Chapter 112: Apocalypse Enhances Allen
At this moment, in the principal's office, everyone was engaged in a heated debate about Allen's fate.
Since the school's founding, certain core rules had been established, which most of the X-Men chose to uphold.
After all, many mutants believed they were a distinct species, separate from ordinary humans.
Some argued that Allen was a hero who had saved the school and deserved their respect.
The two sides were at each other's throats.
Caught in the middle, Charles waited patiently, frowning, for the shouting to die down.
He valued Allen's healing ability deeply and understood that superpowers didn't exclusively come from the X-gene—but at the same time, their core principles couldn't be discarded lightly.
Allen, meanwhile, seemed utterly unfazed. His gaze fell on an electric wheelchair nearby.
He looked at Professor Charles and quickly deduced that the man was likely paralyzed from the waist down. The reason he could still walk must have been due to a serum developed by Beast, Henry—one that came at the cost of weakening his psychic abilities.
Of course, if he were to inject the antidote to purge the serum, Charles's powers would return to their peak. Combined with Cerebro, he'd be comparable to a Level 5 mutant in terms of psychic strength.
Currently, the only officially recorded Level 5 mutant was Jean Grey.
Likely, only Allen and Charles were aware of the truth.
Even Jean herself didn't fully understand her real potential—she assumed she just had basic psychic powers and energy bursts.
Just then, Allen sat in the electric wheelchair and sped off down the hallway.
Tsk…
Charles clicked his tongue but didn't stop him. He was already thinking of an excuse to explain it away.
In the midst of the argument, Jean resolutely sided with those supporting the school's rules.
She hadn't gotten breakfast two days in a row—no way she was letting that slide.
Ororo, on the other hand, stood with the faction that wanted Allen to stay. It wasn't just because of Allen's value; she also believed abandoning someone with a mental illness was downright cruel.
"Grand Theft Auto—stationary drift mode!"
Allen had no interest in the debate and instead spent time getting used to the wheelchair, racing down the hall.
"I'm way too wild for this world. I can even ride on one wheel!"
He tilted the wheelchair so that only one wheel touched the ground, perfectly balancing as he went.
At that moment, Logan opened a door, intending to call Allen in to let him explain himself. He did enjoy Allen's Eastern-style breakfasts, and he wasn't about to return to the cafeteria's free slop.
"I'm Superman!"
But the moment Logan opened the door, he saw Allen stretched out on the wheelchair, body stiff, one fist extended forward in a flying pose.
Logan immediately shut the door, deciding it was best to let everyone else decide.
Bang!
The wheelchair slammed into something.
A semi-transparent energy barrier appeared in the hallway out of thin air.
Seeing this, Allen flipped back upright and sat in the wheelchair, his expression turning serious.
He suddenly recalled that Apocalypse's teleportation power in the movies looked exactly like this.
Sure enough, when the energy shield disappeared, the ancient mutant Apocalypse arrived at the school with two of his followers.
"Who are you?"
Seeing Allen in the wheelchair, Psylocke instinctively drew her katana.
"I'm Professor X."
Allen kept his smile and added, "Sorry, we don't accept adult students here."
"…"
Who the hell said we came here to study?
Do we look like students to you?
Meanwhile, in the principal's office, the X-Men immediately sensed the overwhelming power and rushed into the hallway.
On one side stood Apocalypse, Psylocke, and Archangel.
On the other stood Professor X and the X-Men.
The two sides stared each other down in the corridor, tension crackling—battle could erupt at any moment.
Since they were in the school, Charles remained restrained. The place had already been blown up once recently—having it happen again, with so many students around, was the last thing he wanted.
"I'm not here to fight today," Apocalypse said first. "I'm warning you—don't interfere with my grand vision."
His speech was heavily accented.
After all, the man hailed from Egypt's First Dynasty. His language had undergone countless evolutions. His modern vocabulary was learned last-minute via black-and-white TV.
Just days ago, the X-Men had been on a mission to track him down, which led to a brief skirmish.
Fortunately, Apocalypse was still recovering from being buried underground for thousands of years.
More importantly, he sensed that within the X-Men, there was a terrifying presence.
Charles kept shooting glances at Allen, signaling him to come back.
He knew very well that Jean Grey was the only one among them capable of defeating Apocalypse.
But the problem was that Jean's powers were uncontrollable—if things went south, it could end in mutual destruction.
Allen, however, looked to Apocalypse with excitement. "Boss, getting rich and conquering the world—take me with you."
The X-Men collectively winced.
This lunatic can't tell who's the enemy or the ally.
"Welcome aboard," Apocalypse replied without hesitation.
He had just awoken and was desperately short on people. If someone volunteered, he wasn't going to turn them down.
"I intend to build a nation for mutants. Any mutant is welcome to join."
He even extended an olive branch to the X-Men.
Using satellite signals and his powers, he had already gained a good grasp of the current global situation.
He didn't care about any of the world's governments—any of their technological creations could be neutralized easily. What he did worry about were other superpowered factions outside the mutant race.
Kamar-Taj, for instance, was a real concern.
The X-Men remained unmoved. They knew that Apocalypse's methods would only bring about the extinction of mutants.
"Nation-building sounds like a challenge. I like it," Allen said with a gleam in his eyes, deciding to join Apocalypse in his grand endeavor.
Truth be told, staying at the school was getting boring.
Seeing the X-Men unwilling to respond, Apocalypse activated his teleportation power.
An energy barrier enveloped the four of them.
Charles watched helplessly as they disappeared—taking not just Allen, but also his wheelchair.
In a flash, they arrived at a temporary base.
"Teleportation really is next-level," Allen said, wheeling around the run-down base and checking things out.
He understood the startup struggle—no money, no manpower.
"Are you disabled?" Apocalypse asked curiously.
Allen immediately put on a frightened face. "You're not going to discriminate against me, are you?"
"I won't."
Apocalypse spoke in short, weighty sentences, like a true ruler.
"I knew I picked the right boss."
Suddenly, Allen stood up excitedly. "I just knew you weren't some low-grade villain who discriminates against mental illness."
"…"
After a long silence, Apocalypse couldn't even form a reply.
He had assumed Allen was physically disabled, only to realize the guy had a mental issue instead—completely hopeless.
He had a power that could stimulate healing potential in others, but unfortunately, it didn't work on mental disorders.
"What powers do you have?" Apocalypse asked, still unaware that Allen wasn't even a mutant.
A transmigrator with no X-gene—if he did have one, that'd be truly bizarre.
Allen sat back in the wheelchair, raised a hand, and shouted, "Beam of Failure and Shame!"
A ray of white light shot from him and struck Apocalypse.
Apocalypse immediately felt something—his body reacting—and joy lit up his face.
A healing-type mutant—what an unexpected blessing.
They were as rare as unicorns.
One of Apocalypse's horsemen, Archangel, had feathers that could heal, but only those with similar abilities.
But how many angel-type mutants were there, really? It was mostly useless.
"Excellent," Apocalypse said, raising his hand and clenching the air. "Let me help you unlock your potential."
"Nooo~!"
The next second, Allen sat in the wheelchair with a bashful expression, legs pressed together, hands pulling at his hair, moaning suggestively.
Huh?
Was that really necessary?
Psylocke and Archangel looked like their eyes were about to pop out.
When Psylocke received her power boost, it didn't feel like much. Archangel, sure, his wing transformation had been painful.
But this guy… looked like he was enjoying it?
Even Apocalypse was puzzled. He didn't sense any changes and raised his other hand for a second enhancement.
"Ahh~ Haa~ Sss…"
Allen arched his back dramatically, tongue hanging out, eyes rolled up like he was about to ascend to heaven.
Pffft…
"Shhh… finally squeezed it out."
He let out a fart and collapsed into the chair like he'd just fought an eight-hundred-round war.
Meanwhile, Apocalypse stared at his hands in disbelief, wondering if his powers had degraded.
After all that effort, all he got was a fart?
If that actually worked, something was definitely wrong.
"Boss, maybe my X-gene is super shy. It might be recessive," Allen explained earnestly.
…Well, that could be possible.
A rare case, maybe.
Apocalypse didn't dwell on it and motioned for everyone to sit.
"I still lack a fourth horseman."
Traditionally, his Four Horsemen were Archangel, Psylocke, Storm, and Magneto.
But Storm was now part of the X-Men, and Magneto, as leader of the Brotherhood, was never going to serve under anyone.
That left a tricky vacancy to fill.
The X-Men clearly weren't interested, and the Brotherhood was full of degenerates.
Magneto never screened anyone—any mutant was welcome, and he did everything himself, aiming for the big picture.
As for the Hellfire Club, they were elite and tightly knit, loaded with cash and always plotting global schemes. They'd never take someone like Apocalypse seriously.
After thinking hard, no good candidate came to mind.
"Why not post a job ad?" Allen suggested. "Deadpool did it once and even recruited aliens. The headline can be something like 'Weather Warriors Wanted.'"
Of course he'd come up with that.
Archangel and Psylocke were too tired to even argue anymore.
How did they end up with a certified lunatic?
"It's worth a try," Apocalypse replied.
…
Back at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters—
The students had been protesting for hours.
Charles finally stepped out to clarify the situation.
When they heard Allen had defected to a villain, the students looked skeptical—like he was making it up.
"I don't believe it! Give Allen back!"
Wade stood on a statue holding up a sign, rallying the crowd. "Allen's already mentally ill! And you still bully him? You don't deserve to be heroes—shame on you, X-Men!"
"Wade, just look."
Charles touched his temple, transferring the memory into Wade's mind.
Wade saw Allen throw himself into Apocalypse's camp without hesitation—and was stunned speechless.
"No way… I need to ask him myself."
With that, Wade jumped off the statue and ran out of the school, determined to confront Allen.