Professor X

Two days later, Westchester County, New York State.

At dawn, a force of five thousand troops completed the encirclement of the Xavier Institute before daybreak.

They were the elite gathered by the Northern Command in the shortest possible time. There were no tanks, no armored vehicles, and they even discarded most electronic equipment, reducing even communications down to the most primitive hand gestures and flag signals. Clearly, this was a necessary measure taken against a specific target.

Although the tragedy of General Lake was truly lamentable, as a large state organ, the Northern Command logically could not truly bow down to a few suddenly emerging mutants. Putting aside the substantial losses alone, just the fact that this incident got out was enough to make the Northern Command the laughingstock inside and out of the entire country.

Therefore, Minister Harrison gave a deathly order to retrieve X-0 at all costs!

At exactly twelve noon, the sunlight was blinding. General Michael stood in front of the main building of the institute, the soldiers behind him already at their posts, bringing every window and every exit into their fire coverage range.

The adjutant beside him asked in a low voice, "General, do we really have to do this? There might be..."

Michael didn't turn back, only pulling down the brim of his cap. "Execute the order."

His voice lacked fluctuation, but his clenched fists betrayed a hint of internal tension. After that, he waved his hand, signaling the first assault team to begin operations.

Without superfluous slogans, a twenty-man assault team slowly walked into the institute, their heavy tactical boots stepping onto the lawn and making almost no sound.

Soon, they entered the main building of the institute. Then... there was no movement at all.

One minute, two minutes...

More than ten minutes passed, and that group of people seemed to have completely vanished, never appearing again.

"..." General Michael took a deep breath, and then commanded again, "Second and third assault teams... follow me inside!"

"Sir, this..."

"Don't ask so much, follow me!"

General Michael put on his full gear, carefully wiping his rifle, and slowly recalled the mission intelligence in his mind.

A mutant who could manipulate all electronic signals, plus a group of young mutants with various abilities... and that Wolverine who suddenly recovered his peak combat strength for some unknown reason...

Frankly speaking, even with these five thousand people, General Michael still did not have any certainty of completing the mission. This troop of theirs was more just a vanguard, but the problem was that follow-up troops were still assembling, and they were already all the manpower the Northern Command could organize in a short time.

In particular, the mission file also mentioned a kind of "worst-case scenario."

"Hoo..."

General Michael took a deep breath, glanced back at the group of battle-hardened soldiers behind him, personally led them into the institute, and pushed open the weather-beaten heavy doors of the institute's main building.

However, the moment he stepped through the door, the actions of all the soldiers behind him stopped.

"..."

General Michael realized something was wrong and abruptly looked to the side.

His adjutant still wore a cautious expression, holding a weapon and just about to take a step toward the hall... yet that foot could never come down.

Behind them, the expressions of the other squad members also remained frozen on their faces, standing motionless in place.

Further away, the thousands of troops lying in ambush around the institute similarly quieted down in this instant.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

Professor Charles Xavier's wheelchair stopped in the center of the hall.

Sunlight pierced through the high windows, casting a gentle pillar of light, countless motes of dust frozen within it like the very particles of time. Beside the wheelchair, Logan and Laura stood on either side, looking ahead expressionless.

Charles raised his head, his gentle gaze passing over those frozen soldiers and landing on General Michael at the head.

"Welcome to the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, guests who have traveled far."

"Gulp."

Facing Charles's greeting, General Michael swallowed hard. Sure enough, the "worst-case scenario" had happened.

"Hello, Mr. Charles." General Michael simply lowered the gun in his hand, throwing it cleanly onto the ground. "Can you give me a little time? I think my superior might want to talk to you about something."

"Of course." Charles smiled and nodded.

"Thank you for your understanding."

Mr. Michael took out the turned-off satellite phone, slowly dialed the number, reported the situation, and then put down the phone, letting out a long sigh of relief.

"Hoo..."

At this moment, he inexplicably felt a sense of relief.

Since the person before him had appeared, it at least meant they no longer needed to fight and kill with these regular grunts. The remaining matters had nothing to do with such a minor brigadier general like him; the only thing he could do now was act as a messenger for his superior bigwigs.

This was the deterrent force of Professor X—Charles Xavier.

When he appeared, it already meant that this war had ended.

A few hours later, the roar of three utility helicopters broke the dead silence over Westchester County. They did not land rashly on the institute's lawn, instead choosing an open space in the distance to land.

Subsequently, several men in tailored suits, accompanied by General Michael, walked quickly toward the main building of the institute.

They were negotiation representatives from various high-level factions in Washington, responsible for representing the opinions of bigwigs everywhere and renegotiating various matters with the returning Professor X.

Inside the headmaster's office, the atmosphere was somewhat eerie.

The representatives sat opposite Charles, while Logan stood with folded arms by the window like a silent beast, sizing up these uninvited guests out of the corner of his eye.

"Mr. Charles, we first need to make one thing clear." A young representative took the lead in speaking, attempting to seize the initiative. "Your actions have already constituted a direct threat to national security."

"I don't deny that." Mr. Charles smiled. "But as citizens, we still have the right to pursue freedom and human rights."

"Citizens?" Another representative sneered. "Infiltrating and destroying an active-duty air force base, killing dozens of federal servicemen including a general—this is not what law-abiding citizens do. According to the law, this is enough to be defined as domestic terrorism!"

"Most importantly... as far as I know, those experimental mutant subjects are not citizens of this country either!"

"Before discussing citizenship, I think we should perhaps sort out some other matters first," Charles said slowly. "For example, who was the first to use illegal genetic weapons like The Purifiers squad to encircle and suppress a group of minors? And for another example... why can organizations like Transigen be able to recklessly conduct forbidden genetic experiments without receiving any supervision? Aren't they legitimate enterprises registered in the United States?!"

"You are mutants!"

"We are mutants," Charles replied, "but we are also human!"

"You..." The representative stared at Charles, biting his teeth hard, but ultimately still did not speak the words What kind of humans are mutants?

"Mr. Charles, we are not here today to pursue accountability." A female representative from the Department of Homeland Security tried to ease the atmosphere. "Mr. Charles, we all know that continuing to confront each other will do no good for anyone. First of all, the five thousand soldiers here... we hope they can return home safely."

"Of course, they will return home safely, I guarantee it." Charles softened his tone and said with a smile.

Until now, those five thousand big soldiers from the Northern Command still maintained their original posture, waiting motionlessly in place.

Logically speaking, the original Professor X would not have done such a thing akin to "punishment," but after experiencing a series of complex events, the returning Charles Xavier seemed to have changed somewhat.

His tone was gentler and friendlier, but it faintly carried an inexplicable sense of oppression.

"Let's change the topic first, let me talk about that child, X-0... meaning Mr. Miles." Another representative spoke up. "He must be handed over to our state organs for supervision!"

"Impossible." Charles flatly refused.

"This is not a request; this is the bottom line of our negotiation!" the representative rebuked angrily.

"It is also my bottom line!" Charles looked at him and said word by word.

"Charles, you should know better than anyone what his abilities mean!" That representative said in as gentle a tone as possible. "A mutant who can freely manipulate all electronic signals—he can paralyze our financial system, he can control our weapons network... He is a living, mentally unstable 'electronic nuclear bomb'! We can never allow him to remain outside!"

"But he is also a child." Charles slowly put away his smile and said earnestly, "A fragile, heartbreaking child born in tragedy."

"What he needs is to possess a peaceful life belonging to a normal child, to study, to listen, to love everything in this world! Instead of being locked in a launch silo by you people like a humanoid nuclear bomb!!"

"..." The representative bit his teeth, glared at Charles, and uttered, "Then how can you guarantee that his existence will not endanger our national security?"

"I guarantee it." Charles replied. "I am his teacher, and this is my responsibility."

Finally, after hours of discussion, the government and Charles initially reached the Westchester New Mutant Agreement, the main contents of which included three points:

First, the Xavier Institute could continue to exist, but in the future it must keep a low profile. Officials did not want the reorganization of the X-Men and the existence of the new mutants to be exposed to the public eye.

Second, Miles could stay, but his scope of activity was limited to the town of Westchester. If he truly needed to travel elsewhere, he must report to local officials in advance.

Third, as an exchange, officials agreed to grant formal U.S. citizenship to the children from Transigen, and process the corresponding household registration materials in the near future.

The negotiation concluded, and Richter and Rebecca temporarily served as attendants, sending the tailored suit-wearing representatives out of the headmaster's office one by one.

The complexions of several representatives were not too good; no one spoke as they walked away quickly, as if staying one more second would cause them to be swallowed by this eerie peace.

Among them, the accompanying General Michael suddenly asked Richter at the door upon leaving, "Which one is Mr. Miles? Is he not here?"

"He just had surgery and it's currently inconvenient for him to come out," Richter replied.

"Is that so, what a pity." A hint of just-right regret appeared on General Michael's face before he said, "Regarding General Lake, we are very sorry... but you must know that our military is a large state organ, and he alone cannot represent the opinions of all of us. We have actually always hoped to repair the rift with all of you..."

His gaze was sincere and his tone earnest, leaving Richter and Rebecca unsure of how to respond for a moment.

Just at that moment, Logan, who was passing by, casually said, "For that kind of thing, talk about it after you withdraw your troops from here first. Don't make them wait outside for too long."

"Oh, thanks for the concern." Having suffered an awkward silence, General Michael smiled decently and took his leave.

In the medical area of the underground base, Miles slowly opened his eyes.

The back of his head felt much flatter, and the "little gadget" that had tortured him for so long was finally removed, making him feel refreshed overall. At least he wouldn't have to worry about his brain leaking water in the future.

"Aurora, how long have I slept?" he asked weakly.

"34 hours, Miles." Aurora's gentle voice sounded from the nearby speaker. "How do you feel?"

"Quite painful." Miles twitched the corner of his mouth. "The anesthetic has worn off, it's a very strange feeling, my whole head feels like a piece of it is hollowed out."

Then, he asked again, "Aurora, how long will it take for me to recover?"

"If you mean the surgical trauma, within a month. But if you want to stand up..."

"No hope, right?" Miles's face fell. "Am I really going to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of my life like Charles? I don't want to shave my head bald yet!"

"Don't worry," Aurora continued. "Half a year is enough."

"Half a year?" Miles was somewhat surprised. "Are you sure? As far as I know, paralysis caused by nervous system damage is an insoluble problem in many hospitals."

"Yes, within half a year." Aurora's tone carried a self-confidence that brooked no doubt. "I've recently gained a lot from the research materials of the Essex Corporation. I think I'm still better suited to be a doctor after all."

Not long after, Professor Charles Xavier came to the underground base in his wheelchair to visit Miles and informed him of the negotiation results with the military.

"Place me under house arrest in Westchester? Well, barely understandable, so I don't run off to some other military base to play a machine-age crisis without anyone knowing..."

Miles said casually, "Still... to be honest, I'm not very happy. I originally thought about traveling all over the world after things were over."

"We all know this isn't a permanent restriction, Miles," Charles said with a smile. "You will grow up eventually, and the future path must be walked by yourself. When you grow to the point where you can calmly face everything without my help, you can go wherever you want."

"That sounds like you're about to die of old age." Miles curled his lip. "Don't think about retiring so soon, old man. Aurora and I went to such great efforts to make the serum to restore your abilities, not for you to use it as a disposable tool."

"Anyway, with us around, we will never let you kick the bucket easily. By the way, Aurora is already preparing the spine repair surgery for you. Do you have time recently?"

Charles's paralysis in both legs stemmed from a spinal injury caused by an accident in his youth, which was undoubtedly beyond the scope of medical treatment at the time, but for Aurora now, it wasn't a big problem.

Facing Miles's inquiry, Charles was stunned for a moment, and then slowly smiled. "In a few more days. We just came home and there are many things recently. I've sat for so many years, I don't mind waiting a few more days."

"Ha, alright..." Miles chuckled softly, his gaze looking toward the dark dome, and then said slowly, "Charles, you know what? I actually have a guess... The existence of the few of us new mutants will definitely not be the last batch."

"Oh?" Charles asked. "Why do you say that?"

"Because life is constantly evolving." Miles replied. "Take mosquitoes for instance... I know this analogy isn't very good, but I feel our situation is really very similar to mosquitoes..."

"The confrontation between humans and mosquitoes can be traced back thousands of years of history. From the initial smoke to modern chemical insecticides, various organophosphorus preparations, pyrethroid preparations, IGRs, and even genetic weapons... human methods are constantly upgrading, but mosquitoes always manage to survive each mass extinction by a tiny minority, and then return with a brand new posture..."

"I've also been studying the theories of the Essex Corporation recently, and the more I study, the more I feel that the 'X Gene' of us mutants is truly a very special thing... It can't possibly completely vanish from the face of the earth just because of one or two mass extinctions..."

"If my prediction is right, it won't be long before this world sees more mutants appearing again who won't be affected by genetically modified substances..."

Hearing Miles's theory, Charles was silent for a long time, and finally sighed with emotion, "That really is good news."

Just at that moment, Aurora's voice sounded again.

"I just got another piece of news, Mr. Charles."

"Just now, I deciphered and discovered a special record from a piece of military intelligence I was eavesdropping on earlier. Your old friend Mr. Erik seems to be hidden by the military in some base in Northern Europe. Do you need me to collect further intelligence?"

Hearing this news, Charles was deeply stunned.

He looked at the clear sky outside the window, and after a long time, he gently shook his head.

"No need, Aurora... Let him stay quiet for a few more years."

"Hey... So peaceful?" Miles said with some surprise. "I originally thought Charles, upon hearing news of your old friend, your reaction should be a bit more intense."

"We are both very old, Miles," Charles said pointedly. "To live quietly like this, isn't that also an ideal destination for him?"

"Tch, boring!" Miles muttered. "An X-Men Universe without Magneto, only Professor X, sounds hopelessly rotten! The published comic would definitely belong to the kind that bombs after one or two issues!"

Charles just figured Miles was starting to talk nonsense, and then continued, "Speaking of which, I'm already preparing to register citizenship materials for you and Laura and the others. Miles is your name, have you considered taking a surname for yourself?"

"A surname?" Miles thought for a moment and said, "My codename is 'X-0', let's just call it 'Zero'."

"Miles Zero."

At the Xavier Institute, in the brand-new headmaster's office.

Charles sat in his wheelchair, looking far out the window. Those youngsters were excitedly renovating the institute's lawn and buildings. Under the sunlight, the air was filled with laughter and cheers.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, smoking a cigar, and casually said, "Charles, can I prepare to go back to work as well?"

"Ah, yes..." Charles chuckled softly. "Welcome back, Professor Logan."

"Hearing you say that, I really feel a sense of familiarity. Is there anything you want me to do right now?"

"There is." Charles looked at him with a smile. "First thing, put out your cigar, I don't like the smell of smoke. Second thing, help me pour a cup of coffee."

"Shit! The coffee maker in your office broke who knows how long ago!"

"Think of a way yourself, Professor Logan," Charles leaned back in his chair, saying leisurely. "Don't forget, you are Wolverine."

(End of this volume)