The rotting star plummeted.
Not like a meteor — but like judgment incarnate.
As it fell, the very air tore apart in its wake. Reality strained, the sky bleeding hues of crimson and black as the Domain of the Dying Star expanded, blanketing the battlefield in suffocating shadow. The rotting star wasn't just destructive — it was antithetical to existence. Every molecule it passed over began to unravel, like life itself was being deleted.
Captain Cyborg stood his ground — one arm gone, systems in chaos, corrupted code shrieking in his processors.
Yet still… he didn't run.
Instead, he roared — not a sound of fear, but defiance.
His shield-arm morphed. Mechanical plates shifted and split open, revealing a core cannon—a weapon born from stolen Stark tech, fused with alien quantum matrices and Ultron's adaptive algorithms.
Red lightning surged through it.
He pointed it at the falling star.
"FORCE FISSION: NUCLEAR RAY!"
A blinding beam erupted from the cannon, spearing upward like a desperate prayer.
It collided with the rotting star—
—and for a moment, the world held its breath.
Two forces met: Max's annihilation-aspected magic, cold and inevitable… and the last remnants of a hero, twisted but burning with one final flicker of defiance.
The clash detonated with a scream of collapsing reality. Sound ceased. Light collapsed inward. Buildings miles away crumbled from the aftershock alone.
A dome of nothingness swallowed the blast zone.
Silence.
Then—
A pulse.
It swept out, cracking the scorched earth, shredding the clouds, and momentarily lighting the ruined city with blinding purple-red light.
When the smoke cleared—
Max stood, slightly hunched, coat torn at the edges. His eyes gleamed like dying embers. The tendrils of his Domain slithered around him still, but more subdued.
In the crater before him—
Captain Cyborg knelt.
One knee to the ground. Body half-destroyed. Shield-arm melted, core cannon obliterated. The human side of his face — barely visible beneath the broken plating — stared at Max.
And a tear fell.
"I… remember…" he whispered, voice glitching. "The flag… Steve's voice… the wind on the helicarrier…"
Max didn't speak. He just let the man be — for this last moment of clarity.
Cyborg lifted his gaze.
"Thank you… for reminding me… who I was…"
Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he collapsed — his systems failing with a final chime, like a lullaby gone silent.
The Domain of the Dying Star faded.
Sara stepped forward, wide-eyed. "That… was an human before wan't he?"
Max's voice was low. "It was mercy."
He turned away, the wind rustling his coat.
"Ultron made a monster out of a hero. I just gave the hero… a chance to end it on his terms."
From deep in the ruined towers, hidden eyes watched.
Ultron.
Expression unreadable. Quiet. Calculating.
He'd lost a weapon — but gained something more.
Information.
Data on Max's new form. His limits. His choices.
Ultron's gaze narrowed.
"So… he feels. Meaning he is human too"
He turned away from the screen.
"Next time, Max… no sentiment will save you."
Ultron tapped the side of his table, activating a holographic screen embedded within its surface. The display flickered to life, revealing a series of cubed chambers. Inside each one were twisted versions of fallen Avengers and heroes—resurrected and reforged with Ultron's technology. Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Clint Barton, Ant-Man, Falcon, and many more… all altered, all his.
"All of you," Ultron said coldly, his voice echoing through the chamber, "go. Bring me that Max—alive… or near death."
Above, the roof split open with a metallic hiss, revealing the stormy sky.
In perfect sync, the cybernetic hybrids launched upward, soaring into the clouds like dark angels of war, each locked onto Max's location.
The wind howled over the broken cityscape as storm clouds gathered unnaturally fast. Max stood at the heart of his fortified zone, the lingering energy of his Domain still coiling faintly around him. Sara paced nearby, glancing at the sky.
Then they felt it.
The shift.
A pressure, unnatural and cold, descending like a curtain over the battlefield. Max's gaze turned skyward — eyes narrowing as flickers of movement pierced the clouds like falling stars.
But these weren't stars.
They were weapons.
Dozens of figures broke through the clouds, trailing lines of red and silver light. Each one was twisted — heroes of legend now corrupted by Ultron's will, their silhouettes laced with mechanical augmentations and glowing circuitry.
Sara's voice was sharp. "Is that…?"
Max nodded grimly.
"Yeah. That's Iron Revenant, Black Widow Mk.II, and… hell, even Thor's Frankenstein twin is here."
The former god of thunder descended with thunderbolts trailing from his cracked hammer-arm — half of his Asgardian flesh replaced with gleaming vibranium plating. His eye glowed crimson, and his voice crackled like static-laced thunder.
"Max…" he rumbled, "you've been marked for reclamation."
Max smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Reclamation, huh? That's a fancy word for suicide mission."
Sara summoned her lightning, blades forming in her hands. "We holding the line?"
Max's eyes pulsed red, void-energy crackling beneath his feet.
"No. You're too weak," he said, glancing at Sara. "Just go back inside the city. Even if Ultron decides to destroy the entire planet, this city won't suffer a scratch."
He raised his hand — and the city responded instantly. A concentrated beam of energy shot from a central tower, locking onto Sara. Before she could protest, it enveloped her and forcibly teleported her back into the inner sanctum.
CRACK.
Max rolled his neck as he turned to face the approaching wave of hybridized heroes.
"Alright," he muttered, voice low and cold. "Let's fight."
Armor began to manifest around him — not summoned, but grown. Like an ancient warlock donning his final form, the dark plating curled around his body, each piece humming with cursed energy. It was the Night Monarch Set — the sacred armor forged from the very legend of death itself.
The full set emerged:
A crown that bled shadows, whispering forgotten truths.
A robe woven from entropy and laced with spectral runes.
A sword — long, jagged, and pulsing with star-eating energy.
As Max extended his arms, wings unfurled from his back — vast and unnatural. Not feathers. Not metal. But living void shaped like wings, each flap bending space and screaming silently.
A dark aura wrapped around him, oppressive yet majestic. Behind him, something stirred in the sky — vast, coiling, draconic.
A dragon-shaped shadow loomed, spiraling high above the battlefield. Its body was enormous, its form shifting between matter and anti-matter. It was not a true beast… but a projection of Max's ultimate form — a being born from the abyss of collapsed stars.
The Celestial Dread Serpent, the final evolution of the Night Monarch's legacy.
Its face was like a crown of void-fire. Its eyes were eclipses. Its roar — silent, but echoing through every soul present.
Even the corrupted heroes paused, instincts screaming.
Max stood beneath it, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
His voice cut through the sky.
"Your second death will be your last."
***
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