Why be a hero… when you can be a god?

Charles and his two companions had traveled to the Soviet Union. Their intelligence-gathering mission went off without a hitch, and they successfully captured the White Queen.

Using their powers, they uncovered the entirety of the Black King's plan.

But just as they stepped off the plane in New York, spirits high from their victory, a phone call shattered their mood with a single message: the Base was gone.

All personnel were dead.

The Base lay in ruins.

Charles and his team rushed to the scene. Ron and his four companions were sitting on a long bench outside the devastated facility, while specialized cleanup crews worked inside the wreckage.

Alex and his two teammates sat quietly nearby. Mystique was seated rather close to Ron, and Hank McCoy occasionally glanced over at them, his eyes tinged with sorrow.

After the battle had ended the night before, Ron had gone back to retrieve them. The moment he found Raven, alone in that cold, desolate alley, she had thrown herself into his arms the instant she saw him. Her voice trembled with fear and relief as she clung to him.

"Ron, you're finally back. Are you hurt? What about the others?"

The fear in that alley hadn't just come from the darkness or the isolation. Raven had spent every agonizing second wondering if Ron—and everyone else—had died.

The uncertainty gnawed at her, every minute feeling like an eternity.

Ron's return had ended her torment. The moment he held her, she felt warmth and safety rush back into her world.

Later, when Mystique learned that Ron's teleportation ability was limited and he had chosen to send her away first, a complicated warmth stirred in her heart. Without realizing it, she began leaning subtly closer to him.

"We know what happened. I'll arrange a plane to take you all home now—including you, Ron."

Professor X spoke with a heavy heart. He paused, looking at Ron before continuing, his voice tinged with hesitation.

"Although you did incredibly well—better than we could've hoped for—you're still too young. You should go back… back to where you belong. Home."

The events of the previous day had only strengthened his belief that he shouldn't involve such young, inexperienced individuals in battles of this magnitude.

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on Charles.

Even after hearing from the others that Ron had killed Azazel and Riptide, and even managed to send the Black King packing—an achievement that had astonished everyone—Charles still didn't want him taking further risks.

"Home, huh?"

Ron silently shook his head. Home? He doubted Professor X had access to a plane that could cross universes.

Still, something had changed in Charles. Yesterday's tragedy had left its mark. The reckless wanderer was beginning to fade, replaced by a man coming to terms with responsibility. This was the moment he began to truly become Professor X.

"No. We're not leaving. He killed Banshee."

"Banshee died right in front of us… with a gaping hole in his chest!"

Alex and Darwin's voices were filled with grief and fury. They had no intention of retreating. They wanted to stay and face the Black King—to avenge their fallen friend.

Young people may lack the maturity and restraint of adults, but they possess one distinct advantage: they make friends easily. Sometimes, it only takes a few words to form a deep bond.

"No. For you, it's over."

Charles's expression hardened once more, and he prepared to insist that everyone leave.

"We should avenge him. Life will throw countless hardships our way. But if we respond only with tolerance and forgetfulness, we'll never truly grow."

The calm voice came from the side—Eric. His deep tone immediately challenged Charles's stance.

"We must avenge him. We must fight back."

"Eric, a word." Taking a sharp breath, Professor X pulled Magneto aside, his voice low and tense.

"Eric, what are you saying? They're still children."

"No. They were children."

Magneto's gaze was firm, his tone unwavering.

"Hatred… and love. Those are the fastest forces to make someone grow. After what happened last night… they're no longer the same."

When it came to hatred as a source of strength, no one understood it better than Erik.

Ever since the gunshot that took his mother's life more than a decade ago, revenge had consumed his every thought. From a lonely child to a hardened adult, he had walked through years of darkness.

No matter how difficult the path, he never gave up—because hatred was the only thing keeping him going.

Hatred could unlock a person's potential. It could awaken a strength buried so deep that it would never surface under ordinary circumstances.

Professor X turned and looked at the group.

"Look at Ron… they all carry tremendous potential. Charles, if you send them away now, what happened to Banshee will become a lifelong regret—a wound that never heals."

Charles hesitated.

His resolve, once solid, was beginning to waver.

Ron, standing at a distance, silently watched Magneto's intense efforts to persuade Professor X. In that moment, he realized Magneto was steadily becoming the man he was destined to be.

Eighteen years ago, the Black King had shot Erik's mother in a concentration camp in order to provoke his latent powers. And for eighteen long years, Erik had lived for the chance to take revenge.

Eighteen years of suffering, of torment, of tireless pursuit… and what did Magneto accomplish against the Black King?

"Nothing."

The Black King had been too cunning. After the Soviet Union fell from power, he disappeared, reinvented himself, and formed a new organization from the shadows.

It had taken Magneto eighteen years just to locate the Black King. During that time, the Black King had founded the Hellfire Club, mingled with powerful politicians and high-ranking officials, and built influence from the shadows—while Erik, like a lone wolf, wandered through the darkness and pain, relentlessly searching.

How many sets of eighteen years does a person get in a lifetime? Nearly the entirety of Erik's life had been consumed by hatred.

His last meeting with Professor X had also been the first time in eighteen years that he laid eyes on the Black King again.

On that luxurious cruise ship, eighteen years' worth of rage and anguish surged up all at once, clouding his judgment. He had rushed forward with a dagger in hand, ready to end it all—but before he could get close, the White Queen kicked him overboard.

And then, in the water, even as he used his powers to tear the ship apart, all he could do was watch helplessly as his enemy escaped in a nuclear submarine hidden beneath the vessel.

Eighteen years of searching… and the enemy still walked away unharmed right before his eyes.

Last night was the second closest he ever came.

Missing yet another opportunity, Magneto became even more agitated. He could no longer afford to wait. Hatred had completely consumed him, and he was ready to use any means necessary to exact his revenge.

What happens to someone whose entire life revolves around vengeance… only to fail?

What if they never get to release that pain, never strike the final blow, and are left with nothing but lifelong regret?

Sitting on the bench, Ron's lips curled into a faint smile as the thought crossed his mind.

With such a major ripple effect, surely the future would change drastically now… wouldn't it?

"We need special training."

Professor X finally stepped forward, having been persuaded by Magneto. He now believed that Erik truly had their best interests at heart. Silently, he gave his approval for the team to stay.

But this time, he would ensure that things were different. These young people wouldn't be thrown into battle unprepared. They would be trained—properly trained—to master their powers, to face danger, and to survive it.

"We can't stay here anymore. Even if we rebuild, it wouldn't be safe. He knows this location."

Alex rose to his feet and voiced the concern plainly.

The base was compromised. It could no longer be used.

Then, he looked at Ron with a complicated expression.

"Ron threw him into the incinerator flue of a suburban crematorium. If he's not dead… he's definitely coming back."

Humiliation. To be tossed into an ash heap like garbage—if the Black King survived, there was no way he'd let that slide.

Maybe he hadn't retaliated yet.

But when he did come back… it would be with ruthless vengeance.

"The crematorium flue…?"

Professor X and his two companions froze, eyes wide as they turned to stare at Ron in disbelief.