Illusiveone
patreon
18: Marvel's Green Lantern, Face your Fear
🕑 Added 2025-07-15 20:51:32 +0000 UTCMax found himself standing before a cave.
Not just any place—this one was familiar in the worst way. The curve of its mouth, the jagged rocks above it, the shadow it cast. He had buried this place deep within his mind, sealed it shut long ago.
But it was here now. Again.
A whisper drifted from inside, faint at first.
“Coward…”
The voice slithered out again.
“Coward…”
It grew louder, closer.
“It was your fault.”
Max’s legs went weak. His heart pounded in his ears, his breathing quickened.
“No—” he whispered, stepping back.
And then—
He jolted awake.
Sweat drenched his skin. His chest burned—deep, aching, a dull throb that radiated from the center. The spear had done a number on him, and it still hadn’t healed, which surprised him, considering how quickly he recovered from serious injuries after arriving in this universe.
His arms were chained, shackled above his head, pulled taut against a stone wall.
“Fuck…” Max muttered under his breath, coughing.
Jade’s voice chimed in, flat but concerned.
“Your exposure to the yellow light of fear is interfering with cognitive regulation. Additionally, you have not consumed food or water for four Earth‑standard days. The ring, in this state, is unable to fully sustain you. Considering your enhanced body, continued exposure may prove fatal within four more days.”
“Well, that’s just fantastic,” Max said, his voice hoarse. “Should’ve been more careful. Cocky idiot…”
“Max,” Jade said, “you must not succumb to despair. That will only worsen your condition.”
Max nodded slightly, not that she could see it. “Right. Duly noted.”
He began to recite the Green Lantern oath in his mind; for some reason, it always kept the effects of the yellow at bay.
A calm voice echoed from the far end of the room.
“Green Lantern. You’re awake.”
Max looked up slowly.
Across from him, in a cell made of black metal, sat a young man.
Max let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Nur, good to see you.”
“I am not called Nur,” the young man said, standing. “I am En Sabah Nur.”
“Hey, I thought we were friends,” Max joked. Jokes were good; they helped in the situation.
The man I shared a dungeon with was none other than the one the world would one day know as Apocalypse—hailed as a god by some, a savior by others, and a tyrant by many. One of the X‑Men’s greatest villains.
But right now he was just seventeen. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders and gray skin smooth but etched with faint scars. His eyes were sharp and steel‑colored.
Over the past four days, Max had spoken to him more than he’d ever expected. Somehow they’d forged something like camaraderie. Max wouldn’t call it friendship but it was something close.
He had learned of Nur’s past: how he’d been abandoned at birth, cast aside by his tribe for his strange appearance. A nomadic clan called the Sandstormers found him—specifically their leader, Baal, who raised Nur as his own. From the way Nur spoke of him, it was clear Baal was more than a mentor; he was father, guide, protector—the only one who had ever truly loved him.
The rest of the tribe? They feared him. Some even hated him.
Max had also learned how Nur’s hatred for Rama‑Tut was born. The self‑proclaimed pharaoh had demanded that Nur be delivered to Thebes to serve him—likely to exploit his power. Nur refused. The Kheru‑Sekhem, Rama‑Tut’s elite guard, did not take no for an answer. They wiped out Nur’s clan—Baal included.
After that, revenge became Nur’s mission—his purpose.
From what he told Max, Nur’s influence had grown quickly. He’d built alliances with rebel groups in the north, even joined forces with Khenmet’s hidden resistance. Together they’d begun plotting a grand uprising.
Nur had even infiltrated Thebes as a slave to spy on Tut and learn his secrets. Max was genuinely impressed—the teenager in the next cell had managed to sway soldiers, workers, even some priests to his cause, all under the nose of a time‑traveling tyrant.
But it hadn’t been enough.
Nur was discovered, and now here they both were—trapped in the heart of Rama‑Tut’s stronghold.
Across the cell, Nur watched him in silence. At last he spoke:
“Green Lantern… you grow weaker every day.”
Max, slumped on the floor with his arms still shackled above him, managed a dry smile.
“You don’t say,” he muttered, his voice rough with thirst and exhaustion.
One thing Max had learned about the young man in the opposite cell was that he had no powers—not yet.
Yes, he was stronger than most, faster, and certainly smarter, but the mutant abilities the world would one day fear hadn’t manifested.
At first Max suspected Rama‑Tut had fitted him with some kind of power dampener—a high‑tech device from the future—but no. Nur’s powers simply hadn’t awakened.
Max had even considered triggering Nur’s abilities to stage an escape, but he knew too little about mutant genetics. Jade, already hampered by the same yellow energy that weakened Max, could offer no help either.
So they waited, suffered, and tried not to break.
Across the cell, Nur spoke again, quietly.
“Tell me about your ring.”
Max sighed. He’d dodged that question every time it came up. Nur was too curious, and Max wasn’t about to explain one of the universe’s most powerful weapons to a would‑be conqueror.
“You’re very secretive about it,” Nur added, watching him with those sharp eyes.
Before Max could muster another half‑lie or sarcastic remark, the chamber door creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Nur stiffened like a coiled spring, his usually calm eyes blazing with hatred.
A voice sliced through the dim air.
“Whom do we have here in my humble abode? A Green Lantern and a mutant…”
A figure in gold‑and‑violet robes stepped into view.
Rama‑Tut.
“Hope you’ve been fed well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Max let out a weak chuckle. “Food was five‑star. Wouldn’t recommend the room service, though.”
Tut turned his gaze to Nur, his tone sharpening. “The Lantern seems to be enjoying himself. And what about you, mutant?” he asked, stepping closer to the cell.
Nur didn’t respond immediately; he simply stared, the hatred in his eyes white‑hot and pure. Then, with venom in his voice, he said, “You will not live to see another moon.”
Tut’s smile widened. “That’s the spirit I remember.”
He stepped toward Max, hands clasped behind his back.
“I thought it was high time we met face‑to‑face,” Tut said almost theatrically.
Max didn’t answer.
Rama‑Tut began to pace slowly, arms folded behind him, the hem of his rich purple cape brushing the floor with each step. His lips curled into an amused smile.
“You’re not the person I thought you were,” he said lightly. “Or perhaps you are, and the tales about you are simply exaggerated.”
He chuckled softly. “A Green Lantern and his ring at my mercy.”
Max remained silent.
“How do you like the cell?” Rama‑Tut asked, gesturing lazily to the yellow‑lined bars. “Not my finest work, true, but impressive, wouldn’t you say, especially given how little time I had to build it?”
Still no response from Max..
Tut stopped pacing and faced him fully. His tone lost its playfulness and sharpened.
“Nothing to say to the man who bested you?”
Max finally looked up, eyes dull from exhaustion yet still defiant. He smirked.
“What do you want, Nathaniel?”
Tut froze. For a long moment, he said nothing. His smile faltered, and his eyes—once brimming with arrogance narrowed with sudden wariness.
“…How do you know that name?” Tut asked quietly, all warmth draining from his voice. His stance grew rigid with suspicion.
Max leaned his head back against the wall, smirking despite the pain. “I know things.”
Tut stared at him; the silence between them turned heavy, charged.
Then Max twisted the knife.
“What’s the matter, Richards? Is all this LARPing as a pharaoh not going the way you imagined? Playing god here—and finding out you’re actually terrible at it?”
Rama‑Tut’s expression darkened; the mask cracked. His jaw tightened, hands clenching behind his back.
“You’re lucky,” he said, voice clipped and bitter. “Lucky I’m keeping you alive.”
“Please,” Max scoffed. “I know you won’t kill me, you want the ring.”
Tut stepped closer, stopping a hand’s breadth from the glowing yellow bars.
“Yes, that’s true,” he said smoothly. “I plan to study the ring, understand it, unlock its power. And when I do…” His tone deepened, eyes glinting with raw hunger, “…I’ll command an army of Green Lanterns. I will conquer everything. Nothing will stop me.”
Max’s expression remained neutral.
“Quite the ambition, Nate,” he said. “But I’m not letting you become the Conqueror.”
Every syllable was flat and absolute. If Max had anything to say about it, there would be no Kang the Conqueror not in this universe.
Rama‑Tut’s smile thinned, but he let the jab slide. Instead, he turned his attention to Nur.
“You may yet be useful to me for the Lantern project. That makes you lucky, desert rat. You get to live a little longer.”
Nur glared at him with such fury that it seemed to radiate heat. Max had never seen hatred so pure.
“It’s good you both lasted four days,” Tut mocked. “Let’s see if you survive two more.”
He turned to leave. At the threshold he paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he added, voice dripping with malice. “I found where your little band of rebels is hiding, desert rat. They will suffer for your insolence.”
The smirk on his face was unbearable.
Nur snapped. He lunged forward, slamming against the cell bars, roaring with rage—the sound echoing through the stone walls like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
“You coward! I’ll rip your heart out!”
Tut only laughed and strode from the chamber. The heavy door creaked shut, sealing them in darkness and silence.
Max slumped again, watching Nur fume, the young mutant’s muscles trembling with rage.
=====
Max and En Sabah Nur sat in the dim silence of the dungeon. Neither spoke until the gray‑skinned man finally broke the quiet.
“The cell,” he said, eyes fixed on the faintly shimmering yellow aura. “That yellow light… is that what weakens you?”
Max nodded. “Yes. It’s the yellow light of fear,” he admitted. “My power comes from my will the amount of willpower I have. But this cell is laced with the opposite: pure fear energy. It undermines willpower.”
Nur nodded slowly. “That must be why I’ve had nightmares and this constant feeling of dread.” He placed a hand over his chest.
“It’s worse for me,” Max said, his voice tired.
Nur’s eyes flicked toward him. “You’ve dealt with this before?”
Max nodded again. “Fear? Sure. Everyone has it. But me? I’ve always overcome it. I’ve always believed I could power through anything. Hell, I don’t even fear death.”
Nur tilted his head. “Everyone fears death.”
“Maybe once. Not anymore.”
A silence settled again.
“You’re lying,” Nur said suddenly.
Max blinked. “Excuse me?”
Nur leaned forward, eyes unwavering. “You claim you don’t fear death, perhaps that’s true. But what if something else is hollowing you out from the inside?”
Max opened his mouth, but Nur cut in.
“Guilt,” Nur said. “Guilt becomes fear—a fear so deep it burrows into your bones and whispers when you’re alone.”
Max’s heart jumped; his breathing quickened.
Nur studied him intently. “Tell me, Green Lantern… what guilt gnaws at you?”
Max offered no answer. He knew exactly what it was.
“Well? What is it?”
But Max didn’t hear him anymore. He had decided on a desperate gamble, realizing that Nur had a point he decided to surrender to the memory that had haunted him for fifteen years something he knew was sure what the yellow had latched on to.
He felt himself slipping deeper into its recesses.
Max’s breath caught as he found himself once more at the mouth of the cave.
It looked exactly as he remembered. He stood there and also saw himself: a younger Max, barely a teenager, wearing an oversized hoodie and battered sneakers. Beside him was another boy the same age his cousin, James.
James laughed, bright and cocky, nudging Max with an elbow.
“Come on, Max. What’s wrong? You scared?” He flapped his arms, making chicken noises.
“No no, I’m not,” the younger Max replied, though his voice cracked.
The older Max watched helplessly as his past self followed James deeper into the cave. The air grew colder; the narrow passage twisted, its walls damp and slick with condensation. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, and their footsteps echoed off the ancient stone.
At last they reached a ledge high above a shadowy drop, the cave yawning into a vast subterranean chasm below.
James edged forward, grinning. “What do you think’s down there? Silver? Gold?”
“We should go,” both Maxes said in unison. “I can barely see the entrance anymore.”
“Oh, come on,” James scoffed. “I heard there’s treasure—”
His foot slipped.
It happened too fast: a scuff of gravel, a scream—and Max watched his cousin plummet, catching the ledge at the last second.
“MAX!” James shrieked, clinging to the rock. “Help me!”
Max didn’t move.
He froze—paralyzed by fear, by shock, by everything.
James’s fingers began to slide.
“MAX!”
Still, Max did nothing.
Then James was gone.
The scream echoed again and again inside Max’s skull.
Max stepped closer to the edge of the dark chasm.
The air grew even colder.
He peered down into the black void, and the whispers began soft at first, then unmistakable:
You let me fall.
It was your fault.
You could have saved me.
James’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere, rising out of the abyss.
Max’s breath caught. The world shifted, and suddenly he was back on the ledge at that terrible moment—only this time he wasn’t watching; he was once again the younger Max.
His arms trembled, feet rooted to the stone. In front of him, James slipped, screamed, reached out.
“MAX!”
Again, Max froze.
Again, James fell.
The moment restarted like a cruel loop. Fear. Paralysis. The sickening drop. Each time, the whispers grew louder:
It was your fault.
You did nothing.
You let me die.
Max struggled to break the cycle, but guilt pulled him back like gravity.
Again James fell.
Again Max couldn’t move.
Yet something changed. With every repetition Max forced himself to inch forward, to move little by little. And on a count he had long since lost, another memory surfaced: his aunt’s gentle voice telling him it wasn’t his fault. He’d forgotten those words.
They struck him like a shaft of light in the dark.
He remembered more: sneaking candy into bed with James, playing video games past midnight—the good memories he’d buried.
This time, when the loop began again, Max didn’t freeze.
He lunged, reaching for James with everything he had.
But… he missed.
James fell once more.
Yet despair didn’t claim Max. There was no hate, no self‑loathing only acceptance.
He knelt at the edge, breathing deeply, eyes wet. The weight that had coiled around his heart for years began to unspool.
“I’m sorry,” Max whispered.
And, finally, he forgave himself.
He turned away from the chasm and there was James, standing in front of him. But this time his cousin’s eyes glowed a sickly, unnatural yellow, and his voice was warped, echoing with venom.
“No. It was your fault,” the apparition snarled, a twisted mockery of the boy Max had loved.
Max didn’t flinch.
“No,” he replied calmly. “It wasn’t.”
His hand clenched, and with a pulse of emerald light the power ring materialized on his finger.
The yellow‑eyed figure roared and lunged, trying to shove Max into the chasm. Max didn’t budge. Rooted to the stone, he glowed with a radiant green aura.
Again the specter hurled itself at him.
Again Max stood unshaken.
Again…and again.
The twisted phantom screamed in rage, its form glitching and distorting like a broken memory, until Max raised his fist. Will surged through him.
He punched forward.
A shockwave of pure emerald energy erupted from his body, detonating in a brilliant explosion. The vision shattered; the projection of James shrieked and disintegrated, torn apart in a cyclone of blinding light.
Max blinked and found himself somewhere else entirely.
A place he hadn’t seen in a long time: the black void, the strange realm where he had floated while healing in Asgard after his battle with Surtur.
But this time it wasn’t empty.
Something moved, looming out of the darkness massive, terrifying. Part dragon, part insect, wreathed in writhing yellow tendrils of energy. Long limbs clicked and snapped like blades; its shifting body pulsed with power.
Max knew it instantly.
Parallax the entity of fear.
The creature screamed and lunged.
Max did not retreat. Instead, he stood his ground and hurled a blast of emerald light from both hands every ounce of hard‑earned willpower straight at the monster.
The entire void blazed green.
====
Max’s eyes snapped open.
He gasped for air he was back.
The first thing he noticed was the green glow flooding the dungeon, light pouring from his body. With a sharp pull, the bindings that had held him for days cracked and shattered, clattering to the floor.
The yellow cell bars were gone, replaced by an emerald aura radiating from him—proof that he had overpowered fear itself.
Across the corridor, En Sabah Nur stared, wide‑eyed and awestruck.
“You…did it,” he whispered, reverent.
Max met his gaze and gave a single nod.
With a gesture, he formed two shimmering constructs. The first pried open his own cell door; the second tore apart the bars of Nur’s cell. The young mutant stepped forward, still stunned.
“Time to get the fuck out of here,” Max said, turning toward the dungeon door.
Comments
Illusiveone
No parallax existed since the beginning these entities are just being more active now.
Tyler Karp
Thank you for the chapter
Raven Blanchard
Ooh! Did Tut's meddling with the emotional spectrum (or what little he knows of it) lead to Parallax existing? Or is Parallax kind of Marvel canon? Like, pre-Max?
