Luke remembered darkness first. Not the suffocating kind that wrapped around him now, but the quiet darkness behind closed eyes. The kind that came after hours of staring at a glowing screen, letting time slip away unnoticed.
Then came the light. Flickering. Familiar. Comforting.
Bleach.
He remembered it clearly—episodes playing back-to-back, the hum of his computer, the stillness of his room. Morning had turned into afternoon, then into night, yet he never moved.
"Just one more episode…"
That was the last thing he told himself before everything went black.
So that's how I died…
The thought echoed hollowly in his mind, almost laughable if not for what followed.
Pain.
His chest tightened—or at least, he remembered what it felt like to breathe freely. To exist without pain.
Then everything shattered.
Not the kind you could endure. Not the kind you could scream through.
It was absolute.
It consumed him from the inside out, dragging his consciousness back into a body that felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece.
Luke couldn't move.
He couldn't open his mouth.
But he could feel everything.
The cold touch of metal against his skin.
The sharp intrusion of blades slicing through flesh.
The unbearable pressure as something inside him was pulled out.
Voices blurred together above him, distant yet clear enough to understand.
"Subject's regeneration is slowing."
"Cellular response dropping to 72%."
"Impossible… three years ago, he was comparable to Weapon X."
(AN: weapon X is wolverine)
Three years.
The words struck him harder than the pain.
Three years…?
Memories surfaced violently.
Chains around his wrists.
Needles piercing his veins.
dissecting his body, muscle tissues, organs, bone marrow
Cold floors. Endless darkness.
A name surfaced.
Luke.
That's… me.
Or rather, the body he now inhabited.
Because deep down, he knew the truth.
The real Luke is already dead.
And yet, here he was.
Still thinking. Still feeling. Still existing in a body that should have long since given out.
"Prepare for full extraction. We're losing regenerative stability."
"Director Trask wants every usable sample."
Bolivar Trask.
HYDRA.
The names clicked into place instantly.
Marvel… I'm in the Marvel universe…
A bitter realization settled in.
And I'm a lab rat.
The pain surged again as something sharp dug deeper into his chest.
His thoughts trembled, barely holding together.
Why… am I still alive…?
Then the answer came.
Not from his past life.
But from this body.
Warmth.
Light.
The sun.
His mutation.
Photosynthesis…
His body absorbed sunlight and converted it into energy—fuel for his strength, his healing, his survival.
And for three years…
They kept him buried underground.
No light.
No energy.
No life.
They didn't weaken me…
They starved me. they don't know my true mutation powers is not the regeneration, but the ability to absorb sunlight to make me heal.
Another cut. Deeper this time.
His consciousness flickered.
So this is it…
A second death.
But something inside him refused to accept it.
Rage ignited.
Cold. Violent. Absolute.
No.
I didn't survive death just to die like this.
His mismatched eyes trembled under the blinding surgical lights.
One red.
One blue.
Burning with something far stronger than fear.
I will live.
Then—
The world shook.
A deep rumble tore through the facility, violent and unstoppable.
Alarms blared instantly.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Seismic activity detected—no, something's breaking through the upper levels!"
Gunfire erupted in the distance.
Screams followed.
Then silence.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
Something… is coming.
Far above, an ancient presence stirred.
En Sabah Nur had awakened.
And for the first time since his return—
He paused.
A presence reached him.
Faint.
Dying.
Yet unbroken.
"Interesting…"
The ground obeyed his will.
Steel bent.
Concrete twisted.
The hidden underground lab—designed to remain unseen—collapsed like fragile glass beneath his power.
Scientists ran.
Soldiers fired.
None of it mattered.
Step by step, Apocalypse descended.
Not searching.
Guided.
Drawn.
Back in the operating room, Luke felt it.
A presence beyond comprehension.
Ancient.
Overwhelming.
Inevitable.
The reinforced doors were ripped apart like paper.
Light flooded in.
Real light.
Sunlight.
For the first time in three years.
His body reacted instantly.
Cells that had long been dormant awakened with desperate hunger.
They devoured the light.
Absorbed it.
Clung to it.
His regeneration sparked back to life.
Weak.
Slow.
But real.
Luke's chest trembled as something inside him reignited.
I'm… healing…
A shadow fell over him.
Luke forced his eyes upward.
And met something that was not human.
Apocalypse stood before him, unmoving, his gaze piercing through Luke as if reading every fragment of his existence.
The broken body.
The endless suffering.
The unyielding will.
The hatred.
The desire to survive.
All of it laid bare.
"You endure."
His voice was calm.
Absolute.
Luke tried to speak.
Failed.
But his eyes said everything.
I will make them pay.
Silence lingered between them.
Then—
Apocalypse smiled.
The machines surrounding Luke crumbled into dust.
The restraints shattered instantly.
The instruments embedded in his body disintegrated like they never existed.
Luke's body dropped—but before it could hit the table fully, an unseen force held him in place.
A massive hand reached forward.
Not to harm.
But to claim.
"You have suffered."
Power gathered.
Ancient.
Unfathomable.
Apocalypse stepped back, observing him like a sculptor admiring his creation.
"You were broken."
A pause lingered in the air.
"Now you are more."
But something else stirred within Luke.
Deep inside his chest—buried beyond flesh and bone—something pulsed.
A faint glow.
Then brighter.
Then alive.
The Hōgyoku.
It had been silent. Dormant. Waiting.
Now, under the flood of sunlight and the overwhelming power pouring from Apocalypse, it awakened.
Luke's body trembled violently. Not from pain alone—but from something far greater.
Evolution.
Amplification.
His mutation reacted first. Cells drank in the sunlight, faster than ever before, converting it into raw, limitless energy. His regeneration surged, flesh knitting together at impossible speed.
But the Hōgyoku didn't just follow.
It responded.
It listened to his will.
To his rage.
To his desperate need to live.
And it granted it.
The energy within him doubled. Then tripled. Then spiraled beyond control.
Apocalypse narrowed his eyes slightly, noticing the sudden surge."Interesting…"
This was no ordinary mutation.
His power was evolving—but something was pushing it further.
Luke's golden hair shimmered brighter under the sunlight, strands almost glowing as energy radiated from his body. His heterochromatic eyes—red and blue—burned intensely, now laced with a faint, otherworldly light.
His breathing grew heavier.
Faster.
Stronger.
The Hōgyoku pulsed again.
And this time—Luke felt it clearly.
It wasn't just power.
It was guidance.
It was taking his mutation—his ability to absorb sunlight—and refining it, perfecting it, turning it into something far beyond its original limits.
Sunlight wasn't just energy anymore.
It became fuel for evolution itself.
Apocalypse's power continued to pour into him, forcing his mutant genes to expand, to break past their natural boundaries.
But the Hōgyoku…
It amplified everything.
Every cell.
Every change.
Every ounce of power.
What should have been simple evolution…
Became something monstrous.
Luke's body lifted slightly from the ground, surrounded by a faint golden aura. The air around him distorted as energy waves pulsed outward, cracking what remained of the room.
He clenched his fists.
Power overflowed.
Unstable.
Yet perfectly controlled.
Apocalypse watched in silence—not with concern, but with approval.
"Yes…"
Luke slowly lowered back to the ground.
His feet touched the broken floor.
Solid.
Unshaken.
Alive.
More than alive.
He opened his eyes fully.
And this time—there was no weakness left in them.
Only power.
Only fury.
Only purpose.
Apocalypse turned slightly, giving him space—as if acknowledging him not as a mere servant… but as something greater.
"Now…"
His voice echoed like judgment itself.
Luke took a step forward, the ground beneath him cracking slightly from the pressure of his presence alone.
The Hōgyoku pulsed once more inside him—silent, but ever watching. Ever guiding.
Apocalypse's final command fell upon him like a decree from a god.
"Arise… and make them feel your pain."