The wind continued to carry the soft rustle of leaves as Scott squared off against Logan, the tension palpable in the air. His breathing had grown labored, every breath more of an effort. The aches and pains from the earlier battles had settled into his limbs like a weight, dragging him down. His muscles were tight, each movement feeling just a little slower, a little less precise. Bruises marred his body, and exhaustion was creeping in, making it harder to stay focused, harder to think clearly. He was losing ground, and he knew it.
Logan, relentless and unyielding, was pressing the advantage. Every optic blast Scott unleashed was met with Logan's quick recovery. The man was a machine, always closing the distance no matter how many times Scott blasted him. He'd hoped that letting Cyclops take control would turn the tide, but even with Cyclops' instincts guiding him, Scott could feel the outcome slipping further and further out of his grasp.
As Scott dodged another swipe from Logan, he could feel the weight of reality settling in. Cyclops wasn't some invincible force, nor a god who could turn any situation around. Sometimes, the way Cyclops analyzed and predicted his enemies' moves had made it seem like he was omnipotent, but that was nothing more than a result of years of experience and battle-hardened skill.
Cyclops was still just a man. And sometimes, men lost.
Scott knew it. He was losing. His body, already worn down, couldn't keep up with Logan's onslaught. The brutal truth hit him hard—he had taken control too late. Cyclops' instincts might give him a tactical edge, but it wasn't enough to overcome the physical toll his body had endured.
But Scott didn't stop. Even as the realization took root, he kept fighting. He hoped for an opportunity, a moment where he could turn things around. If he could just hang on, maybe something would shift. He could see Logan's strategy, his patterns, and was preparing for that one chance to strike.
Then, Logan tackled him, both of them crashing into the ground. They grappled fiercely, Scott's mind racing to find a way out of the situation. He needed to force Logan into a position where he could land a decisive optic blast, but Logan wasn't giving him any room to maneuver. The older man's iron grip held Scott at bay as they struggled on the dirt.
The battle between them was fierce, a series of holds and counters. Scott fought with everything he had left, his hands digging into the ground as he tried to twist free, to get some kind of leverage. But Logan's strength was overwhelming, his experience in grappling clear as he locked Scott into a firm hold, pinning him face-first into the dirt.
"You're good, kid," Logan growled, his voice low and gravelly, the weight of his words pressing down on Scott as much as his iron grip. "But if you really think you're gonna survive with Victor on your tail with skills like these… you're delusional."
Scott's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Sabretooth. Victor Creed. The name alone sent a chill through his body. Images flashed through his mind of their last encounter—on the train, when Victor and the Marauders had ambushed him. He had only managed to escape that battle because of the circumstances, the environment. He had barely won. The thought of fighting Victor in the open, in a head-to-head confrontation like this one, made Scott's blood run cold.
Logan could see the flicker of fear in Scott's eyes and leaned in closer. "Victor's after your head. He's gonna hunt you down. And when he finds you, it's gonna be just like this. But trust me, when you lose to him, it won't be like losing to me."
Scott's mind was racing, replaying the brutal battle against Victor. The ferocity of Sabretooth, the sheer animalistic power the man wielded—it was nothing like what Scott had faced before. He'd only made it through that fight because of luck, because of the terrain, the fact that Victor hadn't been expecting the fight to go the way it had. But if they clashed again, face to face, with no way out like this…
Scott knew he would lose.
"Victor's not gonna play nice, kid," Logan continued, his grip tightening as Scott tried to squirm free. "You'll be lucky if you're still breathing by the end of it."
Scott clenched his teeth, frustration boiling inside him. He hated the feeling of helplessness creeping over him, but the weight of Logan's words was undeniable. Victor wouldn't show mercy. He'd fight to the death. And Scott wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to face Sabretooth in a battle like this one.
Scott twisted in Logan's grasp, trying once more to break free, but Logan held firm, his strength overwhelming. "The only saving grace you've got right now is that I'm here," Logan growled. "As long as I'm around, Victor's got to deal with me before he can get to you."
Scott's frustration grew. This wasn't just about the fight with Logan anymore—it was about the bigger picture, the threat looming on the horizon. He had thought he was ready to face the world on his own, but Sabretooth hunting him? That changed everything.
Logan leaned down, his voice deadly serious. "I'm staying at the mansion for a while. Charles made me an offer, and I accepted. You should come back too."
Scott's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. Logan had always been the lone wolf, the one who didn't play by anyone's rules but his own. And now, Charles had offered him a role at the mansion, a chance to train the next generation of X-Men, and Logan had accepted? It was hard to believe, but the sincerity in Logan's tone left no room for doubt.
"Come back with me, kid," Logan said, his grip loosening slightly. "You need the training. You're good, but you're not ready for what's coming. Come back to the mansion, and if you can beat me in a fight, I'll let you go. No questions asked."
Scott recognized the challenge for what it was—a ploy to get him back to the mansion. Logan was setting the terms, baiting Scott with the promise of freedom if he could win. It was exactly the kind of manipulation Scott hated.
But then Logan's earlier words rang in his mind—Victor was after him. Scott had faced Victor before, barely escaping with his life. If Victor was truly hunting him now, Scott knew that every step he took outside the mansion would be shadowed by that threat. The constant fear of Sabretooth lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Scott scowled, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. As much as he hated it, Logan was right. He wasn't ready to face Sabretooth in a fight like this, not without more training, not without getting stronger. As long as Victor was hunting him, Scott wouldn't be able to do what he needed to in the world. He would always be looking over his shoulder.
The truth of it burned inside him, but Scott couldn't ignore it. His frustration and anger boiled over, but slowly, he stopped struggling. His muscles relaxed as he lay on the ground, his mind made up. He wasn't going to like this decision. He wasn't going to be happy about it. But he needed to survive, and right now, survival meant going back to the mansion.
"I'll beat you," Scott muttered through gritted teeth, his voice filled with determination. "Soon."
Logan's grip finally loosened as he stood up, a smirk spreading across his face. "You're welcome to try anytime, kid," he said, looking down at Scott with a mixture of respect and amusement.
Scott slowly pushed himself up from the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching as he dusted himself off. He spared Logan one last glare, his jaw tight with frustration. But deep down, he knew that Logan was right. For now, the mansion was the only place he could train, the only place where he could get stronger—strong enough to survive whatever was coming next.
He wasn't done fighting. Not by a long shot.