Judgment? You're Not Worthy

Inside the café on the street corner, the rich aroma of coffee still lingered, but the world beyond the window had turned deadly still.

Chu Hang's double set down his white porcelain cup. His calm gaze passed through the glass and took in six figures slowly closing in.

Like fishermen drawing in a net, they sealed off the small space from every direction.

At their head was Professor X, Charles Xavier, a bald old man in a hovering wheelchair.

The metal patches on his temples glimmered faintly. His immense psychic power spread like a tide, yet carefully flowed around Chu Hang's mind, as though avoiding a bottomless whirlpool.

There was no judgment in his eyes, only profound gravity and curiosity.

To the right stood Mr. Fantastic, Reed Richards, his graying temples framing eyes sharp as knives.

He held a silver disc whose halo spun without pause. With his other hand, he tapped at the air as though making calculations.

The smartest man on Earth did not look entirely confident. He wore the caution of someone facing an unknown variable.

To the left stood Black Bolt, Blackagar Boltagon, dressed in a pure-black combat suit. The tuning-fork emblem on his forehead was silent and imposing.

He said nothing, but the air around him warped and trembled faintly beneath his wordless pressure.

Beside him, the red-haired Medusa gripped his arm with concern, as though soothing a lion about to roar.

Behind them stood the blonde Captain Carter, Star Shield in hand. She held herself as straight as a pine, her gaze firm with a warrior's resolve.

At her side floated Captain Marvel, Maria Rambeau. Photon energy rose around her like a solar prominence, casting a solemn light across her face.

The last of them was Baron Mordo, clad in green robes. Chin raised,