Why be a hero… when you can be a god?

Professor X and the others only knew that Ron had seemingly used Azazel's ability to teleport the Black King away—but they had no idea where he'd sent him.

Now they knew: into the furnace chimney of a crematorium!

No one could have imagined that the man who orchestrated a plot to ignite World War III and destroy the world… would be reduced to such a miserable, humiliating fate by Ron.

"Well done. That bastard killed countless people in the name of his so-called cause."

Magneto recalled the scene and let out a dark, toothy grin—shark-like and tinged with morbid satisfaction.

"That's exactly where he belongs."

"I wanted to trap him in the crematorium flue," Ron said calmly from the bench. "Thin oxygen, rolling smoke, raging heat… I wanted to see if that could suffocate him."

Because in a head-on fight, no one in the world could kill the Black King.

"It won't be easy," Professor X said with a heavy sigh.

"I've read the White Queen's memories. One of his abilities is extreme endurance—he can survive two to three hours without breathing."

Whereas an ordinary person might only last ten to twenty minutes without air, the Black King could hold out more than ten times that.

"In that case… even the bottom of the ocean probably couldn't kill him."

After hearing Professor X's explanation, Ron muttered quietly to himself.

With the Black King's power, even the Mariana Trench—the deepest point on Earth, over 10,000 meters below sea level—might not pose much of a threat. He could likely swim to the surface in under ten minutes.

If they wanted to kill the Black King, they'd have to find another way.

"The training facility… come with me." After a moment of thought, Professor X made a suggestion. "We can go to my home. It's quite spacious—enough to accommodate all of us."

...

Outskirts of New York.

"This… this is your home?"

In front of a sprawling estate that covered hundreds of acres, Darwin—who had once worked as a taxi driver—stared, dumbfounded, at the magnificent old mansion.

"If I'm not mistaken… that's a castle."

So this was what rich people meant by "quite spacious"?

Forget just them—this place could easily house ten times as many people without feeling crowded.

"For now, we'll be staying here."

Professor X ignored Darwin's astonishment and spoke calmly.

"Charles, how much money do you have?" Alex couldn't help asking, wide-eyed with amazement.

"I don't know. I've never cared about things like that."

Charles shrugged, spreading his hands to show his indifference. Wealth had never interested him; his passion lay in academia.

Magneto, standing nearby, said nothing—but inwardly, he was speechless. His mind drifted back to his own childhood, starving three times a day, wandering alone after escaping the concentration camp.

The future Mutant school.

Ron gazed at the grand castle before him, eyes narrowing slightly. One day, this estate would become the site of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

"Come on, time for a tour."

Mystique grinned and led the group through the castle.

They walked along redwood corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against polished floors. The interior was elegant and steeped in history—antique clocks hung from the walls, and heirlooms filled every corner.

There was no denying it: Professor X was a true winner in life.

A bona fide New York aristocrat. His ancestors had lived in this very castle over two centuries ago. Born into vast wealth, he had never wanted for anything. And as a child, he'd even found a young Mystique—his adopted sister—stealing food from his kitchen.

He grew up to be both handsome and brilliant: the most powerful telepath on Earth. With such blessings, his life should have been filled with happiness and success.

But fate had other plans.

In his younger years, Charles had been a playboy—charming but emotionally blind. He failed to understand Mystique's complex heart… and eventually, Magneto captured it instead, taking her away.

In his later years, his benevolent heart awakened, and he dedicated his entire life to fighting for mutantkind—right up until his death.

"Pitiable."

Ron quietly shook his head.

After the castle tour, Professor X began organizing room assignments and initiated training sessions tailored to each person.

In the underground bunker—built to withstand even nuclear explosions—Alex was given full freedom to practice his immensely destructive powers.

Charles helped him untangle the emotional knots holding him back, urging him to stop relying solely on anger to trigger his abilities. Instead, he encouraged Alex to think of beautiful things, to learn to harness his power through calm and controlled intent.

He created a variety of simulated environments for Darwin, helping him understand how his powers would react to different types of danger—so that instead of passively adapting, Darwin could anticipate and prepare.

As for Hank… Professor X, drawing on his expertise in psychology, helped him confront and work through his self-esteem issues. Hank slowly began to accept his oversized feet, and once he stopped holding back, he could run several times faster than the average person.

Of course… that particular skill wasn't all that useful—unless they suddenly needed someone to deliver ammunition in a trench.

Eventually, Charles gave up on field training for Hank and let him focus on scientific research instead.

And finally, it was Ron's turn.

...

In the room.

"Ron, your situation is… quite complex. Very special."

Professor X chose his words carefully as he studied the young man in front of him. After a brief pause, he asked:

"You seem to… be able to possess the abilities of other mutants?"

To ordinary people, mutant powers already felt like magic—miracles beyond understanding. But if someone could freely acquire the abilities of other mutants, wouldn't that person, in time, be seen as a god?

The thought unsettled him. Was it truly possible for such an unrestricted, god-tier ability to exist in this world?

"Five times."

Ron, seated on the sofa, turned his gaze away from the window, where Magneto was practicing his powers on the lawn outside. His tone was calm as he spoke.

"What?"

Professor X didn't quite follow at first.

"I can replicate others' abilities," Ron explained, holding up five fingers. "But I can only do it five times in my life. Once I've used them… that's it. No do-overs."

"Five times? So, five abilities total."

If that was the limit, then it was manageable. Not ideal, but not a threat to the balance of the world.

Professor X let out a subtle breath of relief. Logically, a power that overwhelming shouldn't exist without restrictions.

Otherwise, the fate of Earth wouldn't be decided by its six billion inhabitants, but by the will of this single young man before him.

And that thought was terrifying.

With his long-dormant compassion gradually awakening, Professor X found himself instinctively rejecting that possibility.

The best gods are the ones that only exist in fantasy after all.

"How many abilities have you already replicated?" he asked, pressing further.

"Immortality and self-healing, enhanced physicality—like a tiger or leopard—psychic teleportation, and then Darwin's and Alex's powers. So five in total."

Ron ticked them off casually, lowering a finger with each name until all five were down.

"Wait… did you say immortality?"

Professor X blinked, stunned. It had taken a second to register, but now the weight of that word hit him squarely.

"How long can you live?"

"A few hundred years, maybe more than a thousand. Not exactly sure."

Ron said it as nonchalantly as Charles had earlier when talking about his family's wealth.

Sabretooth and Wolverine had similar abilities. Wolverine's adamantium skeleton had become iconic—bonded to his body—but it had also severely inhibited both his self-healing and his natural longevity.

Although my natural lifespan is relatively short and there are some limitations, Ron thought calmly, with Sabretooth's ability, living for at least several hundred years won't be a problem.

He didn't seem particularly concerned. His potential lifespan still had room to grow—and perhaps, one day, he might achieve true immortality.

...

Elsewhere.

Raven lay on a fitness bench, repeatedly pressing a 100-kilogram barbell as part of her strength training.

Without warning, the barbell slipped from her grip—and instead of falling, it floated steadily into the air.

Magneto entered the room, walking in slowly.