, his boots cratering the floor, the air trembling around him.
“You really are a cockroach. Still alive after all that.”
Alex’s voice was flat, almost mocking, as his eyes raked across Sinister. Back then, he had reduced this man to scraps, obliterated him with enough force to erase any ordinary being. Yet here Sinister stood, breathing, glaring, alive.
Cockroach.
Sinister’s brow twitched at the unfamiliar insult. The exact meaning escaped him, but he caught the implication clearly enough: an insect that could not be killed.
His pride bristled, but he quickly noticed something more pressing.
The Alex before him—he felt different.
Stronger.
The weight of his presence pressed against Sinister like a physical force. Impossible, his mind screamed. It had been less than a month since their last clash. At their level, progress was glacial—every ounce of growth wrung from decades of obsession. That was why Sinister had gone so far in his schemes, why he chased Apocalypse’s secrets.
But Alex… Alex had broken that rule.
“Impossible,” Sinister whispered, disbelief twisting his face.
He had no time for further thought.
Alex moved.
A sonic crack split the air as Alex blurred forward, appearing before him in the blink of an eye. His speed was blistering, faster than before, faster than Sinister could track.
Shock flared in Sinister’s eyes.
“How can this be?!”
The words barely left his lips before Alex’s fist was already at his face.
Instinct overrode disbelief. Sinister threw a desperate punch of his own.
THUD!
The collision reverberated like a cannon blast. For a heartbeat, they were locked—then the difference revealed itself.
Alex stood rooted, immovable, a mountain of flesh and will. Sinister, by contrast, was hurled backward as though struck by a divine hammer. His body smashed through walls, splinters and concrete exploding in his wake, before slamming into the ground outside.
BOOM!
The lawn cratered beneath him, soil and grass erupting outward.
“This… impossible!”
Sinister staggered, horror etched across his face. His voice cracked with disbelief. “Alex’s strength… how could it have grown this much?!”
But there was no time for answers.
Boom!
Another sonic ripple cracked the air as Alex descended again, relentless as a storm.
He landed blow after blow, fists and kicks hammering against Sinister in a merciless cascade.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Each strike sent shockwaves rippling, each impact louder than thunder. Sinister reeled beneath the onslaught, his vaunted defenses crumbling. There was no grace left in him, no arrogance—only desperation.
He flailed, covered his head, stumbled back, his elegant composure reduced to tatters.
“Impossible… this can’t be happening…!”
Voices rose in the distance—Sinister’s followers, researchers, and soldiers hidden within his base. They stood frozen, their eyes wide, their minds unable to process the scene before them.
“God… that’s Mr. Sinister…”
“He’s—he’s being beaten like a child!”
“Even Alex shouldn’t… this shouldn’t be possible!”
Their disbelief mirrored Sinister’s own. He was one of the strongest beings alive, second only to Apocalypse himself. Yet here he was, tossed about like a rag doll.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The pummeling continued without pause, each strike a drumbeat of inevitability. Until finally—
Sinister collapsed.
His once-pristine form now lay in ruins, sprawled across the shattered lawn like a broken doll, blood seeping across his pale skin. He twitched, tried to rise—then failed.
He lay still, beaten into a wreck, unable to move.
And above him, Alex stood tall, unmarked, his eyes burning with cold fire.
