Inside the fighter jet—
Jean sat quietly, her thoughts adrift.
Before departure, Professor X had spoken to her privately. His words still echoed in her mind.
"Jean, that man has allied with Magneto. I'm afraid we won't be able to stop them. When the moment comes, it will be up to you. Only you can."
Jean understood exactly what he meant.
He was referring to that power—the Phoenix within her.
But the Phoenix Force wasn't something she could simply summon. It wasn't obedient. It only surfaced when her emotions reached their extreme—rage, despair, or grief.
The thought distressed her deeply.
"Jean?"
Cyclops, noticing her daze, looked at her with concern.
She forced a small smile. "I'm fine, Scott."
He nodded but said nothing more. Both of them knew the truth—she wasn't fine. Neither was he. The enemies they were about to face were simply too strong.
—---
Atop the Statue of Liberty—
Mystique and Toad were busy assembling Magneto's machine. Once complete, they strapped Rogue into its core, ignoring her desperate pleas for mercy.
They had followed Magneto long enough to mirror his cold indifference.
"They're coming," Magneto said suddenly, his gaze cutting to the distance.
Everyone knew who they were.
Mystique and Toad stiffened. The X-Men had bested them before; their strength was no secret.
"I'll handle them," Fenric said with a wave of his hand. Without hesitation, he shot into the sky.
Magneto's expression did not change. "Continue."
—---
The X-Men's jet reached Liberty Island, hovering high in the air like a miracle of technology. Though jets couldn't hover like helicopters, this one did—proof of the genius behind its design.
"We're here," Storm murmured, guiding the craft into position.
Everyone looked down.
And there he was—Fenric, rising from the statue, suspended in the night sky like a god descending upon mortals.
"Damn it," Wolverine muttered, his face darkening. "That bastard again…"
Memories of Fenric's punch—the one that nearly destroyed him—flashed in his mind like a haunting shadow.
"This jet has weapons, right? Blast him!" Wolverine growled.
Storm rolled her eyes. "If we fire, we'll hit civilians below. And even if we didn't, you really think these weapons can harm him?"
Wolverine scowled. "Then what?"
Cyclops thought quickly. "We split up. One of us holds him here, the rest save Anna."
The plan made sense. But the cost was obvious. Whoever stayed behind would be walking into a death sentence.
"I'll face him," Jean said suddenly.
"No!" Cyclops refused at once, his voice sharp. There was no way he would let her risk herself.
"I'll do it." Wolverine's claws slid free with a metallic snikt. He bared his teeth. "He can't kill me."
Storm cast him a rare look of admiration. "Logan… just watch out for his fists."
Wolverine's face twisted. Did she really have to mention that?
"Enough talk," he snapped. "I won't last long. Move fast!"
The others nodded grimly.
"Ororo," Cyclops ordered, "land by the sea. Keep us hidden."
Storm guided the jet into the shadows of the night, settling it smoothly atop the water. The X-Men disembarked swiftly and rushed toward the statue.
—---
The Statue of Liberty had only one entrance. Except for Storm, who could fly, the others had no choice but to climb the stairwell.
And waiting for them there was Fenric.
At the base of the stairway, the two groups finally came face to face.
Fenric smiled, his voice cold. "In such a hurry to die?"
Jean tried reason first. "Why help Magneto? His plan will never succeed. That machine—it will only bring suffering and death."
Fenric waved her words aside like a bothersome breeze. "Save your preaching. No one changes my decisions. If you want to stop me, show me your strength." His tone darkened, sharp as steel. "But this time, I won't hold back. Are you prepared to die?"
Their expressions hardened.
Wolverine growled, "Stick to the plan."
Then he lunged forward, claws flashing.
At the same instant, Cyclops unleashed a searing crimson beam. The optic blast was as fast as light itself, impossible to dodge once locked on.
Fenric didn't even try.
His Death Sense flickered a faint warning—minimal threat. He simply raised his arm, hardened it with Armament Haki, and blocked the blast head-on.
The beam crackled against him but failed to break through.
In the comics, Cyclops's optic blasts could cut through planets, tied to a dimension of raw concussive energy. But in this world, the power was weaker—enough to tear through buildings, but nowhere near enough to breach Fenric's full defense.
And while Cyclops attacked, Wolverine closed in from the side, his claws slashing with lethal precision.
Another warning from his Death Sense—again faint.
Fenric didn't dodge. He clenched his fists, energy gathering.
Clang!
Wolverine's claws struck him—and rang as if they had hit steel. Sparks flew.
Logan's eyes widened. His claws had torn Fenric's clothes, but his skin remained unscathed, not even a scratch.
It wasn't that adamantium lacked sharpness. Nor that Fenric's skin was impenetrable by nature.
No—the simple truth was that Wolverine's strength was far too low.
Even the sharpest blade in the hands of a child could not split wood.
And compared to Fenric, Wolverine's strike was just that—a child's swing.