"Wind!"
The Storm clone reacted instantly. A violent gust tore through the smoke, scattering it across the chamber. At the same time, every mutant clone capable of ranged combat unleashed their powers.
Scarlet beams from the Cyclops clone cut through the air. Metal screamed as the Magneto clone wrenched nearby machinery into motion. The Phoenix clone hurled massive objects with telekinesis. Fire and ice followed in chaotic waves as the Iceman and Human Torch clones joined in.
Under normal circumstances, no human could have survived that storm.
But Rowan Mercer wasn't normal.
With his physical conditioning and razor-sharp reflexes, he slipped through most of the attacks with unnerving ease. While dodging, he kept firing, dropping several clones in quick succession. Each shot was clean. Efficient.
That rhythm didn't last.
The Professor X clone, the Phoenix clone, and the White Queen clone moved together, layering psychic pressure over his mind.
Rowan felt it immediately.
He possessed mental abilities of his own, reinforced by his wizard lineage, so full domination wasn't possible. Still, the interference was enough. His focus fractured. His movements slowed by a hair's breadth, and in a battlefield like this, that mattered.
"Shield up."
He thrust out his left hand.
A translucent barrier of magical force snapped into existence, intercepting the incoming attacks. Lasers, debris, fire, and ice slammed into it and dispersed harmlessly.
The shield held firm.
But when Rowan tried to fire again, his gun wrenched sideways.
The Magneto clone had changed tactics. Instead of attacking, he was fighting Rowan directly for control of the weapon.
At the same time, the melee-focused clones charged the platform. Wolverine. Sabretooth. Colossus. Psylocke. All closing fast.
"Take him alive!" Lyle barked.
In Lyle's mind, Subject 757 was finished. Originally, he'd planned to kill Rowan and dissect the body to figure out what had gone wrong with the experiment. But now, watching ability after ability stack together in ways he hadn't predicted, greed overrode caution.
If he could capture Rowan, interrogate him, and reproduce this result…
The world would fall faster.
Rowan took one look at the naked clones sprinting toward him and winced.
"…That's a crime against my eyes."
The women didn't bother him. The men, however, were an assault on sanity. The psychic pressure from the three telepaths was bad enough, but this visual damage was somehow worse.
Maintaining the shield with his left hand and wrestling magnetic control away from Magneto, Rowan freed his right hand and reached into a pocket expanded by magic.
He pulled out a heavy alloy mace.
"Change."
A glowing magic circle flared around his body.
His frame surged outward, bones and muscle expanding in a controlled explosion of mass. In seconds, Rowan stood nearly four meters tall, a towering giant wrapped in magical force.
This was giant magic, learned from Chairman Makarov himself.
Rowan couldn't reach the absurd, city-sized heights of the master, but a few meters was well within beginner range.
"First."
He swung the mace downward like a hammer at a carnival game.
The Quicksilver clone, the fastest among them, was the first to reach him. For a split second, Rowan caught a blur. Then the mace connected.
The clone was crushed into the ground in a spray of blood and broken bone. No recovery. No second chance.
The clone had speed, but not enough. Not against a body enhanced across every parameter.
Giant magic didn't just make Rowan bigger. It amplified everything. Strength. Speed. Defense. Reaction time.
And that was on top of his already abnormal baseline.
Wizard blood granted resilience and rapid recovery. Mutant physiology exceeded human limits. His magically enhanced nervous system processed motion at inhuman speed.
Stacked together, then magnified, he became a monster in close combat.
Rowan didn't stop.
The mace swept sideways in a brutal arc, smashing into the remaining attackers and sending them flying. If they'd been ordinary humans, they would've died instantly.
Even as mutants, many couldn't rise again.
The Psylocke clone, built for offense rather than defense, didn't rise at all.
Instead of pressing the advantage, Rowan unfurled a new spell.
Wings erupted from his back.
He launched himself into the air, shield blazing, and crashed directly into the cluster of ranged attackers.
The mace fell like judgment.
The Magneto clone was the first target. With magnetic control suppressed, he couldn't influence the alloy weapon at all. One strike caved his head into his torso.
With Magneto gone, Rowan reclaimed full control.
Razor-sharp blades burst from his sleeves and joined the slaughter.
The ranged attackers collapsed quickly. Their firepower dwindled, and Rowan dismissed the shield entirely, shifting into full offense.
Magic, brute force, and mutant abilities blended seamlessly.
Binding spells locked bodies in place. Stunning spells shut down resistance. The mace and flying blades finished the job.
Even when weakened optic blasts struck him, they barely scratched his giant-form defenses.
The number of clones thinned rapidly.
Lyle panicked.
"You. Go help them!" he snapped at the last clone guarding him.
Then he turned and ran toward the incubation control room.
That was where his final insurance waited.
Clone 101.
A single unit. Too unstable. Originally marked for disposal.
Now, his last lifeline.
Rowan saw him move.
He smashed Wolverine and Sabretooth aside again, buying space, then raised his hand.
"Petrify."
Blue magic shot toward Lyle.
It never reached him.
A stranger stepped into its path. A clone Rowan hadn't seen before. The spell struck the clone directly… and failed.
No paralysis. No effect.
The clone grinned and charged.
Rowan swung the mace instinctively.
The impact landed cleanly, yet all momentum vanished. The force was absorbed completely, then reflected back through the handle. Rowan nearly lost his grip.
"…Sebastian Shaw," Rowan muttered. "So that's it."
Energy absorption.
He didn't hesitate.
"Confuse."
The spell hit instantly. The Shaw clone's eyes glazed over, his ability disrupted.
The blades flashed.
One clean cut across the throat.
The clone collapsed.
The room fell silent once more.