Apocalypse strode into the grand throne room of the City of Kings, his every step sending ripples through the atmosphere as he approached Rama-Tut. The room itself was a mix of ancient Egyptian opulence and advanced futuristic technology, a bizarre blending of past and future. The walls were lined with golden hieroglyphs, while hovering holograms flickered above like shimmering specters of a time yet to come. Rama-Tut, the time-traveling pharaoh, stood waiting at the far end, seated on a throne that gleamed with a combination of ancient craftsmanship and advanced circuitry. His scepter, a symbol of his dominion, pulsed with power.
For a moment, the two beings, separated by eons of time and clashing destinies, stood face-to-face. Rama-Tut, a descendant of the future known also as Nathaniel Richards, had come to the past to impose his will, to shape the world for his own ends. But now, as he gazed upon the towering figure of Apocalypse, his confidence wavered.
"You think you understand power, Rama-Tut," Apocalypse said, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. "But you have only borrowed what others have given you. I am power. I have lived through the rise and fall of the Sandstormers, and with the new knowledge within me, I understand the very fabric of the universe."
Rama-Tut's eyes narrowed beneath his regal headdress. "You speak of power as though it belongs to you alone, En Sabah Nur. But power bends to the will of those who know how to wield it. I am a master of time, and I have seen every possible future. In all of them, you are but a fleeting shadow."
With that, Rama-Tut raised his scepter, and a burst of energy erupted from it, hurtling toward Apocalypse. The blast, designed with the advanced technology of the 31st century, was enough to level small villages, yet Apocalypse stood his ground. His telekinetic shield flared to life, absorbing the impact as if it were nothing more than a gust of wind.
Rama-Tut's gaze flickered with uncertainty, but he did not hesitate. He unleashed a flurry of attacks, beams of concentrated energy, temporal distortions, and gravitational manipulations, all designed to overwhelm Apocalypse's defenses. Yet, Apocalypse's mastery over his mutant abilities, combined with the knowledge gained from the Ka Stone, made him a formidable opponent. He bent the atomic structure of his body, shifting and reforming, allowing the blasts to pass through him or deflect harmlessly.
With a thought, Apocalypse reached out with his telekinetic powers, seizing control of the room itself. The walls groaned as they twisted under his will, and pieces of the ancient stone columns rose into the air, suspended by his sheer force. He sent them crashing toward Rama-Tut, who deftly dodged, his own mastery of time manipulation allowing him to slow the objects just enough to escape.
"You rely too much on your toys, Rama-Tut," Apocalypse said, his voice a deep rumble. "You are nothing without them."
Rama-Tut scowled, his hands gripping the scepter tightly. "And you are nothing but a relic of a bygone age, trapped in the illusion of strength. But I control time itself."
In a desperate move, Rama-Tut activated the temporal device within his scepter, creating a bubble of distorted time around Apocalypse. Within the bubble, time moved at a different speed, designed to trap Apocalypse in a temporal prison. Everything within the field slowed to a crawl, each second stretched into eternity.
But Apocalypse was no ordinary opponent. His connection to the Ka Stone, gave him an unparalleled understanding of the universe's underlying principles. He could see the distortions in space-time, feel the currents of time flowing around him. With a surge of will, he shattered the temporal bubble, tearing through the fabric of time itself.
Rama-Tut staggered back in disbelief. No one had ever broken free of his temporal trap. "Impossible…" he muttered.
Apocalypse advanced, unrelenting. "You have lived in borrowed time, Nathaniel Richards. But your time is over."
With a gesture, Apocalypse unleashed a wave of psionic energy, smashing through Rama-Tut's defenses. The pharaoh stumbled, his grip on his scepter faltering as the mental assault overwhelmed him. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the sheer force of Apocalypse's power.
Apocalypse loomed over him, his eyes glowing with a fierce, ancient light. "You came to this time to rule, but you are nothing more than a pretender. Your knowledge of the future is vast, but now it belongs to me."
Without warning, Apocalypse reached out and placed his hand on Rama-Tut's forehead. The Ka Stone, embedded in his own flesh, pulsed with power as Apocalypse tapped into its full potential. He used its immense psionic capabilities to reach deep into Rama-Tut's mind, seizing every fragment of knowledge, every secret of the 31st century. The memories of time travel, advanced technology, and the workings of the time-ship that Rama-Tut had used to reach this era were ripped from his mind and transferred to Apocalypse.
Rama-Tut screamed in agony as Apocalypse plundered his mind, leaving nothing untouched. His vast knowledge of the future, once his greatest weapon, was now in the hands of the one being he feared most.
Apocalypse stepped back, his eyes gleaming with triumph as the flood of information coursed through him. He now understood the mechanics of time travel, the intricacies of Rama-Tut's advanced weapons, and the possibilities that lay within the distant future.
Rama-Tut collapsed at his feet, his body trembling, his mind broken. He had nothing left.
"I know everything now, Nathaniel Richards," Apocalypse said, his voice cold. "You have served your purpose."
With a flick of his wrist, Apocalypse unleashed a final surge of energy, ending Rama-Tut's life in an instant. The once-mighty Pharaoh of the future was reduced to nothing more than dust, a footnote in Apocalypse's rise to ultimate power.
Apocalypse turned, the knowledge of the future now his to command. The universe stretched out before him, and with the Ka Stone in his possession and the secrets of time travel at his fingertips, there was no limit to what he could achieve.
Rama-Tut had underestimated him.