Chapter 5: Awakening

Not all dreams are good.

Some people dream of achieving lifelong goals and wake up with joy. Some people have passionate dreams that leave them flushed, waking up in the middle of the night to change the sheets. Others, however, have nightmares—dark and terrifying, where real-life pressures are distorted into disasters that torment the body and mind.

But no one dreams like Erik.

His dreams never stopped—one after another, like an endless movie marathon. He wandered through strange worlds, crushing destinies, stepping over protagonists, and taking their places in an endless cycle of missions.

Sometimes, he and a group of young people would gain superpowers from a glowing crystal in an underground cave. Other times, he found himself in a virus-ridden laboratory, fighting alongside a desperate woman. Sometimes, he met others like him—"Reincarnators" they called themselves. That was when things got interesting: either you kill, or you are killed.

Allies were rare.

And when they did appear, it meant a disaster so large that even enemies had to unite to survive—apocalyptic catastrophes, monstrous invasions, or encounters with even stronger Reincarnators.

Erik had lost teammates in those nightmares. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach their outstretched hands. Their cries for help still echoed in his ears, endlessly torturing him with guilt.

"Erik." A deep voice echoed in the void.

"Who's there?" He mumbled, walking through a desolate wasteland, barely conscious after yet another dream.

A gust of wind swept across the barren land, stinging his face with grains of sand.

"Erik, do you hear me?" The voice called again, distant and hollow.

"Who are you?"

"You must be a good person, Erik." The voice sighed. "Be patient with people. Trust them. Forgive them."

"Be patient... trust... forgive…" He repeated the words mechanically, like a mantra.

Then, he raised his head.

A massive face appeared in the sky—an old bald man with kind eyes, looking down at him from the infinite void.

Their eyes met.

And then, Erik woke up.

---

"Hey, Erik." A gentle voice greeted him. Jean, a red-haired woman with warm eyes, smiled as she covered him with the blanket. "Another dream?"

"Yeah… it never stops." He blinked, adjusting to the bright lights of the observation room.

Jean noticed and dimmed the lights slightly. "Do you remember anything?"

"Even the bad ones?"

Jean hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the best of her. "But surely there are some good memories too?"

"A few."

"Would you share?"

"Why not see for yourself?"

She hesitated. As Xavier's prized student, she had the ability, but she didn't act.

"Anyway, I need to go see Hank. The Professor wanted me to pick up my uniform after I recovered." Erik got out of bed.

He had been at the academy for a while now, mostly under Jean's care after his coma. Rogue had joined as a student, Logan was teaching history, but he still had no assigned role. That would change soon—Hank had a uniform waiting for him.

Staying here wasn't bad. Among the other mutants, there was no need to hide. He just hoped the uniform wouldn't look too ridiculous.

"You're always so defensive, Erik," Jean muttered as he reached the door, her voice tinged with frustration.

When he first woke up, they had talked easily, even laughed together. Jean, beneath her composed exterior, was passionate, and Erik had a natural, untamed charm. They had grown close, enough for Scott to notice and feel threatened.

But as Erik's memories returned, so did the burdens he never wanted. He became distant, serious—almost as dull as Scott. Meanwhile, Logan had seized the opportunity to chase Jean.

Maybe, in time, things would return to how they were—or move forward.

But Erik had already seen the shadow rising behind her.

"You're no different, Jean." He tapped his chest meaningfully before stepping out.

Jean paled, her hands trembling as the dark presence inside her stirred.

---

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was located in Westchester, New York. The main building was an old mansion—Xavier's family estate, repurposed as a safe haven for mutants. The grounds were vast, well-kept, and equipped with top-tier facilities. Beneath the mansion was a hidden underground complex, starkly different from the traditional architecture above—modern, sleek, and built for research and special operations.

Erik walked past golden spruce trees toward the school's main gates. Hank often worked outside the academy, helping older mutants in need.

Henry "Hank" McCoy—better known as Beast—was one of the X-Men's founding members. His intelligence matched his strength, making him both a respected scientist and a formidable fighter. Despite his intimidating, blue-furred appearance, he was one of the few mutants accepted by the government.

Just as Erik reached the entrance, a black car pulled up.

Scott stepped out first, followed by Professor Xavier in his wheelchair.

The bald, elderly man smiled warmly. "Erik, it's good to see you. I'm sorry I couldn't visit sooner. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks for asking. Jean says I'm fully recovered—aside from some troubling dreams. But seeing the students here makes my worries disappear."

Xavier nodded approvingly. "I feel the same. Hardships are inevitable, but for our future, it's all worth it. I'm glad you understand."

Scott interjected, his tone laced with bitterness. "I think we'd all be happier if you and Logan focused on the kids instead of... other things."

He still wore his signature visor, his black combat suit tailored like ancient armor. He looked sharp, but his words betrayed his jealousy.

A love triangle was troublesome enough—now, it threatened to become a square. Xavier sighed, rubbing his temples.

To diffuse the tension, he turned to Erik. "You mentioned dreams. Dreams are the mind's way of processing memories. Have you recalled anything significant? Perhaps I can help."

"A few things," Erik admitted, his expression unreadable. "Though they're mostly things I'd rather forget."

"Memories can be painful," Xavier said gently. "But they also make you stronger. If you face them—accept them—you'll find strength beyond what you ever imagined. Mutants have great power, but our greatest ability should always be hope."

Erik pondered his words, then took his leave.

Xavier watched him go.

Scott stepped closer, frowning. "He's definitely regained his memories. He's different now—colder, more calculating. I don't trust him."

"I've been keeping an eye on him," Xavier assured. "You should trust yourself, Scott—if you truly believe you're what Jean needs."

Scott clenched his fists.

"Erik... you're just a second-rate mutant, not even on Logan's level. I won't let you take Jean from me."

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