Location: Xavier's School, Secret Basement, Cerebro.
In the center of the spherical chamber, surrounded by chrome walls dimly illuminated by pulsing lights, sat an elderly man. His technological chair was positioned at the room's core, and a heavy helmet, connected by a web of cables, rested upon his head. A narrow pathway, like a bridge over an abyss, connected the chair to the massive door leading outside.
Professor Charles Xavier was in a state of intense concentration. His face reflected an internal struggle searching, but finding nothing but emptiness time and time again.
"Where are you?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.
His closed eyelids trembled, and the eyes beneath them darted from side to side, as if scanning a space no one else could see. His fingers, white from tension, dug into the armrests of his chair. Every vein on his forehead and temples betrayed the immense effort he exerted in his mental search.
Pshhh-tyk.
With a hiss, the massive doors slid open. The professor, despite the sound, did not notice the visitor. A woman stepped into the room, her silhouette framed by the doorway's glow. Cascading white hair fell over her shoulders, accentuating the deep contrast of her dark skin. Her eyes unnaturally white with blue pupils studied Xavier's tense figure intently.
Ororo Munroe, known as Storm, entered with her usual grace. Her form-fitting suit, adorned with metallic elements, gleamed under the pulsating lights, and a flowing cape draped over her shoulders. She was the embodiment of nature's power.
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Upon seeing the professor, lost in Cerebro's depths, Ororo frowned. A sense of unease grew with each step she took, and in seconds, she was beside him.
"Professor, you shouldn't push yourself like this," she said softly but firmly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Charles did not react. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his face damp with sweat, and his faint whisper blended with the soft hum of the machines.
"Professor!" Ororo shook his shoulder. "You're straining yourself too much!"
But her words seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Xavier continued muttering under his breath, utterly immersed in his search. Then, suddenly, she noticed a thin trickle of blood running down from his nose.
"Charles!" Concern sharpened her voice.
Realizing that words were useless, Ororo glanced at the control panel. She hesitated for a few seconds, fearing she might cause harm, but the realization that waiting would only worsen his condition won out. Her fingers danced over the panel. First, the indicators showed a decrease in power; then, a faint click sounded, and the glowing lights along the walls slowly dimmed.
Xavier shuddered, his body immediately relaxing as his head fell back against the chair.
"Professor, wake up," Ororo said with concern, leaning closer.
Slowly, as if emerging from a dense fog, Xavier opened his eyes. He wiped his face, and upon seeing Ororo, his gaze grew more focused.
"Ororo," he murmured, frowning slightly.
She helped him remove the helmet, carefully setting it down on the table. The professor, breathing heavily, rubbed his temples as if trying to ease a headache.
"Why do you push yourself like this?" Ororo asked sternly, yet with worry in her voice. "What happened?"
Charles sighed wearily.
"I… I'm not sure what I saw," he answered thoughtfully, lowering his gaze.
"Tell me," Storm insisted gently, sitting down beside him.
"Alright," he agreed after a pause. "You know that with Cerebro, I can see almost every mutant on the planet. Very few can hide from my mind. Today, as always, I was watching the world, searching for those in need of help." He hesitated, gathering his thoughts.
Ororo waited patiently, sensing that his words would reveal something important.
"And did you find someone?" she asked cautiously, studying his face.
"Perhaps… or maybe it's already too late," Charles replied, sorrow evident in his voice, his gaze clouded.
"Why do you say that? Did something happen to them?" Her voice trembled slightly at the thought of another mutant in danger.
"As you know, our abilities usually manifest under intense emotions," Xavier began, as if speaking not only to her but also to himself. "Fear, hatred, despair… love." He paused, allowing memories to momentarily overtake him. "Every mutant has a threshold, a limit to their power. And the greater the power, the brighter they stand out among others."
"You've told me this before, Professor," Ororo sighed, but there was no impatience in her tone only understanding.
"Repetition is never a waste," Charles replied with a faint smile, though it quickly faded. "For a brief moment, I sensed a new mutant. Their power… it flared so brightly that it eclipsed everything else. I couldn't see anyone else only them. But the moment passed too quickly. I was so taken aback that I failed to grasp what had happened."
"Does that mean… they died?" Ororo barely whispered the words. Her voice wavered thinking that someone like her might have been lost was unbearable.
"It's possible," Xavier said, deep in thought. "But we still don't fully understand our own abilities. Some mutations can be harmful to their hosts. Or they could have hidden themselves, teleported… there are too many possibilities. I can't say for certain what happened."
"What should we do?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Wait," Xavier answered simply, rubbing his temples with fatigue. "If they appear again, they might need our help. Their power is at least equal to ours perhaps even greater. Such strength is not only a gift but also a temptation. If their abilities are destructive, they might choose a dangerous path."
"I hope they're alright," Ororo said, her voice filled with genuine hope.
She looked at the professor, worry etched on her face. His exhausted state concerned her.
"You need rest, Charles."
"You're right," he admitted with a slight nod, offering a tired smile. "I overdid it."
Storm stepped closer and gently turned his chair toward the exit. The chair could move on its own, but Ororo assisted him more out of care than necessity. She felt an immense gratitude toward Charles for everything he had done for her and for other mutants.
Their silhouettes slowly disappeared down the corridor, and the massive doors closed behind them, leaving the chamber in absolute silence. The lights faded, plunging Cerebro into darkness.
POV Escanor
My consciousness drifted in absolute darkness, as if I had been cast into an endless void. Only rare flashes of clarity allowed me to briefly open my eyes. All I could remember were scattered moments.
At first, I felt a jolt the vehicle came to a stop. The doors screeched open, and I was lifted like unwanted cargo and thrown into another transport. Behind me, a burst of fire erupted the first vehicle had been set ablaze, likely to erase any traces. The fog returned, and I blacked out once more.
The next time I awoke, it was the piercing cold that roused me. The metal frame of the new transport had grown icy, and touching it sent unbearable discomfort through me. But it was only a fleeting moment before darkness swallowed me again.
When I came to once more, I was lying in a room. The light outside the window was beginning to brighten, signaling the approach of dawn. But just as I started to comprehend my surroundings, another wave of darkness pulled me under.
And yet, with each awakening, I felt something strange a surge of strength, as if a faint fire was kindling inside me, growing stronger with each passing moment. They were injecting me with something I could feel the pricks every few hours, likely a sedative but its effect was wearing off. Inside me, a sun was beginning to rise. Still weak, still out of reach, but its light promised power. Power to take revenge.
Strength: 500.
"Exit in five minutes," came the gruff voice of one of the soldiers.
"Why so much caution?" another asked with irritation. "He's probably not even that important. I doubt anyone's even looking for him."
"We don't get paid to think," the first one snapped. "Just follow orders."
Their conversation faded, replaced by the metallic sounds of weapons being checked clicking bolts, the clatter of gear. All of it merged into a rhythm that strengthened my resolve to wait for the moment when everything would change.
Five minutes passed. They yanked me up roughly, as if I were an unfeeling object, and carried me somewhere. I could feel control slowly returning to my body. My muscles responded. But I knew acting now would be foolish. I had to wait.
The rage boiling inside me was nearly unbearable. Every step they took, every order they gave, made me want them dead even more. But I held myself back.
They threw me onto a cold metal floor. Two soldiers sat nearby, keeping their hands firmly on their weapons.
The vehicle started moving. The only window between the van and the driver's cabin was small, but through it, I caught glimpses of movement. The road, the forest. Everything around me signaled that the moment I had been waiting for was drawing near. Soon. Very soon.
There was nothing left to do but wait. Inaction was a cruel enemy, filling my mind with heavy memories of yesterday. The loss of my family struck me again with renewed force. Pain, mingled with hatred, consumed every fiber of my being.
"If you can hear me, I swear I will avenge you. Every single one of them will pay for their crimes. No exceptions."
My lips barely moved, whispering my vow, as the fury within me burned brighter.
"Checkpoint time: 8:15. Arrival in thirty minutes," a voice from the cabin announced through the small window.
Thirty minutes. Time was running out. This might be my only chance to escape. I had to act now.
I cracked my eyes open slightly, careful not to draw attention. The soldiers sitting across from me looked relaxed, their gazes drifting into empty space. Yet their hands remained firm on their rifles. No time to hesitate.
My plan was simple but deadly I had to seize one of their weapons, use it against his partner, and then take down the last one.
"Sun, give me strength."
With a sharp movement, I sprang up and grabbed the nearest rifle. His eyes widened, but his surprise was brief. I aimed the weapon at his comrade, my fingers tightening on the trigger.
Tr-r-r-t-t-t!
A burst of gunfire tore through the air. The soldier collapsed to the floor, bleeding out.
The surviving soldier snapped back to his senses and reached for his weapon. But I gave him no time to act. A brutal struggle erupted between us. He landed several blows, trying to knock the rifle from my hands. Pain flared in my ribs, but I remained standing. A fire ignited within me I knew this was my moment. Here and now, I had to survive.
"What the hell is going on back there?!" the driver shouted from the cab, slamming on the brakes. The vehicle was slowing down. I needed to act fast.
I felt a surge of strength inside me. With one powerful yank, I pulled the rifle toward me, causing the soldier to lose his balance and stumble. That gave me the upper hand. Moving to his side, I wrapped the rifle's sling around his neck and began to choke him.
He desperately reached for the knife in his pouch, but I pinned his hand down with my foot, keeping him from reaching it. His other arm was trapped between us. I pulled harder, feeling his resistance weaken. A final, ragged breath and then his body went limp.
I had taken him down just in time. The transport's doors began to open with a metallic screech, revealing new enemies. Grabbing the rifle, I took aim, ready to face them.
But they were cunning. As soon as the doors cracked open, they took cover at the sides and tossed several grenades inside. There was no time to think. I dropped to the floor, shielding myself with the fallen soldier's body, and braced for the explosions.
A blinding flash lit up the truck flashbang grenades. I managed to shut my eyes, but my ears weren't spared. A sharp pain shot through my eardrums, plunging everything into a chaotic cacophony of screeching, droning, and muffled sounds. I felt warm blood trickling from my ears.
I couldn't wait for them to move in. Raising my rifle, I fired blindly. But my lack of experience showed the bullets missed, giving the enemies time to take cover.
Staying put meant certain death. My eyes darted to a fallen soldier. In his gear, I found a grenade. Pulling the pin, I hurled it outside, immediately following with the soldier's lifeless body. Then, using the distraction, I lunged after it.
The grenade exploded almost instantly, the deafening blast drowning out everything else. Gunfire erupted in its wake. Seizing the chaos, I leapt out of the truck only to come face-to-face with one of the fighters.
I didn't hesitate. I crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. His body became my shield, saving me as his partner opened fire. The bullets tore through him instead of me.
Snatching the pistol from the fallen soldier's holster, I rose and fired back. My shots were wild, but one found its mark. The enemy cried out and collapsed, his gunfire ceasing.
I stood amidst the carnage smoke, bodies, and the fading echoes of gunfire. This was only the first battle, but inside me, an unquenchable fire raged.
As the adrenaline faded, the weight of what had happened crashed down on me. My breath came in heavy, ragged gasps. For the first time in my life, I had killed with my own hands.
My eyes fell on the fallen soldiers. Instead of regret or fear, I felt a cold satisfaction. These men were responsible for my family's deaths their lives were a small price to pay.
But then, a gunshot shattered the silence.
A searing pain ripped through my chest, like a red-hot blade piercing my flesh. I looked down to see a hole in my clothes, blood seeping out, warm and sticky against my skin.
My heartbeat faltered. I gasped, coughing up blood that dripped down my lips and chin. Weakness spread through me, seeping into every fiber of my being. My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees, hands pressing against the cold ground. But even that couldn't save me.
I fought with the last of my strength, but the world around me blurred. The darkness called to me, wrapping around me like a dense shroud. My hands trembled, and I collapsed face-first.
Through the pain and encroaching void, I raised a bloody hand toward the rising sun. The last ray of light, piercing through the leaves, seemed like my only hope.
"Please… give me strength," I whispered, addressing the sun as my final judge.
My words dissolved into the air. The darkness consumed me completely. My heart stopped.
Five Minutes Later
The roar of engines shattered the morning silence. A group of people in black uniforms arrived at the scene. Their gear was identical to that of the fallen soldiers.
Men and women stepped out of the vehicles, moving in perfect sync, as if following a well-rehearsed script. They began checking the bodies scattered across the ground.
"Dead," one of them reported briefly after checking the pulse of a nearby soldier.
"We're going to be executed for this mistake. He was supposed to be taken alive," another said sharply, standing over the lifeless body.
"We won't be if we say the sniper acted on his own. We've already 'punished' him," a third replied.
His words were punctuated by a loud, sharp gunshot. The sniper, who had been standing a short distance away, jerked before collapsing lifelessly.
The others froze, shocked by what had just happened. The one who had spoken removed his mask it was a sergeant. His cold eyes swept over those present.
"Why are you standing there? Keep working. I assume no one else has any objections?" he asked in a chilling voice, his gaze carrying an unmistakable threat.
"What about him?" one of the soldiers asked, nodding toward my body.
"We take him as he is. We still need material for the experiments. But how did he break free from the sedative's effects? Even superhumans can't do that," the sergeant frowned, suspicion creeping into his voice.
"We'll find out soon," another soldier replied, nervously adjusting his gear. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, collecting on his gas mask. "Doesn't it feel like it's getting too hot here?"
"It doesn't matter," the sergeant smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "Endure it, or are you a coward?"
Meanwhile, the grass around Escanor's body began to wither and dry rapidly, as if devoured by an invisible flame. The air grew heavier, hotter, almost suffocating. The soldiers began to feel clear discomfort, sweat pouring off them in streams. Even the shade they stood in brought no relief. The temperature continued to rise.
Power: 1000
"Something's wrong… This heat isn't natural. Could a mutant be hiding here?" a soldier looked at the sergeant, panic flickering in his eyes.
"Get a grip! Spread out," the sergeant commanded. "Find whoever's here and eliminate them!"
The soldiers moved out, but the heat became unbearable, even for their trained bodies. One by one, they began shedding excess gear to avoid overheating. But it only helped for a moment.
The ground beneath them began to crack, turning into dry dust. The green grass that had covered the forest clearing turned into brittle, gray remnants. The trees wilted before their eyes, their leaves turning to ash and drifting to the ground.
Miles away from the scene, Professor Xavier was giving a lecture, recounting fascinating historical facts to his students. He held a book in his hands but suddenly froze, turning his head toward an unseen force. Telepathically, he felt the awakening of a powerful mutant. The strength of this being was growing rapidly, its intensity refusing to subside. Even at this distance, Xavier could sense the rising aura, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples to concentrate. After telepathically communicating with one of his allies, he made a decision.
"Children, today's lesson is canceled. You are free to go," he said calmly.
The students rushed out of the lecture hall with joyful shouts, leaving Xavier alone. He had barely caught his breath when Storm burst into the room, already dressed in her X-Men uniform.
"Hank is launching the X-Jet," she said hurriedly.
"Then we must not delay," the professor nodded, his voice filled with concern. "I sense intense anger from this mutant. He needs our help."
Storm approached his chair and, grabbing the handles, quickly wheeled him toward the exit.
Meanwhile, at the scene of the incident, the soldiers continued to desperately search for the culprit. The temperature around them was rising, the heat becoming unbearable, but they still couldn't locate the source of the scorching energy.
The sergeant, drenched in sweat, was barely holding it together. His nerves were on edge.
"Enough!" he barked. "Everyone, pack up and move out. We can't stay here any longer."
The subordinates began hastily packing up their equipment and loading the bodies into vehicles, trying to leave the dangerous area as quickly as possible.
Escanor's body began to change rapidly. His muscles tensed, growing in size as if obeying some hidden, unimaginable force. Already tall, he now stood at two meters tall. The wound on his back healed at an alarming rate, leaving behind smooth skin as if it had never been there.
Clenching his fingers into a fist, Escanor leaned on the ground and slowly rose to his feet. This was no longer the man who had stood there a minute ago. He seemed more mature, more formidable an embodiment of power. His body, as if carved from stone, looked as though every movement could crush mountains. His clothes couldn't withstand the transformation: the fabric split at the seams and fell to the ground, leaving him only in his pants, which miraculously survived the change.
Power: 10,000.
Escanor proudly raised his head, his gaze filled with contempt as it swept over the people before him. The sergeant and his companion froze, as if death itself stood before them.
"You're not going anywhere. You will stay here... forever," Escanor said in a low, resonant voice, like rolling thunder. "I am Escanor. And you will die here!"
With these words, he raised his left hand, clenched into a fist, and slowly extended his index finger, as if pointing to their fate.
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For a moment, he froze in that pose, then suddenly slammed his fist into his palm. A deafening clap echoed, the air shuddered, and a shockwave rolled across the ground, knocking the soldiers off their feet and forcing them to press themselves against the earth.