"Everyone, I'm sorry. Truly sorry."
That evening.
After dinner, the mutants gathered in the main hall on the first floor. Charles, Erik, and Moira stepped forward.
With guilt written all over her face, Moira began to speak.
"This operation put everyone in danger because of the faulty intel I provided. I'm ashamed—that was my mistake, and I won't deny it."
"If anyone had gotten hurt… I don't know how I could have lived with myself."
Her words were sincere, her remorse heartfelt.
"I'm also responsible," Charles added, his tone equally serious. "You all put your trust in me, and I led you straight into Shaw's trap. This mission was a complete failure, and I must shoulder the blame."
Erik stood silently beside them, saying nothing.
Truthfully, Erik didn't think there was anything to apologize for. This was war—uncertain, full of risk. Neither Moira, Charles, nor even himself had acted irresponsibly. Everyone had done the best they could. That was enough.
"Moira, Charles, how can this be your fault?"
Raven immediately stood to comfort them. "Shaw was just too cunning. He set the trap specifically for us. None of us saw it coming."
"Yeah, don't blame yourselves. The important thing is that no one got seriously hurt, right?"
"If anything, this was a good wake-up call. We now know what we're lacking."
The others chimed in as well. No one blamed Moira or Charles. Everyone here understood the stakes.
"Thank you for your understanding… and for your trust," Charles said.
Then he looked to the group again, this time with a firmer tone.
"Everyone's right—this wasn't a total failure. We did learn something important."
"For one, we now know exactly how far we are from being real fighters."
"I don't need to spell it out. You all saw it yourselves. This mission only succeeded because of Alex."
"If he hadn't been there, we probably wouldn't be standing here right now. Alex, you were incredible. Erik and I weren't wrong about you."
He looked over at Alex with genuine admiration.
"But what about the rest of us? That includes me—and Erik too."
The mood in the room instantly turned heavy at his next words.
"I'm not trying to demoralize anyone, and I'm not assigning blame. But we need to face reality—we need more training."
"Everyone, report to the field tomorrow morning."
With that, Charles, Erik, and Moira took their leave, but the solemn mood lingered.
No one could deny it—the truth was harsh.
They had no choice but to accept it.
"I'm heading back to my room," someone muttered.
"Same here. See you all tomorrow."
The atmosphere was too heavy for casual chatter. One by one, the group dispersed, each retreating to their own room—everyone lost in their own thoughts.
"Alex,"
Hank had deliberately hung back. Now he approached, looking hesitant.
"Hank, come with me," Alex said, understanding immediately.
Hank's face lit up—he knew it was done.
"Here, Hank. This is what you asked for."
Back in his room, Alex handed over a syringe filled with blood—a sample he'd taken from the ninja before taking him down.
He had promised Hank, and Alex never forgot his promises.
"This is amazing…"
Hank held the vial like it was a priceless gem, reluctant to let it go.
"Thank you, Alex. Really. Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Hank. I hope it helps you."
Alex meant it.
He understood Hank's goal—he wanted to create a serum that would allow him to keep his powers without the physical mutation. In other words, to be a normal-looking mutant.
If it worked, that wouldn't be a bad thing.
Of course, in the original timeline, Hank became Beast because his experimental serum didn't suppress his mutant gene. It actually made things worse—enhancing the very traits he wanted to hide.
If his research succeeded this time, he might not be as strong as before.
But whether that was a good or bad thing… who could say?
"It will. I know it will!"
Hank said with total confidence.
He had faith in his own work. In fact, he was nearly done already—he just needed this final blood sample to complete his adjustments.
"That's the spirit. Good luck, man."
"Thanks, Alex!"
And with that, Hank walked away, content.
——
The next morning, training resumed as usual.
But this time, something had changed.
After the Manhattan mission, every mutant had matured—both mentally and emotionally.
Their focus, determination, and mindset had grown by leaps and bounds.
Previously, some had complained that the training was too harsh, too boring, too repetitive.
Now? No one uttered a word of protest.
Even Erik had thrown himself into training with renewed vigor.
The mission had been a sobering experience for him as well.
Even though that "Shaw" turned out to be a fake, Erik couldn't forget the helplessness he felt in their first encounter. That crushing sense of powerlessness—that despair—had seared itself into his memory.
If he didn't grow stronger, the next time he faced the real Shaw… it could all happen again.
That, Erik could never accept.
Alex, too, was pushing himself hard—trying to adapt to the sudden spike in his physical abilities.
On top of that, he was now training in heat vision.
It might sound easy—just shoot and burn—but mastering it was more like learning precision shooting. Being a sharpshooter took serious effort.
And so, the Xavier Estate buzzed with intense, focused energy.
In the midst of it all, Erik quietly approached Alex.
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