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Chapter 289: The Culprit Who Plotted Against the Entire Mutant Race Appears!
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 15:21:54 +0000 UTC
The Arandidak Mountains.
A desolate and rugged range where jagged peaks cut the sky like serrated blades. Hidden deep within was a broad valley, flat enough to host a gathering yet so remote that even the most adventurous hikers rarely set foot here.
For centuries, the valley had been nothing but an untouched scar of wilderness—until today.
Now, ten figures stood in its heart.
Men and women, tall and short, armored and robed. Their appearances varied wildly: some looked as though they had walked straight out of myth, while others bore modern elegance. Even the presence of a child did not diminish the aura they radiated. Each one was different, yet all shared the same quality—immense, unmistakable power.
The very air seemed to hum around them, vibrating with suppressed might.
These were the Eternals.
Immortals who had walked the Earth for thousands of years. Guardians, deceivers, and silent observers of human history.
Now, gathered together at last, their true purpose stirred.
---
“Ajak, I’m ready,” Phastos finally broke the silence, his deep voice carrying authority.
The Eternal of invention stood at the center, eyes glinting with resolve.
Ajak’s gaze swept over her comrades, her expression solemn. She gave a single, heavy nod.
“Then let’s begin.”
The ten Eternals shifted into position, each stepping onto a precise point etched into the earth. The faint glow of golden energy patterns emerged beneath their feet, lines spreading like veins of molten light across the stone.
The formation was staggering in its complexity, a design no human scholar could hope to decipher. Symbols overlapped with geometry that seemed to defy three-dimensional logic. At its heart lay ten array eyes, one for each Eternal.
Phastos stood at the central core.
He raised his hands slowly, reverently, and began to rub them together as though weaving unseen strands. With each motion, golden sparks flickered between his palms, swelling into a vast sphere that floated before him.
The orb shimmered with runes and mathematical patterns beyond mortal comprehension, its surface constantly shifting, rotating, expanding inward and outward at once.
This was no mere tool.
It was the core of the teleportation array—a construct born of both technology and sorcery, bound together with cosmic will. Within it resided a unified consciousness, capable of linking the Eternals and drawing on the boundless power of the universe itself.
In ancient tales, such energy could even defy Celestials.
Here, its purpose was both simple and monumental: to move an entire race.
Phastos’s voice rang out, steady yet commanding.
“Now—the initiation ceremony!”
The golden sphere pulsed.
Buzz... buzz... buzz!
It spun faster and faster, flooding the valley with dazzling light.
Crackle—sizzle! Golden threads burst outward like a spider’s web, invisible to normal human eyes but blazing clear to the Eternals. They stretched into the unseen distance, winding and weaving across the Earth itself.
One by one, they latched onto mutants.
In seconds, millions of strands stretched across continents, oceans, cities, and mountains—until every last one of Earth’s eight million mutants had been ensnared.
Every mutant... except Alex.
The air vibrated as cosmic power surged through the threads, flowing into each mutant, binding them into the unified consciousness. All at once, the mutants froze. Bodies stiffened, minds locked in stasis.
Across the planet, chaos would be erupting—yet here, in this silent valley, the Eternals remained calm, their faces taut with focus.
Phastos’s voice cut through the light.
“The ritual is active. All mutants are secured! Now... we connect the consciousness and send them away!”
Ajak’s eyes flicked to Thena, Sersi, and Gilgamesh. The four shared a subtle glance.
This was the moment.
Once the consciousness was linked, Charles’s hidden mental imprint inside Thena’s mind would trigger, sparking her Mahd Wy’ry at just the right instant. The resulting disruption would give Phastos the chance to alter the array and redirect the mutants—not to the Celestials, but to Xandar.
It was an elegant plan. Perfect.
Or so they thought.
---
“Phastos!”
A sharp voice cut the air.
Ikaris stepped forward, his tall frame radiating barely contained power. His eyes gleamed with a fire that made even seasoned comrades tense.
“Let me take over the rest of the ritual.”
The words fell like thunder.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Even Phastos faltered, his concentration slipping as he turned in disbelief.
Ajak’s face darkened. “Ikaris, what nonsense is this? You’re a warrior. This ritual is Phastos’s craft—his alone! Get back to your place.”
But Ikaris’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, he gave a humorless laugh.
“And what exactly is his duty, Ajak? To carry out your secret betrayal?”
The air seemed to chill instantly.
Ajak’s heart sank. Sersi stiffened beside her, while Thena’s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her weapon. Even the slowest among them understood—Ikaris knew.
“Ikaris... please. Explain yourself.” Ajak’s voice was low, warning, yet tinged with dread.
Ikaris’s lips curled in a bitter smile.
“Do you really want me to spell it out? That night... did you truly believe it was Sersi standing before you?”
Silence.
Then a soft, regretful voice spoke from the side.
“Sorry, Sersi.”
It was Sprite.
The truth struck like lightning.
Ikaris had used Sprite’s illusions to infiltrate their secret meeting. He had been there all along. He had heard everything.
Ajak and Sersi paled. Thena’s expression hardened, fury burning in her eyes.
Ikaris spread his arms, his voice straining with something that almost resembled desperation.
“Ajak, let me lead the ritual. I can act as if none of this ever happened. Please—don’t force me.”
For a fleeting moment, there was almost a plea in his eyes.
But Ajak only shook her head. Her face was filled with sorrow as she whispered, firm and final:
“Ikaris... I’m sorry. It was I who led you down this wrong path. And now—you’ve strayed too far to return.”
