Sunlight spilled through the glass walls of Xavier's mansion, washing the main hall in a warm golden hue. But the warmth did nothing to ease the tension that suddenly thickened the air. Mark stood at the doorway, posture relaxed, expression unreadable, yet a quiet storm brewed behind his eyes.
Across from him, floating slightly above the ground in regal poise, was Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto. His red cape swayed with every faint movement of air, metal particles drifting around him like tiny celestial bodies orbiting a planet. Floating behind him Mystique
And Sabretooth. His eyes were fixed on Mark—not with hostility, but with interest. With calculation.
Wolverine's claws clicked partially out in instinct. Cyclops subtly shifted to stand between Mark and the rest of the kids in the hallway, his visor glowing faintly. Storm, positioned near the stairs, looked at Magneto with a familiar mixture of disappointment and resigned tolerance.
But Mark…
Mark simply raised a brow, unimpressed, as if meeting Magneto was just another small, predictable event in his day.
Before anyone else could speak, Charles Xavier maneuvered his wheelchair closer and lifted a hand to settle the brewing tension.
"Erik." His voice was calm, steady. "Let's not do this here. Let's speak in my office."
Magneto lowered himself until his boots touched the floor. His red helmet reflected the sunlight as he turned his unreadable gaze toward Mark again.
"Very well, Charles."
Mark didn't say a word. He didn't greet Magneto. He didn't act intimidated. He simply began walking toward the professor's office, not because Magneto asked—but because he was curious to hear what the self-proclaimed king of mutants wanted from him.
Curious to see what he thought he could offer.
The room filled slowly, the sound of footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Charles took his place behind his desk. Magneto stood rather than sat, his presence looming, intense. Mystique and Sabretooth stood behind him.Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine, and Jean remained near the walls, sensing the fragile political line balancing in the air.
Mark sat down in the chair across from Charles, legs relaxed, back straight. He looked strangely elegant for someone wearing casual clothes—something about his posture, his golden aura, his flawless posture—it all radiated quiet superiority.
Like someone born to be above all.
Magneto folded his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mark Skywalker."
Mark responded with a slight tilt of his head, silently giving him permission to continue.
Erik took a step forward.
"I've heard a great deal about you."
Mark didn't answer. He didn't need to. Silence was often more powerful.
Magneto inhaled slowly.
"You have a gift—a power beyond any Omega-level mutant I have encountered. And powers like yours…" His voice darkened. "…can change the world."
Cyclops stiffened. Jean subconsciously stepped closer to Charles. Even Storm's eyes narrowed, lightning flickering faintly along the tips of her fingers.
Mark…
Mark simply blinked.
Erik continued, walking slowly as he spoke, his cape trailing dramatically behind him.
"Humans fear us. They hate us. They experiment on mutant children, as your recent mission showed you."
Mark felt his jaw tighten slightly—a rare flicker of emotion. The memory of those scientists cutting open a terrified child, the scent of blood, the look of hopelessness in the boy's eyes… it irritated him. Not because he cared about the kids—Mark didn't love humanity or mutant-kind.
He hated the arrogance.
The cruelty.
The stupidity.
Humans who dared to touch power they did not understand.
Mark's eyes darkened, but he remained silent.
Magneto saw it.
He saw the shift.
"You understand." His voice grew deeper, more confident. "Humans suppress evolution. They suppress us. Mutants are the next step—superior, evolved. Their fear drives them to violence. To death camps. To extermination programs."
The mood in the room thickened like smoke. No one dared interrupt.
Erik stepped closer to Mark.
"But we can change that. Together."
Charles finally spoke, voice calm but firm.
"Erik, please. Not this again."
Magneto didn't look away from Mark.
"They fear us, Mark. But they should. We are stronger. We are evolution. And you—" his voice softened, almost reverent, "—you could lead us into a world where mutants are no longer hunted like animals."
A heavy silence followed.
Mark's expression did not change.
Charles exhaled slowly, placing his hands together.
"Humans aren't perfect, Erik," Charles began, "but they are not all our enemies. Many of them will have mutant children. Many carry the potential of the X-gene. If we show them peace, coexistence, compassion—they will learn that we are no different."
Magneto scoffed, turning sharply.
"They imprison our children, Charles!"
"And others fight alongside us," Charles countered. "Humans are capable of greatness just as they are capable of cruelty."
Erik clenched his fist.
"Hope is not a strategy."
Charles met his gaze evenly.
"Neither is war."
Their ideological clash was not new, but somehow… in Mark's presence, it felt sharper, more dangerous. Like one wrong word could tilt reality itself.
Mark leaned back in his chair, letting the silence simmer. He respected Magneto's determination. He also respected Charles' unwavering idealism.
But Mark didn't fully agree with either.
He had his own path—one they couldn't understand.
The moment Mark inhaled to speak, the room fell into complete silence.
Even Wolverine stopped breathing.
Even Magneto straightened.
Even Charles felt a mental shiver—Mark rarely voiced his thoughts openly, and when he did, they were always decisive.
Mark looked directly at Erik.
"Erik," he began, his voice smooth, calm, carrying a dangerous serenity. "What you said… isn't wrong."
Cyclops immediately tensed. Jean's heartbeat quickened. Storm and Mystique
watched him more seriously now.
Mark continued:
"Humans are weak. And weak people fear what they don't understand. They kill it. They cage it. They experiment on it."
He remembered the children in that cold metal lab.
He remembered the fear in their eyes.
His fingers twitched—not in sadness, but in irritation.
In anger.
"You have a strong ideology. A strong dream."
Erik lifted his chin slightly, encouraged.
But Mark wasn't finished.
"But your dream is not mine."
Erik's face hardened.
Charles looked relieved.
Mark leaned forward slightly, his posture still relaxed.
"Everyone has their own path, their own desires. Some dreams align, some don't. And I don't live for mutant-kind or humanity."
He paused.
"I live for myself."
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
Storm exhaled quietly. Wolverine muttered something under his breath. Cyclops looked offended. Jean looked startled.
Magneto stared—long, searching, trying to understand the strange creature in front of him.
Mark continued:
"I came here to the mansion for one reason: temporary protection. Once I'm strong enough, I will leave. No one will stop me."
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't threaten.
He simply stated a fact.
But the weight of it made everyone in the room go still.
Magneto's jaw tightened.
"We are your people," Erik said slowly. "You can't simply turn your back on us."
Mark smiled lightly.
"Who said I would ignore you?"
Magneto blinked.
Mark lifted his hand slightly, pointing toward Charles.
"I don't take without giving. Anyone who treats me well will receive what they deserve."
And then…
Reality shifted.
A golden ripple flowed through the air like a warm breeze. The wooden floors hummed softly. The desk vibrated. Charles gasped as a sudden surge of warmth exploded through his legs.
Storm stepped forward. Cyclops reached for his visor. Wolverine moved instinctively.
Charles stood.
Slowly.
Unsteadily.
But fully upright.
He looked at his legs as if seeing them for the first time.
"…Mark… what did you—"
Mark simply said: "You won't need that wheelchair anymore."
Charles' lips parted, trembling in disbelief. Storm covered her mouth, eyes wide. Jean nearly collapsed from the burst of psychic emotion flooding the room. Even Wolverine dropped his claws completely.
Magneto, for the first time in years, looked stunned.
Genuinely stunned.
He knew Mark's powers were beyond Omega.
But this…
This was something different.
Something divine.
Something terrifying.
Mark stood up smoothly and walked toward the door.
He paused at the frame and glanced back at them.
"I will help those who help me."
His voice faded into a dangerous calm.
"But don't mistake my kindness for loyalty."
He left the room, the golden aura fading with him as the door closed.
And the world inside Xavier's office remained frozen, breathless, shattered.
As they finally exhaled, one thought echoed through every mind in the room—human and mutant alike:
Mark Skywalker was not like them.
He was not a mutant.
He was not a hero.
He was not a villain.
He was something else entirely.
Something rising.
Something inevitable.