Apocalypse's ambition

Egypt, Cairo, atop the pyramid.

The blazing sun shone like molten gold, scorching Apocalypse's rocky, blue-gray skin without bringing him a trace of warmth. He stood at the summit, looking down on the city, as tiny as an anthill beneath his feet.

Behind him, the four Horsemen stood like silent statues. Ororo's white hair whipped beneath the dark clouds looming over the city. Lethal purple psionic energy curled around Psylocke's fingertips. Angel's metal wings reflected a cold killing intent, while Magneto, Erik Lehnsherr, hovered in midair, his eyes as empty as an abyss.

"Erik, what do you think of his power?" Apocalypse's voice was ancient and deep. He did not turn around.

A flash of fierce resistance crossed Magneto's eyes, only to be swallowed by an even deeper emptiness. "That man... severed the brand you bestowed on me. His mental power nearly rivals yours."

"Not just his mental power." Apocalypse finally turned, his pupil-less white eyes sweeping over the four with the indifference of one appraising all creation. "His methods of manipulating laws are far more complex than I imagined. Space, time, mind, death..."

Psylocke stepped forward, her alluring figure brimming with murderous intent. "My lord, shall we erase him?"

"No need." Apocalypse slowly shook his head, a hint of amusement actually curling his lips. "He is waiting for me. He wonders where the limits of my power lie, and I, too, wish to determine whether he is a future ally or... an interesting stumbling block."

He raised his right hand. Intricate golden runes appeared in his palm, as though he held all the mysteries of ancient Egypt. "Five days remain of the seven-day deadline. I will make this feeble world see clearly—mutants are the pinnacle of evolution, and the old humanity deserves to be consigned to history."

His fingers