"Jean… are you okay?"
Inside the dim pocket space, Scott Summers slowly regained consciousness.
The moment he saw Jean standing there—alive—he rushed toward her, relief flooding his face.
"Jean—"
His hand reached out.
She stepped back.
It was subtle, but unmistakable.
Scott froze.
"I'm… fine," Jean said quietly, avoiding his gaze.
Her arms folded instinctively across her chest. The faint redness on her skin hadn't fully faded—marks left behind from earlier.
From Noah.
And worse—
She remembered everything.
Every moment from when that other side of her had taken control. The way she had forced him, pushed him, tried to take what she wanted without hesitation.
Her thoughts spiraled.
What was that?
It wasn't just loss of control.
It was something deeper.
Something inside her—something ancient—had reacted to Noah in a way she couldn't explain.
Her instincts screamed the same thing over and over:
He's perfect.
Not just strong.
Compatible.
A vessel.
The Phoenix Force inside her had recognized something in Noah Vale—and it wanted him.
Badly.
If it weren't already bound to her, it might have abandoned her entirely.
Jean clenched her fists slightly.
At this rate… I'm not the one in control.
If that presence took over again—
She didn't want to imagine it.
Especially not with Scott standing right there.
—
Scott, still confused, glanced around the strange space.
Then his eyes landed on Noah.
"What is this place?" he demanded. "And why are you here? Did you bring us here?"
Noah didn't even look annoyed.
"Or," he said flatly, "you could stop talking until you understand what's going on."
Scott's expression hardened.
Noah moved.
In an instant, he was in front of him.
His hand came up—
Jean reacted immediately, grabbing Noah's wrist before he could strike.
"Please," she said quickly. "He doesn't know what's happening."
Noah glanced at her, then at Scott.
Behind them, Charles Xavier spoke up.
"Scott," he said firmly, "that's enough. Noah is a mutant. Without him, none of us would be here."
Scott blinked.
"…He's a mutant?"
He opened his mouth—
And froze.
Xavier's telepathic hold settled in, silencing him before he could say anything else.
Noah pulled his hand back.
Jean let out a quiet breath.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Scott, unable to move or speak, could only stare.
—
Noah turned to Xavier.
"Stryker's dead," he said. "So what's your plan now? Going back to the school?"
Xavier sighed.
"That won't be possible. The school is exposed. It's only a matter of time before it's targeted again."
He looked at Noah.
"What would you suggest?"
Noah raised an eyebrow.
"You're asking me?"
A brief pause.
"Fine. Then go to Magneto's island. At least there, you won't have to worry about human interference."
It wasn't a perfect solution.
But it was the best available.
Before Xavier could respond—
A voice spoke up from the group of rescued students.
"Can I come with you?"
Noah turned.
A teenage boy stepped forward, eyes bright with excitement.
"I'm John Allerdyce," he said quickly. "I can control fire. I can help."
The reaction was immediate.
Others shifted, watching Noah with the same expression—hope, admiration, something close to worship.
They had seen what he could do.
And now they knew—
He was one of them.
Following him felt like the obvious choice.
Noah studied them for a moment.
Then shook his head.
"No."
The answer was simple.
"If you want direction, Magneto's your guy. Stick with him. If I need help, I'll find you."
The enthusiasm dimmed slightly, but none of them argued.
Noah didn't linger.
He stepped out of the pocket space, returning to the real world.
There was still cleanup to do.
And then—
New York.
—
The world, meanwhile, was in chaos.
The nuclear explosion had shaken governments, militaries, and intelligence agencies alike.
But in the United States—
It was already being overshadowed.
Internal energy.
That was what people cared about now.
Within a single day, it had spread everywhere.
Guides—official and pirated—circulated across the internet. Millions tried to replicate the method.
And many succeeded.
Roughly twenty percent of the population had already felt the first signs of it.
And with that—
A market was born.
Wilson Fisk's trading platform had launched overnight.
Verified users could buy and sell internal energy through designated locations, tracked and regulated through the system.
The prices climbed fast.
$200 per unit.
Then $230.
Then $250.
By the end of the day—
$320.
And still rising.
The real shock came from the buyers.
Public figures. Billionaires. People who could afford to skip the process entirely.
Bill Gates: $500 per unit — buying 365,000 units.
Steve Jobs: $700 per unit — same volume.
Queen Elizabeth II: $1,000 per unit — same volume.
Money wasn't the limit anymore.
Time was.
—
At Stark Industries—
Tony Stark sat cross-legged on a mat, eyes closed, breathing steady.
Trying it for himself.
Upstairs, the billionaire genius trained.
Downstairs, employees gathered in tense silence as management addressed them about the changing world.
Everything was shifting.
Fast.
And no one knew where it would stop.