The clone stepped through the temporal gate and landed on damp grass.
The rain had just stopped. The air carried the scent of wet soil and fresh greenery, while crows cawed faintly in the distance.
The laws of this world were different. Space felt more stable, and time flowed slightly slower. As for energy density—it was about thirty percent higher than in the Marvel universe.
He closed his eyes, his mental force spreading out like an invisible net.
Cities, highways, forests. Human consciousness scattered like starlight. Among them, certain points shone especially bright—mutants. Within a radius of five hundred kilometers, there were at least two hundred of them. The ratio was absurdly high.
He expanded his search further and quickly locked onto the two strongest presences.
One was in northern New York State—vast mental power like a star. Gentle on the surface, but with a sharp edge hidden beneath.
Charles Xavier.
The other was in the same location, its magnetic field fluctuations violent—like a blade suspended in midair.
Erik Lehnsherr.
The clone opened his eyes, confirming the direction. Instead of heading straight there, he first surveyed his surroundings. It was a suburban area, with several 1990s Ford and Chevrolet cars parked by the roadside.
A soaked newspaper was plastered to a utility pole. The date read June 12, 1995.
The headline was eye-catching:
Senate Once Again Rejects Mutant Registration Act
Below it was a photo of a bald man in a wheelchair giving a speech, calling for coexistence between humans and mutants.
The clone tossed the newspaper aside and began walking north. Power at the Skyfather level would be too conspicuous in this universe—he had no intention of drawing attention.
Before long, a beat-up pickup truck stopped by the roadside. The owner, a middle-aged man, was tinkering with the engine using a wrench.
"Need a ride?"
The man looked up, wary. "Where to?"
"Westchester County, New York."
"That's a long way."
The clone pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, created on the spot using reality manipulation—flawless.
The man's eyes lit up. He examined it carefully, then nodded. "Hop in."
The pickup rattled along the road. The man wasn't very talkative, but when they passed a gas station, he glanced at the clone, hesitating.
"What is it?" the clone asked.
"Nothing." The man shook his head. "Just… there's a school out there. Takes in… special kids."
"Mutants?" the clone said bluntly.
The man froze for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm not prejudiced, but… those kids sometimes lose control."
He lowered his voice. "Heard there's one who shoots electricity—fried half the street's appliances. Another controls fire—almost burned down his own house. Professor Xavier's a good man, but those kids… they're dangerous."
The clone said nothing.
Half an hour later, the pickup stopped at the end of a tree-lined road. Ahead stood a wrought-iron gate, beyond which lay a Victorian-style mansion.
"This is it," the man said. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."
The clone stepped out. The pickup quickly turned around and disappeared.
Standing before the gate, his mental force had already swept through the entire building. Inside were over a dozen mutants, most of them teenagers. The two strongest presences were on the second floor.
Charles Xavier—and Erik Lehnsherr.
The clone pressed the doorbell.
"Hello, this is Xavier's School," came a woman's voice through the intercom.
"I'd like to meet Professor Charles Xavier."
"May I ask who you are?"
"A mutant who needs help."
After a few seconds of silence, the gate slowly opened.
As the clone walked in, he immediately felt a mental force scanning him.
Charles.
He didn't resist. Instead, he constructed a mental barrier using psychic laws, allowing only a fabricated layer of memory to be seen: awakening powers, being driven out by family, wandering alone, and finally hearing about this place.
The story was fake—but convincing enough.
The mansion doors opened. A bald man in a wheelchair appeared. He looked to be in his forties, his gaze gentle yet sharp.
"Welcome," Charles said. "I am Charles Xavier."
"Hang," the clone replied.
Charles paused slightly at the name, then smiled. "Come in. Let's talk."
Inside the living room, Charles gestured for him to sit.
"Your mental barrier is quite unusual," he said bluntly. "I've never seen such a structure. It isn't instinctive—it's carefully designed."
"I don't like people in my head."
"Understandable." Charles nodded. "But since you're here, it means you need help."
"I need a place to stay—and to learn more about mutants."
"What is your ability?"
The clone raised his right hand. A faint golden light appeared in his palm, flickering like a miniature sun.
Charles's pupils contracted slightly. He could feel the immense power contained within it.
"Energy manipulation?"
"Something like that," the clone said. "But I don't control it well. Sometimes it gets out of hand."
A lie—but a necessary one.
Charles studied the light, a thoughtful look in his eyes. The structure of that energy was extraordinarily complex—far beyond any energy manipulator he had encountered.
"Your energy… is very pure," he said. "You might be an Omega-level mutant."
"What's Omega-level?"
"The highest classification of mutant abilities," Charles explained. "Theoretically limitless. For example, I can reach the entire world. Erik can control the Earth's magnetic field."
He looked at the clone. "If you are Omega-level, you must learn control. Otherwise, you'll harm everyone—including yourself."
"That's why I'm here."
Charles smiled. "Good. Welcome to Xavier's School. Come with me—I'll arrange a test of your abilities."
The clone stood and followed. From upstairs, he could feel a gaze—magnetic fields subtly vibrating in the air.
Erik Lehnsherr.
In the training room, a gray-haired man in a black jacket stood at the center.
"This the new student you mentioned?" Erik asked flatly.
"Hang, this is Erik Lehnsherr," Charles introduced.
Erik didn't respond. He simply raised his hand. Every piece of metal in the room lifted into the air.
"Your energy manipulation—can it block this?"
The clone raised his hand. Golden light surged, forming a barrier. Erik flicked his wrist—metal objects shot forward, slamming into the barrier with deafening crashes before falling to the ground.
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Interesting."
"Hang, try increasing your output," Charles said.
The clone nodded. The barrier expanded. Erik tore metal fixtures from the walls and ripped steel plates from the floor, hurling them all at once.
The clone stood still. The barrier held—but he felt pressure, not from Erik, but from this universe's laws suppressing his power.
He took a breath, drawing on more energy. The barrier stabilized.
Erik stopped. "You're strong—but not at your limit."
Charles nodded. "I agree. Hang, your ability is indeed Omega-level—but you need finer control."
The clone lowered the barrier. "I'll learn."
"Good," Charles said with a smile. "Starting tomorrow, you're a student here. Erik, take him to the dormitory."
Erik nodded and led the clone upstairs.
"You're not an ordinary mutant," Erik suddenly said at the dorm entrance.
The clone turned to him.
"Your energy is too pure," Erik said. "And that mental barrier—mutation alone can't produce that. Where are you from?"
The clone didn't answer.
Erik didn't press further. "Be careful of Charles. He reads minds. He says he won't do it casually—but under pressure, people break their own principles."
With that, he turned and left.
The clone closed the door and sat on the bed. Beneath the mansion, he could sense a vast underground space—the Cerebro was there.
He closed his eyes, organizing what he had learned today. Charles, Erik, Omega-level… the power system of this universe was more complex than he had expected.
Night fell.
Sitting by the window, he looked out at the distant forest. He thought of his original body, of Wanda, of the Time Variance Authority.
"Breakfast is at eight tomorrow morning in the dining hall. I'll introduce you to the other students," Charles's voice echoed directly in his mind.
"Got it."
The mental presence withdrew. The sound of wheels faded into the distance. The clone returned to the bed.
Tomorrow, the real feast of superpowers would begin.
The reason he hadn't copied Professor Xavier's psychic abilities or Magneto's control over magnetism today was simple—
He intended to save this copy opportunity for a true multiversal-level power:
The Phoenix Force.
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