Chapter 2: The Brand New World I
Callisto and her companions moved through the ruins of a lifeless city. Towering, fire-scorched buildings loomed over them, their broken windows like empty eye sockets of abandoned giants. The streets were choked with debris — rusting, long-deserted cars stood with doors ajar, their interiors stripped bare. Time and war had crushed once-vibrant billboards, leaving only tattered remnants hanging limply from skeletal frames. Neon signs, which had once pulsed with color and energy, now lay shattered, their glow extinguished forever. The silence was unnatural, laden with an ominous presence, thickening with every step as if it had a will of its own, ready to swallow them whole. No one dared to speak — any sound could betray their presence and bring death upon them. They knew the Enforcers of the High Ones patrolled these ruins. One patrol had already crossed their path, which meant others could be lurking nearby. They moved with unwavering focus, ears attuned to the slightest sound — the nearly imperceptible rustling in the darkness, the faint whispers carried by the wind, signals that something — or someone — might be watching.
Callisto and Rose took the lead, their movements sleek and sharp, like predators hunting in the night. Their eyes pierced through the gloom, scanning every shadow for a sign of danger. Hub stayed in the center of the formation, while Freakshow, still in his grotesque, orange-skinned form, carried the unconscious Wicked. Bringing up the rear, Shola and the bearded warrior guarded their backs.
At last, they reached the entrance to an abandoned subway station. The descent was blocked by a crude barricade — an entanglement of wrecked cars, wooden crates, and rusted steel barrels, piled together in a haphazard wall. It had been there for years, judging by the layers of grime and corrosion. The only way through was a narrow gap at the base of the blockade, dark and claustrophobic, like the gaping maw of a stone beast. The brown-haired woman gestured toward the opening, and one by one, they began squeezing through, careful not to disturb the fragile silence. To fit, Freakshow shifted back into his human form, his grotesque features melting away. He and the bald man carefully maneuvered Wicked through, making sure not to worsen her injuries.
The air inside was thick, damp with the scent of dust and decay. Somewhere deeper in the tunnel, something stirred — a faint, whispering sound, almost imperceptible. A draft? Or something else? No one intended to wait and find out.
Inside, a stale, frigid air greeted them. The stairwell leading downward was cluttered with detritus — broken glass, tattered newspapers, and forgotten relics of a past long buried. Dust coated every surface, and the metallic scent of rust mingled with the cold tang of damp concrete. The dim glow of the surface world faded behind them, swallowed by the absolute blackness of the station's depths.
The bearded man retrieved a flashlight from his belt, its beam cutting through the suffocating dark. The light revealed the skeletal remains of subway tracks, corroded rails stretching into shadow, and the battered husks of derelict train cars. Graffiti clung to the walls — faded warnings and cryptic symbols, half-erased by time but still whispering secrets from the past.
They moved as one into the yawning tunnel. Every footfall echoed ominously, ricocheting off unseen walls and returning to them distorted, as though the darkness itself was alive and aware of their intrusion.
Without warning, two armed men emerged from behind a barricade made of sandbags. Rifles rose in unison, their barrels trained on the intruders. The guards' faces were taut with tension, eyes glinting with readiness to kill. Rose raised her spear in a gesture of peace.
"Hold your fire," she said evenly. "They're with me."
The guards hesitated, their fingers tightening on the triggers as they scrutinized the unfamiliar faces. Weapons remained trained on the group, suspicion hardening their expressions.
"They saved us from a High Ones' patrol," the bearded man blurted out with eager conviction. "They have a gift!"
Rose silenced him with a sharp wave of her hand. "They are travelers from far away," she explained, her tone calm but commanding. "They need our help — especially her." She nodded toward Wicked. "She's gravely ill."
One of the guards glanced at his companion before lowering his rifle. "Alright," he said, stepping aside. "Go through."
The second guard frowned, his eyes dark with concern. "What happened to Rudolf and Aaron?"
Rose's expression darkened. "They weren't as fortunate. The patrol caught them first."
A heavy silence followed as the guards bowed their heads, paying a wordless tribute to their fallen comrades. The group slipped past the sandbag barricade and into the deeper recesses of the tunnel.
Before turning away, Rose issued a final warning. "Stay alert. That patrol was too close. Something's not right."
As the group pressed onward, the narrow beam of light from the flashlight revealed only fragments of the endless dark. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, its rhythmic plop-plop echoing like the footsteps of unseen stalkers. The scurrying of rats reverberated through the shadows, a constant reminder that this underworld was ruled by creatures born of decay.
"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" Callisto asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. "I did," Rose replied coolly. "You saved our lives."
"Not the whole truth," Callisto pressed. "You didn't tell them I fought against you before."
Rose sighed, her gaze flickering away momentarily. "I couldn't. They would never trust you, and worse — they might blame you for the deaths of my comrades."
Callisto nodded slowly. "I get it." She turned to Freakshow, concern tightening her features. "How's Wicked?"
Freakshow, now back in human form, cradled the unconscious girl carefully. "She's stable. Her breathing's even, and she's not as cold as before. She's hanging on."
Hub yawned, her exhaustion palpable. "I could sleep for a week. When are we getting to some kind of civilization?"
"Just around the next bend," the bearded man assured her. "If you can call it civilization," he muttered under his breath, a sardonic grin curling his lips.
When they reached another checkpoint identical to the last — sandbag barriers and two armed guards with tense expressions — the interaction followed a similar pattern. After a brief exchange, Rose pointed to a rusting metal ladder stretching up into the darkness.
"Your camp's on the surface?" Shola asked, incredulous.
The bearded man's pride flared. "What do you think? That we live like rats underground?"
Rose's tone remained even but firm. "We live on the surface, but in a part of the city accessible only through the tunnels. Security is everything."
She was the first to climb, her spear in hand. Freakshow shifted again into a hulking yellow form with four arms and a hooked beak. Two of his limbs held Wicked, while the other two gripped the ladder's rungs, each movement deliberate to ensure her safety. As they climbed higher, Rose spoke over her shoulder. "Our city is surrounded by a massive wall and protected by a force field — a piece of stolen High Ones' tech. You'll see soon enough." Nearing the ceiling, she pressed a button on her spear, a sharp metallic hum resonating as energy briefly crackled.
"I made a small breach in the field. Without it, we'd be ash." She heaved open the hatch, the night air rushing in as they ascended into a new world.
The surface was alive with subdued but vibrant light. Where the ruins they had crossed were suffocating with darkness, this place pulsed with flickering lamps and glowing windows. Streetlights lined the narrow roads, their electric hum a comforting lullaby in contrast to the silence of the dead city. The community bustled with life — clusters of armed men patrolled the streets, while children darted between makeshift homes, laughter echoing faintly. On either side of the main road stood buildings of modest height, their cracked facades showing signs of repair and resilience. Unlike the overwhelming shadows cast by the towering remnants of the greater metropolis beyond, this settlement lay on the city's outskirts, nestled in the ruins' protective embrace. Above them loomed only fragments of what once had been, skeletal skyscrapers lost in darkness. At the center of the encampment stood a wide building, its windows aglow. Beyond it lay two more structures: one stark and sterile, likely a hospital or research facility, and another surrounded by soldiers in disciplined formation.
Rose led into a glass-fronted building — a former shop, its shelves long emptied of commodities but still serving as a hub for storage. She plucked a green cloak from a rack near the entrance and handed it to Callisto. "Cover yourself. We don't need to draw unnecessary attention."
Callisto accepted the cloak, draping it over her shoulders with a nod. "No need for trouble right now," she muttered. Her eyes caught on the doorframe as they left.
"Wait. Shouldn't we pay for this?"
Rose chuckled. "We don't use money here." Callisto frowned. "But it looked like a store…"
"It used to be," Rose explained. "Now, everything is shared. Anyone can take what they need from the communal stockpile and return it when it's no longer useful. It works. We've got bigger things to worry about than hoarding possessions."
"No thieves?" Callisto asked, skeptical.
"When survival depends on unity, material greed dies quickly," Rose replied, her voice carrying a weight of conviction. "We have a common enemy — the force that drove us underground and into these ruins."
Callisto's eyes darkened with memory. "I've lived in a place like that… but we were outcasts."
Rose's gaze hardened. "We are as well. To those who rule the Earth, we're nothing more than vermin."
They rejoined the others outside. Callisto immediately noted the absence of Freakshow, Wicked, and the bearded soldier. "Where are they?"
"Some of the locals took Wicked to the infirmary. Mike went with her," Shola explained.
Callisto gave a small nod, her expression softening with relief. "And us?" she asked, turning to Rose.
The woman smiled faintly. "It's time for you to rest. Let's find you some quarters."
Michael stood alone in the narrow hallway, leaning against the wall. The cracked, grimy plaster seemed to drink in the dim glow of the small, spherical lamp dangling from the ceiling. From the slightly ajar front door, muted sounds drifted in — the low murmur of conversation, the distant laughter of children, and the faint metallic hum from the metropolis looming above the camp. His mind was restless, circling around a single thought. The wooden door before him creaked open, revealing a slender, gray-haired man in a white lab coat. In his hand, he held a device with a purpose Michael could only guess.
"What's wrong with her?" Michael asked, stepping forward without hesitation.
The doctor sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, I don't know. The scanner shows she's perfectly healthy. A bit exhausted, perhaps, but nothing serious."
Michael's brows drew together. "Then why hasn't she woken up yet?"
"Most likely a kind of psychological shock. Her brain chemistry is slightly disrupted, as if she's been through something deeply traumatic."
"Can I see her?"
The doctor gave him a soft, understanding look. "Of course. She won't be talking anytime soon, but you can stay with her as long as you want."
Without waiting for a reply, the man turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Michael to the weight of his own worries.
The room he entered was bathed in twilight. The sounds from outside, once filling the world beyond the door, now seemed like distant echoes — the remnants of another existence. Wicked lay motionless on a large bed draped in crisp white linens. Her glossy black hair spilled across the pillow like dark silk, framing her serene face. She slept peacefully, her breathing steady and calm. Michael knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to brush her forehead. It was warm. Life pulsed beneath her skin, and the signs of whatever ordeal she had endured were slowly fading. For a long moment, he gazed at her. Her face was beautiful, composed, as though nothing could disturb her now. Time seemed to stand still. Only the quiet remained. At last, he exhaled softly. I need to find the others — the thought stirred him from his vigil. I'll come back in a few hours. Maybe by then... He stood, casting one final glance at Wicked before slipping silently out the door, careful to close it behind him.
Erik Lehnsherr waited in silence for the arrival of the enigmatic Kanzar, whom the young, sharp-eared girl had mentioned earlier. He was dressed in the attire prepared for him by a servant, his mind restlessly attempting to probe the surroundings with his abilities. Yet, every attempt was thwarted by an impenetrable barrier composed of a strange material that resisted the electromagnetic fields he generated. Without warning, a door appeared in the smooth wall and slid open noiselessly. The familiar figure of the girl stepped inside.
"Lord Kanzar will see you now," she announced with a slight bow of her head.
"It's about time," Erik muttered, narrowing his eyes.
She gestured toward the exit of the oval chamber, signaling for him to follow. Once outside, he found himself in a long corridor, its walls, floor, and ceiling constructed from a gleaming white substance. Suspended above them, luminous orbs floated, casting a stark brilliance that made the passageway seem as blinding as midday snow. Erik moved slowly, listening to the rhythmic echo of his own footsteps, mingling with those of the girl walking silently beside him. She remained impassive, ignoring his attempts at conversation. When they reached the end of the corridor, another door slid open. He once again extended his senses, and this time a flicker of insight broke through — the walls here were thinner than those of his cell, and beyond them lay open air.
They entered a compact chamber. A subtle shift in motion and the faint hum of machinery confirmed what Erik already suspected — they were in an elevator, ascending rapidly toward the higher levels of the sprawling city.
"I know they forbade you from speaking to me," Erik said, his voice low and calm. "But tell me your name."
The girl lifted her wide eyes to meet his. "Ciel."
"Ciel…" He tested the name. "Where are we, exactly?"
"You will learn everything from Lord Kanzar," she replied, turning her head away as if even that exchange was a breach of protocol. Fear rippled through her voice, a silent warning of the consequences she feared. Erik studied her closely, noting her demeanor and wondering what role she played in this labyrinthine world.
The elevator doors opened again. This time, the corridor they entered was broader and dimmer, with tall windows lining one side. Erik glanced out and saw clouds drifting far below them, pierced by the spires of towering structures. The sheer magnitude of the metropolis became clear. Its colossal buildings rose so high that their upper floors disappeared into the clouds. Lights glimmered across the skyline, some fixed, others weaving between the monoliths like restless fireflies.
"Follow me," Ciel said, snapping him out of his reverie.
They approached a door guarded by two men clad in gray uniforms identical to the one he wore. The guards stood stiffly, their eyes following every move with cold precision.
The room beyond was vast, its walls made entirely of glass or a transparent material akin to it. Outside, the city stretched endlessly, its lights blinking like stars tangled in the webs of towering structures. Vehicles moved like insects, flitting between the illuminated towers in patterns both chaotic and mesmerizing. Inside, shadows dominated, except for the soft glow at the center, where a massive desk stood. Behind it sat a figure — Kanzar. Long-haired and composed, he commanded with a mere gesture, silently dismissing Ciel. The girl bowed and left without a word. A second chair materialized beside the desk, its frame adorned with golden accents. Kanzar motioned toward it, inviting Erik to sit. With a slow, deliberate step, Magneto moved forward. He sat, his eyes never leaving the mysterious figure before him.
"Welcome, traveler," the man said. Moments later, a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses materialized on the desk before him. Kanzar rose from his seat with deliberate grace and approached the mutant.
"My name is Kanzar. I command the forces that protect this grand and powerful city and all its citizens."
Magneto observed the man carefully, calculating his next move. His primary concern was to gauge how much Kanzar knew — about him, about his companions who had been drawn into this strange city, and about the temporal anomaly that had ensnared them. Perhaps Kanzar, or someone within his ranks, had been involved in its creation.
"Your forces appear to be slipping from your control," Erik said with a calm, measured tone. "I, too, am a citizen of this city — yet I was brought here against my will. What crime did I commit to warrant such treatment?"
Kanzar's expression softened into a smile. His gaze drifted momentarily to the view outside, where a massive passenger airship, sleek and silver like a giant cigar, glided past.
"Several hours ago," Kanzar began, turning back to Erik, "one of our temporal monitoring stations detected a significant anomaly — a disturbance so rare it could be caused only by a gravitational wave or perhaps the emergence of a black hole. We sent a reconnaissance team to investigate, and what did they find? Strange individuals possessing extraordinary powers. Witnesses described teleportation, telekinesis, morphing... feats performed without any technological aid." His eyes narrowed. "I personally went to the site. There, I encountered a man capable of generating an electromagnetic field of immense power. Spare me the pretense of belonging here — it's impossible. Every Chosen One is registered in our databases, and you are not among them. You are neither my enemy nor my prisoner. I seek only the truth."
Erik remained silent, scrutinizing Kanzar's every word and movement.
"Where did you come from, and what were you doing there?" Kanzar pressed. "You're not one of the Outcasts — they have no one as formidable as you… except perhaps her. Let me guess… The Kingdom of North America? Or maybe the fabled Ocean City?"
"I am a traveler, as you have called me," Magneto replied evenly. "All I seek is to find my companions and the way back to my home."
"If that is so," Kanzar said, lowering himself into a chair across from Erik, "then perhaps you'll honor me with your name — and tell me where exactly your home is."
"They call me Magneto," Erik answered. "I hail from a place you've never heard of. Even if I told you its name, you would struggle to believe me."
"Try me," Kanzar said, his curiosity piqued. "My imagination is quite vivid."
Erik's voice remained calm and composed. "I arrived here by accident. A temporal anomaly, likely drawn by my unique abilities, pulled me through. I do not belong to this world. I believe I came from a parallel reality."
Silence stretched between them. Kanzar watched the lights of airborne vessels drifting past the glass walls, his expression contemplative. Meanwhile, Erik subtly scanned the room with electromagnetic pulses. He noted its design was far more susceptible to his powers than any previous space he had occupied. Freedom lay well within reach, should he choose to seize it. Kanzar approached the bottle of wine, filled both glasses, and smiled broadly.
"Then you've confirmed what our Institute of Science has long suspected. Welcome to paradise, traveler." He raised his glass in a toast. Erik hesitated, caught off guard by Kanzar's sudden warmth. He took a cautious step back before deciding to reengage.
"Are you the one responsible for bringing me here?" The man's eyes glowed an intense shade of blue.
"No… but your arrival may herald great changes for both our worlds."
"I will not be manipulated, nor will I be intimidated. Remember that." Magneto's voice was firm, unwavering.
"I am not your enemy." Kanzar said calmly.
"Then why was I imprisoned in a windowless room that completely suppressed my powers?"
"I had to be certain of who you really are. For the sake of this beautiful city." Kanzar's tone remained calm. "We cannot be sure whether the Chosen Ones are still out there — those who continue to resist their fate and the immense fortune that has blessed this world. Even a single such individual could disturb the perfect harmony of this place, introduce sickness into our shared organism."
"Your words mean nothing to me."
"Patience… In time, you will learn everything about this place. And when you do, you will become part of our society — the harbinger of our love, spreading the light to other worlds still drowning in chaos and lawlessness."
"I still don't understand what you mean." Erik frowned. Kanzar's cryptic responses were growing tiresome. The long-haired man walked over to the window, watching as an airborne vehicle glided past at a strikingly close distance. Its metallic frame gleamed under the glow of countless neon lights, smoothly navigating the intricate network of aerial streets crisscrossing the city.
"We must take a tour of our metropolis." Kanzar's voice carried a strange melody, almost hypnotic. "You will hear the story of this place from my own lips — a legend that echoes between worlds."
"I still don't know what happened to my companions." Magneto had no patience for further distractions. His instincts told him Kanzar was hiding something, but direct confrontation now would be unwise.
"My people are searching for them." Kanzar turned away from the window. "We have some theories about where they might have ended up and what dangers they could be facing, but nothing is certain yet. We will find them. This city is a vast organism, filled with countless connections. Information spreads incredibly fast here. If anyone comes across strangers, we will be the first to know. Shall we begin our journey, traveler?"
"Yes," Magneto replied.
At that very moment, the walls of the room slid apart as if they were no more than delicate sheets of paper peeling away from one another. Through the newly opened space, a small airborne vessel drifted in. It resembled a silver platform encircled by an ornately decorated railing, its polished surface shimmering in the city's artificial glow. Erik immediately noticed that the craft had neither a pilot nor any visible means of propulsion. It hovered in the air with an unnatural grace, clearly controlled by Kanzar's will alone. The long-haired man cast him a sidelong glance, as if to ensure Magneto understood the unspoken message. The seamless parting of the walls, the effortless command over the hovering platform — it was a demonstration of power, a subtle warning.
Night had fallen over the rebel encampment, but the settlement was still alive with movement. The streets bustled with people, some engaged in hushed conversations, others strolling with purpose toward the central square. The square itself lay in front of a large, imposing building, its significance marked by the number of uniformed guards stationed at its entrance. Flickering torches lined the roads and doorways, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. Their light gave the surroundings a strange, almost mystical quality, contrasting sharply with the grim reality of crumbling buildings and the threadbare clothes of the city's inhabitants.
Callisto, Shola, and Hub, accompanied by Freakshow — who had rejoined them after visiting his injured companion — were led through the settlement by Rose. She guided them away from the main thoroughfares and deeper into the residential quarter, a place reserved for the city's civilian population. It was far from grand; in fact, it resembled a vast slum, a maze of makeshift shelters and ramshackle dwellings. The homes were small and dilapidated, built from whatever materials could be scavenged — wooden planks, corrugated metal sheets, and, in some cases, even large pieces of cardboard. As the group passed, faces emerged from doorways and windows, wary eyes watching the unfamiliar newcomers. Men, women, and children — dirty, gaunt, and dressed in patched-up rags — paused in their routines to observe. A group of children playing in the dirt stopped their games, waving at the strangers with hopeful expressions, as if expecting some small gift, however meaningless. Rose gestured toward a modest white house at the end of the street, just beyond an intersection of uneven, dust-covered roads.
"You can rest here and get something to eat before your next meeting," she said.
The house, though old and in need of repair, stood in stark contrast to the squalor surrounding it. Inside, the walls bore signs of wear, but the space was clean and well-kept, an oasis of order amidst the chaos of metal shacks and poverty-ridden streets. As soon as Rose stepped through the doorway, an elderly woman in a long blue dress approached her with open arms. Her silver hair was pinned up in a tight bun, and a pair of thick, bottle-bottom glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
"Rose! Oh, thank the stars you're safe!" the old woman exclaimed, pulling the younger woman into a tight embrace.
"I'm fine, Mary," Rose reassured her. "I've brought new arrivals. They escaped from the city above. They've been through a lot, so please don't overwhelm them with questions. Just show them where they can rest and get something warm to eat."
Mary turned to the mutants, studying them with open curiosity. Her gaze lingered on their unfamiliar clothing, and for a moment, she seemed particularly fascinated by the fabric concealing Callisto's tentacles, as if tempted to lift it for a better look. Rose quickly stepped in, gently but firmly redirecting the conversation.
"They need a place to recover, Mary. That's all."
"Of course, of course," the elderly woman said hastily, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm just a curious old lady." She then smiled, her expression softening. "Come along, all of you. I'll show you where you can rest."
The four mutants followed her deeper into the house. Just as Callisto was about to step forward, Rose caught her by the arm, lowering her voice so that only she could hear.
"I'm going to see our leader. I'll tell him everything you shared with me. Be ready for a meeting later today."
Callisto gave a firm nod. "Fine."
Rose turned and disappeared into the night.
Wicked awoke in a completely unfamiliar room. Darkness pressed in from all sides, with only a faint glow from a distant lamp seeping through the slatted blinds. She stared into the murk, her gaze tracing the outlines of furniture and objects whose shapes seemed distorted, unreal — twisted by her disoriented perception, the lingering effects of shock, the medication they had given her, and the lack of light. A cold fear coiled around her chest. She felt weak, utterly defenseless. If danger lurked nearby, she wouldn't stand a chance. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, turning toward the pale light outside the window. Distant voices reached her ears — muffled conversation, laughter, the harsh grind of a saw or some other tool. A clammy sweat broke out across her skin, and the terror from her journey through the time-space tunnel came rushing back in a crushing wave. Then came the deeper realization. A hollow, aching void yawned inside her, swallowing up any remnants of composure. Loss. Isolation. She clenched her fists, willing herself not to spiral into panic, but she couldn't stop the tears that spilled hot and fast down her cheeks. She had never been alone before. Not truly. Ever since her mutant abilities had awakened, she had been surrounded by presences — spectral figures, whispering phantoms, an energy that wove itself into the fabric of her being, forming shifting, ephemeral silhouettes. She had never known whether they were true spirits of the dead or mere echoes born from her mutation. But they were always there. Always. Even in silence, their murmurs filled her mind, an unceasing radio signal tuned to a station no one else could hear. And now, they were gone. The Einstein-Rosen tunnel had torn them from her, ripped them out in an instant, leaving them stranded in her home reality while she was thrust into this unfamiliar world. The severance had been violent, an agony beyond words. And now, she was trapped in this suffocating quiet, her own mind a dead, empty chamber. She could hear nothing but the thud of her heartbeat and the rustling of sheets beneath her trembling fingers. It was unbearable — like a part of her had been stolen, like someone had carved out a piece of her soul.
Then light appeared. A flicker of blue flame, wavering beside the bed, pulsing in and out of existence. Wicked held her breath as it grew, shifting, morphing into something… familiar. A figure. A ghostly shape, half-transparent, like the phantoms that had always followed her back in Genosha. It reached for her, its ethereal hand hovering just above her shoulder. Wicked stared, her breath catching in her throat.
"Are you here to join me?" she whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
More flickering lights appeared — dozens, then more, spectral figures emerging from the dark. Some tall, some small, their features blurred and shifting, yet drawn to her, swarming around her like moths to a solitary lantern in the night.
"You all want to join me?" Her voice trembled as she sat upright, watching them circle, drift, and spin. They rotated slowly around her, orbiting her like a ghostly constellation. And then — A rush of energy surged through her. A sudden, overwhelming force flooding her veins, setting her skin alight with an electric hum. She could do anything. With a sharp breath, she rose to her feet on the bed, arms stretched wide.
"I can do this!" she shouted, a grin breaking through the pain. One by one, the spirits answered her call. They melted into her, vanishing into her body, each one sending a sharp jolt through her nerves. She bit back the pain, refusing to falter, refusing to fall. The process lasted only minutes, yet each second stretched unbearably long. And then — silence. The room darkened once more, still and quiet. Wicked collapsed onto the bed, breath ragged, hands trembling as she brushed damp strands of hair from her forehead.
"I'm whole again," she murmured to herself, a small smile forming on her lips.
Magneto and Kanzar hovered on an airborne platform, propelled solely by the long-haired man's will. Before them stretched a breathtaking panorama. Two towering spires loomed overhead, their facades aglow with countless windows and shimmering lights. Below, an intricate web of elevated highways wove through the city, sleek, streamlined vehicles racing along their luminous paths like glistening streaks of silver in the night. Kanzar turned to Magneto.
"We are approaching our destination," he informed the mutant, gesturing toward a massive glass dome beneath which lush greenery sprawled in every direction.
"My world was a place of endless war," he said. "The planet had fractured into warring nations, locked in ceaseless battles. Strange abilities began to manifest in our people — powers of unknown origin — and instead of bringing unity, they only fueled the carnage. The wars grew bloodier, more devastating, until our world teetered on the brink of annihilation."
Kanzar paused, his gaze drifting toward the violet glow that bathed the city. "And then… He appeared."
Magneto arched a brow. "Who?"
A slow, reverent smile touched Kanzar's lips. "Our Savior."
His voice trembled slightly, not with fear, but with something deeper — devotion, awe.
"One day, amid the greatest battle our world had ever known, He descended from the heavens. Just like that — sudden, undeniable, like a force outside time itself. In an instant, He halted two entire armies charging toward each other. He was dressed in radiant white, his dark hair flowing in the wind. He was young, strikingly beautiful, emanating a love our world had never known. He could not have been born here — He was something greater, something beyond. A perfect, omnipotent being."
Kanzar fell silent for a moment, as if reliving that fateful day. "Every word He spoke, every gesture He made, reshaped our world. Decades of war and ruin were undone in mere moments. Our planet became a paradise, but only for those who opened their minds to Him. He granted them knowledge — wisdom beyond our comprehension — that allowed us to transform our war-ravaged world into the greatest utopia in the universe."
The floating platform began to descend. Kanzar paused his story, focusing on their landing. Within moments, they found themselves standing in one of the metropolis's largest gardens. A vast, transparent glass dome arched overhead, sheltering an expanse of vibrant greenery. Towering trees, lush foliage, and exotic flora thrived beneath its protective shell. Pale stone pathways wound through the park, where a multitude of figures strolled — some resembling Kanzar, long-haired with pointed ears, while others were of diverse humanoid species Magneto had never encountered before. Kanzar reached out, brushing his fingertips against the bark of a nearby tree, as if grounding himself in the moment.
"When our planet was finally cleansed of all threats," he continued, "our benefactor revealed to us a truth greater than anything we had ever known — the existence of the multiverse." He turned to Magneto, his golden eyes gleaming with conviction. "A vast tapestry of parallel worlds, layered upon one another like the rungs of an infinite cosmic ladder. He showed us the chaos, the suffering that plagued these worlds… and bestowed upon us a sacred mission — to unite all parallel Earths and free them from evil." His voice rang with quiet triumph. "And so, our journey through the multiverse began."
Erik listened intently to the long-haired man's story while observing the beings strolling through the lush, exotic gardens. He saw humans of various skin tones, the familiar green-skinned Skrulls, and the blue-hued Kree. But there were others — stranger figures. Small, gray humanoids with large, black eyes, known on Earth as the Zeta Reticulans, moved silently among the crowd. Nearby, towering, scale-covered reptilian beings watched everything with cold, calculating gazes. Kanzar's voice carried a quiet pride as he continued.
"Our interdimensional alliance grows stronger with every new Earth liberated in our holy war. Those who opened their minds to our Savior became part of a collective numbering in the billions. What you see before you is the fruit of our labor."
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Did everyone surrender their fate to visitors from another world without resistance?"
Kanzar's lips curled into a faint smile. "No… It would be impossible for every soul on every Earth to accept something they could not fully comprehend."
"What happened to those who refused?"
For a brief moment, Kanzar's expression flickered with something akin to boredom, as if the question had been asked too many times before.
"They lost." He shrugged. "They were cast out of our new, glorious paradise and left to fend for themselves in their dying cities, while we ascended ever higher on the ladder of the multiverse."
Magneto studied him carefully.
"There weren't many of them," Kanzar added after a pause. "They posed no real threat to us."
"What do you mean by 'dying cities'?"
The long-haired man gazed at Erik with a mixture of amusement and patience. "Do not ask questions you are not yet ready to understand. When you open your mind to our Lord, all your doubts will vanish."
Erik was undeterred. "And in this world?" he pressed. "Did you face resistance here as well?"
For the first time, Kanzar's expression darkened slightly.
"Yes," he admitted. "In truth, this world has not yet been fully redeemed. There are still dangerous criminals lurking in its shadows. Those who rejected our utopia live in its sewers, hiding like rats, scavenging from our waste. For them, there are only two choices: accept our love… or disappear forever."
Magneto's gaze drifted toward two women walking nearby. Dressed in flowing gowns, their faces concealed behind golden masks, they moved with an air of quiet reverence, the metallic sheen of their masks catching the light in a way that made them seem almost otherworldly.
"There is a third option," he said after a moment.
Kanzar arched a brow. "Oh?"
Magneto turned his piercing gaze back to him. "They can take back what was once theirs."
Callisto waited anxiously for her meeting with the leader of the rebels who lived in the ruined part of the city. The room she had been placed in was unlike the rest of the camp — clean, untouched. Rose had disappeared behind the heavy door leading to the leader's office, and as the minutes dragged on, Callisto grew increasingly impatient. She gazed out the small window at the armed men standing watch outside. They met her stare with wary, uncertain eyes, uncomfortable in the presence of an outsider — especially one from the city above, a place that had only ever brought them trouble and death. She exhaled slowly, her mind troubled. Leaving her younger comrades behind in an unfamiliar and dangerous place unsettled her. At last, the wait was over. The door, guarded by two soldiers, opened with a sharp, grating creak. Rose stepped out.
"Come, Callisto. It's time," she said.
The mutant stepped forward and crossed the threshold into the dimly lit office. Seated at a simple wooden desk was a bearded man clad in a worn green shirt and patched camouflage pants. For a long moment, silence hung between them. The three of them studied one another, measuring, assessing. It was Rose who finally broke the stillness.
"This is Callisto. She comes from another world, a parallel reality. And this," she turned to the man, "This is John, our leader."
John leaned forward, extending his hand. "Welcome, Callisto —"
His voice faltered as he caught sight of the green tendrils slipping from beneath her cloak. Instinctively, he pulled back, taking a step away from her before quickly composing himself.
"Forgive me," he murmured. "The sight of the unknown rarely brings pleasant memories."
Callisto's lips curled into a wry smile. "In my world, people reacted the same way," she said. "And that was before I had the tentacles."
John exhaled, then turned to Rose. "Could you give us a moment?"
"Of course." She nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
John gestured toward the battered wooden bench by the wall. "Please, sit."
As she settled in, he leaned forward on his desk, fingers laced together.
"First, I want to thank you personally for saving two of my people. Every loss is a wound we can't afford."
"We're trained to act fast in situations like that," she replied simply.
He studied her, then asked, "Everything Rose said — is it true? You really come from another reality?"
"I do," Callisto confirmed. "Though Rose told me you don't believe in parallel worlds."
John let out a dry chuckle. "That's just propaganda. Speaking of such things openly would only break my people's morale. If they truly grasped the enemy's reach, the weight of it could crush them."
He paused, his expression darkening. "Tell me… does your world remain untouched by the Devil from Beyond?"
Callisto frowned. "I have no idea who you're talking about."
John let out a slow breath, shaking his head.
"Then you don't know how fortunate you are. You must come from a world lower on the Ladder than ours."
"The Ladder?" she echoed, intrigued.
He studied her thoughtfully before saying, "I will tell you everything you wish to know… but not now. We are preparing for an important gathering. Soon, I must stand by the fire — my people will be waiting. Have there been any strange occurrences in your world? A meteor, perhaps? One that grants people unnatural abilities? Are you one of its chosen ones?"
Again, she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was born with my powers, like many others where I come from. I've never heard of anyone gaining abilities from a meteor."
A flicker of relief crossed John's face, though tension still lingered in his posture.
"Good… good. That means we still have time. He isn't preparing to jump again. Not yet."
A shadow passed over his features, but before Callisto could press further, she steeled herself and shifted the conversation. "Listen, I need your help finding my companions."
John considered her request, then nodded. "I will see what I can do — but after the gathering. I need to be among my people now."
He rose, signaling the end of the discussion. Callisto stood as well. "Can we join you? My team and I?"
John glanced at her, then gave a small nod. "Of course. Everyone in this camp is welcome."
"Thank you," Callisto said. "I think we could use a moment of respite."
John sighed, his gaze distant. "So could the whole world."
Mary, Freakshow, Shola, and Hub walked slowly along the camp's main avenue, lighting their way with torches. Many people accompanied them, but none dared to approach close enough to start a conversation. Tired eyes — men, women, and children alike — watched them warily, filled with suspicion toward those who had arrived in their town only a few hours ago.
"Where exactly are we going?" Shola asked, glancing at Mary.
She gave a small smile. "To Natalie's birthday celebration. You're new here, so you probably don't know anything about her. Or maybe the city authorities told you all sorts of nonsense. But the truth… you'll only hear it here. If John agrees, you'll become part of our community."
"Who is Natalie?" Hub asked, intrigued.
"You'll find out by the fire. Be patient, young lady," Mary replied with a knowing smirk.
Freakshow shot Shola a worried look. "I'm worried about Wicked."
Shola gave him a reassuring nod. "Once we reach the square, you'll be able to check on her," he promised. "Let's hope she's regained consciousness by now."
When the three mutants stepped onto the main square, they found a large crowd gathered around roaring bonfires. Torches driven into the ground cast flickering shadows, and the air buzzed with murmured conversations. Hub looked around uneasily. Everywhere she turned, she met eyes filled with apprehension and distrust.
"What do they want from us?" she whispered to Mary.
The woman's expression softened. "Don't worry. News travels fast in our community. They already know you're fugitives from the city. They're afraid — many of them have suffered at the hands of the High Ones and their chosen. But don't let it get to you. If you prove that you want to be one of us, they'll accept you." She placed a reassuring hand on Hub's shoulder.
"Thank you," the girl murmured, feeling the tension in her body ease just a little.
Magneto and Kanzar stood on one of the city's vast observation terraces, gazing down at the bustling metropolis below. They remained silent. The long-haired man had drifted into a strange trance, lost in thought as if disconnected from the world around him. Erik took advantage of the moment of quiet to test his abilities — to reach out and feel the metals woven into the foundations of the city, its walls, railings, and towering structures. A faint smile crossed his lips. Yes, his power had fully returned — just as strong as before his journey through the interdimensional tunnel. Kanzar suddenly snapped out of his reverie, his expression sharpening.
"My people have discovered the whereabouts of your companions."
"That's good news. Where are they?"
"Unfortunately, they've fallen into the hands of the wild ones — the outcasts who rejected our paradise and live beyond the city. I can't be certain if they're still alive."
Erik's fists clenched, and his eyes glowed an intense, electric blue. Energy crackled around him, reaching for the metal atoms embedded in his surroundings. Magneto focused his power on the railing that separated the terrace from the abyss beyond. The metal trembled, twisted, and came alive as if waking from a deep slumber. Then, with a sharp snap, one of the long, cylindrical bars broke free and slithered toward them, writhing like a serpent gliding across an invisible surface. Erik seized the floating metal and reshaped it into a long, razor-sharp spear.
"If anything has happened to them, those responsible will pay a terrible price." His voice was low, dangerous, his gaze locked onto Kanzar. The long-haired man smirked faintly.
"Of course. That is how it shall be."
She was utterly exhausted. All she could think about was getting home, collapsing onto her bed, and finally sleeping. Three shifts in a row. Barely four hours of rest. If I don't sleep soon, the hallucinations will start — that's what they taught her in medical school. She just wanted to change and leave as quickly as possible. No conversations, no interruptions, no lingering glances. The last hour had brought a splitting headache, making every sound feel like shards of glass cutting through her skull. She walked briskly down the corridor leading to the underground garage, where her car was parked. Her thoughts drifted — how she wished she worked in a real hospital, somewhere better than this forgotten dump where nothing ever happened, and the pay was laughable. But that wasn't an option. Not for her. Not after what she had done. Not after she had to change her name and erase her past.
Unfortunately, that night, her past had finally caught up with her.
She stopped abruptly. Someone was lurking in the shadows of the concrete structure. Watching. Hiding. They didn't seem to be waiting for her specifically, but something about their presence sent a chill down her spine. Instinctively, she stepped toward the light, hoping to catch a clearer look at the stranger. As the glow of the streetlamp illuminated the figure, a bald man in a wheelchair came into view. Behind him stood a heavyset woman with glasses.
Charles Xavier's gaze locked onto hers. His face was calm, but his eyes held a weight of quiet urgency.
"What do you want from me?!" she snapped. "I don't involve myself in your affairs anymore!"
"I need your help, Amelia" Xavier said. "We must gather the Acolytes and find Magneto… and my people."
A chill ran through her. Erik Lehnsherr… He was alive. And once again, he had returned to turn her life upside down.