[Third Person Pov]
The battle between the X-Men and the Sentinels could only be described as one thing: a one-sided beatdown.
They had charged forward with confidence—battle-hardened, united, trusting in their powers as they always had. The Sentinels advanced in mechanical unison, their glowing optics scanning, calculating. Steel feet crushed asphalt. Energy cannons hummed as they powered up.
And then, in the span of a single, horrifying heartbeat, everything changed.
When the X-Men engaged the first wave, they came to a cruel realization—their powers were failing.
Angel and Jean launched themselves into the air, determination blazing in their eyes. Angel's massive wings beat powerfully, stirring the air into violent gusts as Jean's telekinetic aura shimmered faintly around her. But halfway through their ascent, something snapped.
The shimmer vanished.
The wind died.
"Ahhh!" they cried out in unison as gravity reclaimed them.
They plummeted.
Their bodies struck the cold metal floor with a sickening thud, pain exploding through bone and muscle. Angel rolled onto his side with a groan, pushing himself up on trembling arms.
"M-My wings…" he rasped.
He looked back—and his blood ran cold.
The majestic white feathers that had always defined him were shrinking. The bones retracted. The feathers dissolved into nothing. His wings shriveled and pulled inward, retreating grotesquely into his back as if they had never existed at all.
Jean gasped nearby, clutching her head. "I can't feel it… I can't feel anything!"
"Our powers!!" Nightcrawler cried out in panic.
Before their eyes, the blue tint of his fur began to fade. It crawled backward like spilled paint being wiped away, revealing pale human skin beneath. His tail shrank, bones popping softly as it shortened and vanished. His demonic features softened into something painfully ordinary.
Scott felt it too.
With shaking hands, he tore off his visor.
He wouldn't normally dare to do that in open combat. His optic blasts had always burned uncontrollably. But now, as he blinked rapidly against the wind—
The red kinetic glow dimmed.
Flickered.
Then disappeared entirely.
Only his natural hazel eyes remained.
Silence fell over him for a split second. No pressure. No power. No force threatening to burst free.
"Look out!" Harry shouted.
His body became a blur of green light as he tackled Colossus out of the way just as the Russian mutant's metallic form began to fail him. Colossus shrank slightly, the towering mass of living steel reverting back into vulnerable flesh. The organic metal peeled away like liquid mercury evaporating, leaving behind bare skin.
A searing beam of energy tore through the space where Colossus had stood. The blast carved a molten trench through the battlefield, metal liquefying under its heat.
"Everyone disperse!" Scott commanded instantly, falling into leadership despite the shock ripping through him. "Keep your distance and focus on freeing our brothers and sisters! Remember the plan!"
Explosions erupted around them as Sentinel cannons fired indiscriminately.
"It seems Leech is close by as we suspected!" Kitty yelled over the chaos, ducking behind debris as another blast struck nearby.
That explained it.
Leech.
The mutant whose mere presence nullified the powers of others. Since he was nearby then they were fighting an army built to crush them while stripped of everything that made them extraordinary.
A beam of energy shot directly toward Scott.
Before it could strike, Aria phased straight through his body, her form intangible for only a fraction of a second. She solidified midair, her Tactile Telekinesis flaring outward in a visible distortion. The beam split around her like water crashing against a stone, parting cleanly in two before detonating harmlessly behind her.
She didn't slow down.
Her density increased instantly, muscles tightening as she launched herself forward like a human missile and slammed into a Sentinel's torso with bone-cracking force.
It didn't take long for it to become painfully obvious—Aria and Nightwing were the only ones operating at full strength.
Against an army.
Portals shimmered open across the battlefield thanks to Harry, golden rings carving glowing circles into the air. Meanwhile, the unmutated X-Men scrambled desperately at reinforced cell doors, doing anything they could to open the doors without powers.
"Through the portal!" Nightwing shouted, pointing sharply as he flipped over a charging Sentinel. "Once you're through you'll be safe! They'll get the collars off you!"
He moved with relentless precision, escrima sticks spinning in blinding arcs as he struck joints and optics. Aria mirrored him seamlessly. They fought like a perfectly coordinated unit—covering blind spots, intercepting attacks, flowing in tandem.
For every mutant they saved, another Sentinel advanced. Several freed captives bolted toward a portal— Only to be seized mid-run by a mechanical hand. The Sentinel lifted them high, fingers tightening. Screams filled the air as metal digits began to crush bone.
Nightwing reacted instantly. He hurled a trio of wing-dings at the Sentinel's wrist. Forged from Antarctic vibranium, the projectiles emitted a destabilizing frequency upon impact. The metal hand began to liquefy, sizzling and warping before dropping the captive mutant to the ground.
Aria caught them mid-fall and hurled them toward the portal with a controlled telekinetic burst.
But they were being overwhelmed.
Harry became a streak of green light weaving through beams and debris. His fists burned with chi, each punch detonating on impact like controlled explosions. He shattered armor plating, dented torsos, sent machines crashing through walls—
And then the Sentinels adapted.
Panels shifted along their arms.
Energy readings recalibrated.
The next punch Harry threw didn't explode outward.
It was absorbed.
The kinetic force rippled across the Sentinel's body, redistributed through glowing conduits—and fired back at him in a concussive blast.
Harry's eyes widened.
He was launched across the battlefield like a ragdoll. He slammed into a concrete wall hard enough to crater it, stone exploding around him. Dust filled the air as he slid down to one knee, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
He coughed, tasting iron, 'Pete!' Harry thought furiously, fury and desperation mixing as he forced himself back to his feet, 'Just what the hell are you thinking?!'
Around him, the battlefield was turning into a slaughterhouse.
Stripped of their powers.
Outnumbered.
Outmatched.
And the Sentinels were only getting smarter.
…
[Flashback– A few moments ago]
Everyone stood in a tight circle, shoulders nearly brushing as holographic schematics flickered between them. The low hum of equipment filled the background while they argued in hushed but urgent tones although they had no need it still felt right. They were carefully piecing together what they believed to be the most effective team composition. It wasn't just power—it was about balance, coverage, and making sure no one walked into a disadvantage they couldn't recover from.
"Hold on," Nightwing said at last, raising a hand as he studied the layout of names and positions. His domino mask did little to hide the faint crease forming between his brows. "Isn't the team a bit unbalanced?"
A few of the others exchanged glances, nodding. They had noticed it too but hadn't been the first to voice it.
"It looks lopsided," Kitty added, folding her arms. "One side's stacked."
"It might seem that way because we've got the bigger headcount," Peter replied calmly, shaking his head while adjusting the hologram with a flick of his wrist. "But it's not unbalanced."
He tapped the projection where their group was clustered. "We're the attack force. That means we're meant to carry the heavier offensive load. It stands to reason we'd bring the most direct firepower with us."
He shifted the display to highlight the other squad. "That doesn't make you vulnerable. Not even close. Firestar alone is practically a walking nuclear reactor. The level of radiation manipulation she's capable of? That's a massive advantage in any encounter with a Sentinel."
Firestar crossed her arms but didn't argue, the faintest glow shimmering at her fingertips, while puffing her chest with pride.
"Yeah, but what if they run into Leech?" Bobby interjected, frowning. "She's still a mutant. If he suppresses powers, that edge disappears. Then what?"
A brief silence followed. It was a valid concern.
"Which is why Nightwing and Arachnid are assigned there," Peter answered without hesitation. His tone wasn't defensive—it was absolute. "Between hid tactical adaptability and Arachnid's combat versatility, they're more than enough to handle whatever Sentinel you're facing. Powers or no powers."
"Lady Arachnid," Aria corrected immediately, chin lifting slightly, pride slipping into her voice.
Peter didn't even glance her way.
Aria's eye twitched behind her mask.
Harry let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Not that I don't appreciate the vote of confidence," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "but you're comparing me to someone who can alter reality by manipulating atoms and radiation with a flick of her wrist…" He gestured vaguely toward Lizzy. "And someone who literally has an aspect of reality sitting on her forehead." His hand shifted toward Aria.
A few members of the group blinked in confusion at that last comment, but neither Peter nor Aria offered clarification. The Spider-Family simply shared a look that said: long story.
Peter, meanwhile, had casually flipped upside down, now hanging from the ceiling by a single web strand. He swayed slightly as he looked directly at Harry, lenses narrowing in focus.
"You are severely underestimating yourself," Peter said evenly.
The room quieted.
"You and I have sparred more than anyone else here. I've seen what you can do up close." His voice remained steady, unwavering. "I'm probably the only person here who fully understands both your capabilities and your potential."
Peter didn't break eye contact—even through the mask, the intensity was palpable. "You think you're weaker because you're constantly measuring yourself against people like them." He tilted his head slightly toward Lizzy and Aria. "Reality manipulators. Cosmic anomalies. That's your baseline for comparison."
Harry only smile wearily not denying it.
"You don't realize how strong you are because you're standing in a room full of people that can do crazy shit," Peter continued. "But that doesn't make you small. It just skews your perspective."
Peter went on. "Uncontrolled explosive power?" He gave a small shrug. "Sure, that's dangerous."
His tone lowered. "But explosive power that is both controlled and precise That's terrifying."
Harry's eyes lifted slightly.
"You can amplify impact, reinforce your defenses, destabilize structures with a tap if you wanted to. You've barely scratched the surface of what that control can evolve into." Peter gave a small nod. "Trust your instincts. When it counts, your body already knows what to do."
A beat passed.
"You get what I'm saying?" Peter asked more softly.
"…I think," Harry muttered, staring down at his boots. His mind replayed every spar they'd had—every moment Peter had pushed him just a little harder than necessary.
Harry exhaled slowly. Peter's words didn't erase his doubts, but they cracked something open inside him. Maybe the problem wasn't his power.
Maybe it was his perspective.
…
[Back to the present]
Harry's back slammed against the fractured concrete wall as three Sentinels descended on him at once, their metallic frames whirring and recalibrating in response to his interference. They didn't hesitate. Fists like battering rams hammered into him from every angle—rib, jaw, stomach—an unrelenting storm of steel and synthetic muscle.
Each impact detonated against his suit. The specialized armor lining his torso and forearms flared neon green as it absorbed the kinetic force, converting the punishment into stored power. Bursts of compressed energy discharged in chaotic pulses from his body, blasting outward in shockwaves that deepened the crater behind him. Concrete cracked. Rebar bent. Dust and debris spiraled into the air like shrapnel caught in a hurricane.
The guards around his forearms began to splinter under the strain. They weren't meant to handle this much input at once. Hairline fractures webbed across the plating before chunks shattered away entirely, unable to withstand the endless cycle of absorption and release. Still the Sentinels pressed him, adapting, calculating, overwhelming him through sheer numbers.
Inside the suit, Harry felt everything. Muscle fibers tore under the repeated impacts. Bones splintered and snapped—then reformed with sickening, rapid pops as his regenerative biology forced them back into place. Blood sprayed from his mouth and across the rubble-strewn floor, only for his lifeforce stitched him back together
Pain blurred into heat.
Heat blurred into power.
His eyes ignited with a luminous emerald glow as a roar tore from his throat—raw, feral, defiant. He stopped trying to defend. Stopped trying to endure.
He unleashed.
From the midpoint of his body, from the very core of his being, a tidal wave of condensed lifeforce erupted outward. The blast was not just kinetic—it was vital, alive, roaring with the rhythm of his own heartbeat. The shockwave expanded in a violent dome, ripping Sentinels off their feet and hurling them across the chamber like discarded toys.
Metal screamed as they crashed into walls.
But they were not finished.
As they rose from the wreckage, their bodies shifted and morphed, alloy flowing like liquid mercury. Arms reconfigured into blades, cannons, serrated whips crackling with energy. Their optics flared red as targeting systems recalculated.
Harry dropped to one knee.
His chest heaved. Sweat soaked his suit, dark hair plastered to his forehead. Steam rose from his skin as his healing factor worked overtime, sealing torn flesh and knitting fractured bones back together.
He looked up just in time to see them charge.
Harry exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
"Trust my instincts…" he murmured.
A blade shrieked through the air toward his face.
He shifted—barely.
The edge missed his cheek by less than a centimeter, slicing through strands of hair instead. He didn't open his eyes.
"Surrender control of my body…"
He repeated it like a mantra.
And then he moved.
Not with conscious thought. Not with strategy.
He flowed.
His footwork turned strange—almost alien—as he twisted at impossible angles, spinning and pivoting through a storm of blades and plasma bursts. His spine bent in ways that defied anatomy. His shoulders rolled just enough for weapons to graze air instead of flesh. He dipped, swayed, stepped—each motion instinctive, fluid, unpredictable.
He deflected a blade aimed at his heart with a casual backhand swipe, redirecting it into another Sentinel's torso. Sparks flew.
The Sentinels increased their speed.
So did Harry.
Hypermotility activated at full output. His tendons stretched and recoiled like coiled springs. His joints rotated beyond normal human limits without tearing. Every repetitive motion—every pivot, every dodge, every redirected strike—began to build something deeper.
Fajin.
The stored explosive power accumulated through repetition began to hum beneath his skin. Green arcs crackled along his limbs, discharging in sharp snaps of light.
A single punch—thrown without sight, guided purely by instinct—connected.
The Sentinel struck by it didn't just fall.
It launched.
Its body tore through the air and embedded halfway into the far wall in a thunderous explosion of concrete and dust.
Harry stepped once—
—and appeared on the opposite side of the battlefield.
The Sentinels paused mid-advance, recalibrating yet again. They were adapting to his force output, modifying density and resistance. Harry felt it. He frowned slightly, still moving on autopilot.
But in the back of his mind, something Peter had said echoed.
Controlled explosive power.
He fired webs from his web-shooters without breaking rhythm, snagging a terrified mutant and yanking them out of harm's way. With a swift spin, he flung the rescued woman through the portal he had recreated earlier, sending them to safety.
'Controlled explosive power…'
He repeated it again.
And again.
Then clarity struck.
'Wait… he wasn't only talking about controlled output.'
Harry's mind—operating at superhuman speed—began dissecting the concept even as his body continued its impossible dance.
'He meant manipulation as a whole.'
Fajin was pure explosive force—power built through repetition and released in violent bursts.
But chi… Chi was control.
Control over lifeforce. Over breath. Over the body. Over the space between intention and action.
Harry already possessed the power.
His flaw was application.
Emerald orbs of chi materialized above his palms as he moved. Normally he would have hurled them like grenades. Raw. Direct.
This time, he didn't.
He held them.
He split his focus cleanly in two—one half dedicated to evasion and protection, the other to shaping the volatile energy hovering in his grasp.
The orbs trembled, unstable.
Then he smiled faintly as he molded them into a man's true love.
Swords.
He curled his fingers inward, compressing the chi. The orbs elongated, stretched, warped into jagged, misshapen blades of flickering green energy. They wavered at first, unstable and uneven.
Harry adjusted his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The blades refined.
Edges sharpened. Forms straightened. The energy stabilized, condensing into sleek, radiant constructs that hummed with lethal precision.
A pair of twin energy beams fired at him.
Harry flipped backward through the air, the beams passing beneath him and carving molten trenches across the floor. Mid-rotation, he hurled one of his newly forged swords toward a distant Sentinel that had cornered two mutants against a crumbling wall. Its head split open, charging a devastating blast.
The emerald blade pierced straight through its cranial unit.
The Sentinel lurched forward, systems glitching violently.
Still airborne, Harry twisted, gripping his remaining sword in both hands. As gravity reclaimed him, he brought the blade down in a clean, diagonal arc—splitting the Sentinel beneath him from shoulder to hip in a shower of sparks and molten alloy.
He landed lightly.
The remaining blade rested over his shoulder as he formed another in his free hand, the construct snapping into existence with far more stability than before.
"Boom," he muttered calmly.
Across the chamber, the sword embedded in the Sentinel's head detonated in a concentrated emerald green explosion. The blast ruptured its skull outward, sending shards of metal clattering across the battlefield.
The two mutants scrambled away as the machine collapsed lifelessly.
Harry stood tall now, breathing steady, eyes glowing but focused.
The panic was gone.
In its place was control.
"Arachind," he called evenly through the comms, rolling his shoulders as the remaining Sentinels recalculated once more. "I've got it covered here." He twirled one of the chi blades, green light tracing a deadly arc in the air. "I'll leave it to you to find Leech and stop his interference."
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