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''The next day at noon.''
''Oxford University, England.''
After a lecture on genetic studies, Charles, dressed in a suit, and Raven, disguised as an ordinary woman, walked side by side out of the university's entrance.
To the other students, they probably looked like an enviable couple— the handsome young man and the tall, beautiful woman, who had been living together as childhood friends for over ten years.
Raven secretly glanced at Charles walking beside her, letting out a silent sigh. Unfortunately, she was a different kind of Mutant. If she didn't maintain her disguised appearance, her true form would likely be seen as monstrous.
This was likely why, despite Charles's usual flirtatious behavior, he never showed any romantic interest in her.
"Want to grab a drink? There's a drinking contest at the bar today!" Charles suggested to the distracted Raven.
"Sure."
Raven nodded obediently. Wherever Charles went, she would follow. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if things stayed this way.
''Inside a nearby bar at Oxford University.''
"Drink! Drink! Drink!"
Dozens of patrons gathered around, loudly cheering. Charles had already taken off his jacket and was holding a tall glass, gulping down beer. Some of it spilled onto his white shirt, making him look like a completely different person from the professor who stood on the lecture stage just hours ago.
''Five minutes later.''
"Are you okay? I told you to drink less," Raven said as she supported the slightly drunk Charles, who leaned against the bar. Charles shrugged indifferently, muttering, "I can still drink more."
"I'll get you a wet towel to wipe your face." Raven turned to head outside with a concerned expression on her face.
As Charles leaned on the bar stool, lost in thought, a graceful figure approached him.
"Are you the youngest genetics professor at Oxford University, Charles Xavier?"
"Hmm?"
Charles looked up, puzzled, and saw a well-dressed, attractive woman in front of him. It was Moira, who had traveled all the way from the United States seeking help.
Seeing that she had his attention, Moira got straight to the point, asking, "Professor Xavier, you've previously published papers on gene mutation. I want to know if the type of people you referred to— those who are at the forefront of evolution due to genetic mutation— have already appeared in this world?"
Charles frowned. He was indeed a bit drunk, his head slightly foggy from the alcohol, but the topic of gene mutation instantly captured his interest.
His hand instinctively moved to his temple as he stared at Moira. In less than half a second, he used his telepathy to enter her mind, discovering the reason behind her question.
In Moira's thoughts, images of Caesar and the events at the Hellfire Club appeared as if she had experienced them herself.
Charles shuddered, completely snapping out of his drunken state.
Others like him...
There were other Mutants, and they had even formed groups!
"Professor? Professor?"
Seeing Charles's dazed expression, Moira waved her hand in front of his face and then sighed, "It looks like you're too drunk. We can talk when you're sober."
"That won't be necessary, Agent Moira," Charles said with a calm smile, looking at her. "Before you asked me that question, you already knew the answer, didn't you? Don't worry, if your target is those Mutants, I will do everything in my power to help you!"
"That's great!"
Moira was both surprised and pleased, letting out a sigh of relief. "I need you to prove to the CIA that Mutants really exist."
"No problem," Charles agreed without hesitation. Hiding his mutant abilities for a lifetime and pretending to be an ordinary person was never what he wanted.
''The next day, at CIA Headquarters.''
Although Charles had made up his mind and, along with Raven, openly revealed their mutant abilities— mind-reading and shape-shifting— the CIA officials not only refused to accept this reality but also gave Agent Moira a thorough scolding.
This was something Charles had anticipated. Humanity tends to fear the unknown, often preferring to avoid it rather than understand it, requiring a long period of transition to accept such things.
Only one official was an exception.
Jenna, the head of the CIA's military weapons research, a tall, stout man whose suit was stretched tight over his large frame, approached Charles and Raven after the meeting, expressing his willingness to let them join in an effort to test Shaw's strength and influence.
Regardless of the circumstances, this was a historic milestone, marking the first collaboration between Mutants and a government agency.
''Later that night.''
In a somewhat secluded bar near the American coastline.
Caesar randomly chose to come here, continuing to enjoy fine liquor and gather interesting intelligence as an ordinary patron. This kind of wandering life in a different time and space wasn't so bad.
A soft rustling sound from the bar's rooftop caught his attention. Caesar glanced upward, and with his x-ray vision, he saw the Red Devil crouching on the roof, silently watching under the moonlight.
Shaking his head, Caesar muttered, "Chased me all the way here, huh? What a troublesome guy. Of all the people to follow, you had to choose me. Let's see how long you can keep this up."
At that moment, the bar's wooden door creaked open, and a tall young man, dressed in jeans, a leather jacket, and a wide-brimmed hat, with a satchel slung over his shoulder, walked into the bar.
"One whiskey, please," The tall young man said in a deep voice as he sat down next to Caesar at the bar.
Caesar glanced at him, his eyes gradually lighting up. The aura surrounding this man was strikingly similar to someone he knew— Lorna!
A person with an ability that resembles Lorna's, and whose power feels comparable to that of Charles... It could only be him.
Magneto, Erik Lehnsherr.
Caesar hadn't expected to run into him, the first Marvel mutant with the power to control magnetic fields.
As Caesar studied Erik, Erik was also observing him, his sharp eyebrows slightly raised. From Caesar's presence, he sensed something ominous.
"What are you staring at?" Erik asked coldly as he accepted his whiskey from the bartender.
Caesar smiled and said, "You, my friend, have a strong scent of blood on you, and right now, there's an unmistakable air of vengeance about you."
Erik's pupils contracted slightly, but his face remained calm as he tilted his head back, downing the whiskey in one gulp. Placing the glass on the table with a clink, he said in a low voice, "So what? If I want to kill someone, are you going to stop me, or call the police?"
"I wouldn't bother. Too much trouble," Caesar shrugged.
"Then you won't mind if I kill you right now," Erik said, narrowing his eyes dangerously. He was like a wounded, feral beast, maintaining a certain level of hostility towards everyone, especially this young man who seemed to know his intentions.
Only Caesar noticed that a few rusty screws in the wooden wall near Erik had quietly loosened, as if some unseen force was manipulating them.
Caesar replied nonchalantly, "I don't mind. But that's assuming you can actually kill me."
"Remember, you said it," Erik muttered, a hint of murderous intent flickering in his eyes. The screws detached from the wooden wall, floating in midair, with their sharp tips all aimed at Caesar.
''(End of Chapter)''