SmilinKujo
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Chapter 63 – Storm and Stone
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:59:44 +0000 UTCThe ground buckled beneath their feet, alive and hungry. Vines like serpents and jagged roots like skeletal hands pulled at the X-Men with unrelenting force. Krakoa had awakened.
John Proudstar roared above the chaos, anchoring his body against the shifting terrain. "Kurt! Get Scott to the Blackbird—now!"
Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, gritted his teeth, his glowing eyes narrowed as he latched onto Cyclops' shoulder. "But—"
"Just do it!" John barked, pointing toward the thrashing, mountainous form rising from the earth. "Bring the Blackbird! We're gonna need firepower to deal with that thing!"
Scott tried to protest. "Wait, wait, what are you—"BAMF! The world exploded into blue smoke and sulfur.
They reappeared inside the Blackbird with a heavy thud. Scott stumbled, disoriented by the sudden shift. His hand reached out, steadying himself against the wall of the jet. He blinked at the familiar surroundings, then turned toward Kurt, who crouched beside him, visibly shaken. "You okay?" Scott asked, concern in his voice.
Kurt gave a shaky nod. "You saw it yourself. I can't control my power fully—especially when teleporting with another person."
Scott led him toward a seat. "Then sit. No more jumps. You're already as pale as milk."
"I need to teleport more," Kurt insisted weakly.
"You need to stay alive," Scott shot back, then moved quickly toward the rear of the cockpit. He checked on Jean, who remained unconscious but stable, before settling into the pilot's seat. His fingers danced over the controls, flipping switches and activating the Blackbird's systems. A soft chime indicated connection to the Xavier Mansion.
"This is Summers. We've got a situation—The island is becoming more hostile. Team's still on the ground. Requesting clearance for heavy weapons."
The voice on the other end was garbled at first, then came through clearly. Hank: "Scott? Understood. Hold tight."
Meanwhile, back on the island, chaos reigned. Petra's face was tight with focus, her arms trembling as she tried to mold the terrain beneath them. Pillars of earth rose up like shields, blocking tendrils of Krakoa that surged forward with mindless aggression. "Just—hold—on!" she growled, blood trickling from her nose. "I can keep the ground stable... but not for long!"
Above them, Storm hovered, her white hair whipping around her face like a silken tempest. Lightning crackled at her fingertips. For the first time since landing, she felt the skies open to her call.
The storm above had parted. The mysterious clouds that had hidden the island, dampening her powers, were gone. She gasped softly as wind curled around her body, answering her like an old friend. And then—she saw him.
Perched atop a roiling cloud, as if the heavens themselves bore him like a throne, was a figure. His silhouette shimmered in the sunlight breaking through. The cloud beneath him moved with purpose, circling slowly in the air like a dragon coiled in reverence.
Storm's eyes widened. "That—that's…"
The cloud descended with a lazy, almost musical drift, curling around rays of sun like a divine chariot. Riding it was Jack Hou, dressed in a—somehow—pristine purple and gold hanfu that shimmered with each movement like the clouds themselves had been spun into silk. His hair caught the wind, wild and carefree, eyes gleaming like he was here for a joyride more than a showdown.
"Go there first," Jack said, patting the cloud like it was a loyal steed. The car-sized puff veered smoothly toward the embattled X-Men, making a graceful arc midair. Jack stood atop it, arms wide as he waved with both hands like an overexcited tourist. "Aloha, X-Mens! X-Kiddos! And of course—my favorite X-MILF is in the house—Ororo Munroe!"
Storm blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. "Jack? That really was you who split the mountain in half."
John Proudstar squinted up at him, unimpressed. "I don't know who you are, but that stunt? Splitting a damn mountain? That's what made this island wake up even worse. Now it's walking around like a damn kaiju!"
Jack pouted. "Hey, don't call him that. His name is Krakoa—and he's my friend."
As if summoned by the mention, a titanic hand surged up behind him.
Krakoa's gnarled, moss-covered fingers balled into a fist the size of a house and swung toward Jack's right side with terrifying speed.
The X-Men barely had time to shout. "LOOK OUT!"
BOOOOM!
The impact shook the forest, sending a wall of wind and debris blasting across the battlefield. Dust choked the air, obscuring vision. The ground cracked under the weight of the blow. "Damn it, he's—" John started. But as the dust cleared… the impossible revealed itself.
Jack stood there, completely unharmed, one hand raised and effortlessly holding back Krakoa's punch. His expression hadn't changed—not even a twitch. He grinned, looking at the stunned team below. "Sometimes friends need to talk through their fists."
With casual strength, Jack squeezed. The giant hand groaned, twisted—then crunched, crumbling like dried bark under his grip. He brushed his hands off as though he'd just cleaned his room. "Sorry, X-Team. I'd love to catch up, maybe do brunch or something, but I gotta calm my buddy down first."
Then, with a smirk, he zoomed off on the cloud like a mythological skateboarder, heading straight for Krakoa's writhing, mountainous form. Behind him, there was a long, stunned silence. "…What the fuck," Logan muttered. "What the fuck," Sunfire echoed, deadpan.
Jack zipped through the air on his drifting cloud, weaving between bursts of living earth and flailing vines that lashed blindly at the sky. Krakoa's enormous form roared below, torn between its natural instinct and something more primal—a pain Jack could almost feel. "Drop me here," Jack said, his voice calm but firm.
The cloud bobbed in acknowledgment and dipped low. In a blink, Jack leapt off, landing smoothly right in front of the awakening giant. Then, he turned and shouted up at the cloud, "Hey, can you help conceal this fight? You know—friendly sparring shouldn't be livestreamed for the whole world. It's private stuff."
As if understanding, the cloud pulsed. A mist poured from its edges, soft and silver, curling like silk threads around the battleground. It spiraled into the air, thickening and folding in on itself until it formed a massive, opaque dome—encasing Jack and Krakoa within a world all their own.
Outside, visibility was zero. Inside, silence hung heavy. Krakoa's body twisted, mounds of stone and root reforming itself, eyes of green glowing with fury. It reared its bulk, massive enough to make the ground quake as it tried to stabilize.
Jack stood calmly, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You need to let him go, my friend," he said gently.
A guttural roar came in response, and with it, Krakoa hurled jagged boulders the size of trucks. "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND!"
Jack's body blurred. The rocks sliced through air where he'd just been, missing by a breath. He danced through the barrage with unnatural grace, as if gravity itself bent to accommodate him. Jack exhaled. "I guess there's only one way then."
From the wide sleeve of his hanfu, he reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out—of all things—a single golden peach, round and glowing faintly like moonlight captured in fruit. With a sudden shift, Jack vanished from sight.
FWUMP!
A loud smack echoed through the misted dome as Jack reappeared in front of Krakoa's snarling face—now mid-transformation into a more monstrous form. With absurd precision, Jack slapped the peach directly into Krakoa's open maw. "Eat." And with that, Krakoa's body froze.
The massive island-creature paused mid-roar, shuddered, and then began to slump, vines going slack and limbs returning to the ground. Jack stood on the bridge of Krakoa's nose, calm as a monk.
He raised his hand and whispered an ancient word. The freezing spell kicked in fully—energy circling Krakoa like a chain of wind and gold. The living island's form stiffened, caught in place.
Jack let himself float gently upward, landing on the top of Krakoa's head like a feather on stone. He sat cross-legged, adjusting his robes, letting the mist settle around him. He closed his eyes. Silence returned.
Outside the dome, the X-Men could only see the swirling fog. But if they could peek inside… they'd see a mind-bending image. Jack—the criminal turned myth—sitting in peaceful meditation atop the head of a frozen, godlike island monster.
Within Jack's soul, a vast mountain loomed beneath a calm blue sky. Mount Huaguo, ancient and steeped in legend, stood proud at the heart of a spiritual world shaped by myth and personal struggle. Its peak shimmered with soft golden light, where a grand temple crowned the summit. Behind it stretched an ancient tree, wide as a palace, its roots threading deep into the stone and soul of the mountain.
Below, nestled around the slopes like guardians in quiet vigil, stood five smaller temples—each one resonating with a distinct energy. They whispered of trials overcome, wisdom gained, and powers unlocked through hardship.
But today, there was a stranger on the mountain. Krakoa stood there—not in his monstrous form, but in the form of the pilot, the human vessel who had first connected to the island's sentience decades ago. A projection of his spirit. Wide eyes scanned the alien landscape. "What is this place?" Krakoa murmured, unnerved. "How did you bring me here?"
Beside him, Jack stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his face relaxed, the wind brushing through his robes and wild black hair. "No need to be tense," Jack said with a half-smile. "I won't kick you out, even though you kicked me out of your soul. I'm not the vengeful type… for now." He gave a playful wink and gestured ahead. "Come. Walk with me."
Krakoa hesitated but followed. As they began climbing a winding path up the mountain, past wind chimes that rang with memories and birds made of ink and clouds, Krakoa spoke—quiet, almost ashamed. "Why are you so persistent?" he asked, eyes downcast. "Just leave me alone."
Jack snorted. "And let you spiral into that tiny moss-brain of yours? Kekekeke—not happening."
Krakoa frowned. "I'm not stupid. The pilot said I'm smart."
Jack's laugh echoed like a breeze through bamboo. "He wasn't wrong. You're smart. Smart enough to understand what happened to you. Smart enough to protect yourself. But not wise enough to accept it."
Krakoa clenched his fist. "What do you mean?"
They paused beneath a stone arch carved with shifting characters—words written in a language older than memory. Jack turned to face him. "You know it's not your fault, right?" Jack said, tone now low, serious. "That they attacked you. That you absorbed them."
Krakoa's eyes flickered. "But they died… all of them…"
"They died because you were scared," Jack continued. "And grief has a way of turning fear into rage. You lashed out—not to destroy, but to protect yourself. That's not evil. That's survival."
Krakoa said nothing. They walked on. The wind was quiet here. The clouds below the mountain parted just enough as if showing glimpses of past memories "I didn't mean to kill him," Krakoa whispered. "The pilot… he was kind. But I… I couldn't stop it."
Jack stopped walking. He looked up toward the temple, then sat on a smooth stone under one of the peach blossom trees. He gestured for Krakoa to sit. "Let me tell you something my master once told me," Jack said, plucking a fallen petal from the ground. "A wave crashes, then it retreats. The sea does not weep for the shore it batters. But it remembers."
Krakoa stared at him, confused. "You're holding on to the moment of the crash," Jack said softly. "But what about before? What about the stillness—the days when the pilot ate with you, when he spoke with you?"
Krakoa looked away. "It hurts."
"Of course it does," Jack said. "But pain isn't a punishment. It's proof you cared. You grieve because you can love. And if you can love, you're not lost."
Krakoa's fists trembled.
Jack leaned forward. "Letting go of pain doesn't mean forgetting. It means forgiving—yourself, most of all."
"But how?" Krakoa's voice broke.
Jack stood, brushing his hands off. "By remembering who you are without the weight of what you did. You're not THE death. You're the forest. The songbirds. The island."
He turned toward the temple. "Walk with me," he said again. "And maybe… start over." Krakoa didn't reply. But he stood, slowly, and followed. Above them, the bell at the grand temple rang softly—once, then twice. And the mountain, alive with spirit, breathed.
At last, they arrived at the peak of Mount Huaguo. The temple stood like a crown upon the world, carved from ivory stone and trimmed in aged gold leaf. The great doors of the Main Temple stood tall—quiet and unmoving.
Krakoa, still in the form of the pilot, stepped forward and reached out a hand toward the gate. But before his fingers could touch the wood—"Ope! No no no," Jack cut in, wagging a finger. "That's the core of my soul, buddy. Can't just go waltzing in like it's a Walmart."
Krakoa paused and turned toward him, eyebrow raised. "Then why did we walk all the way up here?"
Jack grinned and turned away from the door. He raised his arm and pointed outward. "So you can see that."
Krakoa followed the line of his finger—and his breath caught.
From this height, the full glory of the soulscape unfolded below. The sun hung low, casting amber light that gilded the mountaintop and flooded the forested valleys below. Long shadows stretched from ancient trees like arms in prayer. The five temples gleamed beneath the golden sky. Birds of spirit and song danced in the air like glowing calligraphy, each movement a living stroke of art. It was quiet. Majestic. Alive.
Jack stood beside him, gaze soft for once. "Beautiful, isn't it? You wouldn't believe it, but my soul used to be pitch black. Just... void. No light, no shape. Not even a floor to stand on." He spread his arms as if to embrace the scene. "But just like our climb to this peak—I built it. Step by step. Scar by scar. Peach by peach." He chuckled. "And if a dumbass like me can do it?" He turned to Krakoa with a smirk. "Then a smarty-pants like you has no excuse."
Krakoa stared out over the landscape, letting the warmth of Jack's words settle into his spirit like sunlight on damp stone. Slowly, a breath escaped his lips. "I'm... sorry," Krakoa said. "For kicking you out of my soul. And for... everything else. Friend."
Jack grinned ear to ear. "Awwww, you called me friend." He sniffled dramatically, wiping away an invisible tear. "I knew we'd get here someday, you giant moldy sentient dirtbag." Then his smile turned mischievous. "Well, speaking of kicking people out of their soul—"
Before Krakoa could react, Jack suddenly turned and kicked him square in the ass. "WAH—?!"
With a flicker of golden light, Krakoa poofed—sent hurtling out of Jack's spiritual world like a stone skipping across a cosmic pond.
Jack stood alone again at the peak, brushing off his robes triumphantly. "Kekekeke," he laughed to himself. "I'm good with words, huh? Guess all those boring sutras my master used to chant while I slept actually stuck."
He gave a lazy stretch, cracking his neck. "What can I say? I'm a genius. Even unconscious, I absorb knowledge like a sponge on enlightenment steroids." He took one last look at the golden sky. Then turned. Time to wake up.
Comments
Drake
oh no. i've fully caught up, i need more D:
Vrael333
Ah Jack. Chaos given form. I love the way you bring him to live. Thx for the chapter :)
