The sky was just beginning to pale, a faint hint of dawn breaking through the horizon, yet the heavy shroud of night still lingered over the academy.
Hang stood on the back lawn, dew clinging coldly to the tips of the grass. He looked up toward the second floor of the main building—Jean Grey's window glowed faintly, like a weary eye emitting a dim, yellow light.
She hadn't slept all night.
His mental power seeped in like an invisible mist. Jean sat on the edge of her bed, arms tightly wrapped around her knees. Her slender body trembled slightly, as if caught in an unseen chill. The Phoenix Force within her had grown even more violent than the night before—that golden-red energy was like a cosmic beast imprisoned within her, slamming relentlessly against the psychic shackles Charles had placed on her mind. With every impact, cracks spread further across that fragile barrier.
That restraint was less a protection—and more a balloon on the verge of bursting.
There had to be an outlet. A way to release this world-destroying power without letting it annihilate everything. Countless ideas flashed through Hang's mind like shooting stars—each one rejected in turn.
Forceful suppression would only trigger a stronger backlash. As for guiding it… how do you guide something this vast?
Unless…
He made it part of Jean herself—a continuous source of power.
A bold concept gradually took shape in his mind: amplify Jean's X-gene using his own abilities, and use the Phoenix Force as the "fuel" for that amplified state. Instead of a flood trying to break through a dam, it would become a steady river driving a turbine.
In that way, the Phoenix Force would gain an outlet, Jean's abilities would undergo a qualitative leap, and together they would form a perfect, self-sustaining energy cycle.
But this required a trigger—an external pressure strong enough to push Jean to the brink of life and death, forcing her to accept and control that power.
She needed an opponent. One powerful enough to threaten her life, yet still within Hang's control—a catalyst.
"It's time to release Apocalypse."
The decision settled in his mind. His figure vanished instantly, as if he had never been there.
Minutes later, when he returned to the backyard, the eastern sky had already been painted with brilliant hues of dawn.
What he brought back with him… was the awakening heartbeat of something buried deep within a distant pyramid—echoing across millennia.
He turned and walked toward the main building. His footsteps echoed clearly in the empty pre-dawn corridor. A few early-rising students glanced at him curiously, but under his indifferent gaze, none dared approach.
The door to Charles's office was tightly shut. Hang raised his hand and knocked lightly.
"Come in," Charles's voice came, hoarse from a sleepless night.
As the door opened, the smell of cold coffee and anxiety hit him. Charles sat in his wheelchair, facing the gradually brightening sky. His bloodshot eyes were filled with worry—he had clearly sensed something.
"What did you do?" Charles asked without preamble. His psychic senses had detected an ancient, distant malice awakening—and its source seemed tied to Hang's brief disappearance. "I can feel it… something has been released."
"I removed the seal I placed," Hang replied calmly, stepping to the window beside him.
Charles spun his wheelchair sharply to face him, gripping the armrests until they creaked. "Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what you've done? That power is filled with destruction and savagery. If it fully descends, the entire world will—"
"Face a war," Hang interrupted calmly. "A war meant to eliminate the weak and purify the world. I know. That's exactly what I need."
"Need?" Charles's voice trembled with disbelief and anger. "Do you know how many innocent people will die?"
"There will be casualties." Hang turned, the dawn casting deep shadows across his face. "But if we do nothing, Jean will lose control within a week. When that happens, the Phoenix Force will burn the entire planet. More people will die."
Charles fell silent.
No one understood Jean's condition better than he did. That psychic restraint was already paper-thin. But he couldn't accept gambling the entire world on such a plan.
"Is this really the only way?" he asked, exhaustion heavy in his voice. "Is there no alternative?"
"No." Hang's gaze was sharp and unwavering. "The Phoenix Force must be released. And Jean must learn to control it in real combat—not passively endure it like she is now. The being I awakened is the perfect catalyst—strong enough to push her to the limit, but not beyond what I can handle."
"And if she loses control?"
"She won't." A faint golden glint flashed in Hang's eyes—confidence born of absolute power. "I'll intervene before that happens. And I've already figured out how to keep her stable long-term."
He briefly explained the concept of the "perfect cycle."
As Charles listened, his anger gradually gave way to shock—and deep contemplation. The idea was brilliant… and utterly insane.
"How confident are you?" he finally asked hoarsely.
"Seventy percent," Hang answered honestly. "The remaining thirty depends on Jean's will and her desire to live. But I'll control all variables."
Charles closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily. He had no choice. Hang had already opened Pandora's box—the awakening of that ancient being was now inevitable.
All he could do… was trust him.
"What do you need me to do?" Charles opened his eyes again, now filled with weary resolve.
"When he awakens, organize the X-Men to confront him," Hang said. "Let Jean join the team. Don't give her special protection. She must truly feel the threat of death—only then will the Phoenix Force emerge as something she can actively accept and control."
Charles nodded slowly. "And if… if she loses control during the battle—can you really suppress that power?"
"I can." Hang's answer carried no hesitation.
After several seconds of silent scrutiny, Charles chose to believe him. He pressed the communicator on his wheelchair. The signal of Cerebro spread silently throughout the building.
"One more thing," Hang added. "Evacuate the other students. Find somewhere safe for them. On the battlefield, we only need the core members—Scott, Jean, Ororo, Hank. Too many people will just get in the way."
Charles calculated quickly in his mind, then nodded.
Hang said nothing more and turned to leave. His hand paused briefly on the doorknob.
"Three days," he said without turning back. "He'll fully awaken by then. Be ready."
The door closed, leaving the office in silence.
Charles stared out at the now-bright sky. The morning light fell across his pale face, highlighting every line and wrinkle. For the first time, he felt old—too old to keep up with the madness of this dangerous new era.
Minutes later, the door opened again as Scott, Hank, Ororo, and Jean—pale, exhausted, and unable to hide the fear in her eyes—gathered inside.
"Professor?" Scott spoke first. "Calling us this early—what's happened?"
Charles looked at his most trusted team, his gaze lingering on Jean, filled with complicated emotions.
"There's something I must tell you," he began slowly, each word heavy. "A mutant who has slept for thousands of years is about to awaken. His name… is Apocalypse. He is believed to be one of the oldest—and most powerful—mutants in the world. When he awakens, he will wage war on the civilization we know."
The air in the room froze.
Hank adjusted his glasses, shock written across his face. "You mean… we're facing someone out of myth?"
"Something like that," Charles nodded gravely. "He possesses countless abilities. Most dangerous of all, he will recruit four powerful mutants as his Horsemen, forming a nearly unstoppable force."
Scott's fists clenched instantly, his knuckles turning white. "Then… do we stand a chance?"
"Yes."
A calm voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned sharply.
Hang was leaning casually against the doorframe. He stepped inside, walking to Charles's side. His gaze swept across everyone present—before finally settling on Jean.
"Jean… trust yourself."
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