Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 585

"Shame," Rowan Mercer said softly. "Just a little more, and it would’ve been complete."

Apocalypse swayed on his feet, the strain finally visible. Rowan felt a flicker of regret, not disappointment. What he had gained already far exceeded his expectations. If Apocalypse weren’t standing right in front of him, Rowan would have loved to test the new limits properly.

His thoughts alone felt vast now, expansive enough to blanket the entire planet without effort. The world seemed small, almost fragile, under the reach of his mind. As for magnetism, he was confident he could drag the Earth itself through space if he wanted to. Turning the planet into a wandering star no longer felt like fantasy.

Rowan glanced back at Apocalypse and clicked his tongue.

"You’re running out of steam already."

Apocalypse’s eyes narrowed. For a brief instant, he felt insulted. Then the expression vanished, replaced by satisfaction as he probed Rowan’s surface thoughts.

What he sensed was gratitude. Loyalty. Obedience.

"Thank you," Rowan said fervently, slipping fully back into the role. "You’ve given me the strength to take revenge. From now on, your word is law to me."

Apocalypse smiled. His psychic scan confirmed it. No deception. No resistance.

Rowan, meanwhile, was amused.

Try reading that.

Unlike most telepaths, Apocalypse could only skim thoughts. He couldn’t rewrite them. He couldn’t seize control. And Rowan’s mind was no longer a normal mind at all. Between his inherited psychic potential and years of magical refinement, his mental defenses were layered, fluid, and deceptive. What Apocalypse read was exactly what Rowan allowed him to read.

After a short rest, Apocalypse opened another portal.

"Come. We return to base."

They stepped through and emerged inside an abandoned factory, rusted and hollow. This was Apocalypse’s temporary headquarters, once Angel’s refuge, now repurposed.

Apocalypse surveyed the four of them and frowned at their mismatched clothing. With a raised hand, matter twisted and reshaped itself. Their outfits transformed into sleek, armored combat suits, unified in design and clearly reinforced.

Rowan tested the fabric with his fingers. It wasn’t vibranium. It wasn’t uru. But it wasn’t far off either.

Impressive.

Apocalypse possessed countless abilities, stolen and stacked over millennia. Once, such power would have been irresistible. Now, most of it was redundant. Rowan could replicate nearly all of it through magic, more cleanly and with fewer risks.

Magic endured. Powers tied to flesh did not.

Once everyone was equipped, Apocalypse began outlining his vision.

It was simple.

First, eliminate global leadership and neutralize all nuclear weapons.

Second, have "Magneto" destabilize the planet’s magnetic field, collapsing modern civilization overnight.

Finally, crush what resistance remained and rebuild the world under his rule, with mutants as its masters.

A return to an ancient order.

Apocalypse spoke with certainty, unaware of the future pivot point standing right in front of him.

Rowan listened calmly, already anticipating the moment Apocalypse would turn his attention toward Charles Xavier. Toward that body. That mind.

And when that moment came, Rowan would be ready.

That was when he would take everything.

...

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