The air outside Xavier's office felt different.
Heavier.
Quieter.
Almost as if reality itself held its breath when Mark walked through the halls. Students who normally joked, laughed, or argued fell silent when he passed by. Not out of fear—though some did fear him—but more from the overwhelming strangeness of his presence. The golden shimmer around him was almost invisible, like a mirage at the edge of sight. Something divine, something unnatural.
As Mark walked down the corridor, he replayed Magneto's words in his mind.
Erik wasn't wrong.
Humans did fear mutants. They did discriminate. They did experiment on the weak and helpless. He had seen it personally—felt the anger burn inside him when he found those children locked in cages, treated like lab rats.
Magneto's ideology made sense.
Charles' ideology made sense.
But neither mattered to him.
Not yet.
Mark wasn't ready—not for global conflict, not for rewriting humanity or evolution itself. His power was rising fast, but he couldn't change the world just because he could. A careless decision could end everything, including people he actually liked.
He smirked, remembering Tony Stark.
Killing Tony would shift world events too early. Mark didn't want that.
He enjoyed the Marvel world. He loved it.
He wasn't going to break his favorite toys.
We could be good friends, Mark thought. We have the same standards. He's arrogant, but he has taste.
Mark exhaled and whispered inside his mind:
"System."
Immediately a golden screen appeared before his eyes—visible to him alone, intangible, silent, perfect.
[SYSTEM SCREEN]
Name: Mark Skywalker
Age: (18 biologically / 102 metaphysically)
Powers:
• Reality Warping — Level 3 (10,000 / 4)
• Infinite Potential — MAX
Mark studied the glowing numbers.
Level 3.
The system granted him full control—refined, precise, subtle—and pushed evolution depending on the power. A weaker ability might evolve in minutes, but reality warping was at the top of existence. It took time. Even for him.
The jump from Level 1 to Level 2 had been noticeable.
But the jump from Level 2 to Level 3…
It was a transformation.
He compared the levels in his mind:
Level 1 Reality Warping
• He could affect small objects
• Things that already existed
• Very limited creation
• Simple deletion
• Physical-level changes only, nothing deep
• Very low range (a few meters)
Level 2 Reality Warping
• Could affect medium objects and some structures
• Could create objects with more complexity
• Could modify biological matter slightly
• Deeper control over probability
• Could heal small wounds
• Range expanded to a room-sized area
Level 3 Reality Warping .
This was different.
Completely different.
• He could alter matter and energy at will
• He could restore biological functions (like Charles' legs)
• He could manipulate causality, not just probability
• He could erase organs, reshape bodies, heal fatal injuries
• He could hide his own energy signature
• He could create abilities—but only simple ones so far
• He could sense cosmic-level threats faintly
• His range expanded to hundreds of meters
• His power obeyed his emotions even more closely
Mark flexed his fingers.
Level 3 is when you stop learning reality… and reality starts learning you.
But he wanted more.
Gojo Satoru's Limitless.
Wolverine's regeneration.
Maybe Telekinesis on par with Jean's Phoenix potential.
Maybe even magic—once he reached the right level.
But Level 4 reality warping…
That would take time.
Even for him.
A growl from his stomach interrupted his thoughts.
Mark sighed.
He could fill himself with nutrients instantly using his power—literally warp his stomach into being full—but eating felt more… normal. Human. Satisfying.
He decided to go to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was buzzing with life. Students chatted loudly, plates clattered, laughter echoed. It was the most alive part of the school—and a sharp contrast to Mark's earlier mood.
Kitty Pryde was the first to notice him.
She waved excitedly.
"Mark! Over here!"
At her table sat Bobby (Iceman), Rogue, and Nightcrawler. The group looked cozy, friendly, like a little patch of normal teenager life.
Mark walked over.
Kitty smiled brightly.
"Come sit with us!"
He took a seat. The group welcomed him easily—something he wasn't used to. In his old world, he wasn't exactly popular. But here? The combination of power, looks, and mystery made people gravitate toward him.
They talked casually:
• Kitty chatting about a shopping trip
• Bobby talking about pranking Scott
• Kurt rambling happily about German food
• Rogue listening quietly but smiling
It was… nice.
Mark found himself enjoying it.
Kitty suddenly asked:
"Mark, we're going out shopping later. Wanna come?"
Mark blinked.
Going out?
Shopping?
Hanging out?
He hadn't done anything like that in years—literally, if his metaphysical age was counted.
He gave a small smile and nodded.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
Kitty lit up. Kurt gave a thumbs up. Rogue gave a shy smile.
Bobby frowned.
Jealousy simmered beneath Bobby's smile. Mark noticed instantly. It was almost adorable—Bobby acting like a possessive puppy around Rogue.
That's when Mark glanced at Rogue.
Her gloves.
Her powers.
Her curse.
She couldn't touch people without draining their life and powers.
Mark tilted his head.
"Rogue… can I touch your hand?"
Silence slammed onto the table.
Bobby froze, then glared at Mark.
Kitty's fork dropped.
Kurt tilted his head, confused.
Rogue's eyes went wide.
"Ah don't think that's a good idea," Rogue whispered.
Kitty leaned in.
"Mark, she can't touch anyone. You'll literally die."
Bobby's lips twisted into a smirk.
"Yeah, go ahead. Let's see you get knocked out."
Mark ignored him completely.
"Nothing will happen to me," he said calmly.
Rogue's breath caught in her throat.
Mark stretched out his hand.
Slowly. Confidently.
A bold gesture—one no one had ever made toward her.
Rogue stared at his palm.
Then at his face.
Then at his palm again.
Her hand trembled as she pulled off her glove.
"Ah warned ya…" she whispered.
And she touched him.
Gasps erupted around the table.
Rogue drew in a sharp breath.
She felt it.
A tiny pull—like trying to drink the ocean through a straw. Her mutation reached into Mark, trying to drain genetics, energy, memories.
But it was like grabbing a lightning bolt wrapped in titanium.
Mark felt the tug—pathetic, almost amusing.
He smiled internally.
Deny reality.
His power shimmered silently, blocking the drain.
Rogue blinked several times.
Nothing happened.
Mark remained calm, eyes steady.
Rogue touched him with both hands now, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"Ah… Ah can touch you," she whispered, voice trembling with emotion.
It was the first time in her life she touched someone without hurting them.
She looked happy. Truly happy.
Bobby looked like he wanted to break his ice tray in half.
Kitty clapped.
Kurt cheered happily.
Rogue looked at Mark with something new—warmth, maybe gratitude.
Mark pulled his hand back gently.
"See? Nothing happened."
Rogue smiled in a way she'd never smiled before.
And Bobby's eye twitched.
Meanwhile — In Charles' Office
The mood was dark.
Magneto stood with arms crossed, his expression grave.
Mystique leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching the window.
Sabretooth paced like an animal, agitated.
Charles stood now—still stunned, still adjusting to his newly restored legs—but his mind entirely focused on one thing:
Mark Skywalker.
Magneto finally spoke.
"He healed you without effort. Charles… he could reshape the world if he wished."
Charles nodded slowly.
"Yes. And that is precisely what frightens me."
Sabretooth growled.
"A guy like that could wipe out this school if he sneezes wrong."
Mystique scoffed.
"Or if someone pisses him off."
Magneto tapped his fingers together.
"He must be approached carefully. Mutants like him… they do not follow. They shape destiny."
Charles inhaled deeply.
"Mark is not cruel. But he is not like the other students."
Magneto nodded.
"No. He is something… else."
Mystique leaned forward.
"Do we recruit him or avoid him?"
Magneto turned his gaze toward the door.
"Neither."
Sabretooth frowned.
"Then what?"
Magneto's voice dropped, low and heavy.
"We survive him."
Lunch ended with laughter, stories, and Rogue quietly staring at her hands—overwhelmed by the simple feeling of human touch.
Kitty nudged Mark.
"Don't forget—shopping trip at 3!"
Mark nodded.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He needed to train.
He needed to grow.
He needed more power.
Level 3 wasn't enough.
Level 4…
That was where worlds bowed.
Mark stepped out of the cafeteria, heading toward the training rooms.
He could feel the future shifting around him.
A storm was coming.
He would be ready.