"Wake up from that fantasy where you find a mutant who can stop me!" Professor X slipped aside from a blistering combo and snapped a kick toward Colossus's neck.
Colossus caught his calf, planted, and spun—swinging Charles in a blur before flinging him across the mat.
Charles opened his eyes mid-arc and simply… stopped, hovering in the air. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "You've grown stronger, Colossus."
"Not really—we're different types," Colossus said, tapping the collar at his throat. "At this rate, you'll be omega-level soon, won't you? When that happens, we'll be able to put these on everyone, right? Our glorious world of mutual prosperity will be within reach."
"No," Charles said mildly. "Not just mutants—humans too. Every newborn wears one. Anyone who might threaten this world can be erased with a thought." He looked younger than Magneto by far; power gathered around him like a second skin. "I must grow stronger—beyond Alpha to Omega… then beyond even that. Immortality. And then this world will stay peaceful. Forever."
"Mm. That does sound nice." The woman beside them smiled, lifting her hair and revealing the same collar at her neck.
"Jean, I've come this far because of your plan," Charles said, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. "By the way—has Ororo returned?"
By "Ororo," he meant Storm. She should've harassed the Brotherhood and withdrawn. Her absence was… irregular.
"Want me to go fetch her?" Jean frowned. They'd stripped every scrap of metal from their field outfits; even if Magneto tried to drag them down by their gear, there was nothing to seize.
"No need. I—"
The training hall doors burst inward. A man in dark sunglasses strode in. "Charles. The Brotherhood is attacking."
"What?" Colossus snapped. He knew the numbers. In a straight fight, the Brotherhood's odds were maybe ten percent—less if Charles intervened.
X-Men: seven hundred-plus.
Tier-1/2 combatants: over one hundred fifty.
Brotherhood: maybe two dozen diehards—and a flock of fence-sitters you couldn't count.
This gap was exactly why they hadn't bothered finishing the Brotherhood off. Keeping an enemy around, barely breathing, was convenient; it reminded human governments who the "good" mutants were.
"If they're really coming… they're insane."
"Radar shows thirty-plus mutants at Tier-2 power or higher, closing fast. At this rate, in an hour they'll—"
The wall exploded inward.
A bald man stepped through the dust.
Dangling from his hand—Logan.
"So this is the place?" Saitama looked around with open curiosity, thoroughly lost. First time here; fair enough.
"Who are you?" Charles asked, voice tightening.
"Oh. I'm Saitama. Just a hero for fun," he said, giving his stock answer.
"A… hero?" Charles's brows knit—and then his eyes widened. "Wait—your presence—!"
His face changed. He slid back a pace, hands crossing in the air. Logan howled, clutching his skull as invisible pressure caved in around his mind.
Saitama stood there, unruffled.
"System, scan him," Saitama said, pointing at Charles.
[Name] Charles Francis Xavier
[Codename] Professor X
[Stats] Intelligence 5 (Genius); Strength 5 (Above Human); Speed 5 (Supersonic); Durability 3 (Enhanced); Energy Projection 5 (Sustained single-type output); Fighting Skill 6 (Master of multiple martial arts)
[Special Abilities]
Mental Prison: Locks a target's mind, preventing harm to the user.
Mental Suppression: Forces many bodies at once into paralysis, blocking resistance and attacks.
Mental Edit: Rewrites a target's sense of self and allegiance.
Psychic Impact: Manifests will as force, battering minds—or twisting flesh through conflicting vectors of mental power.
Targeted Erasure: Deletes a specified mind; with a special device, can act on broad populations or specific classes worldwide.
"Oh, so you're Professor X." Saitama tilted his head, then grinned. "Great. I'm here to beat you. So I can still make it to today's supermarket blowout. Please be defeated."
"Ha—?" Charles blinked, stunned.
(End of Chapter)
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