Xavier's School

The clone passed through the Door of Time, his feet landing on wet grass.

The rain had just stopped. The air carried the scent of mud and fresh grass, while crows cawed several times in the distance.

The laws of this world were different. Space was more stable, and time flowed a little slower. The energy concentration, however, was thirty percent higher than in the Marvel universe.

He closed his eyes, and his psychic power spread out like an invisible net.

Cities, highways, forests. Human consciousnesses lay scattered like starlight. Some of those points shone especially brightly—they were mutants. Within a five-hundred-kilometer radius, there were at least two hundred of them. The ratio was absurdly high.

He continued expanding his search and soon locked onto the two strongest minds.

One was in northern New York State, its psychic power vast as a star—gentle, yet with hidden sharpness beneath the surface.

Charles Xavier.

The other was in the same location, its magnetic field fluctuating violently like a blade hanging in the air.

Erik Lehnsherr.

The clone opened his eyes and confirmed the direction. Rather than heading there immediately, he first surveyed his surroundings. This was a suburban area, with several 1990s Ford and Chevrolet cars parked by the roadside.

A rain-soaked newspaper was pasted to a utility pole. The date read June 12, 1995.

The headline was striking: Senate Once Again Rejects the Mutant Registration Act.

Below it was a photograph of a bald man in a wheelchair giving a speech, calling for coexistence between humans and mutants.

The clone tossed aside the newspaper and headed north. Skyfather-level power was far too conspicuous in this universe, and he did not want to draw attention.

He had not gone far when an old pickup truck pulled over by the roadside. Its owner,