Alliances and Ashes - Part 1
The silence that followed the battle was of a different kind from the one that had preceded it. It was no longer the tense quiet of expectation, but the heavy, exhausted silence of post-conflict exhaustion. The air still carried the acrid sweetness of ozone, the pungent odor of molten Sentinel metal, and the earthy aroma of burned grass and soil. Kael remained in the devastated gardens, giving them space. Through his own eyes and those of his Archers, he witnessed Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, facing each other in the main hall, the mansion's front door still wide open.
It was a pivotal moment, a turning point that he, in his mental review of the X-Men's past missions he could access from his dimension, knew was inevitable. He recalled the records of the team's original fight against the island entity called Krakoa – a battle that forced the recruitment of the "All-New, All-Different" team. That seminal event had already happened here, shaping this generation of mutants. Now, witnessing the full-scale assault by Stryker, Trask, and the army itself, he saw the same conclusion forming on Professor Xavier's face: peaceful coexistence, as a sole ideal, had failed. The human world had crossed a line by launching a total military attack on a school.
Kael knew the next steps would be monumental. As he watched the two old friends begin their conversation, his mind was already working on contingency plans. If the path was a mutant nation, he would prepare, whether for a Genosha or even the audacity of a terraformed Mars. His village would need to evolve, his defenses would need to adapt to a completely new scale.
Turning from the windows, his gaze swept over the battlefield. The human army had retreated, yes, but in their haste, they had left behind their dead and a considerable amount of high-tech equipment. It was a chaotic and disrespectful scene. He would not allow it to desecrate the X-Men's sanctuary for a minute longer.
Closing his eyes, he channeled the Elixir bubbling in his veins. The cost was significant, but necessary. With a sequence of three soft pulses of energy, the air above the treeline filled with movement. For 9 units of Elixir, nine Minions materialized, their dark, ethereal forms hovering silently against the night sky. They descended, not as creatures of aggression, but as solemn attendants of a funeral. With supernatural care, their delicate claws enveloped the bodies of the fallen soldiers, lifting them and carrying them beyond the property's boundaries, laying them out with impersonal dignity by the roadside, away from the sight of the young mutants.
For the wounded who still breathed but were in critical condition, Kael dispatched one of his Healers. The winged woman floated over to them, and her hands emitted a soft, golden light that stabilized bleeding, closed open wounds, and kept the spark of life alive. It was not a complete cure, but an act of mercy – a stopgap that would give time for human medical services to arrive and collect their compatriots.
It was then that one of his Archers, positioned on a high branch of a tree on the property's eastern border, sent a mental alert. A single individual, moving with impressive stealth, was entering the perimeter. Kael asked for a description. The image that returned was clear: a tight leather suit, fiery red hair, and a feline posture. It could only be one person: the legendary Black Widow. How interesting, Kael thought, it's a mix of the comics and the MCU. Given her activity during World War II in this reality, it was clear that for anything outside MCU events, this world aligned more with comic sources or other adaptations. Her presence was a sign that even bigger players were watching.
"Bring her," Kael ordered his Archers mentally. "No hostility, but no room for surprises."
A few minutes later, Natasha Romanoff emerged from the forest gloom, flanked by two Archers whose arrows remained nocked, but with their bows slightly lowered. Kael watched her as she approached. Her walk was inherently sensual, a ballet of confidence and grace, even while under the aim of multiple weapons. However, when her eyes met Kael's, he saw not seduction, but an analytical coldness, a calculated assessment measuring every detail of him and his troops.
Before she could utter a word from her likely rehearsed script, Kael spoke, his voice low, echoing slightly in the quiet clearing. "What does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with us? And if you look around," he made a wide gesture with his hand, encompassing the destruction, "you'll see now is not the best time."
The change in her expression was subtle but instantaneous. The mask of seduction dissolved, replaced by a professional seriousness. "Director Fury wants to set up a meeting with you," she said, straight to the point.
Kael shook his head, a decisive movement. "It's not with me you should be speaking about that. It's with Professor Xavier." He pointed towards the mansion's front door, where the silhouette of Xavier's wheelchair was still visible. "You can head inside. They are in there."
Before leaving, Natasha turned to Ororo, her demeanor all business. "Director Fury has also requested a meeting with you and the X-Men," she stated.
Ororo regarded her coolly, the air around them stirring slightly. "I will convey the message to the Professor," she replied, her tone making it clear who held the authority here.
As Natasha headed towards the mansion, Kael turned his attention to the piles of military equipment his Goblin Spearmen had gathered into several mounds across the garden. Rifles, communication devices, armor parts – a valuable technological loot, but also an unwanted reminder. He didn't want it there.
With a smile, he drained 4 units of Elixir. The air in front of him began to glow with intense heat, and then, with a muffled sound of beating wings, it appeared. The Baby Dragon was, for all intents and purposes, cute. Its skin was a vibrant green, its eyes were large and expressive, and its tongue constantly lolled out of its mouth, like a dog's. Its wings, disproportionately small for its body, beat furiously to keep it aloft, creating a current of warm air. It was enormous, the size of a hippopotamus, a massive yet undeniably adorable presence.
The hatchling charged straight for Kael, rubbing its large head against his torso like an affectionate kitten, almost knocking him over. It was the first time Kael had brought it to this world, and he was genuinely surprised by the creature's size. The sight stirred something even in the Russian spy. Turning around, Kael saw in Natasha's eyes, who had paused for a moment, a flash of pure will – the almost irresistible desire to pet the creature.
Kael chuckled softly and gave the dragon an order. The baby obeyed, turning its clumsy body and charging towards the mounds of equipment. It opened its mouth and, instead of a refined jet of fire, spat out a series of dense, incandescent fireballs that looked like pure magma. The projectiles hit the piles with a whoosh, instantly incinerating the metal and technology in intense, purifying flames.
Natasha, now clearly distracted from her path, couldn't resist. "Was that a dragon?" she asked, her voice holding a spark of incredulity that rarely pierced her facade.
Kael stroked the baby's scaly neck, which purred like an engine. "It was. A baby dragon, actually. Isn't he cute?"
"Obviously," the spy agreed, with a dryly amused tone, before resuming her march towards the mansion.
It was then that a strong wind descended from the sky, making the flames of the burning piles dance. Ororo Munroe, Storm, landed smoothly, her white eyes fixed on Natasha with open distrust. "What is Black Widow doing here?" her voice sounded like the distant thunder that preceded her arrival.
Kael could perceive the jealousy – or, more accurately, the territorial protectiveness – in Ororo's gaze. He started to laugh, but a glare from her, which made the hair on his arms stand up with the static electricity in the air, made him stop immediately.
"They are calling for you inside," Ororo said, her voice softening slightly but still laden with authority. "Both of them."
Natasha offered a parting smile, loaded with her usual sensuality, but was interrupted by a crash of thunder that sounded dangerously close, an unmistakable reminder of who commanded the skies here. Without another word, Black Widow was escorted by the Archers beyond the property's boundaries.
Kael gave the mental order for the rest of his army to finish cleaning the area and maintain vigilance. He then turned and accompanied Ororo back to the mansion. The air between them was heavy. To break the ice, he asked the question they both knew the answer to, but needed to be asked.
"So... what did they decide?"
Ororo looked at him, her eyes still glowing with residual weather power. "Magneto and Xavier have reached an agreement."
The answer, though expected, echoed in Kael with the weight of history. The lines had been redrawn. The game had changed. And he, the Architect of a singular power, was now at the center of it all, about to step not just into a battle, but into a new era for his people.
Alliances and Ashes - Part 2
The walk to the conference room was traversed by Kael with a mind processing at full speed. The agreement between Xavier and Magneto was more than a simple truce; it was a seismic recalibration of the mutant future. Upon entering the spacious room with its large wooden table and shelves filled with books, he immediately felt the change in the air. It was an atmosphere charged no longer with antagonism, but with a solemn, shared decision.
All the most important members were there, seated or standing, forming a historic picture. On one side of the table, the pillars of the X-Men: Cyclops, with his rigid leader's posture, Jean Grey, whose serene gaze hid immeasurable power, Storm, majestic even in her fatigue, and Logan, leaning against the wall with his characteristic air of intransigent skepticism. On the other side, the new and uncomfortable presence of the Brotherhood: Magneto occupied the head of the table next to Xavier, his armor creating a stark contrast with the Professor's simple suit. Near him, Mystique watched everyone with a calculating and inscrutable look, her default blue form a testament to her changing nature. Rogue tried to seem small in a corner, her curious eyes wandering around the room, while Pyro remained visibly tense, his loyalty to Magneto being tested by this unprecedented alliance.
It was Logan who broke the silence, his sharp gaze fixing on Kael. "So, kid. What did the S.H.I.E.L.D. witch want?"
All eyes turned to him. Kael remained calm, walking to the center of the room. "She wasn't looking for 'me', Logan. She was looking for the Professor. The message was that Director Fury wants to set up a meeting."
He was about to ask the crucial question, the one everyone knew he would bring, when he was interrupted. A curious and timid whisper came from the corner.
"Was... was that a real dragon outside?"
It was Rogue. Her eyes were wide, a mixture of fear and fascination. The question, so innocent and out of context from the tense meeting, made everyone present, even the most serious like Cyclops and Mystique, turn to look at her. She blushed deeply, shrinking even further into her chair, as if she wanted to disappear.
Kael couldn't help a genuine smile. The tension in the room seemed to lessen a bit. He chuckled softly, a relaxed sound that seemed strange in that environment.
"It was," he confirmed, his voice softer. "A baby dragon, to be more precise. The real, adult dragons... well, I don't have access to those yet. But one day." His final words, spoken with a calm that bordered on a promise, hung in the air, reminding everyone that the army they had seen was only a fraction of the Architect's potential.
Magneto, however, was not a man to be distracted by cute hatchlings, even magma-spitting ones. He raised a gloved hand, and attention instantly returned to him. "It is fascinating, but we must return to the matter that brought us here," he declared, his voice resonating with authority. "The human governments have given their answer. And we have given ours. It was loud, it was decisive, and it was costly for them. Now, we must strike while the iron is hot. Hesitation is a luxury we can no longer afford."
Kael, taking advantage of the opening, finally asked his question, directing it to the group as a whole. "So, that's it? You're going to create your own mutant nation. Where?"
The question landed like a bomb in the silence that had followed Magneto's words. Looks of surprise, curiosity, and caution crossed the room. Even Logan seemed impressed by the young man's perceptiveness.
Cyclops was the first to speak, his voice containing a tone of suspicion. "How do you know about this? These discussions were confidential. And how did you know about... certain past missions?"
Kael maintained his serenity. He couldn't reveal the truth about his dimension, but he could offer an explanation that was both vague and plausible, considering his already demonstrated abilities. "My perception is not limited to the battlefield," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Just as I can smell fear or feel the vibration of a racing heartbeat from dozens of meters away, certain... impressions, echoes of significant events, are recorded in places and people. The X-Mansion is steeped in history. And some of those stories, like that of an island that almost devoured the first X-Men, are particularly strong." It was a way to explain his knowledge without going into details about accessing dimensional files. He was relying on the already established supernatural nature of his powers.
It was Xavier who broke the impasse, his voice calm but laden with meaning. "Do not underestimate Kael's perception, Scott. As he himself reminded us, and as today's battle so vividly proved, he does not only possess a powerful army. He himself is a weapon of singular power. If he says he can feel the echoes of Krakoa in this mansion, I am inclined to believe him."
The explanation, though extraordinary, seemed to be accepted by most, as it aligned with the already mysterious and multifaceted nature of Kael's powers.
"And then?" Kael pressed, looking at Xavier. "Where will this nation be?"
Xavier nodded. "Kael, the living island known as Krakoa. The plan is to recruit it. Not to dominate it, but to form a symbiosis. To offer it a purpose, a people to shelter and protect, and in return, it will become the foundation, the literal soil of our new nation. A living island, a mobile and impenetrable sanctuary for our people."
The idea was audacious. Even Mystique seemed impressed, a raised eyebrow her only concession to the feeling.
"It's an ambitious plan," Kael admitted, crossing his arms. "But even a living island needs international recognition. Otherwise, it will just be a bigger, floating target. And after what happened today, trusting any government seems... naive."
It was Magneto's turn to smile, a rare gesture that carried the shadow of his former grandeur. "Perceptive. And that is where the second part of the plan comes into play. Charles?"
Xavier turned to Kael again. "The island of Krakoa is a biological marvel. It produces flowers, fruits, and saps with unique medicinal properties, capable of curing diseases that human science considers incurable. We will be the distributors of these resources." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "And this is where you, Kael, come in indirectly. The Healing Spell you used in the gardens, the potion you gave to Stark... its nature is miraculous. We do not propose giving it to anyone. On the contrary."
Magneto intervened, his voice sharp. "The existence of your cure, young Architect, is our guarantee. As long as it is in your hands, or those of your allies, it serves as an unattainable trump card. Stark can play scientist with his single sample, but the real power remains here. Krakoa's cures will be our public offering, the currency of negotiation. Your cure, however, is our sword and our shield. It is the definitive proof that the mutant nation not only offers a valuable commodity but holds a power that they cannot replicate, buy, or steal. It is our deterrent."
The logic was clear, cold, and brilliant. They weren't giving the key to anyone. They were using the existence of that key as leverage. Kael's cure was not a product to be sold; it was a symbol of unparalleled sovereignty and power.
Kael nodded slowly, a gesture of deep respect and understanding. "I see. Krakoa's flowers are what we offer. My cure is what protects us while we make the offer. It's a solid plan." He looked at Cyclops and Jean Grey. "And you have the scientific capability here, in the mansion itself, to validate Krakoa's properties without depending on external labs."
Jean nodded. "Between me, Hank McCoy when he returns, and the Professor's equipment, we can do a deeper analysis than any human institution."
Before they could delve deeper, the door to the room opened and Kitty Pryde appeared, her face a mixture of shock and excitement. "Professors! You need to see this! It's on every channel!"
The room quickly emptied into an adjacent media room, where a large TV screen was tuned to a national news broadcast. The image was terrifying and, at the same time, a masterful public relations victory. The footage, clearly provided by Tony Stark, showed the attack on the mansion with a specific and calculated focus.
The scenes focused on the mutant children and teenagers, their pale, fearful faces being rushed to the underground shelters. There were close-ups of the injured young reserve team members, their moans of pain captured with crystal clarity. The editing was skillful, showing little of what the enemy army suffered. The massive charges of the Giants and the precise attacks of the Archers were shown quickly and chaotically, just enough to contextualize the defense, but the suffering of the mutants was the center of attention.
And the stroke of genius was the presence of Iron Man himself. His armor, the famous Mark armor, was unrecognizable in some places – dented, charred, with plates missing. To the world, which saw that armor as the perfect, nearly indestructible war machine, seeing it in that state was definitive proof of the brutality and disproportionate firepower launched against the school. The narrative was clear: a cowardly attack on children, heroically resisted by a group of youngsters and by one of Earth's greatest heroes, who was nearly destroyed in the process.
Kitty, looking frantically at her phone, read the comments from social media aloud. "It's chaos! #MassacreOfTheInnocent, #XMenAreHeroes, #StopTheWarOnMutants... Everyone is horrified! They're condemning the military, Stryker, and Trask Industries! They're demanding investigations!"
She looked at Kael, her eyes shining. "Tony Stark... he really gave us a big help, didn't he?"
Kael watched the images on the screen, the reporter's face talking about "a dark day for humanity." He looked at the faces around him – the relieved X-Men, the contained but satisfied Brotherhood members, and the two old leaders, Xavier and Magneto, exchanging a look of mutual understanding.
"Yes, Kitty," Kael said, his voice low but firm. "He gave us the most powerful weapon in this war: public opinion. He showed the world its own reflection. And, at least for today, they didn't like what they saw."
The game had indeed changed. And the next move would be the foundation of a nation.