Marvel's New Magneto

This day, Charles Francis Xavier woke up at dusk. As the founder of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and one of the two pillars of the mutant community, he hadn't had such a restful sleep in a long time. Yes, there were no mischievous students rushing in to report trouble, and no schemes lurking in the shadows by venomous enemies plotting against mutants. Magneto had been put in detention for his recklessness, and Striker had learned a lesson. The school was peaceful and safe, and with the younger generation handling the smaller matters, he had been able to enjoy some well-earned rest.

Unknowingly, he had grown old. His bald head and sagging skin were silent reminders that no matter how high your status or how powerful your abilities, you can't get back the youth you've lost.

The term "energetic" had long since faded with age. Now, he was like a sunset radiating its last warmth.

After struggling for a while, he managed to sit up, but just a short moment later, he was slightly out of breath. There was nothing urgent to do today, and he still had some time to kill.

The room was quiet, and there was no movement outside either. He thought for a moment and remembered that his proud students were out on their regular patrol, and the kids were probably still outside playing. Erik's first lesson would surely win their hearts.

He smiled as he put on his jacket but didn't get up. He wanted to bask in the last warmth of the sun for a little while longer. This peaceful life was so rare. The sunlight was still warm, but the silence around him felt a bit too much. While it could be annoying at times, he had become accustomed to the energy of the younger generation. Watching their agile movements and listening to their powerful voices reminded him that his old body still had some vitality left.

Chuckling to himself, Charles Xavier turned on the television. If he couldn't hear the sounds of his students playing, at least he could watch something else.

As soon as the TV turned on, Charles froze, staring in disbelief at the screen.

"What am I seeing? A superhero? No, it's a whole group of them!" The reporter gestured wildly, her words tumbling out. "They're surrounding an endangered animal, swinging punches and beating it until it's bloodied and on the ground. Listen to its screams! It sounds like a helpless virgin being assaulted. Poor thing—it's new to this place and already suffering. But I don't feel sorry for it, because just a few minutes ago, it and its brothers knocked over half a street, leaving nearly a thousand people homeless and millions of dollars in property damage."

"Beautiful! A fiery young man! He shot a pillar of fire, burning the giant snake until it was scorched. The police, hiding behind their squad cars, fired dozens of rounds but couldn't do what he did with a cheap lighter. Why do we even keep such incompetent cops around? This guy could do it all. Maybe the local congressman will give him a medal for saving taxpayer money."

"I must be dreaming! A short-haired boy, barely older than my son, shoots out white mist from his hands. He's spinning around the snake's head, freezing it with every rotation. Look! He's flying! It's like he has an invisible skateboard under his feet, gliding through the air. And that big guy, look at those muscles! They're as tough as steel! No, that's steel! He's actually reflecting light—am I seeing things? He's swinging the snake's tail around, smashing it into everything. The snake is nearly done for. I want to go thank his mother. She must be a hero to have given birth to such a big guy!"

The reporters were excited, breaking through the police barriers to get closer to the action.

They couldn't be blamed for their enthusiasm; the scene was too thrilling.

Westchester was a rich, quiet town. But to a journalist, that meant it was as dull as chewed-up sugarcane, boring and unappealing.

What kind of news could move their editors? No extravagant spending, no blood-and-guts violence, no loudmouths making bold statements. Even if they spent the whole night outside a celebrity's mansion, they'd only get a photo of someone jogging at dawn.

Such stories didn't even make it into the entertainment section unless the editors were desperate for content on slow news days.

This town had always been a journalist's graveyard. No excitement, no results, no career growth. How else could you describe it?

But now, everything had changed. The once-dull town had been transformed into a hotspot, attracting reporters from all over the country.

There were monsters, mysterious heroes, useless police and military forces in the background. All this made for a story that could grab the attention of the entire nation, pulling readers and viewers in from every corner. Which editor wouldn't be eager to give this story top billing? No ambitious reporter would let such an opportunity slip by.

Cheers and shouts filled the air, nearly drowning out Erik, though he no longer fought personally. He stood by with his hands in his pockets, watching the students perform. The cheers were familiar to him. Reincarnators were born performers, destined to shine on the world stage, whether they were worshipped or scorned.

"Even if I can't have it all, I'll make the most of what I've got," he thought. This was an apt reflection of a reincarnator's life.

The younger students, however, were visibly growing from inexperienced to skilled. At first, they were unsure, hesitant, and clumsy, but as time went on, they became bolder, though they still lacked patience. If it hadn't been for Ororo's timely adjustments and motherly care, some of them might not have had the confidence to perform so well.

Things were better now. After all, these were mutants who had been through training, the next generation of potential. With Erik there to inspire them and Storm offering guidance, they felt safe and performed brilliantly.

Johnny couldn't create fire on his own, but with a lighter, he could still manage, especially with a tough target like a giant snake. His control over flames had become more refined. Bobby, the Iceman, wasn't far behind. He had learned to make the most of his abilities, now using them with the finesse of a glider in the air. Pete, the powerhouse, had mastered his brute strength. He wasn't afraid of a little rough handling, and despite the snake constricting around him, he kept at it, showing no mercy.

The girls' combat skills hadn't been fully developed, but they were starting to play their parts. Kitty, gathering courage, zipped around the snake's body. The snake didn't lose a scale, but Kitty seemed to enjoy herself, laughing at her own antics. Lorna, Magneto's daughter, was using iron nails to control and attack the snake, creating sparks when they hit. Dazzler, the older girl, was trying her best to live up to her star ambitions, using sound waves to attack, though her efforts were less than perfect.

But the real surprise came from the youngest one. After Pete secured the snake's tail, she calmly knelt down, taking off her gloves and grabbing the snake. Soon, its movements slowed down, and it became weak. This made the boys' attacks even more effective, and it wasn't long before the last snake was defeated.

From the sidelines, Ororo watched the students, proud of how far they had come. They had started clumsy but now were showing the results of their training. With Erik guiding them, and Storm ensuring they were cared for, they had become a formidable force.

At one point, Ororo realized she was almost unnecessary. She had seen herself grow, learning from her mistakes. She had fought enemies, climbed dangerous heights, and saved cities. Yet, no one ever gave her applause or thanks. She was often an invisible figure, putting in the hard work without recognition. She had once thought that she fought for her people without needing gratitude, but now she understood. Her pride had simply come from not getting what she desired.

In a daze, she mistook the cheers directed at the students for cheers for herself. For a moment, it felt like she was the hero everyone had been waiting for. The warmth of the attention made her feel alive, like a child, her heart pounding with excitement. But as a mentor, she quickly reminded herself that she was just an observer. No matter how close she was to the students, the cheers weren't for her. It was a bitter realization that tore at her heart, leaving her feeling both cold and comforted.

Meanwhile, Charles Xavier, watching from the TV, had felt a subtle tremor in his soul when he first saw Erik. He had always known this day would come, but he hadn't expected the change to come so quickly.

In that sunset, the old Charles watched as the man who resembled his youthful friend changed the destiny of the next generation of mutants. The anger and resentment that had been building in the young ones faded, replaced by newfound confidence and peace.

Charles smiled silently. The shadows that had lingered over him for so long vanished. No matter what difficulties lay ahead, at least a new path had opened up for mutants. Wasn't that enough?

Thank you, my new Magneto.