Chapter 5: Awakening

Not all dreams are pleasant.

Some people dream of achieving their lifelong goals, waking up filled with joy. Others have passionate dreams that leave them flushed, forcing them to change their sheets in the middle of the night. Then there are nightmares—dark and terrifying—where real-life pressures twist into disasters that haunt both body and mind.

But no one dreams like Erik.

His dreams never stopped—one after another, like an endless movie marathon. He wandered through bizarre realities, shattering fates, stepping over protagonists, and taking their place in an endless cycle of missions.

Sometimes, he and a group of young people gained supernatural powers from a glowing crystal in an underground cavern. Other times, he found himself in a virus-infected facility, fighting alongside a desperate woman. And occasionally, he encountered others like him—"Reincarnators," they called themselves. That was when things got interesting: either you killed, or you were killed.

Allies were rare.

When they did appear, it meant a catastrophe so great that even enemies had to unite to survive—apocalyptic disasters, 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, filling him with endless guilt.

"Erik." A deep voice called out to him in the void.

"Who's there?" He mumbled, trudging through a desolate wasteland, barely conscious after his latest dream.

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

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

"Who are you?"

"You must be a good man, 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 looked up.

A massive face filled the sky—an old, bald man with kind eyes, gazing 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 pulled the blanket over him. "Another dream?"

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

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

"Even the unpleasant parts?"

Jean hesitated, then her curiosity won over. "But there must be some good memories too, right?"

"A few."

"Care to share?"

"Why not see for yourself?"

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

"Anyway, I should go see Hank. The Professor wanted me to pick up my uniform once 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 had taken up teaching history, but he still had no assigned role. That would change soon—Hank had a uniform waiting for him, after all.

Staying here wasn't bad. Among fellow mutants, there was no need to hide. He only hoped the uniform wouldn't be too ridiculous.

"You're always so guarded, Erik," Jean murmured as he reached the door, a hint of frustration in her voice.

When he had first woken up, they had shared easy conversations, even laughter. Jean was passionate beneath her composed exterior, and Erik had a natural, untamed charm. Their connection had deepened—enough for Scott to notice and feel threatened.

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

Perhaps, in time, things would return to how they were—or even 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 within her stirred.

---

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was nestled in Westchester, New York. The main building was an old mansion—Xavier's family estate, repurposed as a haven for mutants. The grounds were vast, well-kept, and equipped with top-tier facilities. Below the mansion lay a hidden underground complex, a stark contrast to 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 among 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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