Chapter 8

Days passed.

A growing flock of crows had gathered behind the mansion, perched on branches and rooftops. Charles stood before them, one of the crows resting comfortably on his shoulder.

'(Welcome, everyone)' Charles spoke telepathically, linking his mind to each crow.

The crows froze in shock, their cawing filling the air.

'(The human can talk to us!)'

'(He can speak!)' 

'(Is he a prophet?)'

Charles quickly responded, '(No, I'm not a prophet. I'm just a rich kid who needs your help. I'm nowhere near as righteous or important as a prophet.)'

'(Are you a mutant?)' one of the crows asked, its curiosity piqued.

'(That's correct)' Charles confirmed.

'(I've heard from Nightwing that you want us to become your eyes in exchange for food)' another crow chimed in.

'(Yes, that's right)' Charles replied.

The crows exchanged glances, their feathers ruffling as they seemed to communicate silently amongst themselves before, in unison, they all responded, '(We agree to your deal.)'

'(Great. For now, spread out around the estate and keep watch. If you see anything suspicious or anyone in danger, let me know through the mind link)' Charles instructed.

He wanted to test his telepathy on creatures with simpler minds, and the crows seemed perfect for that task.

Nightwing flapped his wings and cawed loudly, '(We follow our friend's orders. Hail Charles!)'

The flock joined in, cawing in unison, '(Hail Charles!)'

Unbeknownst to Charles, someone had noticed the strange gathering of crows. From the shadows, Lafitte watched with narrowed eyes. "What is this kid planning to do?" she muttered to herself.

The crows took flight, some remaining near the estate while others ventured farther out to keep an eye on the surrounding area.

'(Nightwing, I want you to find more animals)' Charles sent a private thought to his feathered companion.

'(Sure, I can do that)' Nightwing replied without hesitation.

'(Just be careful)' Charles added.

'(Alright)' Nightwing cawed before taking off, disappearing into the sky.

Charles walked away like nothing had happened, nearly bumping into Lafitte.

"Young master, what are you doing all alone?" Lafitte asked, her tone slightly suspicious.

"Nothing, unlike you, who's stalking the employer's son. Tsk tsk tsk," Charles replied, shaking his head with a smug grin.

Lafitte's eye twitched, her annoyance bubbling just beneath the surface. In her mind, she thought, 'How does he know I'm watching him? His powers must've grown stronger.'

As Charles walked away, he tossed a parting remark over his shoulder. "Chop chop, Lafitte. Go do your work."

She clenched her jaw, muttering under her breath, "That kid... What does Irene even see in him?"

The answer to that, though Lafitte didn't know, was that Irene saw a lot—perhaps too much.

Meanwhile, Charles made his way to his father's library, scanning the rows of books. He sighed as he eyed the massive collection. "There's got to be a thousand books here, if not more. This is going to take me a year or two to get through."

He groaned, but determination quickly filled his eyes. "Whatever. I've got to push through."

'I also need to build Cerebro,' he thought to himself. 'If I'm going to expand my range, I need my mutant army. There's no way I'm going to live alone without help.'

He scribbled down a list of materials in a notebook, his mind already buzzing with plans. "I need to order the materials then," he muttered aloud.

But before doing so, he decided to finish reading the book he had in hand, then added the final touches to his material list. As soon as he was done, he left the library, walking directly to the butler.

The butler noticed him approaching and greeted him with a respectful nod. "Young master, is there something I can assist you with?"

"Buy everything on this list without my parents knowing," Charles said, handing over the paper.

The butler glanced at the list and smiled knowingly. "I'll take care of it, young master."

'He must be building something by the looks of it,' the butler thought. Better to follow the boy's orders now; after all, he would one day be the master of this estate. Even if it meant facing Brian's wrath, it was better to be in Charles' good graces.

"Is there anything else you need, young master?" the butler asked.

"No, that's all for now. Keep up the good work," Charles replied as he headed back to his room.

The butler watched him go, muttering to himself, "Master Brian wasn't lying when he said his son is a genius."

Lafitte appeared behind the butler, her voice low and sharp. "What did Charles write on that paper?"

The butler turned and, with a smirk, replied, "That's between men. A woman like you wouldn't understand."

He walked away before she could retort.

'Really? Sexist much,' Lafitte thought, rolling her eyes. 'Be patient' she reminded herself. 'This is for Irene.'

Meanwhile, back in his room, Charles sat in thought. 'How do I train my abilities to their full potential?'

He considered his current methods. 'What I'm doing now is just strengthening my power and extending my range. But how do I unlock new abilities?'

An idea sparked. 'Wait, what if I link my mind to my body in a more direct way, so it follows my commands on an instinctual level?'

The thought intrigued him, but he knew he needed more knowledge of the human body. 'I've already got mutant physiology covered, but human biology still eludes me.'

He sighed again. "A lot of work ahead."

...

Three years had passed.

In the center of a dimly lit lab stood a sphere-like cockpit, built specifically for Charles Xavier. Its sleek, metallic surface hummed with a low, eerie energy, designed to push the very limits of his telepathic abilities.

(Image Here)

This machine wasn't just a tool—it was a challenge, a test to see if Charles could shatter the boundaries of reality with the power of his mind.

Mr. Sinister stood nearby, his grin wide and wicked, eyes gleaming with anticipation. He had poured years of research into this moment, the culmination of countless failed experiments and discarded mutants. But this time, he was sure Charles would be different.

"Charles Xavier... let's see if you can succeed where so many others have failed," Sinister muttered to himself, his voice dripping with cruel excitement. "I've broken others, but you... you're special. If you break through, the possibilities will be endless."

The room buzzed with tension as the machine powered up. This wasn't just about pushing Charles' abilities; Sinister had designed the contraption to break the constraints of a mortal mind, to test the very fabric of human and mutant potential.

He could hardly wait to witness the results.