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"No!"
Professor Charles let out a shriek of sheer terror.
In their eyes, Peter's actions were no different than a moth flying into a flame. No matter how they looked at it, he seemed like a loyal dog who, having been controlled by Apocalypse, had voluntarily taken a fatal blow for his Master!
Could it be... has Peter already been completely controlled by Apocalypse?
It wasn't just them; even Apocalypse was stunned. He had never expected that his unintended psychic attack would actually have such a miraculous effect.
This kid looks pretty tough, but his brain actually doesn't work that well?
However, the next second, the astonishment on his face turned into complete stupefaction.
The scene he had envisioned, of Peter being burned to ash by the Phoenix Force, did not occur.
That flame of creation, capable of incinerating a Planet, not only failed to cause any harm the moment it touched Peter's body, but instead, like a long-lost relative, it rushed into his body as if it were a fledgling bird returning to the forest!
There was no explosion, no impact.
The entire process was incredibly smooth.
At the same time, Peter felt so comfortable he almost groaned out loud.
The feeling was like drinking an ice-cold soda on the hottest day of summer; every pore from head to toe seemed to open up.
In a word, awesome!
However, this sense of "awesome" didn't last long.
The Phoenix Force, after all, was one of the top-tier powers in the Universe, and it possessed its own will.
Upon realizing it had entered the wrong "room," this power instantly went berserk!
A will originating from the primordial Universe, filled with destruction, tyranny, and chaos, exploded within Peter's sea of consciousness.
It attempted to tear Peter's soul into shreds, completely erase his will, and turn him into a slave to the Phoenix Force that only knew how to follow instincts!
"Mere mortal, how dare you touch the power of a god! Turn to ash!"
The grand and cold voice echoed directly in the depths of Peter's soul.
To this, Peter's reaction was just a disdainful curl of his lip.
"Heh, your body is tiny, but you talk big?"
"You came to my turf and still want to run wild?"
"Do you really think your Grandpa Horse and Grandpa Tiger are pushovers?"
As he spoke, Peter moved his mind.
Two different lights instantly lit up in his left and right hands.
One was a soft white light representing the power of healing, and the other was a delicate gray.
The Horse Talisman! The Tiger Talisman!
The Phoenix Force rampaged through Peter's body, continuously burning his meridians and destroying his cells.
But almost the very instant the damage appeared, the power of the Horse Talisman was activated.
The soft white light was like a spring breeze bringing rain; wherever it passed, all damage was instantly restored to its original state, becoming even more resilient than before.
As fast as the Phoenix Force burned, the Horse Talisman healed just as quickly!
If the Horse Talisman solved things on a "physical level," then the Tiger Talisman targeted the "philosophical level."
The will of the Phoenix Force was, in essence, an extreme collection of emotions.
When it leaned toward the light, it was creation and rebirth; when it leaned toward the darkness, it was destruction and ending.
What was inside Peter at this moment was clearly the latter, the Dark Phoenix Force.
Under normal circumstances, there was no power that could influence this will.
But the Tiger Talisman was different; its ability was "balance."
When the gray light enveloped that violent will, it was like dropping a drop of magical purifying agent into a glass of murky water.
Those tyrannical, chaotic, and dark emotions were forcibly stripped away and neutralized.
Meanwhile, those wills of rebirth, protection, and kindness were amplified and highlighted.
One Yin and one Yang, one good and one evil—under the coercive power of the Tiger Talisman, they reached a perfect balance point.
In the end, that grand and chaotic will was completely "formatted," turning into a pure "energy source code" devoid of any emotional color, quietly waiting for its new Master to write to it.
Outside.
The group from the Xavier Institute only saw that after Peter absorbed that terrifying flame, his whole body erupted with a blinding golden light.
He seemed to have transformed into a small Sun, making it impossible to look directly at him.
This light came quickly and went just as quickly.
When the light dissipated, Peter's figure reappeared.
He was still hovering in mid-air, one hand in his pocket, his expression relaxed, as if he had just had a nice afternoon tea.
It was just that his originally pitch-black eyes had now transformed into molten lava flowing with golden flames.
At the corner of his eyes, there was even a faint, flickering golden-red Phoenix totem.
The group from the institute looked at Peter, who was frozen in mid-air, both surprised that Peter hadn't died and worried that he might truly be controlled by Apocalypse.
If Peter were controlled by Apocalypse, the situation would be terrible.
"Peter! Wake up! Don't let him control you!"
Professor Charles's voice was hoarse.
He drove his wheelchair, wanting to go forward, but was blocked by the invisible pressure, his face full of anxiety and regret.
"Mr. Peter! Wake up! How could you lose to that blue-skinned monster!"
Jubilee mustered up the greatest courage of her life, shouting loudly at the sky, her little face flushed red, her eyes filled with moisture.
In their view, Peter's current calmness was a sign that he had been completely controlled by Apocalypse.
Hearing the little girl's shout, Peter suddenly lowered his head and playfully winked his left eye in her direction.
That look had no sign of being controlled at all; it was clearly filled with the smugness of "basic operation, don't be surprised, sit down and watch the show."
Jubilee was stunned.
The others were also stunned.
Apocalypse was even more stunned.
He felt his brain wasn't working well at the moment.
This script wasn't right!
Wasn't the opponent controlled by his psychic power? Why was he still winking here?
Just as he was thinking this,
"Who said I was controlled by this guy?"
Peter's voice drifted over, clearly ringing in everyone's ears.
"I said, I'd finish him off within ten moves."
Before he finished speaking, he slowly raised his right hand, aimed it at the bewildered Apocalypse, and gently snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The crisp sound seemed exceptionally abrupt on the dead-silent battlefield.
The next second.
A wisp of golden-red flame ignited on Apocalypse's body without warning.
This flame didn't look intense; it was even somewhat gentle, like a ray of warm sunlight in winter.
Apocalypse didn't even feel any pain.
He lowered his head, looking at the tiny flame on his body, a look of extreme confusion appearing on his face.
Is this the ultimate move you used after absorbing the Phoenix Force?
Just this?
You can't even burn through my skin; are you scratching my back?
This thought was the last one he left in this World.
Because the next instant, his body, from inside to out, from soul to genes, was completely decomposed into the most primitive particles within that gentle flame.
There were no screams, no explosions, no struggle.
A gentle breeze blew by.
This Mutant, who called himself a god, had lived for thousands of years, and had stirred up endless storms—the first Mutant in history—just like that... drifted away with the wind.
Not even a trace of his existence remained.