"This is the ancestor of all ancestors!" Namor's voice trembled. He had just returned from the surface with what he thought was a kingly presence—and now, he had a living legend hovering above him.
This wasn't just unexpected—it was catastrophic.
After the fall of Atlantis, Namor had heard tales of a forgotten princess who led a group of metas to survive on a distant, savage land.
He'd first heard the legend as a child, recited by his grandmother.
The princess's name had long been lost to history, but her title remained: the Black Queen.
And now, that very legend—an immortal said to have lived for 8,000 years—had just stepped out of myth and into reality.
If she truly was the Black Queen, then she wasn't merely a powerful meta. She was one of the original progenitors of their kind.
"Great Black Queen," Poseidon said, bowing his head cautiously, "why have you come to Atlantis?"
"I just want to visit my homeland," the woman said coolly. She didn't correct the title.
Namor sighed with relief at her seemingly peaceful answer—but the Black Queen wasn't finished.
"And once I've taken this final step," she said, her eyes scanning the crowd before locking on Ethan, "I will restore the glory of the mutants... ah, apologies, I forgot—you're calling them metas now, right? Then I will restore the meta civilization. Every one of you carries our genes. So kneel... and become my people."
Namor's expression tightened. "Black Queen, surely you can't mean—"
"Those who do not surrender... will only have one fate. And that is to die," she said flatly.
Though they carried meta genes, they also held within them the DNA of their ancient enemies. That made her mercy...optional.
"Great Black Queen, please—" Poseidon began, but before he could finish, his body flickered into a stream of soul light that poured into Namor's trident.
"My descendants," Poseidon's voice echoed in Namor's mind, "the ancestors of Paradise Lost will aid you. Stop her!"
Power surged through the trident, pouring into Namor. He roared as the energy overwhelmed him.
"Then die!" Namor shouted, unleashing a massive wave of soul-charged energy at the Black Queen.
The people of Atlantis had toiled for generations to rebuild their civilization. And now, this Queen wanted to take everything back. Namor, the chosen monarch of a new era, would never allow it.
"Together!" Ethan shouted. A crackling orb of bluish-white lightning spun into life above his palm—raw, unstable energy harnessed through his precise vector calculations.
By manipulating the direction and magnitude of atomic motion, he created a supercharged plasma sphere and hurled it at the Queen.
Professor X and Magneto had spent decades forging peace for metas.
So many had sacrificed to build this fragile unity. And now, one ancient Omega-level meta threatened to tear it all down.
Ethan, like many others, would never submit to someone like Apocalypse—and certainly not to her.
"Let's go!" shouted John and Bobby, launching simultaneous blasts—flame and ice converging. Storm summoned a crackling chain of lightning from the sky and hurled it with fury.
Black Queen didn't flinch. The blast erupted around her—but she emerged unscathed, a dark shield flickering around her body, absorbing each attack as if into a void.
"A foolish choice," she sneered. "But your abilities have promise. Allow me to offer you a second chance: kneel."
An invisible pressure slammed into the heroes, warping perception. The Black Queen seemed to loom larger, her presence more divine. Some dropped to their knees, eyes glassy with awe.
But not Ethan.
When he looked around, he realized the others weren't as lucky.
"As expected... simple suppression is ineffective on you," the Black Queen said, her gaze sharpening. "Perfect-level Omega genes. Impressive."
Before she could continue, Namor stirred, clarity returning thanks to Poseidon's soul enhancing him.
"Purify!" he shouted.
A wave of bluish soul energy burst from him, clearing the Queen's influence from Storm and the others.
The Queen frowned, eyes narrowing at the swirling spirits around Namor. "Pesky soul... but do you really believe Atlantis belongs only to you?"
She pressed her hand to the ground. "Heed me, warriors of ancient Atlantis—rise and fight for your Queen!"
The earth trembled. Bones clawed free of the soil. A pulse of eldritch power rippled through the battlefield as flesh grew on skeletons at unnatural speed. Only the Black Queen knew what she had resurrected.
"We've got a problem," Wolverine growled, slicing through one of the creatures.
It crumbled into dust—its soul rising and joining a vortex of energy above the cemetery's central monument. More undead meant more spiritual fuel.
"I get it now," Poseidon's soul emerged once again. "She's using the last remnants of meta energy across Atlantis to push herself... into something beyond. Beyond meta."
"Will she succeed?" Ethan asked, his voice low.
Demigod. That was beyond Omega. And with 8,000 years of experience, her knowledge of her abilities likely eclipsed his by generations.
Even though he had once punched Mephisto in the jaw, that only happened because the Sorcerer Supreme had bound Mephisto, and Ethan was wielding a hammer forged from neutron star matter.
Who just keeps one of those lying around?
"I can't say," Poseidon replied. "But she is stronger than me. Stronger than Apocalypse. She's always been the closest to a breakthrough."
"Then we end it now." Ethan ignored the shambling undead and rocketed straight for her.
"Boom!" His punch slammed into the Black Queen's shield. A ripple of force flared—Ethan's vector manipulation tearing at the energy field's structure.
He precisely reversed the directional flow of energy across the shield's surface. The matrix shattered.
But it was just a phantom. The real Black Queen had already moved.
"You waste your gifts," she said from behind him. In her hand formed a pulsing orb of dark-fiery energy, which she hurled.
"Boom!" It exploded—but Ethan, having recalibrated the blast vector mid-detonation, surged through the fire, redirected its force, and tackled the Queen.
He gripped her throat—his power ready to reverse her blood flow, twist her neural signals, rupture every cell.
But just before he could, she smirked.
A golden chain shot from the void, binding Ethan midair, arms spread.
"The Celestial Lock," she explained. "A relic crafted by ancient metas, used to restrain being of unimaginable power. Harmless to normal mortals—but the stronger the being, the greater the bind."
She stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "Let's see how perfect you really are."
Ethan clenched his jaw. His muscles surged, vectors twisting against the restraint. The links began to groan.
The Queen's eyes widened slightly in admiration. "Excellent. Show me more."
Ethan didn't respond. He focused, manipulating the tension force along the chain's molecular lattice. Just before he could snap it—
Her finger touched his lips. "Wait. Before you break free, I have a proposal."
She looked him straight in the eye.
"You're wasting your potential. I can teach you. I can make you more. So... be my prince."
In the ancient mutant-civilization, royal bloodlines were permitted to bond with the most powerful mutants—because only such unions could produce stronger, more evolved descendants.
But by the time the Black Queen was born, the great city of Atlantis had already sunken beneath the waves. The once-great clans had scattered, and their bloodlines thinned.
Finding anyone with Omega-level potential had become nearly impossible, and fewer still could catch the attention of the Black Queen.
Consumed by vengeance, she had no interest in companionship back then—only in growing stronger.
Now, things had changed. She had a kingdom to rebuild.
And what's a queen without a king?
At the edge of the battlefield, Ethan stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.
"Wait… what?" His mind reeled. "The fuck is she on?"
His face cycled through disbelief, suspicion, and stunned silence.
The Black Queen watched him with quiet amusement.
She wasn't in a hurry. Time, to her, was irrelevant. Her meta-ability allowed her to halt her aging the moment she reached her physical prime.
And when she eventually broke into demigod-tier, her lifespan would stretch across eras. To her, patience was simply another weapon.
"Do you actually know what your ability is?" she asked, lips curled in a teasing smile.
Ethan didn't flinch. "You already know the answer to that."
As the final royal of the meta bloodline, Ethan carried the ancient knowledge of lost civilizations—powerful enough to rival the likes of Apocalypse or even Poseidon. It wasn't surprising that she had seen through him during their earlier encounter.
"Sure, I know. But I'm not asking what it is. I'm asking how well you understand it," she said, stepping closer, eyes glinting with challenge. "Back in the day, you're what we call pseudo-Omega level based on how you're using your abilities. You've been stuck there for a while now. Most meta... experience their fastest growth right after awakening. But you? You plateaued. Why do you think that is?"
Ethan frowned. She was right. His strength had stagnated lately.
He'd been trying to master his ability—vector manipulation—on his own.
Sure, the Ancient One had given him some cryptic advice early on, but that was it.
No real guidance. And even Apocalypse, who had boosted countless metas to new heights, had little to offer Ethan.
After all, Apocalypse was still grasping the outer limits of Omega-leve himself.
"So what's holding me back?" he asked her directly.
"Your entire approach is flawed," she said, and took his hand in hers. "You're focused on redirecting force—reversing momentum, deflecting attacks, throwing objects. That's basic. That's surface-level."
She gestured.
A stone the size of a grapefruit lifted from the ground and hovered toward Ethan's palm.
"One hundred times gravity," she whispered.
"BOOM!"
As she released it, the stone dropped like a meteor. The ground erupted in a crater where it landed.
"Force can be controlled, Ethan. Not just reacted to. Controlled, directed, amplified, suppressed."
His eyes widened. He'd imagined it was possible. He'd studied Newtonian mechanics, tried calculating vectors from memory, even imagined vector arrows like the anime he'd watched. But nothing worked—not with precision.
In A Certain Magical Index, Accelerator's massive intellect and immense processing power allowed him to use vector manipulation with incredible precision and overwhelming force.
But this guy? His brain, his mind—it's all completely average. He doesn't have the precision or mental processing to manipulate reality on the same scale as the original Accelerator.
That was the difference.
The Black Queen wasn't guessing. She knew how to manipulate fundamental forces.
"How did you do that?" he blurted.
She didn't answer. Just smiled wider, leaving the question hanging in the air like a lure.
CLANG!
The chains holding Ethan shattered.
He wasn't going to sit there like an idiot. If she wasn't going to explain, he'd figure it out himself.
He could feel the vectors around him—forces of gravity, wind resistance, kinetic potential. He didn't need a keyboard or code.
This wasn't some simulation. It was real physics. And he could bend it.
Black Queen, meanwhile, stepped back under the Heroic Monument. Above her, a swirling sphere of white dense energy had grown massive while she stalled for time.
Then came a low sigh—echoing from Namor's trident.
"I didn't want to use this," Poseidon's voice rumbled. "But I have no choice."
The ground trembled. Fissures split open like spiderwebs. Far across Paradise Lost, the land rose with a violent lurch. A colossal hand burst free from beneath the earth.
A giant—armored, broken, towering two thousand feet tall—pulled itself into the light. Its right arm was shattered. Cracks ran across its stone-like body.
"Great Creator," Namor whispered, dropping to his knees. He began to chant in an ancient Atlantean tongue, guided by Poseidon's will. "Protect your children. Destroy the intruders."
The Black Queen's eyes widened in disbelief.
"A god...?" she breathed. But no. If it was a god, she'd be dead already.
Looking closer, she saw it for what it was: a divine puppet. A golem. A monument given form.
Her face shifted—nostalgia, grief, then rage.
"We built you," she said, voice shaking. "We created you to protect Atlantis. And now you try to kill me? The last true heir to its throne?"
A blood-red mark lit up on her forehead, blazing like fire. Instantly, the same mark appeared on the statue's head.
The giant froze. Its raised hand stopped mid-air, refusing to strike.
But Black Queen didn't hesitate.
The statue's shadow twisted.
From it, black tendrils shot upward—piercing the colossus's chest. Black Queen's power surged, devouring the statue's inner energy like a parasite.
"What?!" Namor gasped.
"This... This can't be!" Poseidon cried.
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Word count: 2089
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