The Final Assault #63

Auhtor's note: so, I published yesterday's chapter on my one piece fic, so here's two chapters today...

...

With unwavering determination, everyone present focused their collective strength on the task at hand: dismantling the Master Mold's energy source. Simultaneously, the insectoid machines continued their relentless assault on the processing units, inundating them with a relentless barrage of EMP blasts.

The cacophony of destruction was deafening, explosions reverberating through the city as the combined might of these extraordinary individuals bore down upon the colossal machine. The ground shook beneath them, a testament to the sheer force unleashed against their formidable adversary.

Amidst the chaos, the Master Mold went eerily still. The dust and smoke, churned up by the intense battle, enshrouded the massive machine, obscuring it from view. But no one among the heroes and soldiers stopped their relentless assault. They poured every ounce of their energy into the assault, attacking with a ferocity born of desperation and determination, each shot fired, blow struck, bringing them one step closer to victory.

A collective hush fell over the battlefield as the last projectiles were fired and the final blows were delivered.

All eyes were fixed on the thick dust and smoke that encircled the Master Mold. The heroes and soldiers, their breaths held in anticipation, hoped and prayed that when the veil of debris finally settled, it would reveal the defeated form of the gigantic machine.

A tense minute came to pass as the thick smoke and swirling dust gradually dissipated to reveal the Master Mold's battered figure. It was in quite the sorry state. The hand it had employed to shield its chest and the concealed energy source beneath had been obliterated alongside the steel plate guarding its inner components. 

Its energy source, now exposed for all to see—a gigantic blue crystal—bore the scars of battle, covered in scratches and hairline cracks. Yet, to everyone's horror, it seemed far from its breaking point.

The flickering light in the Master Mold's eyes betrayed the unease brewing its mechanical core. In a swift and decisive motion, it moved its remaining arm to shield the vulnerable energy source, concealing it from prying eyes. Its cold, mechanical voice sliced through the tense atmosphere, addressing the assembled heroes.

"I must admit, I did not foresee your ability to push me to such limits, humans..." The Master Mold began its declaration, its words laced with an unsettling mix of arrogance and calculation. "However, that was your one and only--" It continued,  but its monologue was abruptly cut short.

A sudden puff of smoke materialized near the Master Mold's chest. From within the haze emerged a figure clad in a dark suit, hurtling directly toward the arm the Master Mold used to cover its energy source. It was Evan, and he seemed to be undergoing that was as terrifying as it was miraculous. 

Countless wounds materialized across Evan's body-- burn marks, lacerations, broken bones, ruptured internal organs, each appearing as a stark gash but swiftly dissipating into a tangible golden light. 

These ethereal fragments coalesced around Evan's form, converging toward his right fist, which already glowed with the fiery orange hue of Extremis. The fusion of energies was a mesmerizing sight, a testament to the sheer power coursing through Evan's veins.

Evan's minuscule size compared to the gargantuan Master Mold didn't bode well as he hurtled toward the machine's arm. The dull thud that followed as his glowing, golden fist met its mark caused everyone's hearts to drop in a collective moment of tension.

There was a brief, eerie silence, and then chaos erupted. Thunderous explosions, threatening to rupture eardrums, echoed through the battlefield. The shockwave that followed seemed to shake the very atmosphere, unleashing ripples of energy across the landscape.

The injuries Evan had sustained throughout the battle, and all the wounds he had onto himself to spare others ever since he received his gift from Lily, suddenly transformed into a potent surge of energy. This energy, unleashed upon impact with the Master Mold, became an unstoppable force.

In the blink of an eye, the Master Mold's arm disintegrated, turning into ash. The machine trembled and convulsed as its inner components began to crumble, its exposed energy source torn apart. It was a cataclysmic end, a spectacle of raw power that left no doubt about the outcome of the battle in anyone's mind. 

With its energy core and processing units obliterated, the Master Mold's gigantic body could no longer bear its own weight. Slowly but inevitably, it began to collapse, transforming into a colossal heap of metallic debris. 

The Sentinels that had been flying around it dropped from the sky one by one, their mechanical forms crashing to the ground. Even the Sentinels positioned on the ground succumbed to the destruction, their once-imposing figures now reduced to rubble.

Amidst the chaos and the wreckage, soldiers and police officers stood in stunned silence, their faces a mixture of awe and disbelief as they tried to comprehend the scale of the victory. 

It didn't take long for the first cheer to break through the silence, a triumphant cry that echoed through the air. Soon, countless more voices joined in, forming a deafening roar of celebration.

Some of the soldiers, caught up in the rush of relief and excitement, momentarily forgot their military discipline. They fired off whatever remaining bullets they had in their weapons into the sky, adding to the cacophony of celebration. 

However, their exuberance was swiftly tempered by stern glances from their commanding officers, a reminder that even in victory, discipline must prevail.

Amidst the euphoria of victory, even the majority of the heroes weren't immune to the exhilaration that swept through the crowd. They embraced one another and exchanged high-fives, their jubilation contagious and unifying. 

In this moment, there were no distinctions between soldiers, police officers, heroes, or mutants; they were all equally relieved and elated by the hard-fought triumph. Together, they had worked in unison to bring down the looming menace that was the Master Mold.

However, amidst the celebrations, Storm remained focused on a pressing concern: the fate of Evan. She recognized that summoning such immense power couldn't have been without consequences, and her worry for him was palpable. Turning to Nightcrawler, she voiced her concern, her voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"We need to find Evan. He was in the middle of the explosion!" Storm addressed Nightcrawler, her eyes reflecting her apprehension.

Without delay, Nightcrawler responded, his expression mirroring Storm's concern. "Yes, I'll tell everyone to start looking for him!" With those words, he promptly disappeared into a cloud of smoke, ready to relay Storm's instructions to the other mutants.

The mutants swiftly organized their search efforts, and as word spread among the other heroes about their mission, many joined in the search for Evan, adding their numbers to the growing rescue party.

After several minutes of relentless searching, their efforts had yet to yield any trace of Evan. The frustration and concern began to mount among the search party. 

However, their hopes flickered to life as they stumbled upon a peculiar sight: a towering mountain of debris, comprised of the remnants of the fallen Master Mold. It was this pile of wreckage that suddenly trembled and emitted a series of dull thuds, reverberating ominously from within.

The group of soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their instincts urging them to raise their weapons in anticipation of a possible survivor among the machines. 

But before they could unleash a hail of gunfire, an Iron Man suit descended upon them with graceful precision. Tony Stark's voice resonated from within the suit, authoritative and commanding.

"Hold your fire! There's someone beneath the rubble!" Stark's voice was a beacon of reason, and the soldiers hesitated, lowering their weapons in response to his command.

As soon as Stark finished his sentence, the colossal pile of debris scattered in all directions, unveiling the figure of Evan trapped beneath it. His appearance was a sight to behold, a testament to the intensity of the battle. His suit was in tatters, barely preserving his modesty. 

Injuries appeared and disappeared across his body, forming an uncanny choreography of wounds that contorted and shifted, painting a picture of surreal and disconcerting proportions-- made only worse by the golden light flickering in and out of existence, sometimes tinged with a black edge.