Chapter 15: The Path of a Ruler

In the aftermath of his victory over Rama-Tut, Apocalypse's rule over Egypt solidified further with each passing day. The City of Kings was now entirely under his control, its people gripped by the awe and fear that his godlike presence instilled. But ruling a kingdom required more than fear—it required calculated ruthlessness, a demonstration of his power that would leave no doubt in the minds of those who might one day think to challenge him.

One of the first tasks he set his mind to was the issue of Nephri, a woman of royal blood from the dynasty that had ruled Egypt before Rama-Tut. She was once considered a love interest in the original timeline, a connection that had humanized Apocalypse before. But now, with his own expanded understanding, he saw such emotional attachments as potential weaknesses. Nephri was also the sister of Ozymandias, his potential servant. However, Ozymandias' familial bond with her meant nothing to him.

Apocalypse moved through the halls of the palace toward Nephri's chambers, his presence a tidal wave of cold, unfeeling authority. He had granted her time to adjust, to align herself with the new order of things, but her reluctance had become increasingly evident. Nephri held no love for Rama-Tut, yet she was bound by her lineage and the traditions of the old Egypt. These ties made her a potential threat, a symbol of the past that Apocalypse sought to obliterate.

When he entered her chambers, she stood before a stone-framed window, looking out over the city that once belonged to her ancestors. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with the fire of resistance. 

"En Sabah Nur," she said, her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly. "You have taken Egypt by force, claimed the throne of kings. But do you really think you can rule as a god? The people fear you, but they will never follow a monster."

Apocalypse's expression remained cold, emotionless. "Fear is more reliable than love, Nephri. It is the foundation upon which true empires are built. You are of royal blood, but that means nothing in the new world I am creating."

She took a step forward, defiance flashing in her eyes. "You are no god. You are a tyrant, and your rule will not last."

Apocalypse stared at her for a long moment, and for the briefest of instants, he considered sparing her—offering her the chance to live within his new order as a symbol of the past defeated by the future. But that fleeting moment passed. He saw her as a reminder of weakness, of the humanity he had long since cast aside.

"I will not allow any ties to the past to compromise my future," he said coldly, raising his hand. The air around them thickened with psionic energy, and before Nephri could utter another word, Apocalypse unleashed a telekinetic force that gripped her body. Her scream echoed through the chamber as her form twisted under the immense pressure.

Within seconds, her life was snuffed out, her body crumpling to the floor. Apocalypse looked down at her lifeless form without a hint of remorse. Nephri had been a distraction, a remnant of a time when emotion clouded his judgment. Now, with her death, he had severed another tether to his past.

He turned and left the chamber, leaving her body behind. There would be no burial, no mourning. The past had been cleansed.

But his work was not yet done. Apocalypse's thoughts turned to Ozymandias, Nephri's brother, and once the commander of Rama-Tut's forces. Apocalypse had spared him during their confrontation, but not without a purpose. He would now be more than a mere general—he would serve as Apocalypse's vizier, the instrument through which the daily affairs of his empire would be carried out.

Apocalypse found Ozymandias in the lower chambers of the palace, where the former general had been left to ponder his fate. Ozymandias stood rigidly, his eyes hard as Apocalypse approached. His loyalty had been fractured with the death of his Pharaoh, and his sister's connection to him left him vulnerable.

"You spared me once," Ozymandias said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But I do not trust your mercy."

Apocalypse's lips curled slightly in what could almost be considered a smile. "I did not spare you out of mercy. I have need of you. You will serve as my vizier, Ozymandias, a position of power and responsibility."

Ozymandias glared at him. "And if I refuse?"

"You will not refuse," Apocalypse said simply.

With a flick of his hand, Apocalypse summoned his mutant energy and the power of the Ka Stone, focusing the energies on Ozymandias. The air around the former general shimmered as his body was lifted from the ground, his muscles tensing and convulsing as the energy coursed through him. The transformation began quickly—his skin hardened, turning to living rock, his features reshaped into a figure more befitting an eternal servant.

Ozymandias' screams filled the chamber as his body became something new, something far more than human. His limbs thickened, his flesh becoming stone that glistened under the dim light of the chamber. The transformation left him stronger, more durable, but also stripped of any ability to reproduce or leave a legacy.

When the transformation was complete, Ozymandias fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his once-human body now composed entirely of living rock. He looked up at Apocalypse, his eyes filled with both awe and terror.

"You are now immortal, Ozymandias," Apocalypse said, his voice steady. "You will serve as my vizier for millennia. Your lifespan is extended, your power increased—but your ability to challenge me, to leave any heirs, is removed. You exist only to serve."

Ozymandias slowly rose to his feet, his new form trembling with the weight of his transformation. He looked down at his stone body, his eyes wide with realization. He had been given immense power but at the cost of his freedom.

"You will oversee the daily affairs of my empire," Apocalypse continued. "Your loyalty is no longer in question, for you now have no choice but to obey."

Ozymandias bowed his head in submission. "I understand… my lord."

Apocalypse nodded, satisfied. With Ozymandias now his immortal vizier, there would be no threat to his rule, no rival to the throne. The future was secure, and with the Ka Stone's power, he would continue to shape the world in his image.

And as he walked away, leaving his newly transformed vizier behind, Apocalypse's mind turned to the next phase of his conquest. There were still many challenges ahead, but he would face them all with the confidence of a god. The future was his to command, and nothing—neither man, mutant, nor time itself—would stand in his way.