Chapter 1

This is the original author, I'm using a different account because of technical issues with my original account

" " - Normal Conversation

' ' - Characters thoughts

'( )' - Telepathic conversation

******

In a hospital room, a mother cradled her newborn in her weary arms, exhaustion etched across her face. "Charles, Charles Xavier. Look, honey he has your eyes," she cooed softly.

But the father, fixated on the baby, examined Charles with an intensity that bordered on research obsession. The mother's joy was oblivious to his scrutiny, her heart swelling with love for the tiny life before her.

Charles, the infant, squirmed and wailed, panic coursing through him. In his mind, chaos reigned:

'What's happening? Help me! I can't see! Who took my eyes? Please, let this be a prank. I can't live without my sight! Help me! Who's holding me? I can't move, can't talk!'

Lost in his turmoil, he barely registered his mother's soothing touch as she patted his back. "Shush, my sweet Charles. Mother's here. Don't cry."

'What? Is someone playing a joke on me? That voice… it's not funny,' he thought, the rising panic tightening its grip.

Suddenly, an overwhelming headache crashed over him as his mind began to unintentionally sift through the thoughts of those around him. Each fleeting sentiment felt like a knife slicing through his fragile consciousness:

'Mom, please don't die.' 

'This is all your fault; you should die.'

'Big Brother, please have a great life. Soon, I will die. I don't want to see you like this. It's hurting my soul'

'You deserve it.'

'Soon, I will be rich.'

'What if I choked him right now and blackmailed his parents?'

'I like his ass.'

The flood of thoughts was suffocating for a newborn.

'Stop! It hurts! Please, make this stop!' he cried inwardly, the mental noise overwhelming him.

His father's thoughts drifted in: 'Hmm, my son…'

'It hurts! Whose voices are these?' Charles cried silently, desperation consuming him.

His mother, feeling his distress, whispered to him in her mind, 'My beautiful son, stop crying, okay? Mommy is tired' She kissed him gently, her love wrapping around him like a warm blanket. As she began to breastfeed him, the comfort of her presence momentarily dulled the chaos within.

Yet, the agony in his head persisted, bombarded by a cacophony of emotions and thoughts he couldn't comprehend.

'What is happening?' he wondered, grappling with disbelief. Who wouldn't panic upon suddenly hearing voices in their head?

His eyelids grew heavy, and despite his protests, fatigue pulled him under. 'No, no, I don't want to fall asleep—' But the darkness claimed him, and he drifted into a deep slumber.

Brian gently caressed Sharon's hair. "My dear Sharon, get some rest, okay? I have to go somewhere."

"Can't you stay here with your son, Brian?" Sharon asked, her voice tired but hopeful.

"I have work to do, remember? If I don't, who's going to pay for our son's education?" Brian replied. He kissed her forehead and then leaned down to kiss their son as well. "Take care, my love. You're still exhausted."

Sharon sighed, a faint smile on her lips. "Okay, but give me one more kiss."

Brian obliged, kissing her softly on the lips before leaving the hospital for work. If only Sharon knew what Brian was planning for their son, she wouldn't have let him get so close.

As she drifted back to sleep, cradling baby Charles in her arms, hours passed.

When Charles finally woke up, he was swaddled tightly in his cradle, his tiny body wrapped in layers of cloth. It was suffocating.

'Why am I tied up like this?!' He squirmed, trying to free himself, but he was too weak.

'Is this really happening?' He thought, panic fading into a resigned acceptance. 'What's going on?' His eyes were still shut, refusing to open.

'I have new parents, apparently. But why did she name me Charles Xavier? I'm not a comic book chara—' Then it hit him. 'Shit, my life is fucked.'

In his past life, Charles was an avid comic book reader. He knew all too well what his new name meant and what the future held. He was destined to lead a group that didn't even exist yet.

'Why am I Charles Xavier? Wait… doesn't this mean I'm going to be experimented on by Mr. Sinister?' Fear gripped him. 'He can read my memories. Damn it, I don't have much time!'

He focused intensely, trying to tap into his mental abilities, pushing himself to enter his own mindscape. When he managed to open his eyes, he found himself standing in a vast, luxurious library. Books were strewn everywhere, some on the shelves, others discarded haphazardly on the floor.

"This is my memory palace, right?" he muttered, glancing at his hands and body. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God I'm not a baby here," he said, relieved to be in his adult form.

He wandered through the chaotic library, eventually kneeling down to inspect the scattered books on the ground.

"What's this?" As he touched one, memories from his past life began to play in his mind—a scene of him playing Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice. He chuckled. "Why is this one on the floor?"

Then it dawned on him. "Oh, I get it."

The books on the floor were memories he was beginning to forget, but they were still lodged in his subconscious. Most were trivial—like walking aimlessly, staring blankly, or daydreaming. Memories without purpose.

He shook his head. "Time to do what I came here for."

Raising his right hand, he pressed his left index and middle fingers to his temples, concentrating. The luxurious library around him began to be pushed away, creating a vast, empty white space leads to the luxurious library. He is now standing in the empty white space.

"Let's get organized," he said, focusing again. He created another room, then another, each one connected to the next in a sequence of blank, pristine spaces.

By the time he was done, his mind felt drained, the exertion taking its toll.

'I need to reorganize my mind,' he noted, making a mental checklist.

Lastly, he carefully placed the voices of his new parents and the thoughts of others into this room as memories, securing them away to protect his true identity. He needed to hide the fact that he wasn't just an ordinary telepath.