Survival of the Fittest and Laser Eyes

According to the plot, Black King, after being reminded by White Queen, realizes that Professor X and the other man are expanding their forces against him and will launch a surprise attack tonight.

"And you? What's your name?"

Mystique Raven, seeing that everyone else had introduced themselves while Ron sat alone by the counter, asked out of curiosity.

In the room, Alex, Hank, and the others all turned their gazes toward him.

"Ron."

He replied casually.

Sensing he seemed a bit unsociable, the others stopped paying him attention and began excitedly introducing their abilities to each other.

Raven chatted and laughed with the group, occasionally glancing at Ron.

Not because Ron was handsome, but just as she would later end up with Magneto not long after meeting him, she vaguely felt that Ron might be the same kind of person as her.

"Alone, with no one to truly connect with, lacking love in life, out of step with the world—like a monster or ghost that has nowhere to go and has blended into society."

"Hm?"

Noticing her gaze, Ron looked over, and Raven immediately averted her eyes.

In the room, the group began sharing their chosen codenames and demonstrating their abilities.

First was Darwin.

"Actually, Darwin itself is a nickname—survival of the fittest."

The tall, lean black man smiled lightly, walked over to the transparent fish tank in the room, and stuck his head into the water, showcasing his ability.

Almost instantly, three rows of gills capable of breathing underwater grew from his neck.

Inside the tank, he turned his head, showing off with a hint of pride so everyone could see more clearly.

"Oh, that's amazing!"

The others were astonished, cheering and clapping like they were at a party.

Darwin lifted his head from the tank, shook off the water, and the gills disappeared as he sat back down.

"Not a bad ability, but too weak in intensity."

Setting down his glass, Ron watched expressionlessly, critiquing inwardly.

"Considering other aspects, it's barely passable."

With enough Ability Points, he could freely obtain these people's abilities.

But not every ability was worth spending Ability Points on—just like shopping, money had to be spent wisely.

Darwin's ability allowed his body to adapt and evolve for self-preservation based on the environment, easily reminding one of the powerful biological weapon from the DC universe—Doomsday.

But the two were worlds apart.

With Darwin's ability, once the dangerous environment disappeared, the evolved traits immediately regressed, unable to accumulate evolution, and each evolution wasn't particularly strong.

In the plot, Black King shoved the energy from Alex's attack into his mouth, and he couldn't withstand it, exploding.

However, looking at his performance during evolution—like growing ugly gills—the regression after evolution actually turned into an advantage.

Otherwise, he'd soon become a monster.

"This ability lets someone handle many unexpected situations, like vacuums or toxins, so it's still decent."

Marked as one of the obtainable abilities.

Suddenly, a man's sharp scream rang out in the room.

When it was someone else's turn to demonstrate, Siren, who could emit powerful sonic waves from his mouth, shattered the thick glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Angel, a former stripper who had codenamed herself Angel, revealed insect-like wings on her back, flew up, and spat acid that corroded the top of the bronze statue outside the window.

Buzz!

Finally, it was Alex's turn. He twisted his body and unleashed a dark red, high-energy arc blade that sliced through the bronze statue outside like a hot knife through butter, its immense power drawing gasps from the crowd.

"Not a bad ability, just poorly applied."

Ron's eyes flickered. Finally, another ability worth noticing after Darwin's.

Shockwave Alex could absorb ambient radiation, electromagnetic or thermal energy, and convert it into high-energy plasma form through his body, unleashing devastating destructive force.

The unstoppable lightsabers in Star Wars were essentially plasma energy shaped by magnetic fields.

His ability could be emitted from any part of his body, but Alex's current development was crude—he could only twist his body, relying on ridiculous movements like spinning a hula hoop to release energy arc blades.

"If developed properly, he could fire plasma laser rays from his eyes."

He narrowed his eyes.

That would be exactly the signature skill of his biological father, Homelander—Laser Eyes.

"Ron, everyone's shown their abilities. What's yours?"

After the others had demonstrated theirs, Raven called on him again.

Ron extended a sharp fingernail from his index finger and lightly traced a circle around the empty glass in his hand.

Sssss—like a sharp diamond-tipped cutter, it scraped across the glass, letting out a faint sound.

With a light tug, the rim of the cup separated cleanly from the body.

"Oh, that ability is so cool, like a tiger or a leopard!"

The group crowded in, expressions amazed, especially the boy whose eyes lit up as he clapped hard.

"Look at those claws—I have no doubt they could easily tear out a throat."

"Hank, I think he suits the nickname 'Beast' better than you do. After all, you've only got those big feet."

The brash Alex bumped his shoulder into Hank beside him, teasing.

If it came to raw power, Alex's display was actually stronger, but in terms of style, in these young people's eyes, Ron was cooler—like an elegant predator, flicking out his nails with a twitch of his fingers to reap lives!

"Yeah."

An unnatural expression flickered across Hank's face as he echoed.

He only had a pair of deformed, beast-like oversized feet, granting him nothing more than the ability to run a bit faster than an ordinary person.

"An ability like that shouldn't exist..."

He glanced sadly at Mystique, the girl he liked, standing nearby.

He had to hurry up and develop a serum that could restore him to a normal human appearance!

Ron's ability wasn't limited to that—his strongest trait was his healing factor.

But he wouldn't, like these immature youths, put on a show by cutting himself to demonstrate his power, just to win a round of astonished cheers.

After seeing Ron's ability, the group started blasting loud music in the room, turning the CIA secret base into a real party—dancing, mixing in their abilities, making a huge mess, all noise and chaos.

A dozen minutes later, a woman in a trench coat, along with Erik and Charles, strode in from outside the window, eyes wide at the disorder, shouting in disbelief.

"What the hell? What are you doing?"

"What happened to the window glass?"

"And who broke the bronze statue in the yard?"

At the barrage of questions, the immature youths finally shut off the raucous music and stood around awkwardly, seeming to realize what they'd done, pointing fingers.

"Siren, and Alex—the statue was Alex's doing."

Sitting by the counter, Ron watched everything in silence.

Moira, a senior CIA agent, had infiltrated the Hellfire Club, uncovered the Black King's plot, found Professor X, and had him read her memories to get involved in this—leading to all of this.

She was also Professor X's young love.

The timing of Raven and the others' antics couldn't have been worse. The three had just come back from a meeting, facing skepticism from CIA leadership: what could a bunch of untrained young freaks do?

The three argued fiercely, Charles insisting they weren't ordinary youths and would bring surprises.

Then, right after turning the corner from the meeting room, they saw this—a slap in the face too fast to recover from.

"Truly extraordinary."

Erik glanced at Charles, shook his head coldly, and walked away. Moira, fuming, followed.

"Except for Ron, you've all disappointed me!"

Charles looked at Mystique and the others, anger and disappointment in his voice, after glancing at Ron, who had been quietly sitting by the bar without joining the chaos. Then he turned and followed without looking back.

Leaving Mystique and the rest at a loss.

On the path to the adjacent airfield, the three walked quickly.

"At least Ron didn't join their nonsense. We didn't recruit a bunch of party kids who only know how to wreck the house."

Charles's expression was grim.

"He's as mature as someone our age."

Erik recalled Ron's various behaviors and said.

"Should we bring him along?"

Moira suggested. The meeting had been called because the CIA got intel on the White Queen's whereabouts—on the Soviet Union's side. They needed to infiltrate enemy territory, capture her, and extract information.

The plane secretly heading to the Soviet Union was about to take off.

They had originally planned to bring Mystique and the others on this mission, but now it didn't seem suitable.

"Forget it. No matter how mature, he's still a child.

Dragging a bunch of kids into this—that was my mistake."

Charles shook his head, speaking with difficulty.

He had been too hasty back then. Matters concerning the world's safety needed more seasoned people to handle. Entrusting it to children was too dangerous—and unfair to them.

"Let's go."

Specialists came to clean everything up, replaced the glass, and hauled away the cut bronze statue.

The scolded Mystique and the others sat on the sofa, falling silent. The deep disappointment in Charles's eyes as he left stung them.

They stopped drinking. Ron waited quietly.

"By now, Charles and the others should be going after the White Queen. The Black King will be bringing his people soon."

That night, both sides happened to move against each other simultaneously. Their main forces missed each other, and each gained something.

Bang!

Suddenly, from beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass covered by the electric curtains, came a faint, strange noise.

The group exchanged puzzled glances.

"What was that?"

Earlier, after they'd caused trouble, some public officials had walked by outside, mocking them, treating them like freaks in a circus. Unable to take it, they'd closed the curtains.

Now they pulled the curtains open, stepped curiously to the glass, and peered into the vast night outside. Suddenly, a man fell from the sky, crashing to the ground right in front of them, dead on impact.

"Ah!"

They stumbled back in terror, screaming.

But Ron slowly rose to his feet.

"They're here..."

Not yet signed, temporarily writing three thousand words a day.

Once signed, it'll increase to four thousand a day. I'm asking everyone to keep reading. Right now, the story's on a recommendation list, and it needs readership to qualify—otherwise, there won't even be a trial push.