Into the Microscopic World

After sleeping for just two hours, Russell woke near noon. Sunlight squeezed through a gap in the floor-to-ceiling window and drew a warm golden line across the pure white sheets.

At last, Russell had a chance to settle down and examine the incredible changes taking place inside his body.

He lay on the bed, so comfortable he almost sank into it, closed his eyes, and focused on every subtle sensation in his body.

His breathing, his heartbeat, the rush of blood through his veins—basic bodily processes he normally ignored became distinct. They unfolded in his mind line by line, like the operating log of a precision instrument.

The increase in strength was obvious.

His muscle fibers seemed to have been rewoven by an invisible hand. Every bundle was denser and more efficient, holding far more energy when it contracted than before.

More astonishing were the abilities inherited from Magneto, Professor X, and Wolverine. They were quietly growing inside him in an almost organic way, like seeds dormant for eighteen years that had finally found their season to sprout.

"This feels... incredible."

Russell murmured to himself, held out his hand, and stared at his palm.

At the research institute, the powers granted by the system had still felt like unfamiliar intruders, charging through his nervous system. Every use came with uncertainty and a faint sense of rejection.

Now everything had changed. Those powers felt docile and familiar, like limbs he had used since childhood, an innate part of him.

He focused on a hotel pencil on the bedside table.

At the slightest shift of his will, the pencil trembled, then floated up and slowly rotated in the dim room.

The wood grain blurred into a spiral as it turned, while the gray-black lead traced a slender line at its center.

This was not simple telekinesis, nor was it telepathy. It was something more fundamental, more primal—pure willpower turning into physical reality. And its potential went far beyond this.

Erik could control only two coins at first. Russell remembered a scene recorded in the X-Men files:

A young Magneto sat on a bench at an orphanage, his fingers trembling as he made a coin quiver. Decades later, he could lift the entire Golden Gate Bridge, reverse Earth's magnetic field, and turn thousands of missiles in midair at once.

All that lay between the beginning and the end was time.

His eyes narrowed.

His gaze pierced the surface of matter and entered another realm.

Water molecules drifting in the air were like tiny diamonds, spinning, colliding, and bouncing apart at random under Brownian motion. They exchanged momentum with every contact and carried away or gained a minute amount of energy with every separation.

Oxygen molecules danced an elegant waltz in pairs. Their electron clouds briefly formed a shared region before separating again.

Nitrogen molecules seemed more reserved, keeping just the right distance like a group of courteous dancers who never touched one another yet never left the dance floor empty.

Together, they formed a living, ever-changing microscopic scene, clearer and more vivid than any image from an electron microscope.

This was no static slice. It was a world that lived, breathed, and changed every moment.

An idea struck Russell, and he tried to touch a passing water molecule with his telekinesis.

He concentrated, feeling that wondrous power extend from deep within his mind.

It did not emerge from any particular point in his nervous system. It surged from every corner of his consciousness at once, gathering into an invisible hand that reached toward a world millions of times smaller than a speck of dust.

The water molecule paused.

For only the briefest instant, its path bent by an almost imperceptible amount, as though someone had given it a gentle push.

Then it continued on, colliding with another water molecule, exchanging energy with a third and a fourth, and disappearing into the torrent of its countless counterparts.

But Russell had felt it.

That touch had been real.

"If I can see it, I can touch it." He opened his eyes, a slight smile lifting his lips. "That means my telekinesis can already affect matter at the molecular level."

Russell spent the next stretch of time completely absorbed in the joy of exploring his new ability.

He was like a child with a new toy—no, more focused and tireless than that.

Every minute, every second, he tested and experimented, pushing the door to the microscopic world a little wider.

He guided oxygen molecules into tiny whirlwinds, drawing invisible spirals through the room; he gathered water molecules into floating droplets that hung in the air like pearls scattered from a broken necklace;

He even tried rearranging carbon dioxide molecules—pulling carbon and oxygen apart, then putting them back together as something else.

Most attempts failed. The molecules stubbornly clung to their identities and refused to be redefined. But once or twice, he succeeded.

A carbon atom separated from two oxygen atoms. One of those oxygen atoms then joined another free oxygen atom to form ozone, leaving the carbon hanging alone like a child whose family had been torn apart.

Russell had a deep grounding in biology and physics. Most of that knowledge came from his previous life, but that did not stop him from understanding what he was doing.

He knew better than anyone how terrifying the potential of this ability was.

Even setting aside applications straight out of science fiction, molecular-level control alone was enough to put him among the strongest mutants in the world.

His thoughts turned to the Omega-level Mutants who could manipulate molecules.

Phoenix, Jean Grey, could break matter down into its most basic particles, leaving not even ashes behind.

Apocalypse could reorganize his own cellular structure, replace damaged parts, and adjust gene expression. In a sense, he was immortal.

Iceman, Bobby, could halt all molecular motion, freeze the hottest flames into sculptures of ice, and make the strongest metal as brittle as glass.

Every one of them was a monster capable of taking on the entire Avengers alone.

"Well." Russell laughed at himself. "I didn't expect to become a unit for measuring combat strength myself. Like Galactus, who's always getting beaten up."

After wrapping up his experiments, Russell looked at a set of pajamas in the wardrobe and made a tear in it.

Then he concentrated and used his telekinesis to guide nearby molecules into the gaps in the fabric.

This time, the microscopic world responded faster than ever.

The molecules seemed to understand his command. They flowed toward the tear, carbon chains reconnecting and hydrogen bonds pairing again. Long polymer chains sprouted new branches at their broken ends, reached across the gap, and joined together.

The damage repaired itself before his eyes. First the frayed edges smoothed out, then the tear closed, and finally even the color returned to normal.

In a dozen seconds, the pajamas he had just ruined looked good as new.

"Looks like I won't need a nanotech suit like Iron Man's after all."

Russell whistled, picked up the pajamas, and shook them out. "As long as this ability keeps growing, I'll be able to change my clothes' molecular structure whenever I want."

That meant he could not only change outfits in an instant, but might even alter his appearance like Mystique—adjusting the pigments in his skin, reshaping the microstructure of his facial bones, and changing the color and pattern of his irises.

Or he could blend into his surroundings like Chameleon—manipulating how nearby photons interacted with the molecules on an object's surface, making light bend around his body instead of reflecting back. The possibility was both thrilling and unsettling.

Further testing revealed another pattern.

The range of his molecular vision was directly tied to the reach of his telekinesis.

At present, his telekinesis could reach two kilometers from his body. More precisely, it covered a sphere four kilometers in diameter, centered on him.

Within that sphere, he could "see" the arrangement and movement of every molecule. Beyond it, the world returned to normal—or rather, to the way an ordinary person saw it.

Likewise, his molecular vision could see through objects only within that range, not beyond it.

But as he grew more skilled, that range would undoubtedly expand.

A startling thought struck Russell: if the reach of his telekinesis kept growing, would the range of his perception grow with it?

Imagine it—at one kilometer, he could monitor everything happening throughout a neighborhood; at ten kilometers, he could cover most of Manhattan; and farther still...

He could sense the pulse of an entire city like Spider-Man from another universe, knowing what happened on every street and who was calling for help in every corner.

Perhaps he could even sense the entire planet, or the Multiverse.

At two in the afternoon, Russell found the hotel manager.

"Rest assured, Mr. Russell." The manager was an Italian American in his forties, with immaculately combed hair and a crisp suit and tie. He bowed slightly as he spoke, as deferential as though he were serving royalty.

"I've arranged your food and accommodations. Our executive chef has prepared a menu especially for you, with both Chinese and Western dishes, and you can look at the wine list whenever you like. Also—"

He stepped aside and gestured toward two presentable young people in hotel uniforms behind him. "These attendants are on call around the clock. If you need anything, just tell them."

Russell nodded in satisfaction.

If he had the means to enjoy himself, he saw no reason not to.

Living above worldly pleasures was for gods. Even if he became one someday, he had no intention of being the kind who looked down on everyone and never touched ordinary life.

The bustle of everyday life was what made him feel alive.

"And the books you requested," the manager continued. "Forty-seven in total, covering molecular physics, quantum mechanics, materials science, and biochemistry. They're all the editions you specified, and we've obtained every one of them.

"Where would you like us to put them?"

"Take them to the training room," Russell said. "If there's nothing else, you can get back to work."

The manager immediately sent staff to carry several heavy boxes of specialist books into the private training room on the hotel's top floor.

Half an hour later, everything was ready.

The training room was reserved for VIP guests on extended stays. It was spacious, with professional sports flooring, floor-to-ceiling mirrors on every side, and speakers and lighting built into the ceiling.

Now books were piled in front of the mirrors, and open volumes lay scattered across the floor. The whole place looked like a mad scientist's temporary study.

Russell sat in an armchair brought over from the next room and began a crash course in molecular science.

Felicity sat on a yoga mat in the corner of the training room, holding a novel she had borrowed from the hotel library. Every so often, though, her eyes drifted toward Russell.

She did not quite understand why he needed to read so many thick books, but she could feel that Russell was doing something important.

Laura was more direct.

She sat cross-legged on the carpet by the door, an untouched glass of orange juice and half a plate of fruit in front of her, quietly watching Russell turn the pages.

She did not like reading, but she liked watching Russell read—focused and still, as though he were speaking to something she could not see.

One book after another.

With the aid of his powerful psychic power, Russell read at an astonishing speed. Every formula, derivation, and experimental conclusion matched something he had seen in the microscopic world that day.

After a little over an hour, he had only managed to get a rough grasp of it all.

He rubbed his aching head and sighed. Studying really was never easy.

Whether you were an ordinary person or a mutant, no matter how enhanced your brain was, those formulas and theorems still stood there stubbornly, waiting for you to conquer them one by one.

But he had gained something tangible. Now that he had paired theory with practice, it was time to get to work.

Genetic engineering could wait. It was not something he could master quickly.

With his current abilities, he could only reduce an organic life-form to its constituent molecules. He could press the button for destruction, but he could not yet reconstruct it perfectly.

Destruction was far easier than creation. That rule held true in the microscopic world as well.

He would start with something simple.

Russell closed his eyes. When he opened them again, a faint white glow had appeared deep in his pupils.

The molecular world unfolded before him, as clear as though he had pointed a powerful microscope at the air.

He slowly raised a hand and took control of the water molecules in the surrounding air.

Countless tiny H₂O molecules began converging on his palm.

This was not wind or a current of air. Each water molecule was guided individually along the best path, like a well-trained army carrying out precise orders.

The humidity in the training room dropped, while the concentration of water molecules in the space before Russell rose sharply.

When the neon light passed through that dense patch of water vapor, its path changed.

The light began to bend. It was not reflected by a mirror or focused by a lens; an invisible film of water molecules was changing its course.

First his fingertips vanished.

Then his entire hand.

His forearm followed, then his upper arm, shoulder, torso, and finally his head.

Russell disappeared from the room.

He had not truly vanished. Light was bending around him.

The dense layer of water molecules around him acted like a cloak of invisibility, sending incoming light sliding off to either side along curved paths instead of reflecting it into an observer's eyes.

If someone entered the training room now, they would see what looked like an empty room—the chair, the piles of books, and the notebooks scattered across the floor, but not the person sitting in the chair.

Felicity's novel slipped from her hands. "Lord Russell?" Her voice trembled. "Are you... still there?"

"I'm here." His voice came from the apparently empty chair. "Don't worry. It's just a little experiment."

A few seconds later, the water molecules escaped his control and dispersed through the room again. Light resumed its normal path, and Russell's figure slowly reappeared like an image emerging in a photograph.

[Molecular-level Control experience +1]

"Still too slow." He shook his head. "I can't turn invisible instantly. It takes time to set up, and in a real fight, that's enough time to get killed several times over."

"I need more practice."

Next came fire.

This time, Russell did not gather the water molecules together. Instead, he made them more active, increasing their vibration.

He made every water molecule vibrate violently in place, faster and faster, with greater and greater force, as if countless invisible hands were rubbing the air together.

At the same time, oxygen molecules began gathering in that vibrating space. Their concentration climbed from the normal 21 percent to 30, then 40, then 50 percent... When the heat generated by the vibrations reached a critical point—

Whoosh!

The oxygen-rich patch burst into flame. There was no ignition source, no fuel—just the air itself burning.

The flames were pale blue, their edges nearly transparent, yet they were hot enough to nearly trigger the training room's heat-activated sprinkler system.

Russell could regulate the flames' strength and reach by controlling the concentration of oxygen molecules.

More oxygen meant a stronger flame; less meant a weaker one. He could even create fire in an area with no oxygen at all, as long as he made other combustible molecules vibrate until they grew hot enough.

[Molecular-level Control experience +1]

"Pyro?" Russell looked at the blue flame dying in his palm. "No, this is far more powerful than Pyro." Pyro could only control existing flames. Russell could create fire from nothing.

An interesting countermeasure occurred to him: when Pyro used fire, what would happen if Russell instantly stripped the oxygen molecules from around him and raised the carbon dioxide concentration instead? Could he still produce flames?

Without an oxidizer, combustion could not occur. The same went for Iceman. If Russell stripped all the water molecules from his surroundings in an instant, could he still use his freezing ability?

Without water, where would the ice come from?

The more Russell developed his ability, the more ways to use it he could imagine.

He let out a slow breath and decided to attempt something more ambitious: making himself an absolute shield.

He had read an idea in one of the books that day. He could surround himself with a sphere of water molecules. Since individual water molecules were invisible, ordinary people would not be able to see the barrier.

Then he could bring those molecules to a halt—not merely make them still, but reduce their vibration to a minimum, approaching absolute zero.

When the water molecules' kinetic energy reached its limit, they would form a nearly perfect crystal structure. Not ice—ice was crystallized water, but gaps still remained between its molecules.

The barrier he envisioned would pack water molecules so tightly that almost no gaps remained, like a solid pane of bulletproof glass built at the molecular level.

Any object with mass trying to pass through it would first have to shatter that dense molecular structure. Ordinary bullets, artillery shells, and even energy weapons would fail against a defense of that caliber.

As their energy tried to penetrate the barrier, layer upon layer of water molecules would drain it away until it dissipated entirely.

Without an attack powerful enough at the high-energy particle level, nothing would be able to pierce this invisible shield.

And now he had plenty of time.

If he failed once, he would try again. If he failed twice, he would try countless more times.

Failure was the mother of success, even in the molecular world.

And that was not all.

Russell's thoughts kept branching out. By controlling the curvature and density of layers of water molecules, he could create a powerful magnifying lens, letting him see farther and make out even smaller structures.

By making water molecules in different areas vibrate at different frequencies, he could create complex sound fields in the air, imitate any sound, or turn the process around to produce a focused infrasonic weapon.

By making water molecules rub against one another and separate their electrical charges, he could—

Release lightning.

Yes, lightning. The blazing might of the heavens, summoned by a sword.

Russell took a deep breath and focused.

In midair before him, countless water molecules began moving along precise paths, rubbing against one another and exchanging electrons.

The electrical potential built, from microvolts to millivolts, from millivolts to volts, from volts to kilovolts—

Snap!

A tiny blue arc leaped from his fingertip, flashed briefly in the air, then vanished.

It was only a few centimeters long and lasted less than a tenth of a second, but the light was real. It was lightning in its infancy, Mjolnir's power projected onto the molecular level.

[Psychic Telekinesis Molecular-level Control experience +1]

"I'm not a god of storms." Russell watched the fading trace of plasma around his fingertip, a knowing smile curving his lips. "But sooner or later, I will be."

Sunlight streamed through the window, and the Manhattan skyline glittered in the distance.

Books lay scattered across the Training Room floor. The smell of fire and ozone still lingered in the air.

Felicity had given up on her novel. She watched Russell's every attempt intently, something she could not quite name taking root in her eyes.

Laura still sat by the door. She had touched neither the fruit nor the orange juice, but her eyes stayed bright as they followed the blue light that came and went at Russell's fingertip.

Russell leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the molecules he had just stirred slowly settle.

He did not need rest, but his brain needed time to process the flood of information he had taken in today.

Molecular-level Control was only the beginning. The atomic level was next.

And after that? There was the subatomic level, then quarks, then the building blocks at the very foundation of the world—things he could not even name yet.

He had a long way to go, but at least he had found the right direction.